#i wanted to dissect most dead things i found at the time

[syrena-del-mar]

Navigating the Conflict in My Stand In: Surrender and Softening in Love

(Disclaimer: Ming/Joe is an incredibly toxic relationship; I fully realize and acknowledge that, but Poom makes a critical distinction in Joe's reasoning, and I think it's interesting to dissect. Also, this is fiction.)

It's been some time since I've written any meta, but I can't stop thinking about the video @poomphuripan shared of Poom making the distinction that Joe isn't giving in to Ming, but rather, his heart is melting for him.

It makes so much sense that Joe would melt at the littlest semblance of 'love.' He was so alone for so long. His parents have been dead for longer than he had them, he has no siblings, and his extended relatives don't care about him. I forget if it's mentioned in the show, but in the novel, Joe had a pretty big crush on Sol, and Sol rejected him quite brutally. Even without meaning to be, Joe is always alone at the end of the day.

Yes, Joe has friends, and yes, Joe made his own found family. But at the end of the day, Joe would return to an unlit, empty home. Everyone else would return to their wives or families, while Joe could only return to the pictures of his parents. Meanwhile, for all of Ming's bs and frightening behavior, he was the only one that made his dream come true.

For the first time, with Ming around, Joe would come home and be greeted by the warmth of another living, breathing person. Joe craved to have a human bond, and Ming was the one who was willing (albeit for his own interest) to give it to him. And he cooked for him. He took up space in his home! He remembered the very things Joe had told him he longed for. They had a lot of good times, a lot of good memories, and a pretty set routine that really integrated Ming into Joe's life. But then they fight, his blissful reality breaks, and Joe dies.

But Joe wakes up from what feels like a day's nap when, in actuality, two years have passed. And what does he find? Ming has cared for his apartment since his death and is unwilling to change anything just in case Joe returns. Ming continues to fulfill Joe's dream of returning to a warm home. So he turns on the lights, and he cooks the same dinner that they used to share for two years. And even in his rightful anger of wanting Ming to leave him alone, he's still seeing that. In the two years since his disappearance, someone still thought about him and hadn't fully grieved him. Ming's brother only confirms that.

Giving in would mean that Joe wanted to end the fight with Ming, when no feelings had changed. It'd be him emotionally surrendering himself, compromising his feelings of being just a double for Tong, and fully conceding himself when he still thought that Ming only saw him as a replacement. While Joe might have given Ming access to his body to pay his new mom's debts, he was still blocking Ming out as much as he could. But that's not why Joe forgives Ming; it's not for a superficial reason to stop the feud. There's a visible shift in how he perceives Ming, the guy who waited two years for him, who protected and filled his home with warmth, just in case he wasn't really gone. His motivation was rooted in the slivers of positive feelings he had for Ming, which allowed him to move past the anger that he held for him.

A quote that I've seen floating around the internet for years comes to mind. "And when nobody wakes you up in the morning and when nobody waits for you at night and when you do whatever you want. What do you call it? Freedom or loneliness?" Joe has had that freedom for the majority of his whole life. It's no longer freedom for him. But even his found family isn't fully aware of the loneliness that would wash over him when he would return to an empty home.

After all is said and done, he sees that only one person knows him intimately enough to understand and learn even the most mundane of his desires. Ming, even with all the toxic shit he has pulled, stood by his word of not letting Joe return to an empty home. For Joe, that was enough. It changes how he sees and understands Ming.

It's also why Sol and Joe would have never worked out.

As Poom said, ultimately, it's not that he gives in to Ming but rather he lets his heart melt when he sees exactly what Ming has done for him in his absence.

Even after everything, Joe still loves him.

[stsgooo]

Love, Hate, Love.

✩࿐ summary: shoko reminisces.

warning(s): death, description of gore, angst, hurt no comfort, depression, bit of a character study(?), sad yuri. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): ieiri shoko/fem!gojo!reader.

a/n: this is kinda messy, but i love shoko and wanted to write something for her so :3 excuse anything that just

SHOKO STARED DOWN AT THE BODY OF ITADORI YUJI AND SHE FELT AN ARRAY OF EMOTIONS.

Disdain. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. Exhaustion. Slight, slight sadness. Emptiness.

She didn’t know Itadori Yuji well. She had only met him for a few minutes when he was passed out and thrown onto one of the many medical bay beds by Gojo. Had patched up the rather small cuts and bruises, listened as the tall teacher described the King of Curses. Then sent him on his way.

Shoko hadn’t seen Itadori again until he was a corpse on her table.

It wasn’t that Shoko was sadden by this strange boy’s loss. Not entirely. She had no attachments or thoughts on the boy. Even when he had gotten everyone talking.

No, it was more about what Itadori Yuji represented in that moment.

Death was a common thing to happen within their world. Every day it was something new. Whether it be non-sorcerer, sorcerer, or a random animal, there was death to be following. Random at most, but there were few instances where it was intentional. Where the grapevine of gossip lead to something catastrophic. That it lead to the death of a young sorcerer with great potential.

Itadori hadn’t been the first to die. And he certainly wasn’t the last.

No. No, Shoko could recall her first vividly.

First, it had been Yomada Han in their first year. A third year that had been the last of his class. He’d run into a trouble, died messily. It’d been the first time she dissected a body. The first time she threw up over it too. It’d been the first time she had a cigarette too.

He’d been sent off to slaughter because of his hand in some clan mess. They thought it was justification enough for his murder death.

Dissecting and seeing death got a little easier from then. Shoko didn’t throw up anymore. She didn’t get angry or question why someone was on her slab. It was just what happened. She came to accept it.

The second had been… well, Gojo Y/N.

Shoko was still unclear on what exactly happened that day. She can just recall the dread and sickness that flushed over her when she saw her sprawled out on the cot. The way Gojo’s voice shook and pleaded with her— desperately trying to appease to Shoko’s good side as if she hadn’t wanted to save her. As if that’s the only thing Shoko wanted to do.

She’d seen a lot by then. Geto’s chest wide open, the insides of various students and curses, bloody limbs. But she had never seen something quite like that.

It was so surreal to have been speaking to someone a day before, smiling and laughing, sharing touches and secrets. Then have half of their brains scattered on your table the next.

Still and silent. The entire time she had been still and silent.

It was all so sickening.

Shoko hadn’t even been able to take a step towards her before she was throwing up the food she’d consumed in the last 24 hours. Tears flushing down her cheeks and bile rising in her throat. Brains trailed into the room and blood dripped from the end of the table onto the ground like a leaky faucet.

She was sick. She was sick. Shoko couldn’t stop being sick.

Then, she hadn’t been sure what to do as the white haired boy pleaded and cried. As his twin remained limp in his hold. Shoko had just watched with trembling lips, shaking hands pressed against her mouth.

She was dead before she was even found.

Shoko had concluded such during the autopsy. As she pushed tears away behind her protective goggles, cutting into her… her….(what? Her friend? Her friend.) As she cut into her friend’s bones and body. Gojo Y/N had been dead the moment the curse made contact and dealt the blow. The moment her skull cracked open and her brain turned to mush, she was gone.

At least, that’s what she reassured Gojo and Geto (and herself) with.

"They said it was a Grade Two," Gojo had said in a whisper, slumped in his seat, eyes uncharacteristically vacant as he stared at the ground. A hollowness that embraced them all was evident and clear. "They sent her with Nanami and Haibara because it was a Grade Two. So why are they both dead? Why is my sister dead? Why was it a fucking Local Deity? It was a Special Grade!"

Gojo had broken down then. A mess of rage full tears as he uttered on about how it was a mistake. One that costed his other half, since birth, to die. It was surreal to see the Strongest reduced to this. A bumbling mess. While he tried to piece together the puzzle of death. As he questioned the justification behind his sister’s death.

Shoko had wished she was afforded the same.

"Satoru," Geto had whispered, oddly blank and hollow himself. As he always had been back then. For a year he’d been a husk of who he once was. Body always tense, always frail and alert. Tired and withering. "You know how she is… was. She would’ve tried saving Haibara no matter the grade."

Haibara had been the third.

He held out longer than her. Given that she’d jumped in front of the curse to save him. Still, he’d been split in half. Nanami only retrieving his upper half with a pale face and hollow eyes. Still, he died.

What was the point of her dying if the one she saved died too?

Shoko wasn’t sure

And neither was Gojo.

"Yeah, and now there two dead sorcerers!" Gojo had shot from his chair. Fast enough that it bounced off the wall and made a horrible sound throughout the empty hallway. Shoko could recall the way she flinched back the moment she felt Gojo's technique fire up. A barrier between him and the people he cared about. An unrelenting and unchecked power that kept his rage contained. "W-Who even cares about Haibara—?"

"Satoru." Geto's tone had darkened considerably. His face shadowed under the flickering fluorescent lights. Any other time Shoko would've ran away. She would've made some comment about them being annoying trash, then stalk off with her in her shadow.

Not now. Not ever again.

Gojo's face crumbled, he grew desperate at Geto's call, "I... Why does it have to be her?" His eyes split to Shoko, narrowed and angry. "I thought you could do something."

Shoko, taken aback, had tensed. "Half of her brain—"

"You love her, right?" Gojo had continued, ruthlessly, "Right?"

A nod.

"Then you should've saved her!"

"Satoru!" Geto's hand wrapped around Gojo's arm, pulling him away. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm wrong?"

"Yes!"

"What the fuck do you know, Suguru?"

"What do I know? I know that you're..."

Their voices had faded away as Shoko stared endlessly at Gojo's previous spot. A well of tears collecting in her eyes as her hands buried deep within her pockets, clenched and shaking. Her technique was great, it was amazing. She'd done a lot even before she was 18.

So why couldn't she save her?

It stuck around with her for a long time. Well after Gojo had stomped off with tears flowing down his face. Well after Geto had conjured up the last bits of his fake kindness and apologized, tried to comfort Shoko. Well after she was alone in her dorm, holding onto the pieces of her that were suddenly all Shoko had left.

Death was sudden. It was the last curtain call. In their line of work, there was usually no time for goodbyes or last words. Much like this situation. It was inevitable and everyone would meet their making sooner or later— it was only a matter of when. It was better to accept you wouldn't get nice little bows in at the end of your life instead of constantly thinking about it.

Still, Shoko had wondered if there was a possibility she could've saved her. Wondered what she would've said in her last moments if she had the chance to say goodbye.

It was a bad downward spiral to commit herself to. Especially when she was alone in the dark, laying in her bed, staring endlessly at the ceiling above.

It was flat-out dangerous to wonder when she was wrist deep in her chest cavity.

Shoko was best for it. Allegedly. She was the best bet to tell them all exactly what happened to her technique and body as she died.

Originally, Shoko had been tempted to just write that Gojo Y/N lost her brain. What else was there to report? What else could her family possibly want to know?

But then bitter curiosity got the best of her. She needed to know everything. She didn't even care about what the Gojo's wanted to know. Shoko herself had to know if her soul— if the technique just... vanished.

She wasn't really sure what she expected when she stood over her in the morgue. How she would possibly cut her open and scoop out her organs as if she hadn't been speaking to her two days ago. Had been engaged in conversations. Blushing when their hands brushed against one another. As if she hadn't—

"Shoko, what do you want while we're gone?" She had stopped by before they were to be sent off, lightly sprinkled white H/C hair. Expression light, but serious, as it usually was. "Treats, shirt, another body for you to pick around in? Ew, by the way."

Usually, a girl wouldn't think anything of it. But Shoko, elbow deep within a curse, blushed like she was an elementary girl. "Sorry"

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smile small yet tender, "So? What does sweet, sweet Shoko-chan want as a souvenir?"

Shoko always had a hard time believing Y/N was a Gojo. Especially the same product line of Gojo Satoru, who was just... the opposite of her. This girl was intelligent and kind, beautiful and timid. Self-aware, selfless, and She wasn't anything like the boy she shared the womb with, or birthday, or name. A twin. Same blood, same name, everything them. But so distinctly different.

"I'm not really interested in anything." Shoko had replied with a tilt of her lips and a shrug of her shoulders, pulling away from the curse corpse to face her fully.

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "Really? You're not interested in a single thing?"

"Not really," She walked closer, "What did the others get?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not entirely sure—"

"Gojo-senpai!" Haibara had barreled around the corner, loud and grinning, his hair flopping as he bounced around. "Geto-senpai would like something sweet for himself and your brother!"

She had released a bitter sound, fond and amused, but bitter all the same, "Of course he'd be thinking about Satoru." She turned back to Shoko with a small tilt of her lips. "You sure you don't want anything, Shoko?"

Shoko wondered if things would be different if she said anything else than what she had. If she asked for some ridiculous sweet or a stupid shirt, would things have ended differently? If she kept her around for a little longer, would someone realize the misclassification of the curse? Could Shoko have done something?

Who knows. All she said was, "Just come back. That's enough for me."

Her face had scrunched up, a light laugh leaving her as she turned, waving a hand, "Just for you, Shoko! See you around."

It wasn't anything special. Her goodbye had been a teasing promise. A nonchalant wave. Nothing special. Another day. It wasn't anything special.

So why did it have to be the last?

The autopsy ended abruptly. As Shoko held onto a trash bin, sobbing and throwing up the little food she had in the past two days, Yaga put it in the hands of someone much older. Much more detatched.

Gojo Y/N had died almost instantly. Before she could even activate her technique.

That sparked up a chatter at her funeral.

If the affair wasn't sickening and horribly in the first place, the conversation that took place most certainly was.

The people that attended outside of Shoko and Geto where just some old clan members either from the "Big Three" or some lowly ones. They all kind of just loitered around as they ate food and conversated. Nothing exciting, nothing entirely too telling of their grief either.

She couldn't ever recall Gojo or Y/N talking much about the other clans. If only to drag them through the mud, express their great distaste, or general displeasure. Shoko just knew that an occasion like this, filled with old people and terribly traditional things, was something that the girl nor her brother wanted. She knew that they all like the Gojo's about as much as the Gojo's liked them. Which was not very much.

It was only as Shoko was using the bathroom that she overheard what they truly thought.

"I heard that she didn't even have the time to activate her technique before it killed her."

"It's not like her technique would've done much against a Special Grade anyway. The Six Eyes got all the potential. If anything, that boy that got killed alongside her had more skill."

"I thought she had some type of power?"

"That's just a lie the family put out to calm their egos. They gave birth to the Six Eyes while giving birth to a useless girl right after."

"Poor thing."

"I wouldn't worry. The girl was a bit airheaded, she probably didn't even know she was boring."

It took everything in Shoko not to snap. To not ruin their gossip with her petulant cries of anger. It was just wrong. What they thought of her. There's never been something so wrong.

Y/n was different and amazing, magnificent and interesting. She was strong in ways that Gojo wasn't. She could hold her own. She was intelligent on things outside of jujutsu just as much as she was in things regarding jujutsu. Shoko wasn't sure where they got their information but it was wrong. It'd always been wrong.

Seven days later, Geto killed an entire village.

Thought about her and Haibara the whole time. The mountain of bodies that came with being a sorcerer. Killed 112 people just because he was angry and sad. At least, that's what Geto had said to her.

Shoko wished she could've destroy a whole village in her grief.

Those are all the things Shoko thought as she slips on her gloves, glancing back at where Gojo and Ijichi were standing in the corner.

"Hey, you guys, I'm gonna get started," Shoko says flatly, with her usual detachment. It'd been years since she felt uncomfortable or disgusted with this job. Just a normal routine now. "You gonna just sit there and watch?"

She snaps her glove into place at the same time Ijichi's face visibly pales and his jaw drops, Gojo's own face screwing up into something akin to shock. She was about to ask what was wrong, but—

"Whoa! Full frontal!"

Shoko whirls around to look at Itadori Yuji who looks, shockingly, fine.

Well, Shoko's never had someone come back to life in her morgue before. (No matter how much she's begged.)

She tugs down her mask, staring at the boy with disappointment, "Well, this is too bad."

Itadori blinks, a faint blush on his cheeks, "Um... who are you?"

"Yuji!" Gojo stands, a beaming grin on his lips as he walks forward, hand extended. "Welcome back!"

The teen lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hand against his teacher's for a loud slap that almost makes Shoko wince.

"I'm back!" Itadori cheers, smiling back.

"You sure are!" Gojo then tucks his hands into his jacket, turning around to face Shoko and Ijichi. "Hey, can I speak to you outside for a minute? Ijichi, get Yuji something to change into."

"O-Of course, Gojo-san!"

Shoko doesn't even dignify Gojo a response, lazily making her way out of the room with bored eyes. There went an afternoon of digging through Sukuna's vessel's organs and finding out what made him so different from the others. What allowed him to inhabit the King of Curses while so many others had died trying. It would make for perfect research. Fun and interesting.

But the kid just had to wake up. From death.

(She tired to ignore how many times she'd imagined her waking up on her table too.)

"Ugh, now I have to go back and change the report." Shoko utters bitterly once the two adults are outside.

"No, leave it as is." Shoko snaps her eyes to Gojo, who keeps his carefree smile on his face. "Before he's targeted again, I'd like to at least give Yuji some basic training. Please leave him listed as deceased in the report."

Shoko frowns, tucking her hands into her pockets, "Then Yuji will have to go into hiding for good."

"Nah, I'll have him ready in time for the Goodwill Event."

The Goodwill Event. Now, that was something she wasn't entirely concerned with. Something she didn't think Gojo was either.

"Why?" Shoko utters.

"Easy. I refuse to keep that kid from losing the best years of his life. Not just him, but everyone."

The way he says it is tender and true. Said with his heart and his soul. Despite how childish Gojo has always been, he's been terribly aware of when kids should be kids. Something he'd been keenly aware of when he was a kid himself.

Gojo suddenly tilts his head, smile distant and incredibly sad, "Not to mention... he kind of reminds me of Y/N, y'know?"

Shoko's steps falter. They've never really engaged in a conversation about her before. Never really a chance or reason to. Shoko figured they always had their own thoughts and opinions about what happened. Their own grief pushed down to be ignored. Never addressed.

But he—

"Bit of an airhead, but he means well. Smart when it calls for it. Wants to do the right thing no matter if it's his life on the line." Gojo stops a few feet ahead of Shoko, back stiff and, unfortunately, unreadable to her. "I wonder what she'd think of all this."

Shoko draws in a breath, inching closer to lean on the railing overlooking the courtyard. "She'd be disgusted to learn you're a teacher."

"Disgusted?" Gojo repeats with a pout. Shoko just knows that his eyes are narrowed behind his blindfold. "And she wouldn't judge you for cheating your way through med school?"

"She would, but I wouldn't care." Shoko rolls her eyes.

Gojo presses his lips together, leaning on the railing next to her, "I don't think I would either... as long as she was here."

Shoko tenses and her eyes grow distant as she watches leaves twirl and fall in the distance. Her ears begin to ring and she thinks, for one single moment, that Gojo is right. If she just had her right next to her. Breathing, talking— living. Then Shoko might be one of the happiest people alive. She wouldn't care about any of this. She wouldn't worry about anyone leaving or dying. She would just—

What was the point of think about something not possible?

11 years. They needed to let go already.

"I'll make sure Itadori is, in all the official ways, dead." Shoko pushes away from the railing and begins to make her way back to her office (ignoring the soft snort Gojo gave). "Make sure he doesn't die again before you can train him."

"I'll do my absolute best."

11 years. What's a few more minutes with her memory.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 6 of 6 Final Chapter and Epilogue)

Bonus smut chapter is complete - making final edits now 💕

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

🪄 Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, fighting, ownership kink, mention of drugs, stabbing, murder, major character trauma, pet names.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ “You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? ✨

Reader’s POV:

You roll into the parking lot, unable to fight back your smile. The week was long, but the phone conversations with Rafe held you over just enough. The jail in Charleston wasn’t as lax as Kildare County. Understandably, Rafe did not want to push his limits, leaving the phone conversations shorter than you’d hoped they’d be. Until Rafe was out and everything was taken care of, he didn’t want you to leave the penthouse, which meant no face-to-face visits, leaving you craving him even.

Rafe ensured you were taken care of: additional security, groceries sent over, dinner brought by every night, fresh-cut flowers when he thought the old ones had wilted. Rafe had the G-Wagon scrubbed and triple-checked for any additional trackers placed or bugs planted.

He paid a hefty fee to have the cops delete a single recorded call between the two of you. Rafe wanted to know what happened the night he had gotten taken away by the officers. He wanted to know what Tony had said in the voicemail, and what happened between the restaurant and the penthouse. Everything was awful, but the voicemail conjured up the most fury. Rafe dissected each word, dragging Tony; your ex’s vile words just added fuel to the fire, like he needed any more. Rafe was very conscious with his words, careful not to incriminate himself further, emphasizing the importance of the business meeting, and that he was looking forward to it even more now.

Of course, given the situation, you couldn’t ask about Tony. His well-being wasn’t the concern, just curiosity. Where was he? Where did Barry take him? It’s been seven days… He must be well-hidden, or his boys would have found him by now. There’s no way he’s dead… Rafe would never allow Barry to take that pleasure away from him.

A conversation— it’s never a conversation with these men, even more satirical after watching how the first one unfolded. If Tony had been there, this would have been over. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I’m sure Rafe has a few things he wants to say to Tony before he pulls the trigger. There are so many things I want to say to him. I wish I could have been strong enough to take the call at the bar. His words have done nothing but haunt me. But maybe I was meant to hear it too… Any fraction of guilt I had about my choices were eliminated in an instant.

The door of the jail fans open, just like it did the week before; Rafe all smiles once again. He bites his lip as he walks to you, taking you in like it's the very first time. Rafe shakes his head in awe as he looks down at you, clearing the space between as you do the same. You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his neck. He kisses wherever he can, mumbling against your soft skin about how you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen and feelings mutual. Seeing the beautiful man before you, paired with all the lovely things he did brings nothing but tears and emotion. “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much,” you snivel.

“Mmm…” He hums happily, taking his turn kissing up the column of your neck to your ear. “I love you, princess.”

You pull back and smile, eyes locked. His ocean eyes shimmer with happy tears as well. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, his focus like a magnet pulling you in. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as he cradles you in his embrace. Rafe backs you against the car, deepening the exchange. Your tongue swirls with his, lips moving in perfect harmony. He smiles along your mouth, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Damn, I missed my girl.”

Rafe grips the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your bare thigh. His gold chain twinkles on his athletic chest, poking slightly out of his black fitted polo. It had taken everything in your power not to pull him into the back seat after watching him change out of the button-down he walked in with, still sprinkled with blood from the club. He looks at you with a smirk, catching you gawking, loving every second of your attention. “It’ll be a short meeting. Aight? Think you can wait?” He teases, making your cheeks warm up as you fight back a dizzy laugh.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You take his hand in yours, lifting it, kissing his fingers one by one. “I still have to thank you, baby.”

Rafe releases a lusty laugh, relaxing in his leather seat a little more. “Trust me, princess. I have not forgotten. I've thought about it every night. But, a ‘thank you’ is not necessary… I love takin’ care of you, and I always will.” The car speeds past the town’s welcome sign, barreling toward the Atlantic.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“You’re droppin’ me off at the beach house, baby. You can head over to Tanneyhill. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, and we can get out of here. How does that sound?” He smiles. You clear the lump in your throat, trying to focus on the question Rafe is asking, but your mind is fixated on the rest of his words. Rafe wants me to leave? “Baby?” he asks gently. 

“I’m dropping you off…” You question uneasily. “Don’t you want me to come with you? Don’t you need me close by?”

The muscles in Rafe’s arms flex as he tightens his hand around the steering wheel, shaking his head ‘no’ as he narrows his sights on the road. “I don’t want you to see this, princess,” he responds levelly, his eyes landing on yours.

“Couldn’t Barry take care of him?” You invite without thinking. Rafe’s brows knit tightly, a puzzled look pulling on his beautiful face.

“No… Why, baby?” He asks, trying his best to keep his compass on the road ahead.

“I don’t know,” you answer hastily. “I just don’t - I don’t know.” Your stomach sinks, uneasiness setting in. After everything that Tony has done and said, he’s better off dead, but thinking about him dying at the hands of Rafe mere minutes from now had your heart racing. I can't help but think about the fact that he bamboozled Rafe not once but twice. He would have walked into an ambush at the strip club without me there… He had no clue the drugs were planted in the Mercedes. “I don’t know!”

“What don’t you know, exactly?” He asks as he pulls up to the beach house, sailing into the driveway, pulling between a vintage BMW and the white van that Tony got taken away in. Rafe turns toward you, demanding your attention. “Are you having second thoughts about this?” He questions, his words dripping with accusation.

“No!” You gasp. “I - I just. I don’t know, Rafe. I’m just freaking out. Okay?” You whimper as tears start to cloud your vision, your anxiety about the situation making your mind muddled.

“Do you want him to live?” He asks. It’s hard to place his tone; Rafe at the junctions between perplexed and agitated, his frustration with you clear in his body language alone.

“Of course I don’t. I want this to be over with,” you blubber.

”So do I, princess. And we talked about this before. It’s not going to be me and you if he’s here. Do you want it to be me and you-”

”Yes!” You cry out before he can even finish his sentence.

“Don’t think about it then, Aight? Let me handle business. This is why I don’t want you in there. I don’t want this on your conscience. I want to handle this for you. And we will never talk about this again. Okay?” You nod in silent agreement, but he shakes his head ‘no’. “Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Rafe leans in, kissing you softly. You cup his cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along the stubble that’s grown on his face since confinement. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rafe, but things keep goin’ wrong. Tony keeps getting in the way. I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

He melts into your touch, looking at you with adoring eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. And he’s not gonna hurt me. All right? He’s strapped to a chair. He has been for a week. This is just a matter of me lookin’ him in the eyes and letting him know that he will never get to hurt you again. Yeah?”

“Okay, baby,” you breathe as Rafe catches your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay… I love you too, baby.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Once I close this door, I want you to drive. Understand?” He asks as he opens up the navigation on your phone, pulling up the address to his home in Figure Eight. “Remember what happened last time I told you to leave but you stayed an extra two minutes. You gotta listen to me,” he asserts.

“I’ll listen.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” you whisper.

Rafe grabs the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open before walking around the front, helping you to your feet. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the other side. He hugs you tightly, pressing kisses on your forehead and cheeks before landing on your lips, kissing you one last time.

“Just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Not this time. I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Your hand holds his as he steps away until your fingers lose contact. Rafe reaches behind his back just as he did the night you walked into the club, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband before falling out of sight. You step into the driver’s seat, wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, still warm from Rafe. You grab the shifter, putting it in reverse, fighting against the impulse to wait in the wings ‘til he handles business, just in case he needs to flee. This man gives and gives. He has barely asked me for anything in return. Just leave. You roll out of the drive, pressing down on the gas.

Rafe’s POV:

“Barry?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls of the beach house. Rap music swells from the basement, the dank smell of weed hazing the place. My aggravation starts to mount; a SOLO cup crushes under the heel of my dress boot, just one of many. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans litter the counter, takeout food strewn across the tables, thongs, stripper heels, and a few stray lines of coke left cut on the counter. “I’m gonna kill him,” I curse his name under my breath as I bound toward the basement door.

I tug it open, my heart plunging as I see a pool of blood gathered on the floor. Shit. I catch my gun, heart banging as I race down the flight. “Oh, fuck… No. Sh-Shit. Barry?” I stutter as I run toward him, his white tank top drenched crimson red. His dark eyes lift momentarily, falling heavy the next. I catch his shallow breathing, leaning in close as he tries to mumble out a few words, quelled in blood.

“Tony?” I ask, watching as he gives me the slightest nod. This blood is fresh. He’s here.

BANG.

I draw my gun again as the door at the top of the stairs bangs shut. Here we go… I sprint toward the wall, half-hidden, listening to his heavy steps as they move closer and closer.

“You hidin’ from me, Cameron?” Tony’s voice cuts through the hush. “That was an awful lotta coke. You come to pay up? Or, did you just come to take somethin’ else from me?” He booms as he steps out, footing right past me.

He looks like shit. His white button-down shirt tattered and bloodied on his large body; Tony’s donning the same worn-in beard as me after his week of imprisonment in the basement. The fucker got the shorter end of the stick apparently, beaten to the edge of death, Barry doing all but killing the bitch.

I check his hands, breathing a sigh of relief; no gun. I adjust my mine as I see a weapon, however, a large kitchen knife clutched in his massive hand. End this. I find his head in my crosshairs, aiming my pistol at his skull, gritting my teeth, battling with the rational part of my brain that’s tellin’ me to fire. The irrational part of my mind yearning to feed my pride and tell him everything I wanna say for her… Tony bends around, smiling with blood-stained teeth. Shit.

“You gonna shoot, Cameron? Or you gonna just stand there like a pussy,” Tony spits.

“We got some shit we need to talk about first. Hmm?”

“You wanna talk about my girl-“

“My girl,” I stop him as I step a little closer, making him shake his head in disbelief, snickering cruelly as he looks back at me.

“Yours? Your girl? Since when exactly. ‘Cause she never said shit to me. Do you honestly think that she loves you? Are you that fuckin’ stupid?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves, preparing for a fight.

“I know she loves me,” I grunt as I square up with him.

“You think she’d leave me? It was our plan for you to die at the club. She knew it. I knew it. You were just supposed to walk in.”

”You’re lyin’,” I spit.

“Am I?” He smiles again— that same wicked and crazed smile; punch-drunk after a week of torture. “You know I’m not, Rafe.”

“You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? You think I believe you you’d actually let me fuck-”

”ENOUGH!” He thunders, his loud, deep voice making my muscle tense up. “Don’t finish that FUCKING sentence. Because how hard you make this is how hard she's gonna get it after I KILL you. You understand?”

“You can't even let me finish the sentence, Marietta. You can’t even let the words leave my lips,” I chuckle. “Ya know, about fuckin’ “your” girl, on the couch of your club? That same couch you fucked some stripper on. You think I believe that you’d actually let that happen? She ain’t in on this, Tony. This is you losin’ her and settin’ me up.” He steps closer and so do I, the pair of us level-eyed.

“I’m not lyin’. That women would do anything for me. And, at the end of the day, even if I am lyin’, she’d only want you for your money, Cameron. I’m man enough to admit you got more than me— new money and old money in your pocket. She saw an opportunity and took it. She’s either in on this or in it for the cash.”

“She’s not after my money,” I mumble as I try to keep my emotions at bay. “She’s not in on shit.”

“‘Course she is… Your head is just too far up your ass to see what’s really goin’ on around you. N’let’s just say my baby isn’t in on this with me and she just after your money and she finds someone else with more, buddy, you’re fucked. ‘Cause if you get what you came here for and you kill me, everything in my name goes to her: all of the hard earned money that I made that she loves to spend, the club, the law firm, my cars, my jewelry, my homes. Everything that I have she takes from me. And she knows that. You gotta see what’s goin’ on here. Right?” He asks as he looks back at me like I'm stupid.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He chuckles. “You know before your boys picked me up, I was on the way to fuck my girlfriend in that pretty little penthouse you bought her. She even sent me a few pictures in that pretty pink lingerie. You know, the one she was describin’ for you on the phone? Fuck, Rafe. You should see it on her. My princess doesn’t just talk a big game. She knows how to fuck,” he sneers as he catches me battling my emotions. “Why don’t you go look at my phone. Pretty sure it’s in his pocket. You can see for yourself.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door crack at the top of the stairs—one step then another, as the person at the top creeps down. No. No. Tony hears it as well, the man looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Guess who’s here, Cameron,” he whispers. “Princess?” Tony softens his tone with her, the sound of y/n’s slight feet stopping in a flash.

Was this her plan all along?

I scrunch my nose; eyes burning with tears of deceit and rage. There’s no way the story he’s spinning is true. If he kills me, and he’s lying, what will happen to her? I can’t take that risk.

I shove him hard, making him stumble back, kicking him with the heel of my dress shoe square in the chest before he can rise back up to his feet, sending him and the knife to the ground. I hear her soft gasp; her feet quickly clearing the rest of the steps. “Don’t move, y/n,” I bark back at her.

“Rafe?” She whimpers, making me look over my shoulder. The second I do the air flees my lungs, Tony’s big body tackling me to the floor. My skull ricochetes off the hardwood floor; eyes slamming shut in pain, losing my gun in the process. I overpower him, rolling him to his back, grabbing his shoulders I lift him slightly, bashing his head against the ground again and again making him scream out in pain.

He scratches and claws at my face and shirt as I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing with all my might. "Not so easy to fight a man. Huh?" I hiss.

"F-Fuck you," he stammers as he throws a rough punch, meeting my jaw. I respond with four of my own. The connections, direct and brutal, the dried blood on his face replaced with fresh blood as his body starts to go limp.

Finally.

I stare down at him, lifeless, one with the floor, his breathing almost nonexistent. I draw my hand back, slapping him across the face, his head snapping to the side; body unresponsive to the pain. I drag myself to my feet, stumbling across the living room for my gun. An execution. This ends right here. Right now.

My chin trembles with adrenaline and emotion as I try to get his words out of my head. There’s no way she was in on this all along. Everything she shared with me, the things she said to me, the things we did… That was real. She's here ‘cause she was worried. She's here ‘cause her intuition was right. She's here for me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart sinks, the rapid bounding of Tony’s feet stopped almost as soon as it start. It’s quiet, wet gurgling and a soft whimpers are all that remains. I turn around, facing Tony but his eyes aren’t on me. He looks down at his chest, the bloodied tip of carboned steel poking out from his chest. He falls to his knees before me, y/n standing behind him in shock, watching as he tumbles face-first on the floor.

She looks up at me, eyes filled to the brim with tears. I run to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her body close as she clings to me for dear life.

I haven't let her go since. It wouldn't feel right. I hold her, watching as the sun sets in the east; a blood-red sky, painted across the Atlantic. The last sliver of the golden sun dips below the horizon. I kiss her gently on her cheek, down the soft flesh on her neck to the dip on her shoulder before resting my chin on top. “Are you okay, baby,” she whispers. I rest my hands on the top of hers, pressing my chest against her back as we both look over the edge of the yatch, watching the black water swell below.

“M’perfect, princess,” I whisper as I nuzzle into her neck. “Are you okay.”

“I am,” she whispers, “because of you. Thank you...”

“Thank you,” I mumble as she melts into me. “I needed you. I can't believe you did that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers as she turns, resting her hands against my chest, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I know him. I know Tony probably filled your head with lies but I promise, none of it’s true.”

“I know,” I assure as I cup her cheeks in my hands, guiding her soft lips to mine. “This is almost over and from here on out it’s just you and I.”

“You and I,” she echoes. I kiss her forehead and her lips before pulling away.

“Stay here. M’serious.” She nods submissively, falling back as I move foward. I shuffle across the main deck, grabbing the rail, walking down the small flight of stairs to the carport before raising the hatch. I reach behind my back, pulling out my 9mm, opening the trunk.

There he lies, Tony Marietta. I smile as he lifts his eyes, matching mine; the bloodied knife already laying by his side. I take the gun, pressing it against his temple, tilting my head slightly to keep his eyes on me. “M’so glad you’re alive for this… I could make this fast,” I whisper. “But after all the shit you did, I’m gonna have you dyin’ nice and slow. Too bad I don't get to watch.” He goes to speak but all that comes out is a thick trail of blood. “I know what you're gonna say… Don’t worry. I’m gonna do what you couldn’t. I’m gonna take care of her. And that's a promise.” I toss my gun inside before slamming the trunk.

Moving to the front I step inside, firing up the engine before shifting it into neutral. I give the vintage ride a little push, the pull of the yacht sending the tires rolling. I follow the car as it plunges into the deep, dark waters, the depth snuffing out the headlights ‘til all that’s left is blackness.

Goodbye, Tony.

Epilogue

One year later…

Reader’s POV:

You roll up to Tanneyhill, flooding the big driveway with light after a late night shift at the Country Club. It’s mine now and business is booming; a new staff with increased security. Rafe took it upon himself to turn it from the dive it once was to a luxury experience, all for me. Of course I clean his money, the perfect front. Anything for my man. Stepping out of the car you make your way up the cobblestone walk to the front door, passing the bay window, watching as Rafe shuffles by in a black button down, resting two plates of food down on the table.

“Knock. Knock,” you sing as you open the door with a smile, matching Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes making him return the same.

“Babygirl,” he croons as he walks closer, helping you out of your jacket before, swathing his strong arms around you waist, looking down at you lovingly.

“Welcome home. Happy Anniversary,” you coo as you rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til next week.”

He smiles against your lips, recalling his initial plan, the pair of you knowing there was no way he was gonna miss this day, even if it meant flying home from Morocco for one night only. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that, princess,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “I got your favorite.”

Rafe takes your hand, leading you to the dining room, pulling out your chair, directing you to sit. You look across the table seeing all of your favorite things; the meal, the flowers, wine. Little candles glint in the middle of the table, adding to the ambiance as he runs you a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, the first bottle of wine you shared on your very first night together.

"You look stunning," Rafe praises, lifting his glass to his lips, sipping slowly as his eyes drink you in.

"And you look very handsome, Rafe Cameron," you hum, resting your hand on the thigh of his Armani suit.

"You know baby, you’ve been working too hard. Are you free this week?” He asks, knowing the answer is ‘no’, but that’s not the reply he’ll get. If he’s asking you to go somewhere he’s already worked everything out for you.

"I’m always free for you, baby."

"Mhmm… Barry and his girl are gonna watch the club so you can come to Morocco with me. How does that sound?”

“So nice… You’re so good to me,” you sigh blissfully as you grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him to your lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

"Mmm… Yeah? Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how much you love me? We can see what happens next,” he chuckles warmly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby. You know I have no problem taking you right here,” you smile, the blonde smirking as he recalls what happened the morning before he left.

“You are so good to me,” he corrects you. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're mine. I hope you feel that.”

"I'm so happy I'm yours," you smile, spreading a little wider. “Of course, I feel that.”

"You deserve to have the very best, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy, and safe, and loved.” He leans in closer to you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I do… You’re perfect, Rafe.”

“I’m not, princess. But I wanna be for you,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. Your brows rumple as his mood shifts from flirty and light-hearted to serious. His eyes always look bluer when he’s on the verge of tears, yet, his smile contradicts it all. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

“Mhmm,” he hums and nods as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a blue box.

"Oh my gosh! Rafe Cameron,” you gasp. “It's too much.”

"It's not, princess," he smiles softly. You reach for the box, but he keeps it in his hand, using the other to brush the tears out of his eyes.

"Rafe... Are you okay?" You whisper as you cup his cheek in your hand. He shuts his eyes, relishing in your touch, leaning into you slightly. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

"I’m perfect, baby.” He whispers weakly. "Umm... I'm not sure how I'm this in love with you, baby. But I am. And, at this point, I genuinely can't remember a time when I wasn't. Every night since I saw you I fall asleep with you on my mind, and I wonder if you're doing the same. I can't even comprehend losing you, or someone hurting you. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it a million times I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me and that includes your heart too. It's you, princess. It's fucking you. I can't describe it any more than that. You are the only person I want and will ever want. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved. And since I've met you, sweetheart, you've always been that person. My girl. I can't love anyone else. And, I don't want to. So, with that being said. Y/n, will you marry me?" Rafe moves from the chair, dropping down to one knee, pulling open the box, the Tiffany engagement ring, resting in the center.

Your eyes widen, hand covering your bright, ecstatic smile. "Yes!" You squeal in delight, making Rafe let out a happy chuckle as he glides the jewelry on your finger.

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, Rafe! Oh my gosh. I thought it was a necklace," you gasp as you eye the ring on your finger.

"I figured, when you tried to take it from me. I got nervous," he laughs warmly, guiding you to his lips. You smile against his kiss, Rafe doing the same.

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”

Bonus smut chapter 💕

Thank you so much for reading my short story! I hoped you enjoyed it 💕🩷

Miski 🩷

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[shapard]

Thorned 🥀

Human!Lucifer x fem!reader

Zombie Apocalypse Au

Writing the first words of a story really is a pain in the ass sometimes.

mention of SA and gore (English is not my first Language so errors ahead!)

And here I am to feed y'all another Lucifer x reader!!

In the Closet

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2

It should’ve been a normal school day in your boring life. You are a silent nerd student in college just trying to survive with all the college bills. 

Your parents aren't very supportive nor did they care about you. So, you moved out of your parents house trying to make something out of yourself.

And let's just say your mother wasn't pleased with the news and declined all your calls.

Not even your father bothers to get in contact with you. When you do get lucky he just shrugs you off and says he is busy.

Clearly a complete lie.

Your head laid on the desk not caring what the Professor is saying right now. 

Your life is pretty boring. No romance, no drama and no friends. Not that you mind. You're here for a good education rather than a tragic love story.

Your mind was drifting somewhere else and thinking about the rent you must pay. It was a struggle you wished you don’t have to face. 

Beside college you worked in two other part time jobs which drained you completely out. No private time or going out.

High school was the only time where you went out partying and met your ex-boyfriend. He was toxic and very self-centered.

A loud scream caught your attention. Your eyes travelled down towards the tumult that started outside. 

The Pick me girl from the upper class was screaming and pressing her hand tight on her mouth. Your eyebrows raised in question, even though she is the pick me girl she never reacted this terrified? 

There was screaming, gasping and sound of metal meating flesh.

Interested you watched the scenery as the girl got jumped by a guy. Shocked you saw how that guy, or rather that thing, ate her face bit by bit. Your heart felt like sliding down to your stomach, you wanted to puke. 

Her new boyfriend swung a baseball bat onto the monster. The bloody tone that played when blood started to burst out was disgusting.

It made you sick to the stomach.

This is different than any movie or series you watched. This is real. No actor playing a role and no CGI.

Soon enough alarm sirens rang through the town and in the college. You tried to keep a cool outside but the panic inside you was immense. The whole classroom was screaming and some even had panic attacks. 

This type of reaction wasn’t helping at all.

In your whole life of existence, you’ve never imagined that this could be really happening. 

A Zombie Apocalypse. 

You’ve seen it in movies and Series but never have you imagined that it really would happen.

The Professor closed the door and told you all to wait till the police comes and handle the little situation. But help never came.

You pulled out your half-charged phone hoping that the news would report that the government can handle this. All you saw was that the Police departments were under attack, and almost no one survived. 

The whole city was on lockdown. And you were hiding in your classroom with your classmates. 

The professor never came back. He probably died in the chaos at the own hands from his students who are just trying to protect themselves. or by Zombies. 

Now the classroom seems like a save place but for days, weeks maybe even years (when you’re still alive) you knew that escaping the college is the safest idea. 

Searching in the classroom for any weapon that could help you found a dissecting knife. You took it fast into your position before anyone can take it from you.

The classroom was quiet, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm. 

You must find a better weapon than the small dissecting knife that’s used for surgeries or inspections on dead animals. 

Most likely you wouldn’t find a weapon here in the classroom. 

Your eyes shifted towards the door that has been locked, in hope none of those creatures would come here. It was a fake feeling of safety. 

Everyone knows what a zombie is. But these are different. The way they move, the way they ate and who knows how they are created? Maybe a bite isn’t the only thing that transforms someone into a zombie.

A loud crashing sound made you snap out of your thoughts, and you looked at one of your classmates attacking one of your ex-friends. 

Everyone watched in horror and didn’t knew what to do for themselves. The screams pierced your ear and the other didn't move an inch.

Without wasting time, you ran to the locked door and jumped with full force in the hard wood door. You have to escape and watching a slaughter isn’t the way how you’re going to die.

The pain from the harsh compact against the door didn’t stop you. You will not give up and most likely will not die in here. 

Your classmates were watching how you were trying to open an escape but didn’t try to help you.

They were afraid that if they move that the zombie attack. 

Your friend laid there in full display; half of the face is eaten away by the monstress being. 

Your bone cracked slightly, you hissed in pain but continued. The adrenaline was pushing you to things you never thought you'd do. The pain only fueled more Adrenaline into your system.

Your heart raced a mile per minute. Your body heated up and you swung your body every time harsher against the wood surface.

Your skin, flesh and bone begged for a break, but you pushed your body against your limits. The door whined in protest as you lunged your body another time against it. 

The door burst open, and the blood covered college hall came in your view.

You stumbled forward when your other classmates ran against you, the others almost walked all over you. 

Your hands covered your body hoping it'll protect you from getting stepped over.

Assholes. 

You looked up from the floor, your breath hitched as you looked at your dead Professor. In the middle of the floor there laid your professor in a pool of blood.

Karma hit the guy that rammed against you in full force. Your professor raised and lunged at the defenseless boy.

His screams were unbearable to hear. The anxiety in your body only grows every second.

You wanted it all to stop.

You sat in the middle of the chaos, your skirt you chose to wear today was soaked completely with blood. 

You watched helplessly how your class clown got eaten in the most disgusting way. 

The zombie lunged towards his body as if he searched something, something that he misses. But what could that be? 

The zombie clawed with his short nails into the skin ripping the e guys fully open. Your body trembled under the disgusting sight.

As the professor seemed to not find what he was looking for, his body shifted to your direction. 

His arms stretched out wanting to grab you, and a sound escaped him, a terrifying one. 

Your body didn’t move as panic started to settle in, you’re the next to die. Tears started to burn their way in your eyes.  

You are terrified.

His other arm was ripped off and he was still bleeding. But the zombie professor couldn't care less. A lifeless body who was searching for something desperate.

A bloody sight you wanted to look away from but couldn’t.

A hand clasped around yours and pulled you up on your feet. You were being dragged across the college, you stumbled a couple of times but never fell.

Your gaze never left your professor though as you ran through the red painted halls. As he wasn’t in your sight anymore you looked at your savior just to see your ex-boyfriend.

Striker.

“Are you okay sweetie?” His deep voice was irritating for you and brought flashbacks from your relationship.

He tried in these couple days to get back to you even though he cheated on you. 

You forgot something in his house and just wanted to get it back. It was a short visit so you didn't tell him that you're going to pay a visit.

That’s when you saw Striker pounding into one of your friends Nova.

The betrayal was hurtful, you trusted her with all your heart and that stung more than some guy. Your heart ached from the loss of your boyfriend and your friend.

Striker only said the usual line: This is not what it looks like. Seriously these men need to have better excuses than this.

You pulled your hands out of his. “Fucking asshole, keep your disgusting question to yourself.” Striker rolled his eyes and tried to take your hand again, but you dodged his attempt.

“You got quite rude stallion. Remember when you used to get all cuddled up with me and begged me to dick you down.” He winked at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

A cold shiver went down your spine at his pervert comment. “You’re disgusting.” Striker hummed at your respond and looked you up and down.

“Only for you baby.” He purred and stroked your cheek. You slapped his hand out of your face and walked towards the exit of the college.

He didn't change a bit.

You’d rather find a way to survive than staying any longer with your ex. Ignoring striker is the best option right now. 

As you walked outside of the gates from the college grounds that was covered in corpses just to be met with way more outside. The sun was burning down on you making you sweat in anxious and the sudden heat.

A shiny object met your eye, it was a small butterfly knife. You sprinted towards it and danced in victory.

fuck yes! “Why are you dancing?” You cursed under your breath, “I thought you were already dead.” Striker chuckled and laid his hand on your shoulder. “You’re so mean baby~” He whispered in your ear. You wanted to gag at the nickname.

Since when was he behind you anyways? 

“I know a place where we can stay.” Finally, something helpful from striker. “Yeah? Where?” Your positive voice brought a grin up to striker’s face. “Just follow me hottie.” His grin only raises a suspicion, but nonetheless it was safer with him than with these monsters.

As you followed behind striker the anxiety in you only grew and your suspicion was high. You two were now in the middle of nowhere in some kind of forest. 

A large one at that. 

Your pace started to slow down a bit and you regret your past decision to follow your ex-boyfriend in some lonely woods. 

It’s not uncommon that exes kill their ex-partners. And in a zombie apocalypse no one would disagree with being a cannibal if it means to survive.

Humans were always self-centered. Even if some are generous. In the matter of living or dying every human is on their own and always just see themselves. Even you would hesitate when it comes to sacrifice yourself for a stranger.

Striker stopped and you walked right into his back, and you snapped out of your deep thoughts. 

You Apologized and asked striker, why he stopped so sudden. “You play all brave and mighty but here you are quivering in fear.” You didn’t even realize that you started to shake in fear.

Striker spun around and pulled out a rather beautiful knife, “Now listen little bitch. Either you’re going to do what I say, or we can do it in the more fun way.” His tongue ran across the silver, and he laughed in pleasure. 

You knew this was a bad idea. “What do you want striker?” 

Stand tall, stand tall Y/n. 

“I want you stallion.” His hand went out to grab your hair throwing you onto the grass ground. Confused you looked around and saw the butterfly knife laying peacefully in the green. It must’ve fallen out of your hand as Striker forced you to the ground. 

“You really thought you could break up with ME?!” His hand collides with your shoulder, and he pressed down hard.

You bit on your tongue to stop the groan of pain. The damage of the door breaking was still fresh and introduced itself. 

“Oh, babe you messed with the wrong one.” His knife ran across your cheek drawing red. His tongue ran across the new wound. 

Your hand searched for the weapon but it was too far away from you.

“Let me go Striker” It was like you’re talking to a wall; he pushes himself down on you. His erected member was pressed onto your thigh, and it was disgusting.

You really hoped that his dick wouldn’t be anywhere near you.You wanted to puke into his face right now.

“You’re so hot stallion. So pretty and perfect for me.” You spat in strikers face. Striker growled in anger, but you don’t regret it even a bit. And it only angered Striker even more.

“Fucking cunt!” He shouted out loud and you just smirked bitter. But when Striker started to smile you frown. What has he planned? His hand travelled down onto his belt, and you heard it buckle.

Oh no.

He laughed at you terrified face. Now he hit your nerve. Striker was about to pull his trouser down but got interrupted.

“That’s not how you treat a Lady, y’know.” Striker stopped as he heard another voice that wasn’t yours and you sigh in relief. 

Striker closed his belt back and let you go. Your feet pushed you away to the next tree and your eyes travelled to Striker towards your savior. 

He had a large smirk onto his pearl white face, he had a weird sense of fashion. A white cylinder with a small snake on it was on his head. He was kind of short for a Man. 

His eyes were brownish but a scarlet red shine through them, it fits perfect on him. Beautiful Man, beautiful eyes. You could watch hours in those eyes, it was like they were telling their own story. How they flicker and shimmer when the sun hits the iris was so beautiful.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Striker hissed, a reminder that he was still very near you. “Lucifer, not so a pleasure to meet you.” His smirk widens as Striker tried to attack him. 

Yep, tried. 

Lucifer dodged him perfectly and kicked with his heel right in the back from Striker. Striker hissed in pain and rolled on the floor. “You better leave and never come back to her, or you’ll regret it.” Lucifer voice was filled with Venom as he looked down at Striker. 

His eyes shrunk in a snake like eye, scary but sexy at the same time. With a whimper Striker ran far away from Lucifer. 

Fucking pussy.

Lucifer sighs and turned around to you. His hand stretched out for you to take it and you gladly accept. “Thank you for saving me.” Your thanking warmed his heart, “No Problem, it was the least I could do.” 

You felt save around the new stranger. Maybe it was again the wrong decision to just trust a random handsome guy but how can you not.

“Lucifer, right?” Lucifer nodded with his head. “The one and only, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lucifer bowed his hat firmly in his hands and you giggle at his antics. “And who are you darling?” He readjusted his hat and smiled as you Introduce yourself.

“I think we both could use some help and company in this mess.” Lucifers voice was almost like a warm sun breeze. Complete contrast than strikers. “It all happened out of nothing. First the zombies and then this.” You didn’t want to cry but at that moment you felt weak. 

Your body betrayed you and you just cried in front of your new friend you could say.

_____

After a while you two found a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be a lost place, and no one lives in it. You and Lucifer planned to stay in the cabin for a while. 

Life in the cabin was peaceful. Lucifer was the greatest room mate you could’ve Imagined. He was supportive and helped around the household. A man that women can only dream about. 

Today Lucifer was out looking for any food he could find meanwhile you built up a fence. 

When Lucifer came back you couldn’t help yourself better than to watch. 

His shirt was draped over his shoulder and his god given abs and waist were showing. You gulped hard as you watch how the sweat pearls pearled down from his chest. 

His body was more than just perfection, you almost felt jealous because of that waist of his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He winked at you, and you only rolled your eyes which earns you a chuckle. 

“You’re so mean kitty.” You huffed and gave him a side eye, “I’d stop if you wouldn’t be so annoying.” Your hand stretched out to get another nail. You hissed as the nail pierced through your fingertips. Lucifer laughed at your clumsiness. “This is already the fifth time kitty cat. Or should I say sleepy beauty.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your heart skipped a beat at his newfound nickname for you. 

“Let’s get you patched up.” 

A/n: FINALLY I CAN SHARE THIS. So, First thoughts?

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei

If you want to be added please comment on the post I linked below under Taglist.

Taglist

[deathbysnakes]

Hello! I hope you are doing well. I am in love with your work. Its difficult to find words to explain, but seeing your posts make my day!

May I request Pantalone and Dottore fluff headcannons with their s/o that also happens to be their childhood friend?

I wish you a nice day and always remember to drink water! :))

Dottore & Pantalone childhood friend headcanons

Dottore x reader (Romantic)

Pantalone x reader (Romantic)

Sorry this took so long, I thought I accidentally deleted this request, only to find it in my drafts.

Warnings:Marriage

Pronouns:He/him (Dottore and Pantalone) You/your (Reader)

Fluff

Explanation:Headcanons on being childhood friends with Dottore/Pantalone

×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×<>×

Pantalone

You met Pantalone when he was running away from a rich man he just stole money from, you helped him hide from the man and you two became friends, over time you two started to gain feelings for eachother, you two eventually confessed your feelings for eachother and started dating, and dating turned into marriage.

Pantalone is constantly talking about the past, most of it is about how many times you saved him.

Pantalone is always trying to "repay" you because of how many things you did for him in the past, he's constantly protecting you, buying you stuff, and more.

Pantalone always keeps a close eye on you, he's worried something will happen to you, not like stalking wise though, he'll be in your plan of sight, and if you want him to stop he will.

When you and Pantalone go to Liyue he's always afraid that people will recognize you two so he's always keeping you close to him, he'll hold onto your pinky, hold your hand, or wrap a arm around your arm.

Pantalone will try to pick up on your hobbies so you guys can spend more time together because you two are busy with work and don't get to spend much time together that often.

Pantalone is constantly trying to help you with stuff, like getting ready in the morning, cooking, carrying stuff, and more.

I think Pantalone is a really good dancer and he does try to dance with you and if you already know how to dance he'll pretend like he doesn't know how to dance and will only take dance lessons from you, and if you don't know how to dance he'll teach you personally.

Loves to "decorate" you with jewelry and fancy clothes and praise you for how gorgeous you look.

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

Dottore

You two met when you found Dottore dissecting a frog and you asked what he was doing. At first, he was rude and pushed you away, but he eventually warmed up to you.

Dottore prefers not to talk about the past, he wasn’t exactly the nicest to you when you first started your friendship, he’s improved massively , but still feels guilty.

Dottore’s clones are constantly asking you to tell them embarrassing stuff Dottore did in his past, then Dottore immediately gets really embarrassed and yells at them to stop bothering you.

He’s a absolute cuddle bug, in private that is, and he has to have all limbs wrapped around you.

His clones are extremely touchy too, when your dating Dottore, personal space doesn’t exist.

If Dottore is working in his lab late, his clones will jump at the opportunity to share a bed with you for the night to stop you "from getting lonely", their actually the lonely ones.

LOVES massages, or just rubs, only from you though, if anyone else even tries, there dead in a heartbeat.

Will only go to events if you’re going. He says it’s to protect you, and while some of it is, he also wants to prevent people from flirting with you, it doesn’t make him jealous, he’s been with you for hundreds of years, he trusts you with his life, he just gets frustrated that such a low life thinks they have a chance with you. He also gets extremely worried that someone will kidnap you because of your beauty, because to him, your beauty is beyond the stars.

Loves to gossip with you, man is a total gossip girl, and because of all the clones he has, he knows EVERYTHING.

[yandereunsolved]

Dissect Me, Doctor - ,, yandere JPM with a psychologist reader

cw(s): yandere themes, dismemberment, suggestive themes, (James) necrophilia, noncon touching, cannibalism, mention of reader having breakdowns & panic attacks

✧ James found you by God's hand one fateful day. You could say it was more than a mere coincidence, eh? He had just finished killing one of the hotel guests. He was about to call Miss Evers in to clean up the mess when he spotted something sticking out of the dead gentleman's breast pocket. He plucked the card out of your pocket and read it allowed, 'Doctor...' His curiosity was the least bit piqued. Psychologists weren't exactly popular in the 1930s. The true study of the mind hadn't emerged, but James had always lived to study humans. To study their fight or flight instinct, how their bodies react to various torture methods, and how fear affects the human psyche. Perhaps he has found someone who shares his fondness for such things. It would be a great way to meet someone new. Considering Elizabeth refuses to speak with him, he has grown desperate. Not even defiling his killings tapered his already suppressed desires. 

✧ He got Sally to teach him how to use this magic witch named 'Wi-fi' who owns the internet—or something like that. Most new technology is just rubbish used to get people to make inauthentic connections. Although perhaps just this once, it can be used for the betterment of his temperament. He has Sally schedule an initial appointment at the hotel. Sally uses the excuse that James is bedridden and terribly ill (non-contagious), but he hates telehealth and just wants someone to talk to in person. You were skeptical because of the rumors surrounding The Cortez, but you were in desperate need of another client, and he was willing to pay extra—a lot extra.

✧ You had your first session in his room, and you immediately got strange vibes from him. He wasn't ill, that was for sure. Perhaps he was a little pale, but he probably hasn't gotten enough sun or vitamin D lately. He was even smoking! He was sitting all relaxed on a couch, dressed up in 1930s-esque attire, with a cane leaning against his lap. He introduced himself as James Patrick March, and you immediately understood why you were called. He either has a personality disorder or is a compulsive liar. Perhaps both. You asked him simple questions, such as his real name and when he was born. You were only getting nonsensical answers. He could not have been born in the late 1800's or early 1900's; that is ridiculous! 

James only felt himself grow hotter with each question you asked. It was like a fire had been lit beneath his skin, and he needed to put it out. Then you asked the question that really got him going.

"Since you refuse to use your real name, I'll just call you Mr. March. How is your personal life going? Are you currently sexually active?"

"I have peculiar interests and refined tastes. How do you modern people phrase it? 'Where there is a hole there is a goal'?"

✧ With that astounded expression on your face, he feels his urges compell him to end this lovely conversation early. That look would look perfect on your dead corpse. He takes the sabre out of his cane and tries to slit your throat; he narrowly misses. Somehow, you unlock his room door and bolt through the hallways. How promising. He walks through the winding hallways slowly. You scramble to find the exit, and he struggles with not just outright chasing you through the maze. No, he must preserve the hunt. After what feels like an eternity to you—only eleven minutes in real time—you finally trip over a stair and hit your head on the railing. Talented fox. You nearly escaped to the lobby. You are too much of a challenge to let go so easily. He's going to keep you to get his release. In more ways than one. 

✧ You wake up in the middle of the night in the same room as before. It's freezing, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. Your head is pounding, and you are barely able to breathe. James drugged you with some cocktail of drugs—some legal, most not. You feel blades ghosting your body. You feel them just barely slicing into your skin. It must be sleep paralysis, you rationalize. Something whispers sweet nothings into your ears. You are barely able to discern what those words are. 

"You taste... a dream."

"Never leave."

"The best prey— never leave me."

✧ You drift off once again before groggily waking up in a different room. You are still in the Cortez, now in room seventy-four. You feel much different today, weighed down and yet free. You don't have any marks on you that would indicate you were harmed last night. You feel the need to escape, but you are also incredibly confused. A maid is in your room, setting down a new set of clothes. She explains that you passed out after you tripped on a stair while leaving the session early. You accuse her of helping the strange man you interviewed who tried to kill you. She chuckles and says that you aren't his type. Her voice has a little bit of spite in it. That was the moment that you were introduced to Miss Evers. Quite possibly the only person who simultaneously envies you for getting all of James attention and pities you for your lack of self-awareness and intelligence in the situation.

✧ Before you are even able to shoo her off this JPM impersonator comes in your room and greets you. You are naturally apprehensive. He is naturally enthralled to see that his trophy prey has awoken. He cannot wait to just see how you react today. You try to leave and he explains that you never finished your session. You accuse him now of trying to murder you. He brushes it off and insists that you at least have breakfast with him before you leave. You are about to answer firmly when Miss Evers folding of a towel loudly snaps together. This 'James' scolds her and she gives him a doe-eyed look. Before you are even able to say no he is ushering you down the hallway in silken pajamas someone put on you while you were passed. The thought makes you shudder.

✧ You both were served a hearty and delicious breakfast. It isn't very filling to you, no matter how much you eat. It must be how queasy you are from yesterday. If it happened. Perhaps you had a mental break due to all the stress you have been through lately. You don't get a lot of time to think because you are snapped from your thoughts. This James speaks about your future together and how you will have a long and fufilling relationship. He asks you to give him a psyche evaluation. When you say no, he subtly threatens you with the thought of not paying because you didn't actually fill his full session. You reluctantly agree.

✧ He's both incredibly frustrated and intrigued by your persistence. How many times must he explain to you that he isn't a 'cosplayer' or someone with a personality disorder. He is simply the great James Patrick March. No matter. It will make you even more fun to play with.

"Your delusions, doctor, are clouding your mind. So I suppose I will have to make you see the truth—one way or another."

He sets up small 'challenges' to see if you can pass them. He wants to test how long your mental fortitude will hold up. 

✧ The first of those was dismembering himself in front of your very eyes. He does it multiple times, and they are all random. He will pluck his eye out and stir it in his tea. He will cut open his chest and stuff his organs into your suitcase. He will remove whatever is covering his neck and finger from his suicide wound. He asks if you would like to feel it, stroke it, touch it, or play with it.

"Doctor, I understand you only deal with the human mind, but would you like to feel this and assess if it is real? Do you believe me now?"

He will stab himself in the heart during one of your sessions and tell you that this is what you do to him. In the most extreme cases, if he isn't getting your coveted attention, he will take himself apart limb by limb and place them on your bed like a cross.

✧ You begin to come to terms with the fact that, at least, this man is psychotic. Perhaps not a ghost, but definitely a killer and wickedly sadistic. You try so many of the phones in the hotel, but so many seem not to work. You try to find your way out once again, but you seem to be trapped within these walls. Which comes to one of his many other tactics: trapping you in The Cortez's hallway maze. He is able to distort the minds of his guests and make sure that they never get out. Like a rat trying to find an escape from a box maze that has no exit. He enjoys just slowly walking behind you and taking in your panic and your quick breaths when your clothing rides up on you. He is able to take a respectful peek at what he will inevitably see time and time again.

✧ He keeps you trapped in the hotel. You never even have a chance to get to the lobby. He has a nice breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. He has his daily sessions with you. Outside of that? His torture. All of his torture. All of it. He threatens you with it subtly if you do something that he is displeased with. He'll even lock you in that death closet of his and make you stand right near the spike. Sometimes you prefer to be in there because you can hide from him. He likes it when you hide in his death traps. So he totally leaves you alone and totally just doesn't sit right outside your ability to view him.

You are coming to the point where those times when he is cordial are the times you crave. All part of his plan, of course. Although—he hopes that you will keep up the chase, he likes that fiery spirit of yours.

✧ You often find him getting release from his dead victims. You know because your relentless cycle of agony and pleasure stops. At least he doesn't force himself on you when you are awake. You end up doing your best to stay as far away as possible from him during that time. Only you always end up stumbling into the same room as him. You avert your eyes, yet he always has something cheeky to say to you.

"Ngh—darling, darling, wait! This.... this could be us. This could be me. You and me. Nothing could be a replacement for how your flesh feels against mine."

He always turns around and gives you one of those godforsaken winks of his.

✧ That isn't the only time his victims come into play. You are always suspicious of the food he serves you. It's either drugged or the meat could be made from his victims. You first learned that the hard way. You were served meatloaf, and James called in manloaf. He stated that it was made in this very hotel by the very guest who was trying to help you leave. You wanted them so bad, you can have them—in your stomach.

✧ Not even the Countess is able to help. Not that she tries. She is too busy luring more men in. She's forgotten about James mostly, except for the betrayal. She gives you a few warnings and some caution when she can. You are almost like one of her children. Perhaps she would help you if you really were in need. Maybe.

✧ You still get those sensations in your sleep. The feeling of fingertips ghosting on your figure. How the sheets seem to slip off your body. A warm presence keeps you close throughout the night. It often manifests in such strange dreams. It feels like James's thoughts are being injected into your own mind. You dream of him against you—sometimes he is brutally murdering you, and in others he is sensually caressing you. He always seems to tease and taunt you with those tantalizing images in your mind.

✧ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ ⁿ⁰ — You often have panic attacks and breakdowns because of him. Your heart rate quickens as sweat rolls down your body. Your legs shake and give in. The entire hotel seems to spin around you. You have to seek him out for your own comfort. It's so twisted and vile. You can feel bile rising in the back of your throat when it happens. You almost have to crawl on your hands and knees to reach him. Yet, it feels like heaven. His skin is so soft and supple. His suit is always made of the most comfortable materials. His body is always so cool to the touch. In those moments, your body melts into his. That is, until your mind stops its dissociation long enough to realize the trauma you were going through. You are falling for him—a classic case of Stockholm syndrome. You couldn't stand for this. You need to fight against this, against him.

✧ Unfortunately, your non-belief in ghosts stops when you see multiple people you thought were dead trying to warn you. You see your patient, who was killed in this very hotel. They tell you that they're so happy to see you. They are so happy you are here with them. You have to put on your therapist hat again and calm them down. It all clicks. Other people you thought were guests here were warning you. You are being oddly welcomed into the space. The others are cautious of your presence and afraid to upset the owner, the one who holds so much power over them. That strange being that seemed to flicker in and out of your peripheral occasionally. You finally make peace with the fact that James Patrick March is indeed a ghost. You really do need to escape here.

✧ You steal the hotel's shipping schedule for their toiletries and linens. You make a plan to escape. You think you are so clever, and it really makes James hot under his white buttoned collar. He lets you think that you are so much more astute than him. It makes him a little desperate, but he won't show it. He needs your touch so badly. He needs you to love him so badly. He needs you to be his little trophy victim. He needs you to help him chase his highs. He needs you. He needs you. He needs you. You, only you.

✧ He confesses his undying adoration for you and clings to your waist as you try to walk out. He sighs and tries one more tactic before you step out the door. He promises to tell you the entire truth. You are caught off guard by this, and your hand slips off the door. He leads you to his trophy room and shows you his 10 Commandment killings. He directs you to the corner, where your body lies. You are covered in wounds that have long since dried out. Your eyes are lifeless. You have his name etched across your naked chest. You scream, shout, and sob. James gently holds you and soothes you even as you thrash, kick, and gnaw at him.

"You've been trapped here the entire time. Since that night."

As if that makes it any better. You aren't that stupid. You could connect the dots—lack of appetite, coldness, the odd sensations, everything. You are stuck with this monster for all eternity.

"Hmm, yes! I saw you and just knew that I had to have you. Have you gotten my diagnosis yet, my love? It's lovesickness, and your body is the cure."

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @marchsfreakshow @girlyfart @nahoyasboyfriend

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[hallowsden]

DC x DP Idea Thing #2

Child of Freeze AU

MR. FREEZE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD DAD, YOU CAN'T TELL ME OTHERWISE.

Like

When I first discovered the DC x DP crossover, specifically when the realization sank in that Danny had ice powers, my brain immediately went into overdrive about that and added "WHAT IF DAD!FREEZE" into the mix here.

It's only now my brain wanted to expand on it.

We have the usual trope here that Danny's parents reacted badly to learning about him being Fenton, causing him to get experimented on briefly before running and later settling in Gotham. Here, they found out he was Phantom when his ghost form's appearance started to bleed through to his human form.

His black hair kept gaining white strands every day, his skin gained a paler hue with a tinge of blue only seen in the dead and the ghosts, his body temperature dropped while his heart beats were slower. Hell, he had felt some of the more subtle changes. How his eyes were sore and couldn't see properly for a week before they got better, how his ears became irritated as they shifted to be slightly pointed, and even his limbs throbbed in pain for a while.

At first, his parents chalked it up as a result of being exposed to ectoplasm for most of his life, leading to them practicing lab safety for once in hopes that these changes were temporary.

It didn't take long for them to come up with the conclusion the Phantom replaced their son and used his appearance as a disguise. At least, Maddie came to that conclusion and went immediately to dissect him.

Jack couldn't stand seeing Danny getting opened up like that. Even if he's still conflicted about whether or not Danny is Phantom or Phantom replaced him, he couldn't get the image and the cries of his son in pain out of his head. He helped Danny escape while he distracts Maddie.

Danny ends up coming to Gotham after flying as fast as he could while injured. He ends up finding a frozen place underground and proceeds to pass out as his body tries to regenerate/heal itself. He didn't notice the body suspended in a capsule nearby, having been too tired and too drained.

That's how Mr. Freeze finds him. A teen, likely 16 at most, severely injured, and surprisingly, not bothered by the sub-zero temperatures of his hideout.

I'm all for the idea that before Nora's illness came into effect, she and Victor wanted to have children. The two always had a bit of a soft spot for them anyways. (During the winter season, Freeze doesn't try to cause much villainy as this is the only time of the year he can go around without his suit. Instead, he ends up helping decorate Gotham with some Ice Sculptures and tends to entertain the children of Gotham if possible.)

Essentially, paternal instincts took over and helped Danny get better. Will he be surprised at the exponential rate Danny's healing? Yes, but he just chalks it up to him being a meta. Mr. Freeze will notice some of the unnatural traits present in Danny after all, but who is he to judge? Plus, Metas had it hard in Gotham, even if the no meta rule loosened up when Signal came about in the Batfamily.

Mr. Freeze now has two people to fret and take care of.

(Just- Danny gets adopted by Mr. Freeze, and later on, so do Ellie and Jazz even though she is already over 18 and needs to wear thick clothes)

[cellarspider]

1/30: Descending into the depths of madness, and also Prometheus

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

We begin with the dissection of a movie destined to be picked over by eagles for all eternity, Prometheus.

I want to preface this by saying that this is not intended as a general critique of the movie. I’m going to be explaining how this movie became a font of madness for me specifically, in a way that friends of mine have found amusing. More below the fold.

I sat down in a theater in 2012, having seen all of the main Alien movies, having vague-to-specific awareness of the ancillary stuff–comics, games, et cetera–and a fascination with H.R. Giger’s work, and the way others had adapted his style to fit the series. I had seen the first trailer for Prometheus, and the “David 8” promotional video. 

It’s worth giving a moment for these videos, actually, because whoever cut it did a phenomenal job. Trailers are there to sell a movie, sure, but they’re also setting expectations, and this one set them high.

It is a fantastic trailer, for a movie that does not entirely happen. I saw this and it said to me “this might have a similar tone to Alien”. Which is the message it is intending to send: Alien opens with a title card revealed in a very similar manner, and features howling klaxons at its climax, and panicked screaming at unresponsive technology. The trailer is deliberately invoking these scenes:

Flashing light warning for the following video, though the sounds themselves are effective enough:

Combine with the further context that Ridley Scott directed Alien and was back to direct Prometheus? This was a must-see, as far as I was concerned. I like slow, measured horror films that work on atmosphere, building something darkly beautiful in the process: My top three at the time were Hellraiser, Sunshine, and Alien. Annihilation has since joined that list, and at the time, Prometheus looked like it might as well.

Particularly with the video that introduced David.

I’ve always loved android characters, and this series already included some excellent ones. Ian Holm’s plays the perfect merciless corporate man as Ash, and his reveal as an android is deeply unnerving. Lance Henriksen’s performance as Bishop in Aliens is iconic for a reason. In this fake advert, Michael Fassbender nails a combination of corporate blandness, carefully tuned non-threatening behavior, and absolutely dead-eyed emotional insincerity. At the same time, he’s presented as a new being, a fully capable individual with no personal history or chance to define himself. That can be really interesting when played properly. I wanted to see more of David.

That was where I was at, when the movie started.

The first scenes in a movie are important for setting audience expectations. A viewer could have never seen anything about the movie before sitting down to watch it. For those who do already know some things–the publicity around a movie, its place in a broader series, or broader things like genre tropes–these people also have to be led to an understanding of what the movie is going to be.

The first scenes are also vital for establishing suspension of disbelief. Suspension of disbelief isn’t turning off your brain, it’s allowing yourself to entertain certain ideas as fact, and then following those preconditions through the logic presented in the movie. If scene-setting fails–or the audience goes in unwilling to follow in the first place–then you’re in trouble.

And I was very willing to follow this movie at the start. I’m a geneticist. I love science fiction, even though I know how wrong most works in the genre are about biology. If a work says “this thing is possible”, I’m usually able to say “okay, I’ll allow it”. This first scene successfully managed to do that for me.

This is in part thanks to the fact that Iceland is a gorgeous place.

(Source)

Sweeping shots of nothing but landscape so stark that much of it looks like abstract art. I would, and have, watched movies entirely composed of this. Yes, I am the sort of person who enjoys Koyaanisqatsi.

Despite the contemplative subject matter, cuts in Prometheus feel off, and in a deliberate way. In the clip of Koyaanisqatsi above, the film follows the music. In Prometheus, they’re consistently off, coming at moments that feel like they’re halfway through a breath. Usually we speak of dissonance in music, but in this case, we have dissonance in motion. I didn’t notice this in the theater at the time. It’s subtle, but there. 

The opening shows us a humanoid alien engage in what appears to be a deliberate, religiously-tinged self-sacrifice, drinking a black substance that causes them to disintegrate. More dissonance in motion, going from deliberate action and the slow departure of a ship, to sudden and seemingly agonizing death. The view zooms in to the microscopic, where DNA is shown disintegrating and then reforming into new strands. We see what appears to be embryonic division: the beginning of new life.

(Sources: https://screenmusings.org/movie/blu-ray/Prometheus/, https://www.cap-that.com/prometheus/ ) 

The movie has asked for you to believe this much: humanoid aliens exist, they are technologically advanced, and they have a substance that can break down and remake biological material.

This also provided the first minor hurdle for me, as a then geneticist-in-training.

I’m very used to abstracted illustrations of DNA. All most people need to know is that it’s a double-helix (two spring shapes) held together by connecting bits made of four different, paired “bases”. Like A and B in the figure below, you usually don’t need all the information in C:

(Source: https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-mcc-microbiology/chapter/structure-and-function-of-dna/) 

And in some ways, the movie gives a very decent illustration! They preserved much of the geometry, evident in the “major groove” and “minor groove” shapes noted in Figure A: the usual configuration of DNA in our cells is a slightly wonky spiral, which they appear to almost nail here. They also appear to have tried to render this DNA in a visual style coherent with H. R. Giger’s work.

They have done so by turning it into a pale bacon ladder, or possibly some very strange pasta.

This was slightly humorous to me, but it’s hard to render molecular-level stuff in a way that’s intelligible to an audience, so I was willing to go with it. This also gave an extra bit of information: this alien species has DNA.

Now, this is a given for multicellular life on Earth, but it’s not a given in the speculative world of astrobiology. Life requires some sort of way to encode instructions for how to build its component parts, but DNA is not the only way that could be done.

Overall, I like this scene. It, and one that comes relatively soon after, are stand-out scenes in terms of setting mood, matching the expectations from the trailer.

Unfortunately, they set the mood for a different movie than what actually follows.

And we meet the first stumbling blocks in the next scene, and have our first brush with some of the movie’s blunt-force approach to themes and exposition.

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

What if (in the dark Dino squad Au) after they got this traumatized and sick and Victor is the only one who was actually able to help, Reader kind of falls into a sort of Stockholm syndrome(not-really-but-kinda) where they don’t want to leave Victor, like they still don’t want for all humans to die, but they’re now so scared and traumatized by what happened to them that they are actually rather happy/content staying with Victor who protects them, loves them and makes sure they’re always happy and healthy and taken care off. How would the others and Logan react? I’d assume Victor would be rather happy about that.

- 🐝 BeaBee

Okay! Good question, I haven't had anyone ask about Stockholm Syndrome-esque reaction from Reader! (I'm not sure if this is a path the au will take, but im happy to explore it here!)

The other teens woukd feel a bit weird. Let's explore their thoughts on it first:

Scott would feel a bit... guilty. Also a little freaked out. Because while yes, they teamed up with their enemy, who has only ever been worried over their health (obsessively enough that he feels freaked out being too close to him), this is still someone who hates humans, and plans to destroy them. He knows tbey agreed to this. He knows why they agreed to this. But it doesn't make him feel any less off about it... (He was the most reluctant to go to Victor for help)

Rogue would be similar, but she also realizes Reader is still having to recover, so it might not last... And even if this sense of gratefulness does last, they begrudingly owe him... She doesn't like most humans, and while she doesn't want them gone, she does want to get back at those who did this to Reader, so... if they're partnering with someone as mean as a tiger, then that's what they'll have to do (she was the second most reluctant, but less so than Scott)

Pietro doesn't like it. He really doesn't. But, facts are: Their new ally saved Reader's life, or at least is keeping them from dying; he's not torturing them or dissecting them or whatever evil scientists and doctors and geneticists do; he's feeding them while Logan is... not available...; and he plans to let them live. So technically speaking, this guy is okay. Look, he'll go along with what's going on until they have a reason not to. Plus, they get to figure out how some of this stuff woks, so if they want, they could try to at least mitigate some of the damage done in Victor's plans... or try to change things for the better... (He was in the middle on it, but leans more towards for their choice rather than against it)

Gambit... he doesn't like they had to make this choice, but... it was the lesser of two evils. And if this evil raptor can keep Reader alive and doesn't want them dead, then he's all for whatever plan he has. He doesn't want to change the environment to the prehistoric era one. He doesn't want to change certain animals or plants. He doesn't want to lose his friends, his family. And he won't. As long as they do this, then they have a say in what happens. It isn't easy, and it isn't pure, but it's what they have left. It was this, or let Reader die... And that simply wa.ant going to happen... (He is for the choice they made, albeit he discussed it with the others before they all decided on it)

Logan.. was against it. He only found out last minute, when the choice had already been made and the deal sealed. He thought it was a bad idea, because the last time he talked with brother, was hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. And the brother he remembered hated humans with a passion. He was scared his brother would harm the kids if he ever found out they were human, or had been human... Then he wakes up, to find out he's being kept sedated, so he doesn't leave... He's not happy. But... when his brother is able to keep Reader from dying... He reluctantly accepts it. He doesn't like Reader liking his brother so much, but until they're fully healed or cured, they can't afford to leave...

And Victor has no complaints in the least. He has a nestling who is curled against him half the time, he has the other teens to care for, and he has his brother, all with him, alive, and as well as they can manage... So he's quite pleased with this new situation...

[anachronistic-falsehood]

oh my godddd dude holy shit fuck okay taking a break from worm reading to send u an ask about william wight because goddamn i need 2 talk abt him. hello!!!!!!! feeling SO unwell about the clarences cape but red thing. awesome.

OKAY U HAVE LIKE. THE MOST PERFECT TIMING IN THE WORLDDD because literally on . tuesday this week my freak week art got a random note out of nowhere and made me start thinking about the villains again and thinking about william wight specifically because i love him a lot. ok. so its always ALWAYS been my assumption that. this is the version of william who mal got his greasy little claws in.

william fell off the cliff and died. the wisps chose him, and he came back. mal, who has been obsessively watching the wisps since clarence's death, sensed them choosing the next whisperer and swooped in before william could even stand back up. hes disoriented, hes scared, everything hurts, hes at a bottom of a cliff and he honestly doesnt even know if hes alive or not anymore, and this stranger walks out of the forest and offers a chance to explain everything. wiwi mystery brain! he knows this is weird but he also knows like.... i dont know whats happening maybe i AM dead and this is just... waht the afterlife is like. so he goes with mal. william wisp the 16 yr old from deadwood is. well. dead. he went missing, nobody ever found his body, his family mourned him.

meanwhile the whole time mallard conway was taking william wight under his wing and training him to be a replacement. mal calls him whisperer, william is in his rebellious teen phase and wants to be called something cooler which is why he named himself Wight (a type of vengeful spirit. specifically one who was once alive and then was brought back from the dead. lol) william is still! technically half alive. so being in the spirit world for extended amounts of time (which is NOT something mortals are supposed to do, planeswalker or not,) kind of broke his brain a little bit? which is why Wight is LIke That.

williams whole thing when he was alive was solving mysteries and chasing down monsters, so that became (and forgive my use of dp fanon here, i have to) his Obsession. (obsession with a capital O because its.. ghost logic. whatever a ghost died doing becomes their core motivation in the afterlife etc etc dp fanon not sorryyyyy) so he has this. uncanny obsession for tracking down monsters when hes out of the spirit world. being separated from the spirit world for any amount of time kind of drives him nuts, hes so used to being around the dead that being around the living for extended periods of time is unsettling. hes super paranoid. he inherits mal's need for total control over a situation, which is why hes so lax about possessing people with the wisps to get them to do what he wants.

perfect that his best friend turns out to be the absolutely diehard loyal guard dog. (side note here i think he also has williams super high pain tolerance from dead nerves so he lets kota gnaw on his arms and shit) . virion is a mystery to him and he LOVES it, he cant figure this guy out, hes like an endlessly fascinating puzzle to crack open. studying him like a lab rat on a dissection table.

i think about him a normal amount. as you can tell.

Mac i am TOO FUCKING DRUNK to peroperly respond to this but oh my god. oh my godddd yehah. the obsession thing???????? Hello??????? putting that in my pocket!!!!!! ohhgh he’s paranoid being around living people he’s a control freak he’s sooo fucjed up <33333333 he absolutely lets kota chew on him like a chew toy <3 and he can’t get a proper read on virion so he’s obsessed w trying to peel back his layers and learn as much as he can!!! throwing ashe into the mix is like. doubly fascinating for him. bc i think villain ashe would b secretive enough about his civilian identity to intrigue william(<<wants to disguise that he could possibly have any connection to wavelength the hero) and wiwi is INVESTED in trying to figure out him and virion!! what r their secrets!!! he NEDSS TO KNOW!!!!!!! to me his vibes r kinda like the weylin twins. u feel me

[ringleaderising]

Can you tell me about the Constantine tab in your lair? I'm assuming Pete is not quite a normal dragon, what about the others? - frgreenmoon

You're completely correct in your assumption that Pete is not a... normal dragon. If we're being wholly accurate, Pete's not been a living thing for quite some time.

And his fellows in the Ever Constantine Mall are not friends, so much as... his most notable cast of victims.

TW: Horror themes, dragon death, 'zombies'/living doll themes.

I Got No Strings...

"...Frontman of metal band 'Half Dagger' found dead in the Ever Constantine Mall mere weeks before its planned grand opening- Ice Flight's authorities are working alongside Lightning's developmental crews to determine if this event is foul play...."

Hungry, resurrected- A new comment, I'm speaking tongues and infected, Atomic. My throat corroded, dissected, I've cut it. Petyr Shacklefrost "Pete" [He/It] [Pre-Reanimation]

Petyr Shacklefrost Better known by simply "Pete" was at one point a promising musician, the lead vocalist of the band Half Dagger and a well known punk in Plague's music scene, Pete spent much of his early life clawing his way from niche obscurity in Plague's music circles to something resembling mainstream success. and at one point, he simply... gave up.

With a loss of will but lingering, cutthroat ambition, he turned to rumor and ghost stories- an interest in the occult had been commonplace within his crew, after all, and among the stories shared over cold, cheap brews in taverns after shows- the tale of a Plague local from some time ago made something of a Goddess- a battle poet, a bard- a Mirror with her bones twisted and reshaped for an escape that still proved entirely futile- who in death offered her blessings to musicians she deemed worthy. But laziness and ambition in tandem do not a smart man make- and a plea to the wrong goddess would seal his fate.

Pete would be given what he sought- his trade made in blood on the grounds between Shadow and Plague where thick purple earth gave way to crawling sinew, he would be given a pendant- and a set of rules by the voice of what he surely thought was the lady of music- a string was a string, after all, Right?

It is unclear what rule Pete broke, or if he simply grew to bore the mistress he accidentally swore himself to- Sixteen cycles after he found the fame he so desperately clamored for- he would be found broken and lifeless in the construction zone of the Ever Constantine Mall.

His death would not be the respite he sought.

WE ARE VOLT-SPIRE ! ! !

Is this what you wanted? A clearer state of mind? Better bite the bullet~! Press down on bruises like wine heals better with time! From Left to Right: Heartb-b-beat (She/Her), RebelRebel [He/they], Ripley [They/She], Arcade [He/Him])

Time moves forward, and despite its rocky start, the Ever Constantine Mall quickly recovers from the troubling events of its grand opening- capitalism keeps Lightning flight at the forefront of invention and innovation, after all! Neon-soaked and a popular hangout with young locals, It's no surprise that it would draw in young creatives, over time- and our plucky young heroes for this story are the teenaged members of 'VOLT-SPIRE!' a pop punk outfit made up of drummer Ripley, lead guitar and backing vocalist Arcade, bassist and lead vocalist HeartBeat, and 'generally here because he's the only one who knows how to do sound tech and how to play the keys' RebelRebel, VOLT-SPIRE! is a project of plucky hope and lofty ambition, naivety turned into wild upward momentum, this little group of friends are the eponymous mall rats- though these days, its unclear if they still go because they like being at the Ever Constantine, or if they're simply guilty about the fate of their former rhythm guitarist, and co-founder of the band, Ducky.

The VOLT-SPIRE! kids are little more than a group of kids trying to enjoy the fleeting remainder of their childhood before they're expected to spread their wings and find a place of their own- friendships strained by strange happenings at their favorite hangout in the twilight hours of their time together, they cling to the good memories desperately.

Unbeknownst to the four of them, though, the Ever Constantine now exists contained in a time-loop, cycling back on itself to allow for the pursuit and containment of INTRUDER- a member of The Host who was created in the initial cataclysm- but the mangled reflection that caused the disappearance of their friend Ducky is not the only thing that lurks among the neon lit halls.

Now: Survive.

Aren't you lucky you're a bleeder?- Do what you need to stay alive. Bast Whipwire [He/Him], Pete [Post reanimation]

A deal made to the Puppeteer is one that the living never hope to escape- Pete had hoped death might be the freedom he sought, cut free of her strings, no longer bound to the will of something he never hoped to understand- no longer a puppet tied to her twisted rules- a new one each day to keep his newfound fame- her mocking laughter each time he nearly broke one.

He is now little more than an echo of what once was. The shambling, wire-bound remains of a once wild-eyed, passionate performer, the "Pete" of today is little more than a hollow doll guided by hunger. it crawls within him, leaves him desperate and moving surprisingly quickly through darkened hallways cast only in pale neons with jerky, unearthly movements as if guided by marionette strings affixed to each point of his body. He does not speak, the once-confident and capable way he carried conversation swallowed up with wild, hyena-like laughter and spilling, streaking puddles of black gore from his maw and injuries in his battle jacket clad pelt, hot like a flame and evaporating as they drip- smoky hands forming to pull invisible strings around his body.

And in the pursuit of the INTRUDER- Agent Bast finds himself the caregiver of the teens now trapped after hours in their practice space, the very music store where Shacklefrost made his final gamble- and lost. Pete is not a symptom of what Bast seeks, nor is it an entity he can cure, but he is a stopping block, and the more prevalent danger to the innocents within the cycle.

And thus, the INTRUDER will have to wait.

@frgreenmoon (bc you sent this on anon like, literal months ago lol)

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・why did modern! au aot characters get detention ⸜⸜・

eren

omg he's so lame. he had to stay after class only because he refuses to do homework. it's not like he's not smart, it's more like he doesn't have any motivation to do so. one time he just wrote "im not like other boys. nobody understands me." on his homework.

armin

he started yelling "nobody disses my waifu" when some upper classman called his waifu cringe. armin literally started growling while chasing the person with a picture of his waifu in manga in his hands. the teacher that caught him also suggested that he stops wearing his "*waifus name* husband" choker.

jean

he skipped class to go flirt with some girls, but his pulling game was so weak that they called janitor ackerman on him. he almost broke the broom on jean. jean made sure to get some flirting tips from reiner for the next time.

marco

he tried telling the teacher that she's wrong and ended up gaslighting her. he might look innocent but he learned his tricks from armin. the teacher wasn't happy at all when he said things like "i don't think your husband will be happy about the time u hung out with mister ____ after school."

connie

he usually comes home late everyday because of detention. the most memorable one was when a teacher bended over and her ass was all up connies face and he started slapping and humping the air as he was doing it to the teacher. she saw it... he had to be put in different class.

sasha

her and connie made a bet that she won't take a bite of the stack of history papers mister smith has in his office... she in fact did take a bite of that... she had her parents called in school and mister smith also made sure that sasha sees the school therapist.

mikasa

she though dissecting an animal meant she has to bring in her own dead animal... and she's a nice student so she brought one for everyone. the only reason she didn't get kicked out was because she's the smartest student in school.

annie

simply for not listening in class and it would go peacefully is she didn't blast last resort by papa roach in her cheap headphones. the whole class was silent except for the loud shum of her headphones.

historia

you think historia has ever got detention?? no way, everytime she does something bad, her dad is right behind her back to sweep it under the rug so his daughter can play the perfect student.

ymir

looked up some questionable things on the school computer. the school was horrified when they found out that she searched "bobs, boobs, breadts, breasts, tites, titties." during computer lessons. armin had to ask her if she wants to help with spelling after.

reiner

oh boy, he's been after school so many times. first of all for similar things like ymir, but the latest one was because he passed notes in class. more specifically, he threw a piece of paper at historia that said "i have a king sized bed and u happen to look like my queen." the teacher was horrified.

bertholdt

he lost the books he borrowed from the library. they literally disappeared without any trace. luckily for him they were found weeks later when reiner bursted thru the door, yelling "sharespear is fucking sick. that lady macbear reminds me of historia. sick dudess."

hitch

she broke into historias locker to see what lipstick she wears and got caught by janitor ackerman. another broom was broken that day. luckily nobody saw that the lipstick dissappeared.

marlo

he said "biology is cool, but let's talk about the economic state of the country." to teacher hange... they were completely shocked by marlo and made him sit with them after school so they could explain to him that biology is amazing.

[ominiscorridor]

Scurrying Seafarers

Trigger warning: Rodents, Medical experiments/surgeries/dissections mentioned

Content: Slice of Life, Fluff, Rats Summary: A dissection gone "wrong" leads to rats on the Polar Tang. It's wholesome I swear

Usually, Law had no issues with experimenting on things. As a matter of fact, even at a young age, it wasn't unusual for him to dissect frogs he'd catch, following along as his father explained what each organs were and what they did. Usually though, when he bought rats, it was some that already were dead from some illness or the other they'd picked up along the grand line, giving him good hindsight on what said diseases did and how to counter them as he dissected them.

Today was an unusual day for the surgeon of death. These rats he'd bought were very much alive. When he'd heard about sick rats and bought them, he had expected them to be dead already, not caught in little traps. Apparently the people who trapped them felt bad for the rats, and he hadn't corrected them when they assumed he was a vet.

Most of the time he didn't think twice about doing these things; they were merely rats... But they looked at him. With their little eyes. Like they begged him to help them. Small creatures with round eyes and pretty soft fur... They were insanely cute, and unknowingly had found one of Law's weaknesses. So here he was, sitting at his desk, with a bunch of rats in their small trap cages, all of them with similar symptoms; lethargy, odd clicking noises, labored breath, and some of them had red liquid coming out of their noses. All things he'd find very worrying in humans, but his rational mind reminded him these were, in fact, animals, and perhaps some of it was just... Normal rat things. He sighed, annoyed at himself, before stalking out of his office, his crew members avoiding him as he was frowning in a way that told them it was perhaps for the best to leave him alone.

A trip in town later, and Law had his arms full of books on... Pet rats. And caring for them. Everything from their diet to various veterinary books and one that simply explained how to train them. Not that Law intended on keeping them, of course, no, this was just to make their stay decent until he adopted them out, obviously.

He did feel slightly ridiculous putting the small creature down on the way too large operating table though. He sighed before looking at his veterinary book, opened on a page about respiratory infections in rats. The dosages were ridiculously low, making it harder to administer as he didn't want the poor rodents to overdose on their medecine. He startled a little as a voice rang out in the operation room.

"Captain? Is someone injured?"  

Bepo was concerned as he poked a head inside, before staring at the sight. This definitely was not what he expected.

"... Are you operating on a rat?"

Law turned around, feeling just a little silly over everything, not sure of why he actually was so concerned for critters like this. It was unlike him, really. Bepo didn't seem to mind though as he stepped closer, smiling happily.

"They're cute!"

Law merely hummed to show he was listening, focusing back on handing out medecine to his bunch of rodents, allowing his friend to stay and watch if he wanted.

"Captain... Can I adopt one?"

Law then paused to look up at Bepo. What was he on about now? The mink was looking adoringly at the creatures, ever so gently patting their back with his huge paw.

"I intended on giving them away in the next port."

Rats on a ship were always bad news... But these ones were fairly friendly, and perhaps it would be good to keep his crew occupied in the long hours they spend travelling underwater. Bepo's puppy eyes were making him waver in his decision.

"...Sure."

The polar bear cheered, albeit quietly to not startle them. Law sighed again and pointed at a grey rat.

"You can have this one. The book said this coat color was called Mink, it seemed fitting."

Once Bepo had picked up his rat, ever so carefully, and ran off to tell the others, Law knew he was in it now.

Over the course of the next few hours, his entire crew seemed to have come up to him to ask for their own pet rat, all of them claiming it was unfair if only Bepo got himself a companion. Ikkaku had come in first, picking an elegant beige colored rat with lovely brown markings on its nose, claiming it would compliment the boilersuit everyone on board wore before scratching its chin and running off. Not far behind were Shachi and Penguin; Penguin picking a white and black rat that had markings somewhat similar to a penguin, saying he'd fit right in given his own name. Shachi had picked one of the albino rats, claiming the red eyes made it look very cool.

Soon, almost everyone on board had come by to pick their own rats, most of them leaving the critters with Law for now since they were going under treatment. Not long after, the crew had organised itself to send a group to buy better cages, litter, food and even toys for their rats. The heart pirates were dead set on not only being good owners, but actually find ways to spoil their new companions.

Law had looked down at the little black rat left, before once more acting rather bothered, huffing as he carefully reached out and gave it an experimental scratch with his finger. Since it seemed to please the creature, he smiled a little to himself.

-----

Later on that evening, a small argument broke out in the common room, right after dinner. Surprisingly, the dishes were particularly clean before reaching the sink- it seemed the new tiny, furry crewmembers had already been given scraps.

"I'm telling you, Snowflake is a fearsome dude!"

"And I'm telling you my little Pingu actually has balls, so yours can't be a boy!"

"No, Pingu just has a big butt!"

Law wondered if perhaps he shouldn't slink back to his quarters, or sit in a corner and listen in without them noticing him given the very childish nature of what he was hearing. Sadly for him, his luck wasn't so good; Shachi and Penguin had turned to him, and Shachi was stalking up to the poor man, holding his rat up to him.

"Tell him Captain! Snowflake is a guy rat, right?"

Said captain took one look at the rat and shook his head. Turns out spending the rest of his afternoon reading all about rat care, medical or otherwise, came in handy very fast.

"...No, that is definitely a female."

Penguin laughed at that.

"Shachi finally gets a girl!"

What followed was a chase and more laughter as the two men messed around, though they remained very careful as they still carried their new pets. Bepo tried to step in, only to end up apologising when told off, walking back to his captain's side.

"...How did you name your rat, Captain?"

The bear perked up when he saw the little black furry ball resting in the feathers around his captain's neck, snuggling up on his shoulder.

"....Sora."

Admitting to it brought the tiniest blush to Law's face, as he knew all too well it was nerdy. Bepo beamed at him.

"...I called mine Captain Junior!"

----

(Author's note: I don't own rats but think they're neat little critter. IMO if any crew has matching pets, it's them. The rats' crew name is "the Lab Rats". Ikkaku's rat's name is "Wrenchy".)

I made some art to go with this too!

[murcielagatito]

oh we are getting MEAN mean ok... well then, 13 (worst blorboficiation), 15 (that one thing you see in fanart all the time) and 22 (your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores) for DP

YESSSS EHEHEHE 💥💥💥

13. DANNY AND TUCKER. danny isnt some edgy sad emo kid n tucker isnt all sunshine and rainbows. theyre such shitheads and its what makes them cool and it makes them so relatable! danny wants to chill and have a good time and play videogames with his best friend tucker they HAVE put amity in danger plenty of times just for a chance to hang out together and be teens

15. i cannot escape from wes in fanart i literally do not go out of my way to find new dp art anymore bc wes is so engrained in fanon that everyone treats him like he actually exists and its so irritating. it literally started as a lil joke and IT WAS FUNNY until it got vanilla extracted and poc characters got stripped of their personality just so he could have one

22. so much of canon is fucking ignored by phandom i literally could not tell u bc i only really engage with yall my moots <3 BUT if i had to pick one its that jack and maddie care so much for their children and while their obsession with ghosts is taken to the extreme for the joke at the end of the day they are literally equipping their children with the means to protect themselves. theyre a little misguided but NEVER come into my home and tell me they want to see their son dead

the whole “or a scalpel to dissect me with” line literally comes from fears danny has of becoming the most elusive creature his parents have been trying to capture FOR YEARS like ofc he has the right to be worried! hes been raised by scientists but that NEVER stopped them from loving him and like it or not every time they have found out danny was a halfa they have always loved him because hes their son. so many people wanna turn danny and his prents into and allegory for queer children in an unaccepting home when the reality is if it even were an allegory jack and maddie would be putting up every imaginable pride flag they could find to show they love him

[waterlogged-detective]

I am curious. Are the grotesqueries of dissection something that darcy was always comfortable with or curious about? Or was he just as uncomfortable as the average person before becoming desensitized/enjoying it? (feel free to answer public or privately, but know that i am cheering you on and i love your horrible evil baby ~letheology)

@letheology gosh so honestly I wouldn’t say he was always as enamored by it as he is now, but I wouldn’t say he was as disgusted as most and was certainly comfortable and used to it. Like when he was a kid he wouldn’t want to take a bird apart as a conscious “yes im going to go do this” sort of thing, but if he found a dead one he’d find it interesting enough to hold it his hands and see what happened to it. If that makes sense? So he found it fascinating, but not enough to cause actual harm to anything. He liked the colors of death, more-so than the mechanics of it (literally, actually. He liked the pinks and reds and yellows and how they mixed before he could really grasp what death *was* and that has a hand in some things). He also really likes bugs and always has and since insects are drawn to bodies…. He didnt realize how comfortable he was with gore until university, really. And at that point he just assumed everyone else was too stupid to appreciate the beauty of life as he saw it.

So he was comfortable with it since childhood, but it didn’t turn unhealthy until much much later down the line. Pre-fall even, although he convinced himself it was just to help others at the time.

[pan-magi]

I see that youve been a fan of magi for a long time, how do you cope with the lack of content and pretty much dead fandom? Ive been a long time fan or magi too and ive been trying to get my friends into magi.

Hi, Anon! I guess I have. It doesn't really feel like it though? I got into Magi early 2017 sometime and ran this blog for about 6 months or something until I vanished. This was meant to be my hyperfixation dump blog. The first one was Magi, and it... stayed Magi, lol.

This becomes very long but the tl;dr is Magi was more popular once upon a time and you can track down and return to older stuff with the lack of new content. And be honest to your friends about the ups and downs of what you like or what they could like about the series and keep conversations going with them.

At the time, I'll say Magi content was fairly active. The manga was ongoing but wrapping up, the main anime had ended but Adventures of Sinbad was only a year out or so. It wasn't anything to do with the series of why I left. More so I found new shiny things to focus on -- I had recently graduated college, yes, I'm old -- and fell out of love with tumblr more so than Magi and soon was not producing the content or consuming enough to stay interested in the series after it wrapped.

I'd love to give some great advice to stay interested in less popular series because I feel honored you asked. I can't claim to be good at it myself though. I got back into the series when I was sick late 2021 and binged everything. I re-watched the anime and then reread the manga when I got better.

You can try promoting it to your friends as good binge material. Magi does deal with themes you can sink your teeth into but it isn't super heavy. You don't realize how much you've gone through until you have.

I apologize for such a long answer. Let me try to get to your main point. I don't really think of it as something that's inactive or dead. The anime may be incomplete but the manga is done with. I don't think Ohtaka has much more to say on it, and that's why she has moved on to Orient. The series is wrapped- for better or worse. I'm not here to dissect how good or not the final arcs are. This is long enough and getting off topic XD. If you only have/can watch the anime then that's understandable. Accessibility and availability options are different for manga. For me, knowing the author has a complete version out there in some form and having access to it makes it easier. Content will come and go. Yes, I want more. I at least have a full course meal even if part of the dessert has disappeared into the ether.

Another thing that helps is that Magi is a young series. Not in the age range it appeals to but in how long it has been around. 14-15 years? Baby isn't old enough to drive in most places, lmao. The majority of fandoms I've been in are older or about as old as I am (30s). I am used to droughts in content and things coming in and out of popularity. Both in my ADHD-wired brain and by the fandom at large. I don't mean to say that younger fans are too fickle. As I said, I'm awful at it myself. There's a large gap of time (late 2017-2021) where my interests and priorities were elsewhere. I've only been active in the fandom for a few years at most.

I will say to help out try to explore the backlog of content if you have the chance and haven't already. New fan content may not be the most plentiful. Out of all the fandoms I follow the most relate to Magi and all of the tags are the quickest to breeze through what's new. It's sad. I haven't been active in this fandom for years, and there's stuff in its peak that I haven't gotten around to seeing that is still there for me to find. 14 years may not be that old in the grand scheme of things but that is still a long time for various fan art, fic, and other content to have been put up. If there's not enough new stuff to interest your friends, recommend older stuff you are aware of. Tumblr does not have the best search option and in my experience tags dry up after going back far enough even though I know older stuff exists. That is annoying and don't have a good counter on how to combat it.

Remember the old when you don't have enough new. Cycle through your favorite things at different intervals. Not for Magi specifically, but I reread some of my favorite fic that were over a decade old at the point of me discovering them. Now they're almost twice that age. One day go through one artist's backlog, then the next do someone else's, or read the fic that got you to love the fandom in the first place. If you get tired of older things or seen the same old too often- no worries! You can take a break or watch/read the series again (accessibility or availability again to be determined and yeah that majorly sucks). Scribble your own ideas down, regardless if you want to post them. Scratch that itch for you and no one else.

That is the best advice I can give. Try finding something else you haven't seen before or let yourself enjoy stuff you have. For your friends, this may sound counterintuitive but one thing I do when recommending stuff is give them a heads up as well on stuff they may not like. Like, mine is that I despise Aladdin being a little pervert. I've mentioned before how it turned me off the manga when I first picked it up at random. Don't try to catch them off guard by saying how wonderful something is and leaving out something that may turn them off. In my experience, that leads to annoyed friends. Give them the full picture, with spoilers being whatever you guys agree to, and let the strength of what you enjoy outweigh the caveats they have. Sometimes something is just not for them, and that is okay too. If they do start getting into Magi, keep the conversation up, ask them their favorite or least favorite thing, ship, how annoying and annoyingly charming Sinbad (or anyone) is, etc. Be someone to talk to about it even if they can't find new good shit to enjoy. Be that for each other. I dunno. I don't have friends irl who like Magi. If I did that's what'll I do. *shrug*

I am so sorry for the length and I don't feel as if I have been very helpful. I tried to edit it down and be as concise as I could. I can't do that on short notice or not being able to save drafts on asks. I hope this was a fun anecdotal read at least.