#if it helps if there were really snakes that turned up unexpectedly I would totally kick their asses for you

[avada-kedavrugh]

How stupid you must be?

Pairing | Tom Riddle x Reader 

Genre | Angst (cheeky lil bit of making out)

Words | 2323

Warning | Making out, mentions of death, very unhealthy/abusive relationship that I do not endorse AT ALL but I just find it interesting to write. <3

How stupid you must be.

Tom’s hand slither around your neck, ever so delicately like a snake entangling its prey marvelling at each drop of fear it evoked, his fingers gracing the expanse of your skin like you were a porcelain doll, exquisite, dainty and so fragile in his touch. You are so small against him as he towers over you, your body quivering against the wall from the toxic mixture of anticipation, lust and fear that welled inside you, staring up at him with a look of complete adoration. The very touch of his cold fingers around your throat is so empowering, so overwhelming, so shattering as it destroys every barrier in your mind and subdues your entire being to his control. His dangerous gaze on you, searing through your mind, simultaneously imploring you to delve in closer with sweet nothings calling for you to give yourself to him, and screaming warning signs of ‘danger’. But it’s already too late for you as you’re faltering, falling, fading into his touch, unashamedly losing whatever part of you clung to sanity, replaced with the sheer desire, yearning, desperation for his lips to devour you, to take the final step of consuming you and leave you an empty shell.  

Within the eery silence of the dark closet, your own thoughts echo in your mind, as you silently plead with him. As if hearing your desperation, his hold on you tightens, teasing you with the searing touch of his fingers as his eyes look down on you with a cold, dangerous look. Your eyes flicker with infatuation and your cheeks flush a soft, pink hue, in a way that would be almost endearing, perhaps, if Tom was capable of love. If he was capable of love, he’d be ensnared in your affection and devotion, allow himself to shrink into your touch and be consumed by you, let your unceasing attempts of warmth to burn through him, act as the furnace that would cause his heart to shudder to life. Instead he found the way you looked at him repulsive, your looks of adoration received by a look of apathy, at best. Sometimes, he struggled to bury the contempt he felt towards you and he’d snap. He’d feel his eyes blazing with disgust, the dark look screaming ‘i hate you’ in what was both a shattering roar and a shivering whisper.  

Out of your lips slips a moan, your teeth quickly baring down on your soft lips in a feeble attempt to hide your sheer desire, bashful and ashamed of the effect he had on you. The sound echoes through the closet, burrowing itself into every crevice of the room, slipping into his ears and drilling into his mind, quickly registering as a sign of your weakness, of his absolute control over you. Although he will never love you, he relishes in the dominance he has over you, knowing this is only just the start of his strive for power. He felt no remorse, simply enjoying the incentive your weakness brought, grip tightening, his ring indenting itself into your skin and knuckles turning white whilst pressing against the silky expanse of your throat.

“Tom-” A guttural moan rumbled from your lips, desperation dripping from the very sound. His stony look flickering with amusement; with the knowledge you were defenceless against his hold, your mind falling into a dark abyss that matched your pupils – thick molasses, dilated, faltering at his every move. Secretly, he savours the sight, his lips curling into a sinister smirk as he watches you unfold against him, trapped between him and the wall, knowing that even if he let you go, you would stay there, hopelessly waiting for him to return your feelings. You allowed yourself to be a puppet, directed by his simple touch or a mutter of words, completely consumed by him. Lavishing in this knowledge, he set himself to tease you, make you ache with your utter lust, dipping his head down as he brought his lips dangerously close to your ears.

“Now, I’ve never seen someone so desperate,” The warmth of his breath tantalising against your skin, his words erupting from his voice in a sadistic purr. “How stupid you must be.”

How stupid you must be.  

The statement sounded in both of your minds. Tom’s lips twisting into an even crueller, ever so tantalising smile, while your heart was being thrashed and you felt your stomach momentarily dip.  

How stupid you must be. Completely subservient to the man who held you pinned against the wall, who belittled you and shamelessly looked at you with total contempt. The man was able to cause the pool of rich, luxurious heat sprouting in your lower stomach with just a single touch while at the same time, with just a simple statement, he had caused a churning pit in your stomach that made you wish the ground would just swallow you up right there, taking mercy on you and saving you from the agony he caused. You knew your heart belonged to him. 

Like many complicated things in life, it began innocently, coy glances at a cute boy during classes, feeling flustered around him, laughing as you told your friends about your attraction to him, becoming hopelessly drawn to the mystery that surrounded him. Tom. The tall, dark-haired, dark eyed Slytherin boy surrounded by his friends that all looked up at him with expectation. Who would you be to ignore your innocent, school crush? So, the chaste glances turned to watching him during classes, to trying to talk to him, despite his disinterest, to following him through the corridors. All in - as you told yourself several times - a desperate attempt to help him.  

Along the path of simple curiosity and attraction, you found yourself thinking of him more and more, every second of your day your mind would wander and lead you to him. At first it scared you, so you forced yourself to distance yourself from him. Without him you sank into a seat of sadness, staring into the dark gloomy depths of your drink, while your friends chattered around you, excitedly gossiping about whatever interested them. Wherever you were, sitting in the great hall with your friends or sitting alone in the library, that feeling of emptiness clung onto you. So, when your eyes glanced over him as he walked past, feeling your heart shudder to life, you gave yourself the little treat, let your eyes linger for a second longer, and then another second longer, then another second, and then another, and another, until every time you saw him you allowed your eyes to fix on him – his image imprinting onto your mind. Just seeing him filled you with a euphoric high and who would you be if you denied yourself the feeling? You convinced yourself it was fate, that your life was tied into a hangman’s knot with his. Curiously, one day, he returned the interest, tipping the earth of its axis and letting you fall into his arms. And that was the day, you allowed yourself to become his servant, become besotted him, allowed your obsession with him to begin to ravage you. And now, you knew he wasn’t human – not really - and knew he wasn’t capable of love, yet you’d sacrifice everything just for a simple kiss.

In retrospect, early on, you caught glimpses of something sinister lurking within him, his heartfelt words jumbled with a tone of hatred and his eyes occasionally flaring with something bordering loathing. Maybe, you stayed with him because you wanted to help him or, maybe, you stayed with him because of some sadistic voice that sung in your head that urged you to comprehend him, take him apart and reconstruct him secret by secret, just to know the very truth behind Tom Riddle and who he really was.

How very stupid you must be, your heart fluttering in your chest at his touch despite the obvious torment of his words, returning his sinister look with a look of full-blown lust, the darkness in your eyes caused by your pure desire while his was caused by something far more twisted. How very stupid you must be to allow yourself to slump against him, allowing his rigid body pressed against you to hold you up, his hands clutching your neck and keeping you afloat, the final restraint stopping you from falling into complete delirium.

“Tom, please-” You whined, a painful, raw, raggedy sound. Begging for the cushion of his lips. All of you hoped for the release of his animalist desires on you, for him to shed his cruel exterior, to reveal his raw being to you, bare his soul to you, allow you to squirm your way in, embrace him for who he was, love him, care for him. Caress every wound on his soul, kiss it better and make his heart feel something. For you. You stared at him hopefully, eyes twinkling with some innocence that you desperately clung to, slowing being chipped away every time you worked out what he’d done. His grip on you went slack, the colour returning to his knuckles, your lungs unexpectedly filling with oxygen you didn’t even know you needed as you breathed him in.  

Your eyes dancing with dreams, the dreams you replayed in your mind when the sky got dark, when your dormitory grew still, while your mind was too loud, your dreams embraced you like the warm arms of a mother, coddling you, soothing you into a calm slumber, a lullaby of dreams that would never happen, the dreams of Tom Riddle. Tom’s eyes lacked such excitement, instead they stilled with a vacant expression - one you found rather serene – as he took in the sight of you. Your heart unashamedly raced, desperate for you to reach out and press your lips against his. Risk your life just for the caress of his lips against yours.

His body pulling away from you, letting you to fall back against the wall. His smirk souring into a look of disgust, eyes full-blown with revulsion and contempt, looking down on you as if you were the most disgusting beetle on earth, as if all you deserved was to be stamped on. He moved forward again, this time his lips grazing your ears as he whispers “I don’t need you anymore Y/N.”

Your heart continues its shameless rampage within your chest, thundering against its weak confines, threatening to breakout and escape into Tom’s hands - where it knew it belonged. How very stupid you must be. It was too late for you now, you knew what his words meant, knew the threat they held within them, yet as his hot breath moved away from you, your hands desperately moved to grab onto him, your fingers hopelessly dragging against the material of his shirt, failing to cling onto anything, clawing at the air between you.

He was looking over your small form, taking in each detail of you for one final time; you were his obedient servant that he could manipulate to do his will. You, such a meek being, that seemingly devoted your life to his. Had become entangled, enchanted, encapsulated with him, by him, completely submitting yourself to him all for the human feeling of love. He knew you would do anything for him yet he knew that human feeling inside you, that clung to its innocence, unmoving from its claims of compassion, was stronger than your fragile feelings for him, one wrong move and it could easily overcome your devotion for him and leave him at risk. Something jolted in his heart. And then he did it.

Lips barrelling towards yours. Smashing against your soft lips. Teeth clashing. Like two starved animals that hadn’t eaten in days, absolutely ravenous from hunger, finally given a measly morsel between you. One of his hands wound itself around your neck again, all delicacy thrown aside as he roughly held you up by your throat. His nails attaching themselves to your skin, ripping into your skin so violently, leaving behind imprints at his very touch. Slamming your body against the wall and pressing his form, so crazed in its frenzy yet so rigid, against you. You took your chance to savour him, memorising the feeling of lips against you, the feel of fingers wrapped around your neck. Your mouth opening, tongue pressing against his mouth, desperate to taste him. The concoction of unrequited love and lust had left you famished, and now your body drowned in the touch of Tom Riddle. He was blessing you with what you had always wanted. Quenching the aching feeling that had laid dormant inside your lower stomach for months, incited only by him and growing more dangerous as he disregarded your desires. Yet, niggling in your mind was the emptiness of every touch, every taste, every movement. His sexual ferocity felt more like a primitive instinct than a conscious desire.  

How stupid you must be.

He was going to kill you.

He had used you and tossed you aside like a doll. And every step of the way, you lapped it up like a desperate puppy, hanging at the edge of his every word, the promise of his touch having the power to control you. Inside your heart swelled, as his lips thrashed against yours in their rampage, ever so desperate, like prey entangled within a snake. The warmth pooling through your entire body, drowning the remnants of sanity, and sending you into delirium. How stupid you must be. He was going to kill you and yet, he was kissing you. For the first time, your final wish and he was kissing you, for the last time. Buried under his ravenous lips an uncontrollable grin broke out from your own, torn and bleeding. A grin that pressed against his lips. A grin that mirrored the euphoria that filled your soul.

Maybe he did love you.

[mystickitten42]

AO3 Tag Game

Thanks so much for the tag @peachpety 😘 I thoroughly enjoyed reading yours.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 27 (+ 2 in fests) 2. What is your total AO3 word count? 134,448 (But if things go according to plan, I’ll be adding another 50-60k to that in 2-3 months). 3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? I’ve only ever published HP (all Drarry, except for one rare pair that’s part of an upcoming non-anon fest). But before I got into Drarry, I experimented with some dystopian Malec (Shadowhunters). 4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Potter’s Ravine (E, 23k)

Harry is undeniably numb. Still reeling from the sudden death of his godfather, he’s back at the Dursleys and everything seems hopeless. One day bleeds into the next. But, as they say, nature abhors a vacuum…

Draco is unimpressed. The Dark Lord and his infernal giant snake have taken over Malfoy Manor and he’s confined to his rooms. He feels like a prisoner and it’s just not right. He’s a Malfoy. Itching for confrontation he decides to go visit Harry Potter.

Things don’t go according to plan.

The Time in Between (E, 42k)

Harry never wanted to be the Chosen One. Draco refused the Dark Mark. Together, they set out to create something new. But can they outrun their destiny?

~ or ~

The one where Harry sets everything on fire, Draco confronts the darkness within, and Narcissa will do anything to keep them safe.

Light up Your Lust (E, 1k)

All it takes is a Cornish Pixie, a spilled potion and everything becomes quite clear.

Malfoy sputters, “That’s ridiculous, Potter. I don’t want to – ”

“Then tell me to stop.”

But the only noise Malfoy makes is a breathy sigh as Harry dives back in and kisses his jaw, plunders his incandescent lips, before he follows the glowing path south…

The Naughty List (E, 2K)

In which Hermione takes Harry to an art class and the model is familiar, blond, and pointy.

Malfoy steps up onto the round platform and casually lets his robe slip to the ground. As he adopts a pose, Harry’s jaw drops. Draco Malfoy is a work of art.

“Close your mouth, Harry,” Hermione whispers, and Harry does.

When Death Comes Calling (T, 2k)

It’s All Hallows’ Eve and as Harry investigates a string of seemingly related deaths, there’s one he hopes to prevent. He looks over Harry’s shoulder and Harry turns too. They both see it, the dark translucent figure making its way to shore.

~ Or ~ Getting together in the face of Death. Literally.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not? OMG, I appreciate each and every single comment I receive. When I’m feeling down, I go back and re-read comments. I do try to respond to every one, but sometimes it takes a little while (depending on spoons, life, and writing deadlines). 6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I love happy endings, so most of my fics end happily or hopefully. But I have one fic, written for My Bloody Valentine 2021, that does not have a happy ending.  You’re the Only One for Me (M, 1k, MCD, mind the tags)

After all these years, Draco's still the one.

7. Do you ever write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve every written? I have not written any crossovers... yet. I might. I might not. But I have contemplated Drarry with Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (I’m a big fan, hence the ‘42′ in my pseud), or with Lost Souls (by Poppy Z. Brite, a vampire novel set in New Orleans).

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? I’d have to say any ‘hate’ I’ve received has been minimal (although it thoroughly bummed me out at the time). But I received a lot of support from fellow Drarry authors and took their advice (deleted the comments without responding to them). Many others have received comments far worse than those I received and it makes me sad. 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Ha! You may have noticed 4/5 of my top five are rated E. I love reading and writing smut. I’ve mostly written M/M, but I do have some F/F in the works. I adore porn with feelings, and angsty, angry sex that leads to feelings.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge. 11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I never thought I would (I’m too much of a control freak 😂) but I co-wrote two during Exploding Snap 2021, and I had a blast! It was so much fun, amazingly refreshing, and I would totally do it again. The Stars on the Calendar (T, 2k, with @anaxandria-writes)

Harry accepted there were many things he and Draco would always argue about. He just didn’t think sex would ever be one of them.

Midnight Rendezvous (T, 696 words, with @cequonveut)

The Fat Lady gets an eyeful while portrait hopping down the seventh-floor corridor.

12. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Drarry!!!!! But I also love Grudders, Roarmac (thanks Peach!), Jeddy, Scorbus, Charlie Weasley with pretty much anyone, and various poly ships. Outside of HP, I also have a soft spot for Malec and Jimon (Shadowhunters) and Steve/Ghost (Lost Souls). 13. What was the first fandom you wrote for? HP is the only fandom I’ve published in. But as I mentioned above, I have an incomplete Malec burning a hole in my hard drive. Maybe one day I’ll finish it… or maybe I won’t… 14. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? As much as I adore writing drabbles and short fics, I really love to become immersed in my longer chaptered fics. All of them are my favourites. I’ve already mentioned my Old Magic series (Potter’s Ravine, The Time in Between, and I’m currently working on the third installment). But my other recent fav is my Wireless fic: Until It All Comes Undone (E, 38k). 

Following his confrontation with Voldemort, Harry returns from King’s Cross Station completely changed. He wakes up at Privet Drive with no memory of his past, the war or magic. Petunia, widowed and suffering from empty nest syndrome, is only too happy to turn Harry into Dudley 2.0.

But something’s not quite right. Plagued by recurring nightmares, Harry can’t help but feel something is missing. A bottle of his cousin’s LSD helps him to forget his worries… Magic may not be real, but the hallucinations and the hot blond he meets all feel pretty magical to Harry.

Having turned his back on his family, Draco is determined to start over and do the right thing. But he’s never made good decisions when it comes to Harry Potter. When Potter—presumed dead, but very much alive—unexpectedly returns, Draco will do anything for a second chance. Even if it means pretending not to know who he is…

This idea burned inside me for nearly a year and refused to be silent. Writing this terrified me, because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to write it the way I wanted it to be written. Completing this story was an amazing journey and really taught me to believe in myself. (And, of course, I’m eternally grateful to my amazing beta, @peachpety 🥰)

I apologise in advance if I’m double tagging anyone (and, of course, no pressure!) @pennygalleon, @andithiel, @cequonveut, @anaxandria-writes, @eelwinks, @thesleepiesthufflepuff, @evaeleanor

[cinnella]

Name: Syro Beeks (chosen name); Nehal Desai (birth name)

Age: 24 years old

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac sign: Leo

Birthday: August 4th

Patron Arcana: Strength (Major); King of Wands (Minor)

Occupation: Combat specialist/magician

Height: 6'5" (1.95 m)

Weight: 227 lbs (102 kg)

Relatives:

Neith Desai - older sister

Aditi Desai - mother (deceased)

Dipankar Desai - father (deceased)

Banhi Desai - grandma (deceased)

Origin: Born on the biggest Pearl Isle of Prakra, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: Indian

Powers: Red (combat) magic and pyrokinesis

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, he's a solid 6.7

Backstory:

He'd been born on a very rainy day, his mother unexpectedly delivering him 1 month prematurely. His parents hadn't decided a name for him yet, so they let Neith do that instead. And looking outside the window at the pouring rain, she named him Nehal, which means exactly that.

About a year later, his parents who were mountain climbers, decided to go on a trip to the Clouded Mountains. They left their kids with their grandma, Banhi, as she wished them good luck in the mountains.

A week had passed when Banhi received news from someone who'd been on the ship with their parents. Unfortunately, while they were climbing the mountains, a storm came and threw them off balance together with a multitude of other people. Only a few of them survived.

With no one else to take care of them, Banhi made it her goal to raise her grandchildren as her own.

One day, while she went out to the market with them, to buy groceries, little Nehal was sleeping soundly in a basket, until Banhi put it down and woke him up. Both her and Neith had their attention on the vendor, so he crawled out of it and away. By the time they noticed, he was out of sight.

They searched and searched and called out to him, but to no avail. He was in someone else's arms, heading towards a new home.

Not much later, he was brought to an orphanage far away from home, in Vesuvia. There, he grew up alongside many other children and the caretakers, though he didn't really have friends. Most of the kids were mean and oftentimes bullied him for his shortness. But then a new kid came in, and stepped up to defend him from them. At first, he thought of it to be foolish.

She was even shorter than him. Small frail body, porcelain skin and black hair, and what stood out the most was her differently colored eyes. There must've been something scary about her, because the kids stopped their bullying.

That day, they became each other's first friend, and he learned that her name was Saiya, but warned him not to call her that. She hated her name. Soon, they advanced to best friends. Everything they did, they did together. Mostly mischief.

The caretakers soon realized that most of the kids had no names, and even when they named them, there was a lot of confusion and many unhappy children. So they decided to teach them to read and write when they were old enough, and on their 7th birthday, they'd let them choose a name themselves.

When he was only 5, a third kid entered their little circle. She'd declared that her name was Eris. She had sun-kissed skin, silver white hair and ice blue eyes, and as young as Nehal was, he couldn't help but get a little crush on her. The three of them became very close, almost inseparable.

Once Saiya's birthday rolled around, she changed her name to Morana, and soon enough, his own birthday came too.

And so, Nehal Desai became Syro Beeks.

Around that week, two new kids joined their troublemaking group. Both were a little under two years younger than him, one with ash blond hair and silver eyes, the other with dark skin and jade green eyes.

Syro couldn't have asked for a better family. Years and years passed by in a blur, every day a new day to do more mischief. And as he approached his teen years and 6'3 in height, heartbreaking news came with them.

The adults made it clear that when they'd turn 17, they'd need to search for a home of their own. Him and the others talked about it, each of them wanted to try and find their homeland, their relatives.

And Eris was the first to leave. They were all saddened to see her go, but they knew she had to find her family.

A year later, Morana was next, but he was not about to let her go on her own. They always did everything together, after all. As heartbreaking as it was to leave the other two, Calyx and Libelle, they had to leave.

Their first stop was the Southern Spines, but much to their disappointment, they discovered nothing of her family. Then, they traveled across the land once more and took a ship towards the biggest Pearl Isle of Prakra, where one of the adults had found him.

Although he didn't know the place in the slightest, it was like his heart was calling to him, leading him. A couple of hours later, Syro came face to face with a woman.

Pink hair, indigo eyes and the same skin complexion he had. The same strong nose, plump lips and powerful jaw. Undeniably, they must have been related. But what clicked to him was her height. It's not everyday you meet someone who is almost as tall as you are.

She burst into tears and whispered his name... Probably his birth name, as she hugged him. As awkward as it was for him, the hug felt right.

The woman asked for them to follow her to her home and explain everything. There, Syro found out her name was Neith and that she was his older sister. He didn't quite believe it, until she pulled out a painted picture Banhi had done of them so many years ago, a 9 years old Neith holding her baby brother, who had jet black hair and magenta eyes just like him.

Many more hours passed, and both Morana and Syro decided to spend a few days with Neith. When they left, he promised to visit her when he had the time.

Once again in Vesuvia, he focused on learning to fight. It was something he'd wanted to do ever since he was little, but never found the time for that. Later on, he learnt to incorporate magic into it, becoming a skilled fighter and magician all the same.

When the Red Plague washed over them, he fleed together with Morana, Calyx and Libelle, but the latter two took to their own path, splitting in pairs. Eris refused to leave, for whatever reason.

They were heartbroken to learn that she'd died, and until then, they hadn't realized she was their anchor, their bridge. He remained with Morana, and the other two stayed with each other.

3 years later, he came back to Vesuvia after Libelle contacted him about Eris possibly living. He of course, didn't believe it in the slightest until he saw her alive and well, walking the streets of Vesuvia. But she didn't recognize him.

He met Asra that day too, who explained to him what happened and warned him about the consequences of trying to bring back her memories.

When she was assigned on late Count Lucio's case to catch his murderer, he volunteered to help her with the on-ground investigation, as it could be very dangerous.

That's how he met Julian.

And soon fell in love with him.

Personality: stubborn, flirty, adventurous, reckless, respectful, polite, self-less, aggressive, competitive, destructive, playful, sarcastic, loyal, sincere, open-minded, pessimistic, a little childish and a tease

Interesting facts:

Although he's very fond of any sun-themed objects, he hates heat. He prefers cold weather.

The scars on his arm are from a bear attack that happened while in the Southern Spines, and he also has one in his left palm.

Unlike the others who are mainly right-handed, he's left-handed. It's why he crosses his arms that way.

Never flinches at bitter or sour tastes, nor at strong alcoholic beverages, he actually likes them.

In total, he has 15 piercings. 5 in each ear, 1 on the right side of his nose, 1 in his right eyebrow, 2 in his lower lip and one in his tongue.

His first kiss was Eris. (And vice versa)

He got the sun-moon tattoo on his cheekbone when he was 15.

He has a second tattoo on his chest, of two entwined snakes.

Loves jewelry with a passion, he cannot go a day without at least wearing a ring.

Appearance: Umber skin tone, shoulder-length wavy jet black-blue hair, magenta eyes, inverted triangle body shape with a strong build

Familiar: Cynthia, a kind and sweet rainbow boa

Voice claim: Chace Crawford

Full sprite:

HERE HE IS, EVERYONE'S FAVORITE BUFFY SWEETHEART!!!

I didn't realize just how much more complicated his design would be compared to Eris' until I got down to actually design it.

But boy am I proud!! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

SHOW MY BOY SOME LOVE, PLEASE!!

Edit: I forgot to add his scars.. T-T

[ajoy3fanfics]

101 Ways to Shut Granger up pt 1/?

Find it on AO3!

The first time Draco Malfoy had thought about the proper way to shut Hermione granger up had been on the train, sitting with Astoria Greengrass no less.

Third Year

Astoria Greengrass was a bore.

She babbled about any little thought that came into her mind, without care to filter first. Was it earrings now? Was that what the bird was on about? Draco swore a second ago they were discussing dragonhide shoes. No, she was discussing dragonhide shoes. He was just the unfortunate audience to it.

‘Be nice to her’ his mother had asked, the hard look in her eye betraying her sweet voice. ‘Show her what a gentleman you are.’

‘The Greengrass’ are an important connection.’ His father drawled, placing his hand on Draco's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“I don’t see why. She’s a twit.” Draco scanned the room, looking for anything else to let his eyes land on. When he defied his father, spoke up in any way, he found it difficult to maintain eye contact. His father's hand squeezed harder, drawing his attention back to the calm features of Lucius Malfoy's face.

“They’re an important connection. It’s crucial they come to our side.” His words were tight, a smirk lifting the corner of his right lips. It was etched in deeply, like a man who was accustomed to getting his way. “If a Greengrass marriage is what it takes, then it is a small price. Astoria is a worthy candidate to be the future Mrs.Malfoy. You must show her why she wants it.”

“I’ll try father.”

He really, really did. But bloody hell, talking to Astoria was like watching paint dry. She kept the topics light, kept her volume appropriate, and the conversation flowing. Draco was sure that if he closed his eyes, he would find himself in his mother’s tea room, surrounded by 3 or 4 society ladies. Astoria did enough talking for 5. Didn’t the witch need to breathe? Wasn’t her jaw tired? How could one person have so much nonsense rattling around in their head? No one on the planet talked this much. Well, maybe granger. That witch never kept quiet.

But, at least Granger had important things to say. Interesting things, Draco thought begrudgingly. When she opened her mouth, it was to spew out substance and facts, on topic, useful bits of knowledge. While Astoria regurgitated the juicy gossip Columns, granger was as dry as a research paper. Opposite ends of a headache, in his opinion. As if his thoughts could conjure her, she appeared, bushy hair crowding the space around her as she neared his compartment door, then opened it without hesitation. She stuck her head in, chestnut curls bouncing as they swayed, the train moving ever forward.

“Has Luna come this way?” She asked, eyes searching the cabin quickly. Astoria frowned instantly at the sight of granger, and for the first time all morning, he found something they agreed in.

“No,” he spat, mouth turned down. Granger clutched a book close to her chest. She wasn’t in her robes yet, still casual in her muggle sweater and jeans. She looked relaxed in comparison to the prim and proper girl at his side.

“As if we have any business with Loony Lovegood.” Astoria finished for him, eyes narrowed in distaste. Draco nodded in agreement.

“Don’t call her that.” Granger’s stance instantly shifted into one of defense. “She isn’t loony. She’s… unique.”

“Is unique a synonym for weird now?” He asked, glad to have an audience for his jokes. Granger rolled her eyes and turned to leave when Draco caught sight of the spine of her book.

“Wait!” He practically jumped from the seat to stop her, the outburst starting Astoria, but thankfully halting Granger in her tracks. She turned back to look at him, a thousand questions written on her face. “Is that the new book? Jack Septons new novel?”

She looked down at the book in her hands, then back to him skeptically, as if confirming before she spoke. “Yes.” That was all she said in response. Like he was the mad one.

“How did you get that?” He asked, “The presale hasn’t even been scheduled. There's been no release for it yet- How-?”

Granger was expressive, he realized. Her eyes, deep brown, widened in surprise at his assault. “Oh- Septon, he heard Harry was a fan of the series and sent him a copy. Harry finished it over the summer and sent it to me. That's why I’m looking for Luna, actually-”

Typical. Saint Potter getting whatever he wanted. Granger turned to walk away, eager to find Lovegood and deliver the book.

“Did he escape?” Draco asked, unable to restrain his curiosity. “Or was he forgiven?”

At this, Granger turned back and stood in the door frame, cocking her head in an annoying way. “You want me to spoil the plot for you?”

Rolling his blue eyes he let out an exasperated sigh. “Not the entire thing, just that bit.”

“You really want to know?”

“Obviously,” He drawled, sounding more like Lucious than he intended. “That's why I asked, Granger.”

“Fine, if you really are that impatient, and you enjoy spoiling your own amusement-”

“Sometime this year, Granger.”

“He was forgiven. I won’t go into detail, but this new book is a totally different arc for the characters.”

Draco scowled, “But that's the entire story! The entire thing is built on him running away!” He scoffed before continuing. “I don't think I even want to read it now. What rubbish.” This confession seemed to stir something in Granger.

“What do you mean rubbish? This was exactly where the story was headed!”

“In what way? He had no other option but to run. He committed crimes, Granger. Real, horrible crimes. He-”

“And he paid for those!” She was heated, pushing her way into the compartment so a first-year could walk by. Draco dismissed her nonsense with a wave of his hands. “He was primed for redemption. The entire series-”

Astoria turned to him, framing her body against his. “Draco, this is terribly boring.” She leaned in, rather unexpectedly, and pressed her lips against his. The shock of it gave her leeway to stick her tongue inside, and Draco couldn’t help but notice the immediate quiet in the compartment. Dragging his eyes up towards Granger, he saw that her mouth had snapped shut before she promptly turned to leave.

‘That's all it takes? A kiss will shut Granger up?’

The thought rattled through his mind as his hands snaked up Astoria Greengrass’ side.

~.~

Was there ever a time that Granger didn’t know an answer to a question? Ever a moment that her hand didn’t raise in the air, a bit of knowledge ready on her lips? It seemed different than before, he had to admit. Before she had been bursting at the seams to prove to everyone what she knew, but now she looked about the room, giving others an opportunity to answer first. Not all the time, of course, but Draco was aware of the effort.

She was smart, there was no denying that. The witch was top of their class every year without fail, Draco trailing behind in second place. It was infuriating to know that she had waltzed into his world, a muggle, a mudblood, and risen to the top. Shouldn’t she have been behind? Shouldn’t she need time to catch up? What should have been rightfully his, she took without care. And because she was smart, she was in all of his classes. They were forced to spend their days together, no thanks to their schedules. Suffice to say, he walked to the dungeons each night with a pounding headache, the sound of Granger ringing in his ears.

He’d crawl under his covers, bone-weary from Quidditch practice, exhausted from a day of studies and friends, still hearing the sound of her voice. Repeating everything she said, not just the academics, but the small bits of conversation he picked up along the way. Her laughter, the soft sounds she made when she yawned. He wished she would shut the hell up and give him some rest.

As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of the kiss on the train, with Granger.

~.~

Fourth Year

Every time Granger opened her mouth, Draco Malfoy was tempted to take the nearest witch by his side into his arms. That wasn’t to say that it was entirely her fault. He was a young man, in the prime of his youth, and to be more than fair, the skirts seemed to get shorter every day. But whenever Granger began to go off about some nonsense, the idea of shocking her into a submissive silence ran wild through his mind. Despite his parent's wishes, Astoria was as bearable as a toothache, so seeking her out was not an option. Pansy however… Pansy was attractive- sexy, even. Wellbred, old money. Pure blooded, and clearly interested. She clung to him, hung off his arm like she had been doing it all her life, and at times, he enjoyed it. Especially enjoyed it, when Granger came into his sights.

She was sitting alone on a small bench on the pitch, nose deep in a book. Granger was oblivious to the practice around her, or the Slytherins impatiently awaiting their turn. Wizards rushed by on brooms, the wind whipping her hair with them, but she was unperturbed. Simply tucked her wayward curls behind her ear, focus entrenched on the pages, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she read.

A disgusting habit, to chew one's own lips. His mother would have a fit if he were to fidget in such an unseemly way. Yet for the life of him, Draco could not tear his eyes away. She had full lips, he realized. A well-defined cupid's bow that made them appear pouty. A shade of light pink, almost coral; He wondered if they darkened after that assault she was putting them through. Even as her teeth sunk down, pulling idly at her lip they still seemed plump. Soft, even.

Pansy shifted at his side, anchoring him back to reality. “Didn’t their practice end already?” She pouted.

“You know Gryffindors,” Draco eyed Granger. “The rules just don’t apply to them.”

Pansy grabbed his sleeve and dragged him forward towards the Gryffindor in question. The rest of the team followed behind, Pansy clearly the captain on the battlefield. Part of his brain screamed to stop her, but the other half was dying to get closer. Draco didn’t have enough time to process the confusion. Suddenly he was hovering over a mountain of chestnut curls. The intrusion caused her to look up, and Draco wondered when the last time he was this close to her. Granger's eyes shifted between the two, defensive. “What?” She asked.

“Move,” Pansy demanded. “It’s Slytherins turn to practice. You’re taking up the entire bench with that bush you call hair and books. Make room. Our team needs this space.”

Granger's lips curved into a sarcastic smile, and once again his attention was drawn to them. “I didn’t realize you were part of the team, Parkinson.”

She wrinkled her nose, as if the very smell of Granger was unpleasant, “I don’t want to ruin my shoes.” Draco followed suit, but all he could smell was something floral. Granger rolled her eyes in response, piling her stack of books into her bag, clearing space. “There's plenty of room here.”

Draco didn’t care much about the standoff between the two but needed to re-tie his laces before practice. Taking a seat on the side of Granger, he was surprised to find his lap filled with the slim body of his self-declared girlfriend.

Draco was not the biggest fan of public touching. Being used as a seat for Pansy Parkinson felt even more distasteful. Pansy threaded her fingers through his hair as she placed small kisses on his cheek. She was nothing if not But the way Granger scrunched up her face and leaned far back, it seemed worth it.

“Do you mind?!” She seethed. “There is such a thing as public decency!”

“Mione!” Potter called from the center of the field. “We’re heading back!”

“Not a second too soon!” She huffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stormed away.

A kiss makes Granger shut up.  He thought smugly.

The taste of victory soured as soon as he saw McLaggen walking beside her, shoulder to shoulder and all smiles.’

~.~

It was hard enough to spend his days with her, but his nights were beginning to haunt him too. In his fantasies they were arguing, her face red from anger, body close as she told him off. He would crowd her, sometimes against a wall, sometimes a desk, but it always resulted in him gathering her close in his arms, mouth crashing down hard on hers.

~.~

The moment Draco knew that Durmstrang was coming to Hogwarts the very air felt different, charged. Finally, there would be wizards of his caliber in the disgrace they dared to call a school. He had dreamed of attending Durmstrang, and seeing the group sail in, proud and strong, made him wonder about a different life. Would he be a different person, had his mother let him travel further? Would his days in school be easier, less complicated if all he had to worry about were normal classmates?

At least the spotlight would be taken off of Saint Potter. He wondered how he would react, no longer the center of attention. Even better, Viktor Krum would be attending. They could fly circles together around the golden trio and show them true talent. What real breeding looked like in a wizard.

He was there, of course, to greet Krum and the rest of Durmstrang after their initial entrance. Eager to welcome the band of wizards he felt a kinship with, if for no other reason but status. And while they shook hands and all eyes were on Krum, Draco couldn’t help but notice that his sights were fixed on the back wall. Draco drew his brows together, trying to make out what had captured his attention.

All he saw was Hermione Granger, back to the cobblestone, nose buried in a book. His eyes flit between the two, and without knowing why, he felt a pit in his stomach.

~.~

He dreamed of her again, back on the pitch. But instead of Pansy in his lap, Granger was seated, her weight pleasant and warm. She didn’t rush as Pansy did, do it all for show. She was slow in her movements, small hands resting on his shoulders, tracing up his chest. She bit her lip again, eyes heavy-lidded, looking at him, hungry. He held her chin, pulling on her bottom lip to make her release it.

“Draco,” it came out in a whimper.

He leaned in, effectively cutting her off, tongue tangling with hers.

He woke up sweaty and sticky, twisted in his bedsheets. But most of all, disappointed.

~.~

It was hard not to think about it. About her. Hard to ignore, when she was constantly filling his space with her floral scent and laughter.

Harder to ignore her still, when she twisted her curls during the history of magic, distracting him to the point that the notes he took were not even legible. The damned witch was distracting. As if on cue, it played over in his head, ‘A kiss to make Granger shut up. Kiss Granger to make her shut up.’

~.~

Hermione Granger was everywhere. In his classes, in the halls. On the pitch at practice, on the grounds outside. Mostly, he found her in the library, in the same seat towards the back, stack of books towering over her. Oddly enough, Viktor Krum seemed to trail behind her like an unwanted shadow.

Maybe not unwanted. She certainly didn’t seem to mind having Krum tag along. Everyone knew there was a rift between her and Weasley, but Krum had filled that void in record time. Did she always need someone with her? Did the witch not know how to be alone?

There wasn’t a place in all of Hogwarts he could find peace from her. From them. Even as he scoured the shelves for his potions books, he could see them both from the corner of his eyes. Sitting together- close, too close.

Draco had the constant urge to trip him. It had to be seeing such a pureblood wizard-like Krum waste his time and praise on someone like Granger.

At least that's what Draco told anyone who asked. Even those who didn’t.

~.~

Something seemed different about her. Draco couldn’t place exactly what it was, but when he thought of her at night, hand busy at work beneath the sheets, her curves seemed softer, rounder. He came before he could even push her thighs apart.

~.~

Begrudgingly, he would admit she was attractive- somewhat attractive. But he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it out loud. Wouldn’t hear of anyone else saying it either. The minute he heard someone talk about how Granger seemed to fill out her sweater nicely, or that her legs were shaped just right he was quick to remind them that she was a mudblood.

He couldn’t stand it when they talked about her. It was happening more and more. It left him feeling anxious and unsettled.

~.~

Watching them walk together in the halls irritated him. Watching her crane her neck back so she could get a better look had him biting his cheek. Someone needed to pull them apart. Krum was embarrassing himself.

“Crab, Goyle.” He called, watching the pair walk by. “I want to find out how Krum does that move- the Faint. Go and find out what you can.”

He could do it himself, take the burden on. Physically pry Krum away from her, send him off into the arms of Pansy or Daphne. Anyone, really. Maybe he would fancy Weasley; they could discuss Quidditch. He honestly didn’t care. All that mattered was that there was an ocean between the two. In his mind’s eye, he saw him grabbing Hermione by the wrist, pulling her down the opposite direction.

“He’s an oaf.” He would tell her. “How can you fawn over someone like Krum?”

She would protest, of course. Probably spew some nonsense like ‘You don’t know him,’  or, ‘he’s not like that.’ She was prone to finding the good in people.

Of course, he would kiss her. Feel the fight drain from her body as she melted into him, arms snaking around his waist. She would be hungry for him, and he would take it all. Anything to make her get Krum’s name out of her mouth.

How did it always turn to that?

Unlikely that it could happen. Unlikely he would do it.

Granger frowned as soon as the two Slytherins made their way over, nodding to Krum as she took her leave.

Finally, he felt better.

~.~

It was just a fascination. A sick one, no doubt, but just a passing interest.

That's what he told himself as he kissed along the column of Pansy’s neck, thinking of olive skin.

~.~

The ball was a sick glimpse into his future. Boring, formal. Pointless.

Yes, the room was decorated beautifully, and every witch and wizard was dressed in their best.  The elves had laid out a beautiful feast and everyone seemed to be in high spirits, but for

Draco, it was all tedious. This was every event his parents threw at the manner. Every party he had ever been forced to attend, eligible young witches who had not already been promised to wait their turn to dance. The only difference now was that the ball consisted of purely his generation. How many of these faces would he see someday at the manor? Would it be Astoria at his side, like his father kept insisting? Would Pansy cling to his arm in the future, just as she was now? Is that what he wanted?

~.~

There wasn’t much to say. She came down the stairs, looking more ethereal than human, and his mouth went dry. She took Krum's hand, and he balled his fists.

But just for that split second, it felt like she was walking to him.

~.~

When someone says the phrase ‘get a room’ it is generally implied that it is private. Not the damned Hogwarts library, where everyone had to witness the perverse show Krum and Granger seemed hellbent on giving to everyone. Sitting in the back, at her regular table, the mountain of books that typically accompanied her seemed lessened. Krum smirked, idly twisting a ringlet between his fingers. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear, and Granger actually blushed, fucking giggled, biting her bottom lip to keep it contained. She kept her eyes trained down as she continued to take notes, stealing glances his way.

It was infuriating. This was a public place for crying out loud. Couldn’t they take this sickening display somewhere else? He didn’t want to see Granger blush that way, with him. Didn’t want to see her look like she was begging to be kissed by fucking Krum-

His feet were moving before he knew it, headed straight towards their spot. As he strode by, intent to find a book on the shelf behind them, he made sure to hip check their table, disturbing their peace. When both pairs of eyes glared his way, he made sure to put on his best sneer.

“Accident.” He feigned.

“Vat did not zeem-.”

“No need to be so touchy.” Draco shrugged. He leaned closer to Hermione, voice barely a whisper. “Although I have to admit, it’s strange to think Granger would allow touching in the library. Pretty sure that breaks about 3 rules.” The scent of her floral shampoo overwhelmed him, and he had to remind himself to pull away before it seemed weird. Grabbing the closest book from the shelf, he turned on his heels, content to see the space between Krum and Granger had widened.

~.~

Draco had never been so happy to see a ship sink to the bottom of the sea. He heard that Krum had asked her to visit over the summer. Draco was determined to put Hermione Granger out of his head. A trip back home was what he needed. Back to the manor, but to any measure of sanity. He needed space away to clear his mind. He wondered if he would see her on the train.

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

[my-precious-treasure]

Spellbound

Chapter 4

Sb M. List | Previous | Next

Warnings: Swearing

You’re hunched on the floor, gut screaming at you as you hurl what little food you consumed today. Tears stream down your face but you’re honestly in too much pain to care about the wooden floor beneath you, now covered in vomit, as you cough. When you finally look away from your mess, a hand holds paper towels out for you while another gently rubs your back. You mumble a quiet “thanks,” to whoever the owner of those hands might be, and sit back on your heels to wipe your eyes and mouth and blow your nose. You vaguely recognize a familiar voice mentioning a mop to clean with before footsteps signal a retreat.

Looking up, you meet the familiar gaze of a concerned Seonghwa. “Just breathe, you’re safe now. Teleportation is rough on first timers, though I will admit, Jongho could have been more gentle with you. You’ll get used to it though.”

“Ugh. . .I don’t think I want to. . .” You repress another wave of nausea at the thought of doing whatever just happened to you all over again. Seonghwa helps you maneuver to a chair. “What. . .what happened? What was that thing in my room? And who’s Jongho again?” You look around the room and make eye contact with the man from the other night – the one with the puppy eyes - now carrying in a mop. Another voice keeps you from staring at his now dark hair (wasn’t it lighter before?) as your attention is redirected to a man behind you.

“I’m Jongho.” It’s the one with the muscular build and boyish charm, only now his hair is a striking red. His gaze upon you is dark, calculating, before he breathes out a sigh. He rubs his temples as he stares down at the floor, shoulders slumping in resignation before he answers. “The creature in your room was a Nalusa Falaya, the Long Black Being. It moves through the shadows and can take on the form of a snake. It’s nothing but trouble. Luckily, San and Hongjoong should be finishing up pretty soon.”

Seonghwa nods in agreement as Wooyoung and the other tall man with sandy hair emerge from the stairway. It’s only then you realize that you’re back in the upper level of Café Wonderland. Before you can ask who the new man is, there’s a flash of light and a thud. Hongjoong and San tumble across the floor.

“Watch where you take us!”

“My landing was fine, you’re just too short!”

“I- WHAT? You brat!”

You watch, incredulous, as the two of them struggle to get up, San’s hand firmly landing on Hongjoong’s face as they continue to bicker, right there on the floor where they landed. Eventually, Hongjoong manages to shove San off and stands up while San sits there pouts.

“Well if you hate it so much, then you teleport us next time…”

“Believe me, I will.”

Unexpectedly, you find yourself laughing along with Wooyoung and the other two tall males at the sight, and all heads turn to you. Hongjoong kneels in front of you.

“Y/N! Thank goodness you’re alright. Jongho wasn’t too rough, was he? Teleportation is hard on first timers.” You glance wearily over at Seongwha.

“So I’ve been told. . . I’m afraid to ask, but how’s my apartment?”

San’s loud voice makes you jump. “It’s in one piece! And the Nalusa is gone, too!” His dimpled smile is brighter than your future at the moment and Hongjoong just sighs.

“I put up a time-space barrier so he couldn’t burn anything down.”

“Oh, I see. That’s ni-wait. What? Burn down? Why fire? How is that useful against a shadow?”

San giggles at you. “Fire is light. Light destroys shadows.”

“Oh. Right, sorry. That makes sense.” Silence hangs in the air for a moment before Hongjoong stands and turns, speaking again.

“Where is Yeosang? I need to speak with him.”

“I think he’s doing a reading in the backroom downstairs.” The man you haven’t met yet has a voice deeper than you expect. His angular eyes cut to the stairs for a moment before looking back to Hongjoong. “He seemed a bit. . .distressed.” Hongjoong nods and moves towards the stairs. “San follow me. Seonghwa, you too. I can sense you want to examine us.”

You hear an amused exhalation from Seonghwa before you watch as the three of them retreat down the stairs together. Now left alone with Wooyuong, newly re-introduced Jongho, and the two men you don’t yet know. You notice the puppy-eyed one is now sitting at the table and your eyes move to see that your pile of puke is gone and the floor looks good-as-new. After several moments of slightly awkward silence, you speak up.

“I uh. . .I’m sorry.” You look around nervously as four pairs of eyes quizzically find your figure. “For barfing on your floor, I mean. . .” You watch as the sandy haired man quirks an eyebrow, Jongho’s mouth twitches, and Wooyoung is clearly holding back a laugh. The man with the soft brown eyes merely shakes his head.

“No, it’s alright. In fact, it’s completely normal. You should have seen Mingi when he first teleported!” His eyes now hold a mischievous glint as he continues to speak, “He miscalculated his position, stumbled into a wall, threw up on the instructor’s shoe, and then passed out - all in under five minutes.”

“HEY! How could you betray me like that, Yunho? I thought you were my friend.” The poor man’s face turns almost as red as Jongho’s hair as he yells at the newly identified Yunho. Wooyoung howls in laughter and Jongho snorts.

You aren’t sure how much time passes before you see Hongjoong’s head emerge from the stairway closely followed by the other three men.  All laughter is cut short by their grim faces. Seonghwa looks as though he wants to say something, but Yeosang beats him to it.

“Y/N. I understand that this world of magic is entirely new to you; however, you are already in much deeper than any of us could have anticipated. I do not know in what sense, the cards can only relay so much, but evil forces are fast approaching and you’re about to be caught in the middle.”

You crease your brows absorbing his words as he stares you down. His dark eyes betray no emotion, so you aren’t sure how he feels about the whole situation. He sighs, and a glint of sympathy crosses his features before speaking again.

“The fact that you have been targeted by a nightcrawler is all the proof any of us need to know that you have magic coursing through you, even if it was dormant until recently. And whether you like it or not, we committed ourselves to protecting and training you the moment you walked through our door.”

A few of the men in the room nod in agreement with Yeosang’s words, others simply look at you with calculating but kind gazes. The one commonality is the mix of determination and sympathy in all of their eyes. You feel as though the bottom has just dropped out of your nice, normal, boring life, and it’s a little hard to concentrate as Hongjoong steps forward to explain their plan of action.

“Under normal circumstances, we would get you in touch with the Council so they could send you to the Academy, but I am wary due to Yeosang’s reading. So, you will stay with us and we will teach you how to control the magic you have. The council will just have to make an exception, and I really don’t anticipate any issues with that, all things considered.”

“The eight of us are already spellbound, so the first thing we must do is spellbind ourselves to you as well. This will allow us to always know where you are and vice versa. It will also allow us to communicate telepathically to some degree. Both of those are vital to keep you safe, as we will always be able sense your situation and it will allow us to teleport to you when you need us, even when you are unable to call out. Spellbinding is also a tool for us to, in a way, share and control each other’s magic. I won’t go into detail on that now, though.  I suspect you will start to sense some of it on your own, soon enough.” 

As alarming and undesirable as being bound to eight men who are still basically total strangers sounds to you, being attacked by something even worse than what you have already encountered is absolutely terrifying in comparison.  You really don’t want to get killed by some creature you’re afraid to even imagine, and you have no idea what your actual options are.

“When we are done here, you will return to your apartment with me, Yunho, and Yeosang. We will set up barriers and wards as well as create a doorway portal to and from our café for easy access.”

You stare at him like he’s grown a second head.

“I know you may disagree with my decision, but I genuinely believe it is the best option we have to protect you.”

As you contemplate his words, you realize he’s probably right. You have no clue about anything in this world of magic and certainly no way to protect yourself from those monsters called Nightcrawlers. Even though you don’t want to admit it, these men have done nothing but save and help you. So, with a huff, you agree. You are not happy about the situation at all, but deep down inside, you are beginning to suspect that there probably aren’t any better options.  You’re just going to have to deal with it to stay alive.

“You. . .you’re not going to fight me on this?”

“No, you’re probably right,” you admit ruefully.  “I am completely helpless and you guys seem to know what you’re doing. Besides, it’s way too early in the morning and I have no energy left to argue this anyway.” You offer a small smile before standing and stretching while you make peace with your situation. “Alright. What do I have to do?”

After a few minutes of preparation and explaining, the nine of you now stand around a small table with needles in your hands. You stare at the paper in front of you, which is blank except for a circle drawn on it.

“I’m going to be honest. . . When you mentioned this was going to be blood magic, I was expecting a ceremonial knife or something to cut open our palms. . . You know, like in the movies?” The guys stare at you for a moment before Jongho speaks, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“That could be arranged if you want. I have plenty of knives.”

 “NO! No, that’s alright. I much prefer a finger prick over possibly losing an appendage.” The room erupts in laughter at your small panic and a voice cuts sharply through the noise.

“Those movies are so dramatic!”

“Ha! You’re one to talk, San. You’re practically an entire theatre by yourself.”

“Oh, Shut it Wooyoung, you’re not much better.”

Your ears catch Seonghwa’s voice over their bickering.

“He is right, though. The movies would have you think you’ve got to bleed yourself dry to accomplish anything. And the way those actors ‘cut’ themselves would leave horrible scars, not that the scripts ever pay that much attention to detail.”

“If you know so much, why don’t you go work in the film business, huh? It’s not like we need you. They have me!” You’re genuinely shocked by Mingi’s boldness.

“Oh, puh-lease. You’d poison us all before you could even diagnose us, Mingi. At least Seonghwa knows how to use his magic for something helpful.” Wooyoung’s side comment causes Mingi to make an unintelligible noise of disagreement, which Yunho snickers at.

“Yeah, something useful - like putting you six feet under?” It’s Wooyoung’s turn to whine in offense at Jonghos’s remark. Before Yeosang decides to chime in with a “Can’t all of us do that?”

“Alright, alright. Enough bickering. We need to focus and get this done.”

A chorus of “Right”s and “Yes sir”s ring out and all you can do is blink at the drastic shift in the men. They all went from half-serious, playful threats to 110% business. Their duality honestly gives you whiplash.

Hongjoong is the first to step forward and prick his thumb, pressing it to the paper.

“I am the North – the one who guides.”

Seonghwa is close behind, he too pricks his thumb.

“I am the South – the sturdy foundation.”

He is quickly followed by the others – San, Yeosang, Wooyoung, Jongho, Yunho, and Mingi.

“I am the East – the one who forges ahead.”

“I am the West – the one who brings balance.”

“I am the North-East – I am certain uncertainty.”

“I am the South-East – I am controlled chaos.”

“I am the South-West – I am change.”

“I am the North-West – I am the bridge of the mind.”

You watch as each declares their direction and marks it in the circle creating a compass of blood. As they begin to chant together, you try to calm your nerves. You’ve already committed after all. With them is the safest place you can be.

“Our minds and souls are one in life

Bodies bound with no price

The vow we pledge to protect shall now extend

Should you accept.”

They watch you as you stare at the needle pressed between your fingers. Looking up at them you meet each of their eyes and suck in a breath. You wince at the pain of the needle piercing your thumb but it fades quickly as you press it to the center of the compass. Your blood is warm against your flesh and you can feel it spreading, marking your identity on the paper.

“I trust you. My life is now yours.”

“With their soul, now we bind

One of nine

Forever entwined.”

Power flares around you and surges through the air. As the room is engulfed in a beautiful, unnatural light you swear you can see white strands of magic shoot out from your thumbprint and connect to the  men around you. Suddenly you feel eight new heartbeats somewhere within you and a sense of comfort like none you’ve ever felt before washes over you. You wonder briefly if they can feel your heart as well. Along with their hearts, though, you can feel their magic flowing within them, powerful and warm. And for the first time, you feel your own. It seems smaller in comparison, but it’s burning hot. Just as it starts to become unbearable, your surroundings return to normal and, as though someone flipped a switch, all the magic you could sense is gone.

The eight men look at you and smile warmly. As though they had practiced it a million times, they speak together. “Y/N, welcome to Ateez.”

[darkpoisonouslove]

“Sleepover Like We've Never Had Before”

Summary: Griffin and Faragonda’s sleepover is steering in a new direction when so have been they. It has the potential to bring them closer or tear them apart with the impact of an embrace or a crash.

Set when they were students in an AU to my headcanons for that period. The end deviates from the sfw label a bit.

“It seems cozy,” Faragonda said, barely pausing before the lie slipped off her tongue. Granted, she was trying to be polite but Griffin was a bit annoyed by it when there was no need for pleasantries between them. Also, probably because even Faragonda’s compliments couldn’t make her dorm room seem any more comfortable than it was.

“Suffocating you mean?” she offered to see Faragonda give a sympathetic smile that was appreciated even if it didn’t save her from the nightmare of the constricted dorm room she needed to share with Ediltrude and Zarathustra.

The two had gone home for a few days to make sure their father was okay. He’d caught some kind of magical flu and they’d headed back home to heal him–Zarathustra had packed almost all of her potion ingredients–since they knew he was likely to just ignore his condition until it got the best of him and caused complications. They’d tried to act annoyed but Griffin had seen the panic hiding beneath the complaining, their gestures more frantic rather than irritated. They didn’t have the best relationship with their father but after the death of their mother had left them all angry and suffering, they were more terrified of losing him as well than they would ever admit. Probably because they had already lost some of the connection they’d had with him when their mother had still been with them and they didn’t want to find out how much worse it would be with him gone too.

Griffin had offered to go with them but they’d refused and she’d known not to insist when they’d brought up the argument that she’d be breaking the rules without reason to skip school. They both cared about rules as much as she did so it meant they didn’t want her with them if they were trying to pull off that excuse. Griffin could only guess what their reasons were for keeping her separated but she had to respect their boundaries even as she worried about them.

She’d called Faragonda to keep her company and have a sleepover. It hadn’t been so long since their last sleepover in the summer at Griffin’s house before they’d headed back to school but it was the first one where they would be completely alone with no parents to check on them. If they didn’t count the Cloud Tower teachers that could totally get them busted if they weren’t careful and they would both be in trouble. Griffin – for sneaking a fairy in Cloud Tower, and Faragonda – for staying out of Alfea past curfew. It was a solid risk to take, yet that somehow didn’t seem to bother either one of them when they were together.

“What?” Faragonda asked and Griffin needed the seconds it took her to blink a few times to realize she’d grabbed Faragonda’s arm before she could have sat down on Ediltrude’s bed.

“Nothing,” she released her, perhaps rather reluctantly or it was just her brain that wasn’t functioning at full speed and made things look slowed down. It was unusual since time spent with Faragonda always flew by so quickly and left her wishing they could have more opportunities to just be together without worrying about judgment because of the clear line their friendship was stepping over. “Just a habit,” she added after Faragonda’s questioning look didn’t settle with just that. “Ediltrude’s snakes usually lounge there but she took them with her.”

Griffin had gotten used to them enough not to pay them any mind even when they found their way into her own bed and slithered over her but she was sure she couldn’t take care of them no matter how soon the twins would be back. It had forced Ediltrude to risk smuggling them out and then back in which remained a challenge no matter how many times she’d done it already. Griffin wasn’t sure how they still hadn’t gotten caught but she knew they couldn’t afford to relax as that was bound to draw the problems to them.

“Perhaps I should just sit on your bed then,” Faragonda probably had the right idea considering Zarathustra wasn’t the tidiest person when it came to her potion work. Not that Faragonda knew that. “Just to be sure there’s nothing that can leap at me unexpectedly,” she added and Griffin could understand how she was uncomfortable with the idea of the snakes ever having been in the bed even if they weren’t now but she couldn’t help the feeling that Faragonda was looking for an excuse to sit on her bed.

It was odd when there was no need for that. They’d never had a problem with proximity and she hoped to keep it that way. Even if there were other things changing.

“Feel at home,” Griffin let a teasing glint in her eyes even though her heart wasn’t quite in tune and was doing excited leaps in her throat instead. She was just happy they could be themselves while together and were no longer separated by their differences. Those even made for lighthearted jokes now. “It seems that you are anyway. With all that rulebreaking you’ve committed today.” Griffin smiled slyly as if she wasn’t right there with Faragonda.

“For you – always,” Faragonda came closer and the sound of her heels was like a trigger that released panic in Griffin’s heart and mind. Faragonda would need just another step to get too close to her where it would be impossible to ignore the change in their relationship that had started out slowly and had kept speeding up, leaving Griffin afraid it would crash like an out of control car but unable to tear herself away from the rush of adrenaline coming from the race against inevitability. Or at least it seemed like that was what it was no matter how hard Griffin hoped that was the one time she was wrong. It would mean they’d both been wrong in thinking they belonged even closer than they already were if they got torn apart.

“Well, now that we have this… tiny space in Cloud Tower,” she couldn’t really call it a kingdom if it hardly qualified for a shoebox even, “what shall we do with it?” she asked as she plopped herself down on her bed. The action brought more comfort than she’d expected when her mind was weighed down with wariness and she’d been afraid it would plunge through the mattress and somewhere out of her reach.

She hadn’t really planned anything and all their entertainment would have to remain confined to the room. It didn’t leave them with too many opportunities, especially considering they had to keep it down as well. Unless they felt like soundproofing, of course, but she had a feeling Faragonda wouldn’t be more inclined to use her magic for that than she was.

“We could always drink some tea and just talk,” Faragonda said, making Griffin smile at how simple yet deep things were between them as it was true.

They could–and had–spend all night talking about anything on their minds and it was the freest she had felt. Not even her magic could give her that when it was what earned her judgment most of the time even if people weren’t right in their prejudices. She’d had to struggle to keep her pride in her powers and with Faragonda it was always effortless. She didn’t have to do anything or be anything that she wasn’t just to be accepted – by Faragonda and by herself. Faragonda didn’t just make it easy to love her. She made it easy to love herself as well. Easier than it had ever been without her support.

“How about some games?” The suggestive smile on Faragonda’s lips was anything but reassuring. No sparkly outfits and wings would be able to get the witchy upbringing out of her and while Griffin normally found that oddly endearing, she dreaded it now. It could only mean one thing.

Griffin groaned as she rolled her eyes. “Truth or Dare,” she spat out as if that was the vilest thing in existence. Frankly, she was sick of it and even her love for Faragonda had its boundaries which the fairy was starting to push with her go-to game.

“I was actually thinking about strip poker,” Faragonda said and at least the mischievous smirk made sense now even if Griffin was still struggling to process the suggestion. “It seems on brand for tonight,” Faragonda apparently noticed her difficulty to grasp what was happening. “Gambling and nudity aren’t exactly in line with school rulebooks, whether Alfea or Cloud Tower.” Faragonda’s justification worked about as much as the twins’ for leaving Griffin behind had.

“Sounds like a solid plan,” Griffin tried to adapt to the speed with which Faragonda was steering them. It would be a shame to fall out of the loop before she’d seen where that road ended even if it could turn out to be the less painful option. She couldn’t resist the temptation of the treasure that could wait at the end destination if she was brave enough to get there. “Except that I can’t play poker,” she said, almost angry with Ediltrude that she hadn’t taught her when she literally had cards up her sleeves more often than not. Granted, those were tarot cards but Griffin had seen the loot Ediltrude had gotten from some seniors the previous year from gambling with them. She knew her way around playing cards as well.

Of course, the little bump on the road had a positive side as well. Now she could see Faragonda’s reaction which could be the peek in her head that she needed. Things between them weren’t quite as clear as she’d like them to be but that was to be expected with how foggy her head got every time she felt the softness of Faragonda’s lips pressed against hers and their fingers tangled together the way their souls had been for years now.

They’d found themselves kissing at the very beginning of the summer vacation in Griffin’s room to only break it up when they’d heard her mom in the corridor and while they hadn’t let things get awkward, Griffin had been convinced the reason for that had been that Faragonda had been staying with her for the whole summer. It had kept happening, however, and with increasing repetition at that, both of them getting bolder not just in touching, but in talking about it as well. They stopped pretending the kisses hadn’t existed and acknowledged them even if that was only in whispered praises to the other that never poured over the confines of the moment since they weren’t quite sure what to do. At least Griffin wasn’t.

That had held true until just over a week ago when they’d walked back from Magix through the forest and the secluded place had left them with wandering hands that had ended up with Faragonda pressed between her and the trunk of a tree and grinding on Griffin’s thigh pushed between her own. Griffin had been torn between kissing her and drinking in the sweet sounds she’d been making or letting them flow around them freely so that she could enjoy them to the fullest and she couldn’t have been bothered with anything but the exquisite torment of that choice as she’d alternated the two options. Anything except for her alarm that had gone off and jerked them out of their fascination with each other so abruptly she’d felt like a part of her soul had remained caught between Faragonda’s lips. Faragonda had had to get back to Alfea on time and not earn herself detention or any other punishment that would keep them from seeing each other again. The moment had been broken and they’d avoided talking about it afraid of the sharp pieces and all the ways in which they could cut them.

“Strip chess then?” Faragonda didn’t seem fazed by what could have been taken as rejection if they didn’t know each other so well. But they did, which was exactly why Griffin could see the way Faragonda was holding her breath from its usual rhythm as there was only so much she could do against anticipation.

“You really want to see me naked,” Griffin didn’t make it a question on purpose even if it felt like she was pushing too much. But that was exactly the point and she got her answer as Faragonda didn’t really try to object to the playful accusation giving them both their sentence. “You should have just said so,” Griffin struggled not to let her voice drop down all the way to a whisper when she was supposed to be confident in their… feelings for each other. It wasn’t hypocrisy on her part. Just a confession of her confidence in Faragonda being bigger than that in herself.

Still, she reached for her magic as she didn’t have the nerves to undress manually–not to mention the bravery to risk having her hands shake while she did it–and let it take the clothes away to give access to her body to Faragonda’s gaze. There was a split second’s hesitation whether to remove everything before she pushed her magic to make sure it wouldn’t leave any fabric in the way. She’d always let Faragonda see all of her and she had no reason to change that now.

She still shied away from meeting Faragonda’s gaze and some aggressive impulse had her moving to get up and let the fairy see all of her when Griffin refused to find the soothing blue of her eyes.

Faragonda’s hand was grasping at her and pulling her in the comfort of her body before she could leave the bed where they were together. She must have read the negativity in Griffin’s mind and was jumping to the rescue like she always did. Only, this time it was more like diving when her lips met Griffin’s and her mouth was surely flooded by the witch’s breath that rushed out of her excitedly as if it knew it was wanted in Faragonda’s lungs.

Faragonda’s lips only pressed closer to hers and her tongue tangled with Griffin’s as if in an attempt to weave back that piece of her soul that had been ripped away the previous week before they could have sunk completely into each other. It was working, too, as Faragonda’s desire and trust was filling Griffin up until there was nothing that could ache with emptiness. She was full, whole, and it was something she’d never known she could have as she was only experiencing it now. She was sure she didn’t want it to end, though. Never.

She allowed herself to stop grasping at Faragonda like she was a lifeline and give a slight push to her shoulders. A suggestion the fairy let herself fall into and Griffin had her pressed into the mattress faster than either of them could comprehend, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Their bodies fit together just like their souls always had and Griffin could hear both their hearts in the quietness of the room that didn’t dare interfere with the perfect harmony they made for.

Griffin still broke the kiss and let Faragonda’s panting calm down before she let her make a decision that could greatly impact both their lives. “Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes finding Faragonda’s far easier now that she didn’t feel vulnerable in her nakedness with both of them exposed.

Faragonda took a moment to let them both know she wasn’t jumping in without thinking before she answered. “I am,” she said before her confidence seemed to evaporate and almost left Griffin afraid the intensity of her own golden stare was too much for the fairy to handle. Faragonda didn’t look away and only held tighter to her instead, her hands still on Griffin’s waist where they’d been the whole time as if she’d been afraid of disrespecting their connection if she allowed herself to explore and Griffin was grateful for the consideration since she wasn’t sure she could quite call it unnecessary. “I just have to tell you that… I haven’t had sex yet,” Faragonda admitted after just a moment that Griffin was sure was more searching for the right words rather than hesitation.

“I know,” Griffin said softly and started unbuttoning Faragonda’s shirt only after she relaxed in her hands and the words.

They hadn’t directly talked about it but she’d known that Faragonda was still a virgin just like Faragonda had known that she wasn’t. And they’d both known that the other hadn’t seen anyone else since the kisses had started. Not even in the months after the beginning of the school year when they hadn’t been constantly together and there’d been enough room between them to stuff with some secrets but they hadn’t allowed themselves to dishonor the sacredness of their relationship like that. Honesty had always been what they’d thrived on and that didn’t get to change no matter what else did. It was that openness that lent Griffin enough faith in their relationship for her to stop fearing for its survival and help it grow instead.

“I’ll make sure you’ll get only enjoyment out of this,” she promised as she kept working on the shirt, a bit more hurriedly now that Faragonda’s skin was peeking underneath and luring her closer.

She’d complicated the process of undressing a little by getting Faragonda underneath her but she could do it–it would even stop her from rushing through it and making good on her promise–although she hadn’t done that before. Faragonda was the first woman she was sleeping with and in her own bed in Cloud Tower. It was a first for her as well and it was more than special, leaving her determined to make it so for Faragonda as well.

“It won’t be a sleepover if I chase you away before morning,” she joked to swipe away any nervousness there might have been in the fairy. “I can’t let you go before you’re satisfied with your stay,” she said and the smile on Faragonda’s face was all the stop her heart needed to keep from crashing.

[hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews]

Untold Tales of Spider-Man 15: The Stalking of John Doe – by Adam-Troy Castro

A pretty good story but...

“In Manhattan, stormy nights are crazy nights.” Dr. Gwendolyn Harris is “working the second half of a fifteen-hour shift at the Emergency Psychiatric Unit of the Midtown Hospital and she’d seen more business in the past three hours than she’d expected to see all day.” The cops bring in a number of crazies including “the ranting little man who’d attempted to smuggle a gun into a Rick Jones concert, in what was an apparent attempt to become the next Mark David Chapman.” (You may recall that Rick Jones, former companion to the Hulk, Captain America, and Captain Marvel, was, at one point, a big deal rock star. If you don’t recall, Adam-Troy certainly does. Mark David Chapman, of course, is the man who killed John Lennon.) Shortly before nine PM, Bill The Security Guard motions Gwen over and tells her, “Cops just called. They’re bringing in another John Doe. One they say they don’t recommend placing in the general ward.” He elaborates, “he’s totally out of his head, strong as a moose, and…it took more than a dozen cops working tag-teams to wrestle him into a pair of straitjackets.”The police bring in the John Doe, “a wiry Caucasian male in his twenties, with short-cropped brown hair and eyes that could have been inviting were they not crazed…wearing nothing but a sodden pair of blue tights,” and it takes five of them to contain him. 

Suddenly, the John Doe goes berserk, yelling, “He’s after me, he’ll track me down, it’s what he does, it’s what he knows, he’ll find my trail and get me,” and the cops are about to lose control of him when Gwen steps in to calm her patient down. The John Doe looks at her and calls her “Gwendy,” which takes Gwen by surprise. However, when he says, “You can’t be Gwendy. The Goblin killed Gwendy. I saw him kill Gwendy,” she knows he isn’t referring to her. Finally “John” tells her, “the Hunter, that dart he shot me with, it’s some kind of rare psychoactive snake venom derivative, making all the nightmares come back, I’m f-fighting it but…I can’t seem to focus my thoughts…is it really you, Gwendy? Please tell me it’s really you.” Gwen lies, saying, “It’s me,” and the John Doe kisses her wrist and begins to cry.After “John” is strapped on a bed in a “padded isolation cell,” police Sergeant Monaghan tells Gwen that her patient was rambling on about “lizards, vultures, tarantulas, pumas, cobras, rhinos, black cats, octopuses.” 

He reports that the “psycho came out of that alley stripped to the waist, wired like all the crackheads you ever saw, screaming about the monsters. Attacked a whole bunch of folks lined up at the Cineplex, calling ‘em murderers and villains, tossing ‘em side to side like it was bowling night or something. Even jumped a poor far guy, calling him the Kingpin. When Stanley and I showed up, he almost tore us to pieces.” Stanley, one of the other cops, disagrees, saying, “He’s hallucinating, sure, and from the way he goes on, he sees enemies everywhere he looks, but even with his strength, even in a state of panic, he’s managed to resist doing anybody any serious harm…For what it’s worth, I think he’s telling the truth. I think he was dosed with something.” 

The cops leave and Gwen prepares to examine her patient but she asks Gordy and Flack, two beefy security guards, to stand by.She finds John Doe muttering about Mary Jane, monsters, Felicia and the Hunter.” “[T]here was something about the way John Doe presented it, something about the conviction behind his words, that hit all three of them (Gwen, Gordy, Flack) at the base of the spine.” “John” again recognizes Dr. Harris as “Gwendy” and she tells him she needs to take a blood sample. “I wouldn’t even be in this mess if not for my blood!” he says, “That spider, messing up my life – take it all, why don’t you?...Call Morbius and have yourselves a kegger!” She takes the blood and his vital signs. He starts to tell her his name but changes his mind. When Flack tells him he’s safe from the Hunter, “John” laughs, “You don’t know what he is. He’s coming. And you won’t even slow him down.” Gwen takes the blood sample to Willie the lab tech to be analyzed for “alcohol, crack, PCP, all the other usual psychoactive agents – and one other thing. Snake venom.”As the night goes on, the weather gets nastier with destructive winds and flooding. Gwen is overwhelmed by psych cases entering the emergency room even as “the cops were besieged by screwball reports of a half-man, half-lion spotted on the rooftops.” 

At last she gets the lab report on “John’s” blood. Negative for everything except snake venom. But also, Willie adds, “positive for another factor, that had screwed up all the tests until he compensated for it; a factor that was like nothing else he’d ever seen.” The blood is also “superoxygenated.” Gwen returns to the padded cell and finds “John” sitting up on the bed, having gotten out of his restraints. Instinctively, she enters without Gordy and Flack. She finds “John” more coherent but still crazed. He recognizes that she isn’t his Gwendy but also rambles on about the hunter, revealing that he was jumped and dosed and then fled to an alley where he removed his mask. Howling, “Oh, my God! My face! My face! You can see my face!” he covers it with his hands. Gwen tells him, “I don’t care who you are…I don’t care what you look like. I just want to help you.” Realizing, “the Hunter’s coming,” “John” gets up and opens the locked reinforced door “with one annoyed tug,” taking a “fairly large piece of wall” with it. He runs smack into Gordy and Flack but they are unable to stop him. Unexpectedly, however, “John” turns rather than flees, and “made an odd gesture with both hands: hands out, middle two fingers of each curled inward to tap the palm…He seemed genuinely astonished when nothing happened.” 

This allows Gordy and Flack to tackle him. A third orderly joins them. “John” is still on the verge of getting away when Gwen yells “Stop!” and he does. Again warning her that “the Hunter’s coming,” he faints.This time, they restrain “John” with every device that they have. Gordy and Flack stand guard duty outside. Gwen worries that “John” may be speaking the truth. She knows, “if it weren’t possible to get reasonable people to believe the rantings of the insane, then a fair percentage of cult leaders and politicians would have been out of work.” But even knowing that, “she couldn’t stop thinking about the Hunter.” Later, she asks the lab tech if the John Doe could be “a paranormal.” “You mean like the Thing?” he says, “Or Captain America? Or one of those guys?” then follows with, “If he was a mutant…you’d need DNA tests for a definitive diagnosis If he was paranormal in some other nonphysical way, there’s usually not much you can do to tell.” This conversation is interrupted when Bill the Security Guard tells them, “Some crazy off the street” has entered the hospital. “Tall, muscular guy, Russian accent, wearing leopard-skin tights and a skinned lion’s head for a vest, if you can believe that…He said he was the hunter and said he’d go wherever he chose to go. 

The cops who tried to detain him for questioning are now being worked on in the emergency room. So’s some poor guy in the elevator who gave him a lecture about the evils of wearing fur.” Gwen knows the Hunter has arrived. She has Bill barricade the door to the Psych Unit and tells him to prepare to shoot anyone who enters. From his cell, the John Doe starts screaming and pounding on the door, without anyone telling him about the oncoming danger. Gwen sends Gordy and Flack to help Bill. Then she hears “John” ripping the padding off the walls, in order to eliminate its blow-suffusing effects. Gwen, who knows “John” is her only hope, wishes they hadn’t assisted in weakening him. Soon after, “John” tears the door away and, weak and feverish, he confronts Gwen. He tells her he needs gauze to conceal his face from the Hunter. “His eyes were wide, pleading…and sane.” Gwen acts without hesitation, helping him to the supply room where she wraps his head. Then the Hunter arrives.“John” goes out to face him and Gwen follows soon after. 

There she experiences the full force and power of the Hunter. “It would have been impossible for any living thing to look at this man and not consider itself his natural prey.” She notices that Bill, Gordy, and Flack have already been disposed of and she sees “John” “facing the Hunter in a position midway between a crouch and the confrontational stance of a boxer.” The Hunter carries “curved jaguar tusks…both dripping with something black and foul.” He lunges forward at “John” and the battle continues, their movements impossibly fast. “Then they sped up, moving with such superhuman speed that Dr. Harris found herself unable to follow it all.” After a protracted battle, the Hunter gets “John” into position for a killing blow. But Gordy “charged across the room and piled into the Hunter with every ounce of his three hundred pound musculature. Gordy had been a star quarterback in college. He’d almost made it to the pros. He didn’t even budge the Hunter.” But he does distract the Hunter long enough for “John” to disappear.Gwen feels herself lifted off the ground, “up near the ceiling…and she found herself flying back down the corridor.” She soon realizes that “John” is carrying her as he runs along the ceiling. “John” tosses her into the storage room. She sees the Hunter pass by the room and hears him catch up with “John.” She can tell that “John” has lost. 

She grabs some items from the supply room and follows, only to find the Hunter “holding John Doe off the floor by his neck.” Since “one of the first things she’d ever learned was that with great power comes great responsibility,” Gwen plunges two hypos full of Thorazine into the Hunter’s neck. The Hunter knocks her across the room and growls, “Stupid woman! When I’m done with him, I’ll break..your…neck!” “John,” who still thinks of Gwen on some level as his Gwendy reacts to this. “No! Not again!” he yells and becomes an “engine of destruction.” “A new expression entered the Hunter’s eyes. Helplessness. Terror.” And eventually, the Hunter flees. “John” stops to ask Gwen if she is all right, then he follows the Hunter.In the aftermath, Gwen asks for and gets the day shift. “The fingerprints and photographs taken of the perpetrator known as John Doe quickly disappeared from the filing room at the precinct house where he’d been booked – a locked room three stories up, with a single window that did not happen to be equipped with a fire escape.” Two weeks later, Gwen finds a dozen red roses in a vase on her desk with a note taped to it. 

The note reads in part, “It was one of the worst nights of my life, which is saying a lot. I’ve had some bad ones, Doctor; you’ll never know how bad. But this was one of the worst. And you were there for me. You kept me hanging on even when there was nothing to hang on to. And though part of it was your accidental resemblance to a friend long dead and gone, even that wouldn’t have been enough if not for your strength, your courage, and your compassion…Thank you.” Gwen sniffs the flowers and a spider moves from the vase to the back of her hand. “As she studied it, the little thing froze in indecision, unsure which way to run. Tsking with sympathy, she took it to a window and set it free.”

If taken wholly in isolation this wouldn’t be all that terrible. it sort o combines two typical types of super hero stories. 

a) the ‘everything you believe has been a product of delusion’

And

b) the hero is locked up in an asylum

In the ways the story works it works due to ‘Gwen’ being the POV character. 

But that’s also it’s weakness. I find it a little difficult to believe that a NYC resident like Dr. Harris would honestly not deduce that ‘John Doe’ is Spider-Man. Part of that is her and the other staff dismissing ‘John’ mentioning his rogue’s gallery. Surely the Goblin’s implication in Gwen’s death and ‘John’s super human strength would be enough to put two and two together.

Additionally ending the anthology with a focus upon a random new character we will never see again is kind of...well lame. In theory this could have worked as a third party observer might’ve put some grander perspective upon who Spider-Man is and what he represents.

But since Peter isn’t exactly ‘sober’ in this story it winds up being about Gwen’s gradual discovery of who her patient really is. 

And it executes that well but I’m just questioning the point of it. I suppose it makes for a nice full stop for the anthology because it manages to be touches upon Spidey’s broader history. But then again...there is a particular emphasis upon Gwen.*

Again in isolation this sort of makes sense (though much moreso if this was set shortly after her death) but within the context of the anthology it’s retreading old ground. And ground trodden better before I might add (Deadly Force utilized Gwen’s death far more effectively).

Perhaps the most egregious point about the story is that it’s placed in a weird place in the book. The entire anthology is intended to move along Spidey’s timeline but this story must obviously be set before Kraven’s Last Hunt and yet the prior story must’ve been set way later than that. Essentially this should’ve been the penultimate story and the prior yarn the actual final one.

But I suspect the editors recognized that this was the much stronger story and ultimately a more fitting tale to end the anthology on.

Other than that I have little to say about this story beyond 

a) The narrator finally delivered a decent performance as Spider-Man, chiefly because Peter wasn’t in his right mind and therefore wouldn’t sound himself anyway.

b) Kraven was done pretty well, in that he was scary and intimidating. 

c) Maybe this story prompted Castro’s eventual Sinister Six trilogy

d) For a story called ‘Untold Tales of Spider-Man’ this story doesn’t really take advantage of the concept. This story could’ve happened at almost any time after Peter had met Felicia and before Kraven’s death and it doesn’t really explore anything new. Even the prior story had Jonah react to Alstair’s Smythe’s new body and saw him teaming up with Gargan. 

Over all...it’s not a BAD story by any means but I think there are much stronger entries.

As for the anthology as a whole, it’s a mixed bag but that’s to be expected. Anthologies are rarely anything but mixed bags.

But as anthologies go I have to admit this one was superior to Ultimate Spider-Man, albeit none of the stories in this book top the best material from the USM anthology.

 *That makes 3 and a half stories that emphasis Gwen and like half a story that emphasises MJ. That kinda sucks. 

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 4, Part 1: Blight of the Paradox Clones

BRIGHT: Act 4 opens on a loading sequence titled ‘GATE 1’, and then there’s a short pan down through firefly-dotted clouds to a dim blue landscape called the Land of Wind and Shade. John manifests at ground-level and it’s time for another walk-around game!

The icon in the upper right corner opens a conversation with Nannasprite, who’s still back in the house. Apparently she can’t accompany John around the Land, but she can certainly give him puzzling half-answers to any questions he might have. John asks her point-blank if she was always cryptic and evasive or if that’s a sprite thing, but she predictably avoids answering.

John wanders around the Land, getting into fights with (oddly non-aggressive) imps for grist. The Land is very atmospheric, with glowing blue mushrooms and odd pipes everywhere. It’s also inhabited by large, excitable, bipedal orange salamanders who blow bubbles and dispense information about the Land. One of them has acquired John’s bedsheets and is now calling itself a wizard.

A salamander standing by one of the pipes explains that it’s called a Parcel Pyxis. If you need something, you can chisel a picture of whatever it is into a stone tablet and drop it into a Parcel Pyxis. If you find a tablet, and you have what’s carved into it, it’s polite to drop it into the Pyxis and the Breeze will take it where it needs to go. (Just what the Breeze is isn’t explained yet, but given the name of the Land, it’s fair to assume an explanation will be forthcoming in due time, and it’s thematically consistent.)

While wandering, John finds a telescope. Looking through it, he sees his house, perched waaaaaay at the top of a very tall, very narrow rocky crag. He also finds a very large pipe sunk into the ground. He can hear something very, very big breathing at the bottom.

There are definite pros and cons to these games, but on the whole I like them. They’re more immersive than the usual comic panels, and it’s nice to do some self-directed wandering. On the other hand, it’s easy to miss something in a walk-around game, which hardly ever happens with comic panels…

FAILURE ARTIST: The Salamanders crack me up. Good parody of NPC chatter.

CHEL: Comic panels of the walkaround are included later on, so if you really hate the games you can read it straightforwardly.

John is confused by now being below his house when he went through a portal above it; Nanna cryptically claims that “To ascend, you must first descend!”

BRIGHT: With the game out of the way (it doesn’t really have a defined end point), we return to normal comic panels — and also to the future. AR is embroiled in a shootout with the snakes from PM’s ship, which are now firing laser beams. A stray blast decapitates the frog temple. AR returns fire with a rocket launcher. His first shot takes out the snake. The second knocks WV flying. WV lands behind a rock, and the carved pumpkin lands on his head. AR lines up his next shot...and pauses.

The carved image of Bec’s head seems to mean something to AR, because he immediately ceases fire and comes down to start yelling at WV. This turns out to be a poor move on his part: PM still has her sword, and she is not pleased.

I really, really like PM as a character. She has no dialogue whatsoever and still projects massive amounts of integrity.

The comic returns to Jade. She’s retrieved Dave’s Sburb discs from the time capsule, which is clearly going to move the plot along...

Looks like the TIME CAPSULE has reset itself. It is sprouting a new bud. Presumably something else will come out when it blooms again in about 400 years. Too bad you won't be around to find out what it is!

...aaaaaaand we go into sylladex shenanigans again.

I will say this for sylladex tomfoolery: It absolutely can break up tension and provide some lighter stretches in the plot. The problem is that these don’t always feel natural. I find them less annoying now and can appreciate the humour, but they really bugged me the first time around.

Still, Jade’s use of her sylladex does at least speak to her character.

Jade eventually settles on Pictionary modus, which means she has to draw a picture of whatever she wants to captchalogue. If she doesn’t have the drawn item to hand, her modus instead captures a “ghost image” of the item on a card, complete with alchemiter code. Handy! Unfortunately the modus has some trouble understanding Jade’s drawings, interpreting her picture of her eclectic bass as a regular electric bass.

Bec then catches up and teleports Jade back to her room. In a demonstration of unusual good sense, Jade promptly gets on with installing the Sburb Beta.

Back in the Land of Wind and Shade, John pesters Rose to ask if she’s here on the other side of the gate, in the “spooky glowy place with oily rivers and stuff”. She doesn’t respond. He does however get pestered by Jade, who is now awake and therefore fully aware of what Sburb is (much to John’s confusion). She tells him to go get his copy of the game so he can be her server player. John is convinced Jade is psychic, but she tells him that he has access to all the information she does, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Meanwhile, Dave is also trying to get in touch with Rose, also to no effect. Jade pesters him and they have a cute conversation in which Jade forgets how a reference goes, but Dave assures her she got it anyway. She tells him she’s setting up as his server player and shows him a picture of the meteor aimed at his house. There are no size comparison points available but Jade assures him that it’s really, really big.

TG: well as if like one the size of a bus wouldnt kill me anyway

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave describes his beating from his Guardian as “i got served like a dude on butler island” and Jade says it’s “(DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA)”. It’s hard to take the abuse seriously when none of the characters do.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 14

BRIGHT: In the Medium, John is getting pestered by carcinoGeneticist again. We now have a picture icon for CG. Look familiar? Yup, it’s the guy from the end of the Intermission.

So I guess this is the first time in the main comic that we get confirmed, visual proof that the trolls are aliens? It’s hard to point to, since the trolls get introduced gradually.

I’ve no idea how this was received in fandom when it first happened, but by the time I got to Homestuck, the fact that the trolls were grey folks with horns was probably the most famous feature of the canon, so...not so much of an impact. Still pretty cool though.

FAILURE ARTIST: I wish I could remember how the fandom took it.

The trolls in these early acts make a big deal all the time about how they are alien and the kids are human. It’s an amusing parody of the way aliens act in fiction but it is weird when the trolls become actual characters and we find out their psychology is surprisingly human most of the time.

CHEL: Hence the WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM count. That’ll spike later.

BRIGHT: CG is unexpectedly friendly this time. Apparently he’s been trolling John backwards through time, which is frustrating as each earlier John knows less and less, so CG keeps having to repeat himself. (Which...doesn’t make much sense? He’d have to explain more obvious stuff, sure, but John would remember things he was told in later-from-CG’s-perspective conversations, so...ugh, time travel!) Despite this frustration, however, John’s relentless friendliness apparently wore the trolls down and now they’re friends. Or at least CG thinks they are. John is less than convinced.

CHEL:

John asks if the trolls are in his land, but CG berates him for self-centredness:

CG: WE HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR DUMB LITTLE WINDY PLANET OR YOUR PETTY LITTLE QUESTS. CG: OR FOR THAT MATTER YOUR ENTIRE GAME SESSION. CG: YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONES PLAYING THE GAME. CG: EVERY GROUP OF PLAYERS GETS THEIR OWN DISTINCT, BLANK SLATE SESSION. CG: AS WILL BE EXPLAINED TO YOU MANY TIMES.

He instructs John to relay an apology for the trolling to Jade and to tell her to GET HER GROSS AND TOTALLY UNATTRACTIVE HUMAN BUTT OFF HER UGLY HUMAN HIGH HORSE AND ANSWER MY MESSAGES. John says he’s a bit focused on his own quest right now, and sets off to find his father’s car.

TIER: While that's happening, we cut back to the gaggle of aliens having a grand old time around a campfire with some good food. A familiar pair of squiddles, now old, is visible as well.

FAILURE ARTIST: AR/PM/WV was a popular OT3 back in the day but you never see it anymore.

CHEL: Pity. It’s adorable.

FAILURE ARTIST: We cut to Dave’s place, where Jade is setting things up for the game. The air conditioning unit helps with the process, but the birds everywhere don’t. Dave drops the r-slur.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 16

Rose also talks with Dave as this is going on. She says this to him.

TT: I've done nothing but wait for boys to play this game with me all day. TT: First John lollygagging with the client, and then you with the server, downright filibustering my existence with unending fraternal melee. TT: And yet a girl, one who didn't even own the game, was able to connect with you minutes after you connected with me.

I’ve seen this quoted as Rose/Jade Lesbian Power but I wish we had more scenes where the two actually talked to each other.

CHEL: Being happy that one of your friends is competent means you’re in love with them now? And yet if someone used that as evidence for a het ship they’d be run out of the fandom. Anyway, Jade removes Dave’s bed to make room.

TT: And there she goes. TT: She HAS the karma.

FAILURE ARTIST: Rose has been talking to a troll, but she doesn’t know the gender so uses “he/she/it”. Funny to think there was a time when we didn’t know the trolls’ gender. Particularly the gender of Rose’s favorite troll...

Jade tries to tidy up the apartment using “a woman’s touch” a.k.a. a towel drenched in toilet water. Which begs the question of how her home is spotless.

CHEL: Because Hussie is again not thinking through the implications of the living situations as presented, and/or trying to present things as simultaneously a joke and serious. To be fair, considering the dreambot, she could have a super hi-tech cleaning system, or Bec could teleport the dirt away, but if so, we ought to see that.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 10 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 15

FAILURE ARTIST: In doing so, she accidentally rips the toilet out and drops an F-bomb.

CHEL: We now get a video of Rose’s location, the LAND OF LIGHT AND RAIN. Her house is now perched on a tiny island surrounded by glimmering pastel oil-slick-looking water, a waterfall pouring down out of nowhere beside it, with golden clouds scattered around pouring rain. It’s very pretty!

We again see the carapaces finding things in the ruins, and WV brings PM to see inside the bunker. The blast earlier formed an entry into the third room which had been locked, which contains further devices, this one with more spirographs and a frog picture on it; WV doesn’t know what this one does and the power’s too low to use it anyway. Back in the room with the monitors, PM is impressed by WV’s drawings and he offers her the pack of chalk. AR, meanwhile, cooks food.

PM recognises the monitor as similar to the one in her own station, though hers was watching a girl. Here, we get the static panels of the runaround game, from PM’s point of view.

Back in LoLaR, a mysterious textbox in cursive addresses Rose as Seer, suggesting she explore. Recall that the book mentioned the Heir of Breath, the Seer of Light, the Witch of Space, and the Knight of Time. Since Jade is the one who’s been doing the Seer-ing so far, I’ve seen readers assume she was the Seer and Rose the Witch, but it seems not; further explanations of what those titles really mean are forthcoming.

Sudden cut back to John’s land, where the village is under attack! Huts are aflame, and much bigger and more powerful monsters have arrived.

In Dave’s apartment, Jade opens the cruxtruder by dropping the displaced toilet on it, splashing water everywhere, much to Dave’s aggravation since all that juice was going to come back to haunt me. He’s relieved to see the countdown gives him four hours, but Jade doesn’t know till what, and he realises she’s sleep-messaging him again. He orders her not to watch him pee, and dont put anything weird in the seizure kernel.

TG: the last thing i need is for your weird brain webcam to be snapping shots of my dong TG: your grandpa was a sick fuck why would he build a voyeurbot for a little girl CALL CPA PLEASE: 8

Well, he is kinda right. Anyway, Dave spends a couple of pages elaborately planning misuse of the apple juice bottle and tricking John into drinking from the alchemised bottle, but he dismisses it as too much trouble and goes in the shower, kicking out the puppet. Good thing it was only his bladder that was the problem, if you get my drift. Some fans have speculated that this puppet also had a camera in it, but I can’t see evidence of that; I guess if you squint the eyes might look like a camera lens? I feel if that was the case it would have been shown. Hussie didn’t shy away from the weird shit with Dave’s living situation earlier.

Jade is upset to find the bisected bird from earlier, and decides to help the bird by putting it in the Kernelsprite, angering Dave again. He figures she’ll be more helpful when she’s awake, so he instructs her to slap the air to her side; the dreambot mimics her movements and whacks the real Jade in the face, waking her up.

BRIGHT: I burst out laughing the first time I saw that panel. It’s pretty clever of Dave. (Though obviously not kind, but of a variety that’s in keeping with the story.)

CHEL: Cut to the carapace camp, where they’re burning empty crates for a campfire. AR decides to use the Squiddles to Win over that fine carapace in grey, which seems to distress WV and Serenity. PM takes a Squiddle, but rather than being won over is vaguely reminded of something.

TIER: We then jump back into the past, where we find a totalled car and what looks like AR?

CHEL: Yep, though here he’s going by Authority Regulator instead of Aimless Renegade.

TIER: Whatever the case, this dude is not happy with this traffic violation. Another thing he's not happy with? Unauthorized parcels. Which brings us to the Parcel Mistress, who's been looking for this particular package for a while apparently. Now how to get it?

With that we jump back to John! Who's doing decent enough in his clobbering of game enemies. Just when things ain't looking too hot though, a mysterious stranger shoots and kills them with extreme prejudice. He looks familiar ain't he?

And even if he's not, that gigantic book under his arm can only be the work of the ol’ Colonel Sassacre, which John helpfully points out.

CHEL: Meanwhile in some other time period, PM suddenly remembers she must deliver a message to John. Back in the present, Parcel Mistress, for it is she, finds a tablet carved (badly) by John, depicting the SBurb envelope. The prompt suggests PM ready her sword, but she has none, and claims she would never resort to violence. Instead, she tries asking politely. Despite their lands’ enmity, AR finds her attractive and doffs his hat so furiously you are in danger of starting a HAT FIRE. His civility does not extend to handing over contraband, though. The tablet is sufficient evidence for him to give her the envelope, but to get the green parcel she must ask his bosses. PM puts the envelope in a pyxis, trusting the Breeze to move it, and follows AR.

John plans to follow the man, who he does not yet recognise as Jade’s Grandpa, to get his book back, but first he must help put out the fire in the salamander village. He flings the BARBASOL BOMB he made earlier into the volcano.

The cooling lather should work its magic in no time…

OH GOD HOW CAN SHAVING CREAM BE SO FLAMMABLE

Yeah, that doesn’t work so well. Fortunately, just as all seems lost, A big gust of wind conveniently comes along and blows out all the fire. The salamanders declare John a hero, though he’s just confused.

FAILURE ARTIST: A prompt (PM) asks John if he still has the tablet and if he wants to carve something on it. So, in another time loop, he does that.

Back at LOLAR, a very elegant and mysterious prompt ask Rose to find Jaspersprite. Rose cannot find him, but she does find footprints leading to the mausoleum. The mausoleum isn’t there anymore, but the underground passage is still there. Rose takes it down to a pier where someone has recently taken a boat and left a martini. The mysterious prompt says “A mother will do whatever is best for her children.” Nobody ever said “a brother will do whatever is best for his siblings”.

In the future, WV becomes the Mayor of Exile Town. The peace is disturbed when a “huge eggy looking thing” appears in the sky.

Cut to Jade giving the punch card of an “eggy loking thign (sic)”. Guess someone on the forum had bad spelling?

CHEL: It’s a callback to Rose describing the other unfinished GameFAQs entries, which were typed in haste. One described their entry item that way.

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave creates a huge red bird with a huge red egg. When he tries to use the egg, the crow sprite takes it and puts it in a nest made of smuppets, swords, and Lil Cal.

Dave doesn’t have enough grist to do anything. He fusses around building what he can. That done, he goes inside and installs gristTorrent to steal grist from John. Who exactly made that software?

Meanwhile, in LOLAR, Rose has set up shop on the pier. The mysterious prompter tells her to consult with the Heir and in the pesterlog we see she’s chatting with John. They catch up on the trolls and various things. Unfortunately, Rose is harassed by a gallowsCalibrator who tells her in 133t speak that her mother hates her and left her forever. Amazing that GC eventually becomes a beloved character since they are such a little shit right now. GC has synesthesia and jokes about their species communicating through “CLOUDS OF FR4GR4NT G4S3S”. They want to be helpful, but they deny wanting to be friends, though later they say they are becoming something called “H4T3FR13NDS”.

CHEL: Rose asks if I'm being courted or trolled here, which with further reveals about the trolls will become somewhat ironic. Other trolls are jumping around in time but GC is ST4Y1NG L1N34R [...] C4US3 W31RD T1M3 STUFF G1V3S ME A H34D4CHE, though will jump forward in the timeline so they don’t have to wait too long between conversations.

BRIGHT: GC isn’t the only one...

FAILURE ARTIST: GC explains the voices in the players’ heads are from the Exiles on Earth. The ultimate goal is to create a new civilization with them. With that important information, GC bids adieu for now.

TT: So the exiles are on Earth? Does that mean our goal is to get back there too? To resurrect it somehow? GC: NO NO NO GC: S33 1RON1C4LLY TH3Y G3T TO DO TH4T GC: 4FT3R TH3YR3 DON3 H3LP1NG YOU TH4T 1S GC: YOUR JOB 1S OF GR34T3R CONS3QU3NC3 TO S4Y TH3 L34ST GC: BUT P4RT OF TH31R JOB 1S TO R3BU1LD L1F3 4ND C1V1L1Z4T1ON TH3R3 GC: 4ND 1F TH3YR3 SUCC3SSFUL 1N THOUS4NDS OR M1LL1ONS OF Y34RS TH3 T3CHNOLOGY 1S UN34RTH3D 4ND TH3 PL4N3T 1S R1P3 FOR S33D1NG 4LL OV3R 4G41N TT: You never answered the question. Where were they exiled from? GC: FROM TH3 TWO K1NGDOMS 1N TH3 1NC1P1SPH3R3 GC: 3XP4TR14T3D DUR1NG TH3 R3CKON1NG

CHEL: We now know who and what the Exiles are, so let’s lop off a point for that:

WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 8

FAILURE ARTIST: Back in the past, when John went by ghostyTrickster, he tries to have a conversation with Jade but it’s interrupted by CG warning her that her robot will explode. After CG leaves, Jade and John talk about the trolls. Seems blocking does no good. John drops the r-slur.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 17

We cut to CG being gray and angry in some mysterious grey room.

Then, back to Jade. Her package from her pen-pal appears again.

Cut to ghostyTrickster John. GC trolls him, outs herself as female and blind, and threatens to cut his throat “4ND L1ST3N TO YOU BL33D WH1L3 1 SM3LL YOU D13”. John is naturally unnerved by this, but he also takes inspiration from her taunt that he’s bad at ectobiology.

CHEL: He takes for his new username a term that the trolls introduced him to, and is surprised when they immediately find him? Maybe we DID need a Too Dumb To Live count.

FAILURE ARTIST: We cut to a troll like CG, but with red glasses and a Libra sign on her shirt. This is our first look at gallowsCallibrator.

CHEL: Okay, does the death threat qualify for SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER? It’s a bit extreme considering at this point in his timeline John has done nothing to offend her. Then again, maybe not; the narrative doesn’t present this as being the right and proper thing to do.

Back in the present, PM arrives in enemy territory, with the parking citation as a ready excuse for her presence. Imps and agents she passes now have features from Jaspersprite; cat faces, princess hats, and we see a DD-like figure wearing a cat-ear headband. PM follows a red carpet, only to be confronted at the end by this eldritch-looking majesty:

PM is naturally trembling, but is merely instructed to speak to the Archagent, who we’ve met before; Jack Noir. We see a ring with four pearl-like orbs on the monarch’s hand; this will become important later.

Rose’s Exile voice bids her farewell, telling her to Find your sprite. Realise your purpose. No longer guided, Rose decides to start making her own decisions, beginning with a sip of martini.

In the desert, A WINDSWEPT QUESTANT suddenly appears, this being a tall white carapace with a feminine figure and narrow eyes, from the eggy lokin thign, with the unsound effect EGG! WV and AR appear disconcerted, while PM is busy telling John to put the carved tablet in the pyxis.

Back in Jack Noir’s office, PM attempts to grab the green box and leave, but Jack appears suddenly behind her, making her jump, and tells her she’d better have the ticket payment or you are wasting valuable time he could otherwise spend shirking his clerical duties. PM nervously explains she’s actually here for the package, and Jack points out she doesn’t have the right courier forms.

In spite of how he's supposed to be dressed now but isn't, he ain't nobody's fool.

However, instead, she could always do an errand for him. Specifically, following his HIT LIST, which is two pictures of white crowns recognisable as the tops of the king and queen chess pieces. He also gives her the enormous black sword we saw her future self use. PM, terrified, departs, and Jack wonders if she’s actually stupid enough to try it.

You make a policy of handing out a REGISWORD and a HITLIST to just about everyone who enters your office.

Curious, he opens the package, and stares into it in surprise.

At Dave’s apartment, Jade has put the Punch Designix in the hallway, making it rather hard to navigate, but regardless Dave’s busy alchemising. He plays with a few add-ons which temporarily render the machines unusable, but eventually manages to use a jumper shunty thing to consolidate all the machines into one. Jade draws some components, gets the captcha codes of their ghost images, and sends the codes to Dave, who plugs them into the machine. Useful, but could probably be compressed into fewer pages, especially when he follows it up by playing with the new machinery. This is adding to my conviction that the machines should have been simplified severely in the first place.

GET ON WITH IT!: 15

John finds the wrecked car with no dad, package, or game, and gets trolled by GC again. She offers to help him, claiming she wants to H3LP YOU 4DV4NC3 MOR3 QU1CKLY because she’s bored watching his long adventure and wants to help him skip ahead. John points out she could just skip forward on the timeline as she has before, and she admits that she just wants to see if she can change the timeline, as her friends don’t believe they can. She offers him a map, which he accepts.

John complains, naturally, and she relents and offers to guide him directly to the pipe which will help him skip to the next Gate. Honestly, he has reason to complain; her smellovision allows her to read text on a screen, yet not to draw?

Rose, back in LOLAR, battles monsters, doing surprisingly well considering she only has knitting needles for a weapon, culminating in an epic sequence in which she stabs both needles into an ogre’s eyes, flips onto its back, and uses her knitting as reins to ride it down the waterfall. Dave informs her he’s out of grist, but she finds the idea of killing the ogre for supplies when it’s unconscious to be distasteful. He’s interrupted by grimAuxiliatrix, The Troll Who Talks Like This, asking about Rose. The conversation is awkward as GA seems unable to read Dave’s sarcasm.

GA: She Perhaps Even Regards You With Uh GA: Endearment TG: you have no idea dude she is so in my grill TG: like a stray hotdog that rolled down there TG: and now its too much trouble to fish out with the tongs TG: so you just watch it like crack and turn black GA: Um Is This GA: A Common Sort Of Practice In Human Courtship GA: Watching Oblong Meat Products Tumble Into Places They Dont Belong

adiosToreador, meanwhile, does the same to Rose about Dave, with a similar lack of comprehension of Rose’s loquaciousness. GA contacts Rose again, and a confusing conversation about temporal mechanics ensues. Afterwards, we see GA, who proves to be a short-haired troll girl with pronged horns, a Virgo shirt symbol (my troll!), and cute little vampire teeth.

FAILURE ARTIST: It’s been too long for me to remember the fandom reaction, but I feel like the reveal that GA is a girl was framed like a surprise. Surprise! This troll is a lesbian! But I might be mistaken. Still, this isn’t like Dave’s (mock?) offended reaction to AT. Hussie, like many straight men, is more comfortable with lesbians than gay men.

We’ll see more of Rose’s and GA’s relationship as the comic goes on. Some non-Homestucks here might already be spoiled due to the numerous fanart of the two.

CHEL: I wasn’t surprised by her being a girl; maybe I’m stereotyping, but the prissy nature of her dialogue and quirk sounded feminine to me from the start, not to mention the “trix” ending of her username is a feminine one - if she was male, it would be “auxiliator”. Not sure how many people paid attention to that though. I was surprised by the later information that (SPOILER) she actually was interested in Rose, because facetious declarations of romantic intention are kind of a thing for the human kids at this point and her flustered reaction could be taken either way here.

Dave, meanwhile, is trolled by AT, with the most cringe-inducing text-rap I’ve ever seen (and text-rapping is pretty cringy to begin with). I gotta praise Hussie, it takes skill to make something this awful.

AT: oK, lET ME, AT: oRGANIZE MY NOTES HERE, AT: oKAYYY, AT: (tURN ON SOME STRICT BEATS MAYBE, iT WILL HELP TO LISTEN TO THEM WHILE i DESTROY YOU,) AT: wHEN THE POLICE MAN BUSTS ME, aND POPS THE TRUNK, AT: hE'S ALL SUPRISED TO FIND I'M TOTING SICK BILLY, AT: wHOSE, AT: gOAT IS THAT, hE ASKS, wHILE HE STOPS TO THUNK AT: aBOUT IT, aND i'S JUST SAY IT'S DAVE'S, yOU SILLY AT: gOOSE,

Since we’ll later find out trolls don’t have the concept of police in the same way humans do, and nor do they call animals by the same names we do, I think this is worth some WSP points. Did he watch Dave’s life closely enough to pick up those concepts?

BRIGHT: I get the distinct impression none of the trolls watched anything like enough of the kids’ lives to pick up the concept of the police, particularly since as we’ll see later they missed a few things that are rather more obvious -- such as, say, parents.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 11

CHEL: He also namedrops Prospit and Derse, which I’m not really spoiling anything by saying are the names of the two warring chess kingdoms, though I don’t think those names have been applied to them yet. I don’t know why, it’s not like keeping them secret makes a big difference - did Hussie only just think of them? The quality of his rhymes aside, AT appears very proud of himself; he’s a troll with enormous bull-like horns, a mohawk, and a Taurus symbol. I thought he was really creepy-looking the first time I saw him, but he rather grew on me.

Back on LOWAS, John is squirted out of a pipe with a gush of oil. Ew. The Con Air bunny goes flying and lands in an oil river, and he catches it with the Ghost Gauntlets. An adult and child pair of salamanders happen to be standing nearby, prompting a movie re-enactment, much to the salamanders’ confusion.

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CG is unimpressed, though he agrees with John that Con Air sounds entertaining. CG claims to have been watching the whole of John’s life and Con Air is supposed to be one of John’s favourite movies; how come CG hasn’t seen any of it before, especially since he says he has seen a movie John hates?

CG: OK I DON'T SEE HOW WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BECOMING FRIENDS IF YOU RECOIL FROM MY OLIVE BRANCH LIKE I'M WIGGLING A GNARLED TREE MONSTER'S DICK IN YOUR DIRECTION.

Lovely. Though I gotta say the dialogue and ridiculous extended metaphors are one of the best parts of Homestuck. Wish I could pull those off. However, one point here; if they’re aliens, it seems odd that they would use human idioms such as “olive branch” with the same meaning we do. There is a possible explanation later on, but since they only ever use American/Western phrases like this and it’s clear from other things they say that they didn’t pick up anything much about human culture from watching the kids, I’m upping the count anyway.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 12

BRIGHT: We also discover that troll movies are titled very differently to human movies, such as the classic

CG: WHEREIN NUMEROUS VIGILANTES CONFRONT PERIL; ONE OF THEM BETRAYS THE OTHERS;(BUT IT TURNS OUT TO BE PART OF THE PLAN ALL ALONG); CG: SEVERAL ATTRACTIVE FEMALE LEADS PROVOKE ROMANTIC TENSION; FOUR MAJOR CHARACTERS WEAR UNUSUAL HATS; ONE HOLDS PLOT-CRITICAL SECRET; CG: 47 ON-SCREEN EXPLOSIONS, ONE RESULTING IN DEMISE OF KEY-ADVERSARY;6 TO 20 LINES THAT COULD BE CONSTRUED AS HUMOROUS; EB: wait... EB: this is the title? CG: IT GOES ON.

Apparently after thousands of years of film history, you start running out of movie titles.

Also, note that despite their being aliens, quite possibly with different gender roles, the romantic tension is explicitly provided by attractive female leads.

WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 13

CG thinks that Earth civilisation’s lack of maturity might explain why the players are (apparently) doing so badly. John retorts that GC is helping him, so they can’t be doing THAT badly. Apparently this wasn’t in the plan; CG goes to talk to GC about it, and she punches him. Seems she’s talking to a future John at the moment, and he asked her to. CG gives John a message to pass on to GC in reply.

CG: TELL HER TO POLISH MY HEAVING BONE BULGE AND SET A TABLE FOR FUCKING TWO ON IT. CG: IT’S FOR OUR CANDLELIT HATE DATE.

John comments that it’s like they’re trolling each other through him now, and asks if CG has talked to Jade. CG is surprised that he’d want to talk to her. John offers to paste the chatlog; CG refuses, and John heads off to talk to GC.

CHEL: Precisely what a bone bulge is is never explained. Context makes it clear it’s an unsavoury body part, and it sounds like a term for one’s dick, even though the boner does not in fact contain bones in humans. The assumption early in the fandom was that the trolls had primarily human anatomy, which seems odd to me considering Kanaya’s complete obliviousness to her Oblong Meat Products comment - most teenagers familiar with human penises would be on that instantly. Anyway, there soon came a phase of experimentation, and by now we seem to have settled on the “functional-hermaphrodites with tentacle dicks” theory. Which is weird, because a tentacle doesn’t sound like something which would be referred to with the word “bone”, does it?

GC’s laughing mouth is reflected in John’s glasses as they speak in what I desperately hope is a shoutout to the Corinthian. She calls John STUP1DLY 4DOR4BLE (minor typo on the comic’s part as the E in her quirk should be a 3) and laughs at CG’s frustration. John relays an approximation of CG’s message:

EB: he wants you to touch his bone lump or something. GC: WH4T!!! EB: and that he's pretty much basically in love with you.

GC asks him to copy-paste the convo for proof but John refuses, saying it was a private conversation, and informs GC that she’s going to punch CG soon. In other news, referring to these characters with only their handle initials when I know their actual names is hard.

On GC’s instructions, John turns around, to discover this hard-to-miss landmark:

This, according to GC, is the D3N1Z3NS P4L4C3, in which the Denizen sleeps on a grist hoard so big their alchemising could never make a dent in it.

GC: USU4LLY HOW 1TS SUPPOS3D TO GO 1S GC: OV3R TH3 COURS3 OF YOUR QU3ST GC: YOU W1LL W4K3 TH3 D3N1Z3N GC: 4ND TH3N F1N4LLY YOU GO THROUGH TH3 S3V3NTH G4T3 GC: WH1CH 1S TH3 ONLY W4Y 1NTO TH3 P4L4C3 GC: TH3N YOU GO DOWN 4ND F1GHT TH3 D3N1Z3N GC: 4ND K1LL 1T GC: R3L3AS1NG TH3 HO4RD EB: so what's my advantage? GC: YOU WONT BOTH3R W4K1NG 1T GC: W3 W1LL SK1P R1GHT TO TH3 S3V3NTH G4T3 GC: F1ND 1TS L41R GC: 4ND K1LL 1T 1N 1TS SL33P

The grist hoard, GC claims, is for the ULT1M4T3 4LCH3MY, but she won’t explain what this is yet, and she leads John to a R3TURN NOD3 which takes him back to his home to prepare.

In the desert, AR and WV hammer some metal to make a gift for the Windswept Questant, which proves to be a crown. PM is shocked to see this, and emerges from the bunker, sword in hand.

Meanwhile, in a long-discarded memory… A PARCEL MISTRESS seeks audience with royalty.

It seems Windswept Questant is in fact, of course, the White Queen.

PM explains recent events and seeks her queen’s advice, showing her the hit list requesting the white monarchs’ crowns. WQ is wearing a ring similar to that of the monarch we met earlier, the Black Queen. Four orbs are attached to it, two light and two dark. On removing it, WQ loses all her elaborate prototyping accoutrements and becomes the normal-looking carapace we saw in her Windswept Questant identity. WQ seems to have a plan; instead of requiring PM to kill her to finish her fetch quest, she simply hands over her crown and ring, and instructs PM to find the White King on the battlefield. Flashing forward to the desert, WQ places her new crown on PM’s head, much to the astonishment of their companions.

On LOLAR, beneath waterfalls pouring from hovering pink turtle shells, Rose frustratedly consults with Jaspersprite, who will apparently only meow. However, when asked a direct question, Jaspersprite is able to respond. He is attempting to fish with his tentacles, but there are no fish, because her Denizen ate everything in the ocean and got so full that it took a long nap. Being as cryptic as Nannasprite, he won’t, however, explain what the message he gave to young Rose meant, saying she’ll understand when she wakes up.

JASPERSPRITE: Rose im just a cat and i dont know much but i know that youre important and also you are what some people around here call the Seer of Light. JASPERSPRITE: And you dont know what that means but you will see its all tied together! JASPERSPRITE: All the life in the ocean and all the shiny rain and the songs in your head and the letters they make. JASPERSPRITE: A beam of light i think is like a drop of rain or a long piece of yarn that dances around when you play with it and make it look enticing! JASPERSPRITE: And the way that it shakes is the same as what makes notes in a song! JASPERSPRITE: And a song i think can be written down as letters. JASPERSPRITE: So if you play the right song and it makes all the right letters then those letters could be all the letters that make life possible. JASPERSPRITE: So all you have to do is wake up and learn to play the rain!

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie is very good at writing the dialogue of a kitten turned into a game NPC, you’ve got to hand it to him.

CHEL: It’s also worth noting that his colours have stopped flashing pink and purple, and he’s settled on pink.

Rose asks Jade for further information, and learns that all four of the kids have a dream self which must awaken; Rose deduces Jade’s has been awake as long as they’ve known each other. Jade is in fact asleep now, and can only message at the moment because of her robot. Rose’s dream self is dreaming troubled dreams, causing the real Rose to suffer nightmares all her life, and to stop this she must discover how to wake her dream self.

GG: maybe the stuff you wrote on your walls can give you a clue? TT: What stuff? GG: the.... GG: er GG: didnt dave tell you?

Utterly heartwarming moment; we see in John’s dream tower, and Jade has drawn over the LAME KID messages and creepy clown faces on John’s walls with a big bright yellow heart and the message wake up john!!! you can do it!!!

Rose wants to know what’s going on, but Dave is unavailable. The meteor is about to land and he’s scrambling his way up the tower to his kernelsprite’s nest to retrieve the entry egg.

Back at John’s house, he finds the useless rocket-pack-combined-with-junk he experimentally alchemised earlier; GC tells him that the trolls’ resident hacker, who we haven’t met yet, can use its code to create a usable jetpack. Said hacker doesn’t want to talk to them but WONT B3 4BL3 TO R3S1ST TH3 CH4LL3NG3.

John sends the mishmash code…

GC: OK B3 B4CK IN L3SS TH4N ON3 S3COND GC: PCHOOOOO EB: hello? GC: WH4T EB: it thought you said you'd be back in less than a second? GC: 1 W4S GC: 1 G4V3 YOU TH3 COD3 GC: 1TS PCHOOOOO

Hee. The misunderstanding leads into a brief argument, GC claiming that 3V3N YOU 4ND YOUR UND3RD3V3LOP3D BON3 NOOK W1LL B3 4BL3 TO F1GUR3 OUT WH4T TO DO. Once again, we don’t know what a bone nook is. Context could imply either an obscene body part or a brain-related one. Common fanon holds that it’s the vagina, others have objected and said it surely must mean anus; neither of those sound like a “bone” anything to me, and in fact bone would be horribly counterproductive for organs which have to perform peristalsis. Someone did point out to me that it could mean a place to put the metaphorical bone, but that wasn’t what I immediately thought.

FAILURE ARTIST: I don’t think the phrase “bone nook” ever comes up again, though the word “nook” by itself does and it can be replaced with the word “ass” in those cases. Basically, trolls aren’t a fictional species crafted with any care. Hussie wanted some annoying alien characters with a visual callback to “Little Monsters” and it somehow got out of control.

CHEL: Actually, I believe it does come up in Hiveswap Act 1! But we’ll get to that.

John answers a message from Dave, who now claims to be in the Medium, saying it took him four hours. He asks for advice, saying his sprite wants him to prototype it again, and Rose is randomly asleep.

TG: ok fine but TG: it seems to be suggesting something here TG: and TG: i guess im kinda weirded out by its suggestion EB: i don't know, just do what it says! EB: it knows stuff about the game, so it probably knows better than i do...

Not a good sign. John decides to Take dear, sweet Casey (the baby salamander) into protective custody by captchaloguing her, and blasts off for the gate.

Cut to an animated sequence in The Land of Heat and Clockwork, a nightmarish lava-scape covered in machinery (convection schmonvection), where Dave is being extremely badass and surprisingly successful for someone with only half a sword. In fact, multiple Daves appear to be present. We also see, unfortunately, exactly what he prototyped:

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Calsprite is even less helpful than the other two, providing a constant soundtrack of creepy laughter while Dave begs him to shut up. According to Dave’s ensuing convo with Rose, this has been going on for four months. That’s… pretty terrifying even before we hear everything that went wrong. John was unsurprisingly instantly slain by his Denizen, and thus couldn’t save Jade from her meteor. Dave, however, has now mastered the art of time travel via the magical turntables he’s created, and intends to go back and prevent all that from happening, now that they’ve spent four months gathering information their past selves can use. Rose is afraid of ceasing to exist; Dave assures her that their dream selves exist outside the standard passage of time, and this will help her dream self wake sooner.

FAILURE ARTIST: The trolls also stopped “trolling” Dave and Rose after John died. This isn’t the end of the trolls, of course.

Dave uses his turntables to go to the past. We cut to a conversation we just saw, where Dave has just entered the Medium and John is about to go pchooooo, except this time from Dave’s roof.

GET ON WITH IT!: 16

Except at the end, Dave tells John not to go. See, Dave from the future just arrived on Dave from the present’s roof. John refuses to believe that this is happening, thinking it’s just a prank. Not even putting future!Dave on the line convinces John. So, future!Dave unloads everything he has in a stack and flips back into the Crowsprite to become a new characters: Davesprite.

CHEL: Note that, instead of Dave’s theme colour of red, Davesprite is orange. I did wonder if this was potentially supposed to show that Bro (whose theme colour is orange) is overwriting/overshadowing Dave’s real self, but since the sprites of the others aren’t the theme colours of their respective kids (Nannasprite is teal to John’s dark blue and Jaspersprite pink to Rose’s purple) I don’t think this is really a reliable sign. Pin in the colours, though, that’ll come up later.

FAILURE ARTIST: Meanwhile, John blasts off with the words “THIS IS STUPID”.

Present!Rose tries to pester Dave, and we get another repeated conversation.

GET ON WITH IT!: 17

Present!Rose decides to nap, and at that moment, Future Dream Rose ceases to exist and becomes absorbed by Present!Rose. I think.

WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 9

Davesprite pesters GC to tell her not to talk to John anymore. GC first reacts by saying “YOU SM3LL L1K3 OR4NG3 CR34MS1CL3S” but then finds out she killed John. She had assumed since she could talk to John in the future, he hadn’t died, but she guessed there was a chance he could die. She’s a little put-out and wants to apologize, but she’s not as sad as you’d expect someone who accidentally killed someone to be. Davesprite asks who is in charge of timeline management.

GC: SH3 DO3SNT W4NT TO T4LK TO 4NY OF YOU GC: 4ND H4S M1SG1V1NGS 4BOUT TH1S WHOL3 TH1NG GC: NOT 4LL OF US 4R3 TH4T 3NTHUS1AST1C 4BOUT TROLL1NG YOU GUYS GC: 4ND TH3 ON3S WHO 4R3 SORT OF SUCK 4T 1T >:|

We do get to meet her, but not until the next act when we meet all the trolls.

Davesprite gives GC permission to talk to John if she cuts out her “coy bullshit antics”. GC mocks his threatening tone and points out she’s higher on the echeladder, from the future, and blind. Davesprite says his self-prototyping gave him great powers and GC says that was a bad idea. They then engage in some banter over GC posting screencaps of Wheeler from Captain Planet (which she calls a “soap opera”). Davesprite and GC end the conversation with mutual respect. Which is honestly really weird after all future!Dave had to go through because of GC.

CHEL: Does this count for SLAMMER points? I think it does. Here’s the first of our new count, then!

SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 1

This will go up whenever a character does something awful and neither the narrative nor the other characters seem to care.

This also brings us into another point. We’ve seen only hints of it, but alternate timelines are a big theme of this comic. Davesprite in particular is a major focus of said theme, specifically the nature of his personhood separately from the focal or “alpha” Dave. However, as we see here, not even the Dave from the dead John’s timeline particularly seems to mind that John just died in an alternate timeline. At the moment, they appear to feel that because there is an alive John, everything is okay. Let’s see how that progresses.

FAILURE ARTIST: Davesprite and present!Dave (who I guess we can just call Dave at this point) talk. Davespite says as a sprite he has lots of knowledge but is obligated to put it in riddles. However, he says he doesn’t feel like it so he’ll answer Dave straight.

DAVE: alright DAVE: here goes DAVE: why are we so fucking awesome DAVESPRITE: thats the best fucking question anybody ever asked

After that best fucking question, Dave asks if John will be alright. Davesprite says that’s up to John, and if John doesn’t listen they’ll just bail him out again. Davesprite says the gear he piled up will help Dave get to the next gate. The two versions of Dave decide to collaborate on a SBaHJ comic and fist “bunp”.

Meanwhile, “hundreds of pages ago”, John gets his bunny from Dave. We see Dave’s note and it’s cool how each of the kids have their own style of handwriting. There’s a very prophetic sentence in this sweet note:

one day your gooberish ways are gonna land you in a jam and i know im going to have to get you off the hook but its cool i got your back bro.

We cut to the present, where John is blasting off. The human emotion of friendship causes him to reconsider his action. John pesters Dave and tells him he’s just flying around and not going to the gate. Crisis averted.

This might seem like a cul de sac, but it created a new character (Davesprite) and introduced many concepts, so it really isn’t.

CHEL: Primarily, it introduced the theme of jumping around in time in the literal sense as well as just hopping between apparently-disconnected scenes. The latter’s not a generally well-advised style of writing, but considering the time travel motif of the comic, I think it actually works fine here. Also, as a webcomic, if one spends too long on one group of characters then by the time you get back to the other ones the readers will probably not remember what happened, so shorter scenes for each group are probably more acceptable than in a novel or movie.

CG trolls John again, and after a discussion of their becoming reverse anti-mutual friends, John complains that CG hasn’t really answered his questions.

CG: SO GO AHEAD, ASK ME ANYTHING. EB: ok... EB: what's the point of the game. CG: ASK SOMETHING ELSE. CG: ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT.

John asks where they are now in their Medium, and CG explains they’re HIDING IN THE VEIL, a meteor belt between the two planets. To clarify the layout for our readers, Skaia the big ball of sky is in the centre, with Prospit the golden planet orbiting it closely enough for its moon to enter Skaia during the “eclipse” where Jade gets her visions. Then there are the players’ Lands, their little adventure planets where the consorts live, the consorts being the little NPC creatures (in John’s case, the salamanders). Every player has a Land of Something and Something. Beyond the Lands is the Veil, and beyond that is the Furthest Ring, the orbit of Derse, the dark planet.

CG: OK, THERE COMES A TIME WHEN BLACK INEVITABLY BEATS WHITE CG: ON THE BATTLEFIELD IN THE CENTER OF SKAIA CG: THE WHITE KING IS CAPTURED OR KILLED OR SOMETHING CG: THAT'S WHEN THE RECKONING STARTS. EB: ok... CG: THE RULERS OF DERSE CG: THE BLACK KING AND QUEEN CG: GET THE POWER TO SEND THE VEIL TOWARD SKAIA CG: TO DESTROY IT CG: THAT KIND OF STARTS YOUR BIG "COUNTDOWN" CG: WHEN SHIT GETS SERIOUS. EB: so then it's up to us to save it? CG: YEAH, YOU HAVE THAT LONG TO KILL THE BLACK QUEEN AND KING CG: AND SKAIA ITSELF SORT OF BUYS YOU SOME TIME CG: BY ACTIVATING ITS DEFENSE PORTALS CG: TO CATCH SOME OF THE METEORS

Ordinarily, the players would have plenty of time before this happens, but something done by the human players has caused things to go wrong, and now they’ve not only ruined their own chance of winning, but somehow affected the trolls’ game too. CG refuses to explain how, because he’s already told him again.

John asks if they’re hiding in a crater or something, but no, CG explains there are buildings in the Veil. It’s considered neutral ground, and both sides have laboratories there where they genetically engineer new soldiers and agents. John asks CG to tell GC “nice try”, but he refuses.

Now comes the mid-point animation of the act, “[S] Jack: Ascend”. I thought it was an ending animation, but no, there’s still more. If you don’t want to or can’t watch video I’ll explain the content, but I do recommend it.

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Pan over the Skaian system, from LOWAS to the Veil to the purple towers of Derse. Four towers are close together, topped by orbs. On three of them, we see the silhouettes of the sprites, while the fourth is dark. Jack Noir sits at his desk, doing paperwork, a pink princess dress on a stand next to it. He doodles on a parking ticket, declaring the Black Queen to be a HUGE BITCH. Closeup on BQ’s hips as she approaches, because we totally needed gratuitous sex appeal. She’s remarkably curvy for a probably-non-mammal. Still, we’ll forgive the standard scifi tropes. Jack watches on the Fenestrated Wall, until BQ appears and hacks it in half. She waves the dress and a pink pointed hat at him; apparently, now that the princess doll has been prototyped, the carapaces must represent it in their clothing as well as the jester. Jack is understandably displeased, and after a quick-fire montage of various outfits representing the sprites’ themes, he tears the final colourful tunic up.

Meanwhile, Rose’s dreamself has awoken, and discovers what she wrote on her walls; the word MEOW and other arrangements of the letters M, E, O, and W, over and over again, over every inch of the walls except the part covered by her bed. She finally remembers what Jaspers said to her, which was, of course, MEOW. This seems like nonsense, but as she looks, the letters switch to G, C, A, and T, the letters used to denote DNA nucleotides. It’s a genetic code.

The guardians, meanwhile, are battling enormous monsters; Mom and Dad respectively punch out a three-eyed spider-like giant and a rock cyclops, Dad pausing afterwards to carve a hat on a pyxis tablet, and Bro swordfights against a lava-dwelling tentacle beast.

Back to Jack, matters have got worse; not only are the carapaces required to dress like the sprites, but Davesprite still has the sword sticking through his torso, so now so must Jack. Considering what else we’ve seen carapaces survive, he’d probably be fine, but he’s still understandably hesitant. BQ offers him a sword, but he slices off her ring-bearing finger, which… causes her to explode? Jack puts on the ring, which causes Derse to glow white and him to sprout the features of the sprites; a sword grows from him without him having to fall on it, and wings and tentacles emerge. End scene.

So, approximately, human children have possibly caused the destruction of an alien civilisation’s last hope by putting a cat in a princess dress. Whatever else you think of Homestuck, you can’t say it’s not inventive.

BRIGHT: It is that, among other things.

COUNTS ALL THE LUCK: 0 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 15 CALL CPA PLEASE: 8 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 17 GET ON WITH IT!: 17 GORE GALORE: 9 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 15 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 6 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 0 RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 1 SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 1 SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS: 0 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 9 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 13 TOTAL: 111

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part VI

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect. Unexpectedly, they’re having a child together.

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession  @jennyggggrrr, @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld, @mrsmazzello, @reedusteinrambles, @rexorangecouny If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: SMUT in this chapter! I just give the people what they want ;)

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V

Part VI here we go!!!

You rested your head on Joe’s chest in the afterglow, more content than you had been in months. He dragged his fingers up and down your arm and it felt so nice you were sure you’d fall asleep in minutes. Only, Joe was wide awake and still excited about the baby.

“When’s the due date?” he asked.

“February 20th,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m cancelling everything. I’m gonna be here for you.”

You stirred, turning to look up at him. “Joe, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”

“It’s not as important as you are,” he insisted.

You kissed his lips gratefully. “That’s very sweet. But the movie comes out in the US in November. After that is when I’ll need you most anyway.”

“Speaking of the premiere,” he said. “I want you to come with me.”

You sat up and moved away from him. “You know I can’t do that.”

He sat up too, taking your hand. “You can. I know you can.”

You shook your head. “No, Joey. The cameras.”

“We can work up to it,” he said. “You’re totally fine with face time now.”

“That’s different, I have control,” you reminded him. “And it’s not going out to the public.”

“Baby, I don’t want to be insensitive, but don’t you think it’s something you need to work through?” he asked. “I mean, after the baby comes, won’t you want family photos and all of that? Or do you expect to just have pictures of me and the baby?”

“I…” you trailed off. You hadn’t really considered that. “That’s also different. Those won’t be posted anywhere either.”

He sighed. “Do you want to get past your anxiety about cameras?”

“Of course I do, but putting pictures of me out there when people could match them to the ones Nick posted is terrifying,” you said.

“I just hate that you can’t live your life because of this,” he said, frustrated. “I wanna brag on my beautiful girl. I wanna show you off at that premiere with your baby bump.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I love you and I wanna scream it from the top of a mountain. I can’t do that, so the next best thing is social media.”

“Even if we did work on it,” you said through a chuckle. “I can’t go to the premiere. It’s in Los Angeles. I won’t be able to fly.”

“Road trip,” he said simply.

You lay back down and rested against him, considering the work you would need to put into this. But when you thought about what would come of it - being able to attend events with Joe, getting family photos, etc - it seemed like it made sense. You looked at Joe’s face. It was clearly important to him that you attend. He had done so much for you, and was willing to support you to get you where you needed to be. He was worth facing your fear.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s work on it.”

“Really?!” he gasped. “Y/N, thank you so much!”

He rolled on top of you and kissed you. Again, you already felt heat pooling in your stomach at his touch. You whimpered and shifted your hips up. He noticed.

“Damn, baby, it’s like that?” he teased.

“Don’t tease me, Joe,” you sighed.

His lips found your neck and he swiped his tongue across a sweet spot by your ear. Your hips jumped at the feeling, needing friction desperately.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “I’ve hardly even touched you.”

You whined. “Joe, I need you.”

He continued kissing your neck and his hand found your breast. He squeezed it and you moaned, arching your back into him. He trailed kisses from your neck to your collarbone, and across your sternum to the neglected breast. He took your hard nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it and you saw stars.

“Fuck!” you cried. “Joe!”

“I love how sensitive you are, Y/N,” he murmured into your skin. “So hot and needy with my baby inside you.”

You hummed as he continued. You tried to grind on his thigh, just for something at your core, but he used his free hand to hold you down.

“Relax, baby,” he said. “I’m going to take care of you.”

He placed a hand on each breast now and his mouth went to your neck again. Your head fell back as his name escaped from your lips once more. He pinned your hips down with his own, and you could feel how hard he was getting. Soft sighs and gasps dropped from your mouth as he continued, and the spring inside you coiled tighter and tighter. You were on the edge just from him being on top of you. You pushed your heels into the mattress and gripped his arms tight, whining loud.

“Holy shit, are you gonna cum just from this?” he wondered.

You nodded, and once again, your hips jerked involuntarily. Your clit brushed his tip and with a strangled moan you finished, clenching around nothing, but trembling just the same.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s so fucking sexy.”

You panted beneath him and he admired you for a moment. You skin was flushed and you looked absolutely fucked out already with your hair splayed around your head.

“Please, Joey,” you begged.

His hand snaked down your body, his finger brushing your throbbing clit. You bucked again as he started light circles around it.

“Please what, baby?” he asked.

“Fuck me!” you gasped as he added pressure with his finger before sliding it up and down your slit.

He removed his hand and you whined, but he quickly slid inside you. He released a deep breath as he bottomed out. You groaned and clung to him, chanting his name as he started pumping in and out of you. His pace was even and steady, and you were already nearing the edge again. He felt perfect inside you, especially without a condom. Just entirely him. His tip grazed your g-spot and your back arched.

“Right there!” you cried.

He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders to get a better angle and hit that spot with every thrust. He quickened his pace, snapping into you with soft grunts. His thumb returned to your clit and you thought you would explode.

“So good, baby,” you told him. “Feels so good. Gonna -”

You got cut off when you practically sobbed at his motion. You were writhing beneath him, lost completely in Joe. Your hands wandered over his body, raking over his chest and back. You just needed to feel his skin.

Another step up in pace and you were blinded by another orgasm. You pulsed around Joe as he rode you through it. Yours triggered his own and he spilled into you, thrusts slower and sloppier. You breathed heavily. Joe waited for you to stop shaking before he pulled out.

“I think you got another one in you, baby,” he whispered into you ear.

You shivered as he kissed from your mouth, down your chest and stomach, stopping at your aching heat. He pressed his tongue flat against your folds, and you jerked again, more sensitive than ever. He wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep them apart and still. He latched his lips onto your twitching clit and you cried his name, your hand jumping to his hair.

“Shit!” you hissed. “Joe!”

He lapped at you gently before plunging his tongue inside you. You squirmed and thrashed. You’d never been overstimulated like this before. It was almost painful, but it hurt so good. Your eyes slammed shut. The tension built again and you knew you weren’t going to last long like this. You were already clenching again as you approached your breaking point on Joe’s tongue.

A third orgasm rippled through you and you screamed. Tears leaked from your eyes and slid down your cheeks as Joe came up to join you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wiping the tears away. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“It was incredible,” you said shakily.

He smiled. You lay there, panting together for a few moments.

“Joey,” you said. “Hold me, please.”

“You got it,” he said, and gathered you up in his arms.

You relaxed in his arms until your breathing evened out. You felt so good, you fell asleep there. Joe looked on you fondly as you slumbered with him. He imagined you in his arms a few months from now, swollen belly and all. Then a few years from now, with a child between you. He pictured how you would be as a family. Maybe you could have a few more as well. He watched you until his own eyelids grew heavy, picturing his life with you by his side for the rest of it. It was a lovely thing to fall asleep to.

When you woke up the next day, you heard Joe out in the living room, talking. The silent gaps between his phrases made you guess he was on the phone. You listened carefully, trying to make out who he was talking to, but you couldn’t. With a stretch, you got up. You were actually a little sore between your legs from the night before. You made a mental note to avoid letting Joe notice this in case he got a big head.

You padded out and saw that he was facetiming with someone, and he had headphones in. He glanced over when you opened the door and he beamed at you. His face was like a ray of sunshine and you waved at him. He beckoned you over, taking the headphones out of his ears and unplugging them from his phone. He was on with Rami. You sat beside him and leaned in to the shot. Rami was grinning.

“I just heard the big news,” he said sweetly. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Rami,” you replied, nuzzling in to Joe’s shoulder. “But you can’t tell anyone else. We can’t make a formal announcement for another three weeks.”

“Not even Lucy?” he asked.

“Not even Lucy,” you said.

“That’s gonna be tough,” he said. “But I think I can do it.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“So, boy or girl?” he wondered.

You rolled your eyes. “Men really have no idea how this works, do they?”

“We’re just excited, baby!” Joe said, laughing. He turned to Rami. “We won’t know until twenty weeks.”

“That’s so long!” Rami complained.

“That’s what I said!” Joe agreed.

You sighed and got to your feet to go make breakfast. You made some coffee for Joe, but you were having caffeine free herbal tea now instead. When Joe hung up with Rami, he came over to help you.

“What are you making?” he asked.

“French toast,” you replied, cracking an egg into a bowl.

He went to the cupboard and retrieved a few things you’d need like cinnamon and powdered sugar while you heated up a skillet.

“So, I’ve been thinking about names,” he said.

“Oh, have you?”

He nodded. “If it is a boy, can we name him Joseph Francis Mazzello IV?”

You looked at him. You reached for his hand and brought it to your lips. His vulnerability was palpable in this moment. He told you about his father passing away, and you knew how much the name meant to him.

“It would be an honor for our son to have that name,” you said sincerely.

Tears shone in his eyes for a moment. He blinked them away.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Did you have something in mind for a girl?” you wondered.

“I’m not really sure,” he said. “I like a lot of girl names. Have you thought of any?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I was so worried about telling you and everything this meant, I’ve barely even been excited about it.”

He frowned. “You weren’t excited?”

“Don’t be offended,” you returned. “Please understand. I was terrified. You were gone. And I had a huge decision to make. Now that you’re here with me, and you’re excited, so I’m excited too.”

He dipped the bread in the mixture and placed it in the skillet. He opened a drawer and got the tongs, clacking them together. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Gotta make sure they work,” he said.

You giggled. “Alright then.”

“I’m glad you’re excited now, Y/N,” he continued. “I want this to be a happy time.”

“It will be,” you assured him. “This is us we’re talking about. Now flip that toast before you burn it.”

He chuckled and obeyed.

He had a photo shoot that day, so while he was gone, you started cleaning your apartment. Christy was at her boyfriend’s place, since she knew Joe was coming over. It was a good thing too, since Joe had wrecked you more than once last night. You smiled to yourself as you remembered it. You decided to leave him a voicemail and annoyingly - but lovingly - tell him how much you missed him. His phone rang for what felt like ages before the voicemail message ran and you could begin.

“Hey, baby!” you said brightly. “I just wanted to call you and say I love you and I miss you and that was some sweet lovin’ you gave me last night!” You giggled. “Anyway I -”

You were cut off by the knock at the door. Unthinking, you set the phone down and went to answer it. The man behind it took your breath away. It was Nick, your ex who had sold your photos. He stood there, looking guilty but otherwise much the same.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“No,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “You can fuck off.”

You went to slam the door in his face, but he blocked it with his hand.

“Please,” he said. “I’m clean. That’s sort of why I’m here.”

You looked him up and down. “I don’t believe you.”

“W-why?”

“Because addicts are liars,” you spat.

“Y/N, please!” he cried. “I’m trying to make amends.”

“I’m not gonna forgive you,” you said. “I don’t care if you’re sorry.”

“Come on, can’t we talk about this?” he asked. “It’s part of my recovery.”

“Your recovery is not my problem.”

“Please,” he repeated. “I won’t even be here ten minutes. And you don’t have to say anything. But you’re the person I wronged the most and I need to tell you how sorry I am.”

You only glowered at him.

“If you let me do this, I promise I’ll go away and never bother you again.”

“Fine,” you said icily. “But keep your hands where I can see them.”

He held his hands out near his waist, palms open and facing you. He stepped over the threshold. You walked into the kitchen and sat at a barstool.

“Stand on the other side of the counter,” you demanded. “Away from me. Put your hands on the counter.”

He did as you told him. Afterward, he looked at you.

“How’ve you been, Y/N?” he asked.

“Nope, we’re not doing that,” you returned. “Say what you need to say and get out.”

He looked down. When he looked back at you there was something new in his eyes. A look you had never seen before.

“Who’s Joe?” he asked, picking up your phone. You’d forgotten to hang up, so all of this was going into Joe’s voicemail. “He’s got a heart next to his name.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you explained, nerves taking over. “Give me my phone, Nick. I said you can’t touch anything.”

He didn’t obey you now. Instead, he brought your phone closer to his lips.

“So, Joe,” he said, his tone dark and challenging. “You’re fucking my girl, are you?” He raised his voice to a shout. “KEEPING HER WARM FOR ME, HUH?”

The blood drained from your face as fear washed over you. Nick had never behaved this way. Jealousy and aggression was something you’d never experienced with him, and it was frightening to watch. He shouted more, incoherent things at Joe into the phone before gripping it in his hand tightly. You knew he was going to throw it, and he did. You ducked and screamed as it smashed into the wall, the glass shattering and the paint chipping off in large chunks.

You stood again and stared at Nick, wide-eyed. His sleeve was up from hurling the phone and you saw them - track marks across his skin.

“Why did you come here?!” you yelled. “I knew you were fucking lying!”

“I fucking love you!” he shouted. “I thought you might still love me! We had something special!”

“Get out of my house!” you screamed. “Get the FUCK out of my house!”

“Baby, please!” he cried, tears coming to his eyes. “I need help!”

This tactic you were familiar with.

“I have no help to give you,” you told him. “I will not give you money. I will not give you food. You will get nothing from me.”

“I just need love!” he insisted.

“I have no love for you!” you shouted again. “Get out and stay the hell away from me!”

His breathing picked up again, his chest heaving. He came around the counter and you backed away, giving yourself room to escape him if you needed to. He reached for you, trying to grab your arm, but you ducked away. You couldn’t wait for him to try it again, so you darted into your bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. You grabbed the sonogram off your nightstand just as you heard him bang his fist against the bedroom door. He was screaming at you now, but you ignored him. You slipped into your bathroom, closing it and locking it as well. You slumped against the door, sliding slowly to the ground. You could still hear Nick, but his voice was dulled by the doors between you so you couldn’t make out his words. Burying your face in your hands, you waited for help to come to you.

[tinsley-goldsworth]

is this the real life? or is this just fantasy?

Summary: crowley and shane had been friends ever since they became demons and when ryan finds out, he’s extremely confused and terrified, to say the least

read on ao3!

Wc: 2514

Crowley and Shane had been best friends ever since they became demons. Fallen angels were usually filled with too much vengeance and anger to make friends when first entering hell but with their similar sarcastic humor and cynicism, Crowley and Shane became fast friends. Ironically, they both happened to be the two demons sent to watch over Earth, for different purposes of course. Crowley was sent to ensure that Armageddon would occur smoothly while Shane was sent by the department of management of otherworldly effects and inspection of human activity regarding such. 

Throughout the years, Crowley and Shane only met once or twice a century, depending on how violent wars were in the current era. Whenever they met, Crowley would always complain about how oblivious Aziraphale, an angel who was also sent to supervise the occurrence of Armageddon, was and how no matter how hard he tried to flirt with that angel, he never seemed to pick up on signals. Frankly, Shane felt like he was witnessing a six-thousand-year romantic comedy with all the hilariously sappy updates Crowley offered. While Crowley was busy running around wreaking havoc and chasing after Aziraphale’s heart, Shane didn’t have much to do other than make sure that people didn’t go around performing enough Satanic rituals to tear open a vortex to hell. 

As intelligent as some humans were, some humans were extremely dumb and fooled around with Satanic rituals and joked about holy water so Shane had to deal with those idiots to make sure nothing dangerous would happen. There wasn’t too much to worry about until the witch trial craze and rituals and human interference with otherworldly beings increased and Shane kept himself busy. Once that died down, Shane got a bit of a break before cameras were invented and people began spreading tales of catching demons and gathering evidence to prove there were creatures other than the ones humans were familiar with. Shane managed to get some of these rumors to die down with his sharp cynicism and logical remarks that made people question if they really saw what they think they saw. He also got rid of some evidence of his fellow demons and finally felt like he had solved the problem of these pesky humans poking their noses around in demons’ business. 

Unfortunately for Shane, his job on Earth wasn’t done yet as some guy by the name of Ryan Bergara created a show about proving demons, other supernatural beings, and ghosts were real. And even worse, the show was rapidly gaining popularity so Shane couldn’t just wipe the show off the internet and expect people to not be suspicious. So, Shane booked the first flight to Los Angeles and applied for a job at Buzzfeed. He became fast friends with everybody in the office, including Ryan and he convinced Brent, the co-host on the show, to drop his role and pursue his other dreams of filmmaking. Soon, Shane became the new Buzzfeed Unsolved co-host. Ryan has caught some compelling evidence on camera but Shane always made sure to have scientific evidence to back up his rebuttals. Unexpectedly, Shane also gained popularity on the internet for his witty remarks and banter on the show and fans of the show began to suspect that he was a demon based on circumstantial evidence that could easily be refuted. 

Shane and Ryan had just finished filming another season of Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural when Armageddon occurred. Or rather, it did, then it didn’t. Pretty soon, the internet had a new conspiracy to chew on, and Ryan was convinced by internet forums that Armageddon had occurred and almost started writing up another episode on that event. Shane managed to steer Ryan away from that path and he could tell that Ryan was starting to get suspicious. 

After Armageddon, Shane decided to meet up with Crowley again at Aziraphale’s bookstore now that Aziraphale had finally realized that his love for Crowley was requited and Crowley didn’t want to spend a second without Aziraphale within a one-mile radius. Since Shane and Ryan happened to be in London after just wrapping up filming the last couple of supernatural episodes, it was easy for him to slip away with the excuse that he was visiting an old friend. 

As Shane pushed opened the door of the bookshop, Crowley was already waiting for him in a large plush chair with a book in hand. His legs were dangling over the armrest on the chair and as he looked up to meet Shane’s eyes, he sat up properly, swinging his legs around to rest them where they were supposed to be. “Well if it isn’t Shane Madej.”

“Crowley, how have you been? Hi Aziraphale,” Shane greeted the angel as he walked into the room, holding two cups of coffee and placing them on the small coffee table. Aziraphale offered a small smile before disappearing to the back of the bookshop, giving Shane and Crowley privacy to talk. 

“Good, good. Life with Aziraphale has been great. How are things with you?” Crowley asked as he put down the book and gently held the cup of coffee, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He crossed his legs and leaned forward in his seat. 

“Good. I’ve kept Ryan from interfering with our business too much. You know, he’s the one who created that show on YouTube and chases after ghosts and stuff,” Shane carefully lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip to find that it was burning hot, just as he liked it. 

“I thought YouTube was just for cat videos. So, have you settled in with Ryan yet?” Crowley downed the last of his coffee and set down the cup on the coffee table. He leaned back into the chair, sinking down as he rested his hands against the back of his head.

“Oh, we’re just friends. I did fall in love though,” Shane smiled as he thought about his girlfriend and Crowley raised his eyebrows, silently urging him to share more. He took another sip of coffee before continuing. “Her name is Sara and we moved in together. We’ve been dating for about 5 years and we have a cat named Obi. She also works at Buzzfeed so I get to see her really often.”

“She sounds so sweet! Do you mind if I take off my sunglasses? It’s getting a bit dark in here,” Crowley asked and Shane nodded, placing down his cup of coffee as well. 

“I might as well take off my contacts. I’ve been wearing these too much nowadays since having red eyes isn’t socially acceptable anymore,” Shane sighed and took out his brown contacts, blinking his red eyes as Crowley took off his dark sunglasses to reveal his yellow, snake-like eyes. Now, up to this point, Shane and Crowley had no idea that they were being watched by Ryan Bergara. 

Ryan had a feeling that something was off with Shane ever since he met Shane. For example, Shane was able to control his emotions scarily well and he seemed to never be scared of anything. Lately, Shane has been acting more weird than usual and the last straw in convincing Ryan that Shane was a demon was how he abruptly steered Ryan away from making an episode about Armageddon. When Shane made an excuse about leaving to visit a friend, Ryan followed him. He watched Shane enter into the bookshop from the front and snuck in through the back, managing to sneak past the bookshop owner.

Ryan had been watching Crowley and Shane talk about their lives as if they hadn’t caught up in decades from behind a bookshelf. The conversation had been relatively normal, up until the point when Shane revealed his red eyes and Crowley flashed his snake-like ones. This scared Ryan so much that he jumped out from his hiding spot with a small bottle of holy water, pointing it at the two demons.

“Freeze! I have holy water and I’m not afraid to use it!” Both demons froze in place and turned around to see Ryan pointing the bottle of holy water at their faces. His eyes were wide with fear and his hands were visibly shaking. 

“You don’t want to use that,” Crowley warned and his eyes flashing with doubt and disapproval as Ryan slowly inched his way towards him and Shane. He didn’t seem too worried that Ryan would randomly use the water without being provoked but still kept a bit of caution.

“Are you both demons? Shane, what is going on?” Ryan asked with fear gripping the edge of his words. He didn’t know what the procedure was to get rid of demons via holy water so he prayed that he wouldn’t have to use it.

“Oh, Crowley, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Crowley, an old friend of mine. And we are totally not demons,” Shane deadpanned, a mischievous grin on his face. Even when Shane knew that he could get hurt by the holy water, he couldn’t help but inject some of his classic sarcasm into the conversation. Ryan’s eyes widened and he took a giant step forward, still holding the bottle of holy water.

“You’re kidding,” Ryan stated with a questioning tone in his voice. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he kept slowly advancing towards Shane and Crowley.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re both demons. Congrats, you caught us!” Shane admitted, realizing that there was literally no other excuse that could cover up the truth this time. Ryan was so shocked by the fact that he was correct that he almost dropped his holy water. 

“Ha! I knew it! I was right all along! I knew you were a demon! No human could ever create something as terrible as the Hot Daga!” Ryan exclaimed gleefully as his initial fear started to recede. However, he still maintained a firm grip on the bottle of holy water. 

“Hey! You know, some people actually enjoy watching the Hot Daga. In fact, I’m going to start another season during the post-mortem! Everybody wants to know how their favorite holographic lesbian corn is doing,” Shane responded defiantly and Crowley glanced at the two, very clearly confused by whatever they were discussing. 

“Sorry, what did you just say about a corn and a hot dog now?” Crowley asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Ryan glanced over at him and noticed the strange tattoo on the side of his face, and as he opened his mouth to ask about it, Aziraphale walked into the room with a pot of coffee, oblivious to the strange interactions that were occurring.

“I brought some more coffee for you two and-” Aziraphale paused when he saw Ryan and fear flashed in Ryan’s eyes again. “Oh dear, Crowley, you didn’t tell me more people were coming! Should I bring an extra cup?”

“Who are you? Are you a demon too?” Ryan turned around, pointing the bottle of holy water at the angel menacingly. Aziraphale didn’t seem to be fazed at all by Ryan’s paranoia and smiled in response to his reaction. 

“Of course not. On the contrary, I’m an angel.” Aziraphale poured coffee into the empty cups before pressing a quick kiss on Crowley’s cheek. Crowley blushed furiously but broke into a giant grin. If Ryan wasn’t so enthralled by the fact that he was talking to two demons and an angel after spending years of trying to prove that supernatural forces existed in the world, he would have found the brief but affectionate interaction adorable. 

“Wait, hold up. So, angels and demons exist? In this world?” Ryan must’ve looked really shell shocked as he took a seat in an empty chair, eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn’t process the fact that he was correct all along and Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged knowing looks, clearly having dealt with humans who had unexpectedly found out what they were before. “I definitely need to write up an episode for Unsolved for this.”

“That is if you still remember this in the morning,” Shane replied with a smirk on his face and before Ryan could ask what he meant, Shane snapped his fingers and everything faded to black. 

Ryan woke up the next morning with a noisy headache and he groaned as he rolled over in his bed, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a generous gulp of the water. He sat up in his bed and looked around the dim hotel room, wondering why he couldn’t remember half of yesterday. Ryan could only recall asking Shane where he was heading out to but couldn’t remember anything else after that. Shane was already up and dressed, and he was sitting at the desk, his eyes trained on his laptop, presumably working. 

“Hey Shane, what happened yesterday? I can’t remember anything and I have the worst headache,” Ryan pressed his fingers to his temple, hoping that would relieve the pain. Shane swiveled around in his chair to face Ryan, his warm, brown eyes magnified by his glasses. 

“You had a really bad headache when I went to visit some friends and when I came back, you were already asleep. You’ve been working too hard,” Shane answered nonchalantly and returned back to staring at his laptop screen. Ryan was unconvinced but the story Shane offered would explain the headache and gap in his memory. He decided that he was convinced and got up from bed, the headache slowly receding. By the time he, Shane, and the Buzzfeed Unsolved crew got to the airport and were waiting to board their flight back to Los Angeles, the headache was gone. 

Ryan forgot about that strange headache until they were filming the first post-mortem for the new Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural season. After Shane and Ryan finished answering all the questions they chose, Shane went to his Google docs app and Ryan knew that he was screwed. Just as Ryan finished the outro, Shane immediately began, “I would now like to-”

“I thought you weren’t doing a new season of this horrible little cartoon of yours,” Ryan dropped his head in his hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. Shane paused and grinned, staring directly into the camera. 

“Well everybody wants to know how their favorite holographic lesbian corn is doing so I just had to continue this thrilling saga!” Shane continued on to read the story from his phone and Ryan frowned as he tried to remember where he heard that same specific phrase from. Suddenly, memories of the afternoon before his headache in London spottily flashed back in Ryan’s mind in fragments. He remembered seeing Shane with red eyes and his friend’s yellow, snake-like eyes. The words “angel” and “demon” were floating around with those memories, and Ryan was pulled out of his memories and back into reality. 

Nobody in the comments section pointed out Ryan’s disturbed look as that was generally the look he always wore during the Hot Daga and since Shane was still loudly reading his story, Ryan could only sit and wonder if what he just remembered was a vivid fantasy or reality.

~

check out my bfu fics by clicking the link in my profile :)

[beyond-the-mirror]

So I decided to quickly write this little one-shot for @minteyeddemon because her fanfic about V being a Werecat was simply amazing and I was suddenly struck with inspiration to write this (also wanted to try writing something about Werewolf!Dante too but I’m not really good at portraying his personality that much).

Hope you enjoy it sweetie! And also hope you are doing great too.

...........

Chesire (Werecat!V x Reader)

The gates of the abandoned Liddell Estate stood before you, intimidating and yet alluring at the same time.

This day had started as just another normal day in your life, that was until your pet rabbit Angel was bitten by a small snake that had somehow sneaked into your backyard. You immediately rushed your wounded friend to the closest veterinary clinic, where the doctors informed you that fortunately the snake wasn’t venomous after you described the reptile to them. Your little ball of fluff got its wound treated properly and left the clinic with only a bandaged leg.

That should have been enough action for the day, but alas, the universe had to conspire against you yet again.

You were currently walking home, pet carrier in your arms, when suddenly the carrier’s lock broke, Angel had been nibbling it constantly until the lock gave away and your bunny immediately broke free.

You tried catching him, but Angel was too fast for you and before you could even register it, your bunny slipped between the bars of the gates which you were now staring at.

And that’s how you ended in front of the infamous Liddell Estate, a mansion where a rich family used to live before an unfortunate fire left the house in total ruins. The family eventually moved out of the city, but the remains of their mansion still stood, and since the authorities hadn’t bothered to at least demolish it, the locals started to believe that the reason was because it was haunted.

And they had a good reason to believe so. There was this unknown aura surrounding the place that could be felt whenever you walked pass it.

But now your fluffy friend had escaped, and into the Liddell mansion nonetheless! What are you going to do now?

“… No, I can’t leave Angel just like that!” You couldn’t leave your bunny, you had Angel since he was a baby and now he was part of your family.

Even though you were scared, you pushed the gate open just enough so that you could slip through, its lock already rusty and broken. You walked through the overgrown yard and started looking for Angel, hopefully you would find him soon.

Surrounding the house and reaching the backyard, you spotted Angel running towards the woods beyond the state. You immediately sprinted, following him into the dark woods. You ran as fast as you could, but eventually your breath became labored and your lungs were basically screaming at you to stop, your legs slowing down little by little.

You fell on your knees in exhaustion, breathing hard in an attempt to get some oxygen back into your lungs. Once your breath got back to normal, however, you came to the realization that not only did you lost sight on Angel, but you were now totally lost yourself.

After getting back on your feet, you took a glance at your surroundings. Tress blocked much of the sunlight, making it a bit difficult to see clearly around yourself.

“Calm down (Y/N), all you have to do is retrace your steps and you’ll be fine” you tried your best to calm yourself down, but it wasn’t that much effective considering you were at a probably haunted forest and your rabbit was lost.

You started walking back the way you came from, but the more you continued, the more disoriented you became. It didn’t help the fact that the place was dead silent, not even a single bird chirping could be heard and there weren’t any bugs flying around either. Something was off.

“Oh! What is this?” A deep male voice broke the silence, making the hairs on your skin stand on end. You tried looking for the source of the voice, but you found nobody. Maybe it was your imagination?

“A little girl? What is she doing all by herself in such place I wonder. Has she lost her way home?”

The voice kept talking in a playful tone as if mocking her current situation.

“Who are you? Where are you?!”

Silence.

“I am right here.” You felt his breath on your neck, sending cold shivers down your spine. He was right behind you!

You let out a scream as you turned around. In front of you was a tall man clad in black leather, his entire torso and slim arms were covered in tattooed rivers of ink, and his eyes were a green so bright that you were able to see them through the darkness. However, what really captured your attention was that there were a pair of cat ears on top of his head, complete with a feline tail that swayed from side to side reflecting the stranger’s amusement.

The man chuckled at your reaction, and just as unexpectedly as he had appeared, he vanished in thin air.

“W-what? Where did he go?”

Now you were definitely terrified. On top of being lost, your eyes for some unknown reason decided to play tricks on you, just what you needed right now.

“So… what brings a curious little thing like you to a place like this?” the male voice spoke again. Searching for it, you spotted the same man from before resting on his front on a thick branch not too far from the ground. He had an amused look on his face while staring at you in sheer curiosity.

“W-why would you want to know?” you cursed internally when your voice stuttered. Now was not the time to show weakness, not when an anthropomorphic cat was staring at you in such a predatory way.

The man chuckled once again, his tail still swaying amused. He leaned his head to the side, supporting it with one of his hands.

“As far as I’m concerned, you are a naïve intruder that shouldn’t be here. And, unaware of your actions, you have disturbed our peace.” His smile turned into a wicked grin that showed his sharp fangs.

You gulped audibly, taking a few steps back in fear.

“Such a pity that you had to end in a place like this. Haven’t your parents taught you that good little girls shouldn’t stray too far from their way? Then again, perhaps you are but a naughty girl who likes to trespass other’s territories.”

The once silent aura of the woods suddenly became much somber and dangerous, your inner voice screamed at you to run, run far away in any direction as long as it took you out of this forest. But your entire body was completely paralyzed, so you stood where you were without moving a single inch except for your eyes which closed to block the sight of the mysterious man.

“This isn’t real, this is just another dream and I’m actually still in my bed sleeping.” You tried your best to convince yourself that this wasn’t actually happening to you. It was then that you remembered your father’s words when you were a child ‘If you are having a nightmare and you feel trapped, just close your eyes and pinch your arm. You will wake up and the nightmare will be gone.’

You decided to try your luck and do it, but when you opened your eyes nothing changed.

You felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes, you truly where lost, you couldn’t find Angel and this strange human cat looked like he wanted to devour you.

As the first tear rolled down your cheek, the suffocating aura surrounding you disappeared, leaving only a calm silence in its place.

With long, clawed fingers, the man gracefully lifted your chin “Tears? Is my little wanderer crying?” This time his voice was soothing and full of warmth, yet you refused to open your eyes.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to intrude… I just wanted to find Angel.”

“Angel?”

“My rabbit Angel, he’s small and his leg is a little wounded, he ran away and I tried to get him back but… I lost my way and now I don’t know what to do.”

Complete silence. The man stood there pondering, finally realizing that the girl had no evil intent in her heart.

Just like that, he vanished. When you opened your eyes, he was no longer there.

You took deep breaths to try to calm yourself, wiping away the few stray tears you had. You needed to find Angel, and quickly so you both get out of there as soon as possible.

You were about to start your search when you heard an almost inaudible sound behind you, it sounded almost like… a cat purring?

Turning around, you found the mysterious one sitting on a tree stump, his hands protectively holding…

“Angel!”

The stranger was caressing his little ears, purring and cooing to the little ball of fluff that was your pet rabbit. In return, Angel would reach out to him to gently lick and nibble on his cheek and neck.

You ran towards him, Angel turning his attention towards you instead. The man stood up and carefully handed your friend back, who started to also reach out to lick your cheek too.

“How did you find him?”

The man smiled warmly. “This forest protects all animals and plants in it. However, it is not so kind towards humans who enter with malice in their hearts. The forest and I have judged your heart and found no evil intentions in it, that is why we shall help you go back home.”

“Really? Will you help me?”

The man nodded. “I shall now take you out of these woods, but in order for it to work, you must first close your eyes.”

You did as he told you. You heard his steps coming closer to you.

“Thank you, for everything.” you started without opening your eyes “Before I go, may I at least know your name?”

The mysterious one chuckled “You may call me V.”

V… what a strange name for a strange creature like him…

He stood before you, so close that you could feel his breath fanning over your face.

“I am set to light the ground, while the beetle goes his round: Follow now the beetle's hum…” he recited, one of his hands cupped your cheek in a sweet caress, making you blush.

“Little wanderer… hie thee home” and with those words, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

A soft breeze blew around you, and when you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find yourself back at the gates of the Liddell mansion with Angel still in your arms. It felt as if you two had never entered the place, in fact, the pet carrier was still laying in front of you completely untouched. Crouching to check on it, you noticed the lock on the door was working perfectly fine like it never broke in the first place.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was a very scary experience. “Never. Again.” You stated to yourself, no more trespassing into spooky mansions from now on.

Placing Angel inside the carrier, and double-checking the lock, you started your way back home.

Although you didn’t notice, someone was observing you from the shadows. A cat-like creature smirked as he witnessed you walking away.

“We shall meet again, my lost little wanderer.”

And with that promise, the mysterious one vanished in thin air.

........

Sorry if it’s kinda rushed, I’m still working on the next chapters of my two other fanfics which should be finished soon (my family is still staying at my house. yep. three full weeks with lots of activities and no personal space at all, so not much time for writing I guess).

Also, to give you a bit of context to this story, basically Reader entered a forest full of spiritual energy, with V being one of its many supernatural residents. I wanted to give this some Alice in Wonderland vibes since I’m a huge fan of the book, so V basically acts like the Chesire cat of the story.

Again, many thanks to @minteyeddemon for being a huge inspiration for this. Lots of love darling!

[flying-elliska]

I know we’re all waiting for the sky to fall on our heads right now but I’m not ready for fluff week to be over yet so here’s a few glimpses of their post-paint honeymoon weekend. Enjoy <3

SAMEDI 19:12

God, how many time is it possible to fall in love with the same person ?

Lucas asks himself this repeatedly over the week end, as he learns to see a whole new side to his boyfriend.

His boyfriend !

His boyfriend, who is a disaster in the kitchen. His boyfriend, who curls into him as if Lucas was the one that was two heads taller than him. His boyfriend who's been making cute little drawings of all of their meetings.

The image that had been haunting him the past two weeks, that of Eliott the player with the piercing stare and pretty words, the Eliott that could floor Lucas with a glance and stomp on his heart in the next minute, the Eliott he cursed himself for falling in love with - melts away like it never existed in the first place.

In his place now there's Eliott the dork, who makes terrible jokes and then smiles at Lucas knowing full well he can get away with it anyway but still wants his approval regardless. Eliott who loves to call himself a wild forest creature but is way too affectionate for that to be even remotely credible. Eliott who doesn't spare any effort to make Lucas understand how much he cares. Restless, maddening Eliott, who seems to prioritize kissing Lucas first and breathing second, and can’t stop himself from following Lucas even to the kitchen when he goes for a snack. 

Lucas always thought it would feel weird, to have a boyfriend, but it really doesn't. It's the most natural thing in the world, maybe because him and Eliott ? They just fit.

...

Now they're entangled on the couch-bed again, watching tv. They never really bothered to fold it back into a couch again. The others are giving them a wide berth. He doesn’t want to throw Manon out of her room, really, and Eliott said he liked it here too much to go back to his appartment - and vaguely alluded to people who might drop by there unexpectedly. Here at least they know how to see the unexpected coming, and the unexpected said he was going to visit one of his old hook-ups anyway and that there was extra lube on the fridge and to call him if they ever needed advice with anything (hell no). Lise has been pointedly walking around with huge noise cancelling earphones while giving them dirty looks and pointedly saying that if she suspected anyone ever did anything in the kitchen again she would set the couch on fire and Lucas would have to go back to the basement. Eliott had the gall to ask if that also meant food and she answered, deadpan - “Oh for you, it certainly does.” 

Manon left for Emma’s in the afternoon after presenting them with a tray of muffins and a glowing smile, specifying that they were chocolate chip and vanilla, “the best way to make muffins”. Eliott said he considered that a challenge, and Manon told him to spare his energy for more important things before exiting the room. 

Lucas can’t help but feel for her - must be hard to see a couple getting together right in front of her as her own woes are still ongoing. He always thought being happy made people into morons but strangely it’s allowing him to see other people more, to care when he was mostly too exhausted to, before. 

“You should try to make her muffins, he tells Eliott. You know, if you can actually manage to make something not totally disgusting, I think she would love someone to engage in a culinary battle with. She’s way too smug about those muffins.” And she needs distraction from a broken heart, he doesn’t say, I just got over one of those and it’s the worst feeling in the world. 

“Oh but right now we -”

Lucas puts his hand over Eliott’s mouth. 

“But I require at least a week to recover before you try to poison me again.”

...

There’s people putting their hands in boxes full of tarantulas on TV and Lucas couldn’t care less. Eliott’s hands are busy on him, one playing with the little hairs at the nape of his neck, the other one tracing the outline of his ribs and slowly inching lower. He feels drunk, and wonders why they ever bothered to put their clothes back on again. 

One week ago he was bawling his heart out on this very couch, feeling like he was drowning and all his support systems were failing him. And now ? Well, he’s swimming in bliss. 

The pain was real. He can’t let go of the worry totally, it cut too deep. In time he wants to be able to educate people so they stop making gay jokes and he wants to know what exactly made Lucile such a powerful figure in Eliott’s life that he had such trouble letting go so they can exorcise her completely, and he wants to arm himself so that pain never comes back. But he can’t be like that right now. Right now he isn’t able to be anything but meltingly soft. They are going to coagulate into the couch and leave stains, and the petty part of him thinks that it will serve Mika right for being such a nuisance. 

Eliott laughs that high giddy laugh of his, and no parts of Lucas, petty or loving or otherwise, can think anymore. 

“Hmm”, Eliott says as he runs the tip of his fingers along Lucas’ arm, touch featherlight and sending shivers along his’ spine, “maybe I should have drawn you as a spider.” 

Lucas turns to him with the most disgusted look on his face he can muster. 

“What the fuck ?”

“Well, yes, look, you’re getting goosebumps, it looks exactly like the hair on those spiders” he says, leaning his head slightly in the direction of the TV. 

“So you think what, that I’m scary and it’s a challenge to touch me, is that it ?”

“No, spiders are misunderstood. They’re a vital part of our ecosystem. They eat the nasty bugs.” Eliott leans down to kiss his arm and looks up with playful puppy dog eyes. 

“You’re totally one of those guys who likes weird animals, don’t you ?”

“Well duh, I like you.” 

“Oh yeah, is that how it is now ? No more cute hedgehogs, I’m a spider ? Is that how you’re planning to keep my attention ?”

“You’d be cute in any animal form, even the weirdest.”

“F*ck okay, I understand why you won’t let us go to your appartment now. I bet you have a box full of roaches under your bed. Or like, a f*cking snake hanging out in your pipes.”

“Well, I brought my snake with me, baby.” Eliott wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking way too pleased with himself.  

“F*cking hell, how do I find you attractive ? You’re so lame ! ”

He starts to push himself up so he can leave, and what happens next is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Eliott rolls on top of him in one fluid move, flattening Lucas into the cushions, lining up their bodies and pressing down. Lucas's next breath comes out all shivery and high pitched. It's embarassing but not as much as what happens next.

As Eliott lowers down to kiss him he grinds his hips against Lucas's, and stars shoot up his spine.

And then he stops, and whispers in his ear "So I'm lame, huh ?"

Lucas lets out a noise he'd never thought himself capable of making, a needy moan that has Eliott in pieces against him, as if he wanted to tease but in the end, neither of them have any self-control left.

All melting,  no more walls, not even to be funny.

...

At some point afterwards when they finally fall apart to catch their breaths, a weird wizard on the TV with a raspy voice is scolding the players for having taken so long to solve the enigma and being so messy about it, asking them if they need help to put keys in keyholes, and then looks at the camera with a look so fierce Lucas almost jumps back, his fake eyebrows almost falling off. 

“Shit I think he’s seen us !”

Eliott laughs into Lucas’ neck, low and easy and delighted. F*ck, it’s so good to be weird together. 

next up DIMANCHE 15:36 and insta shenanigans 

[wot-tidbits]

Review WOT characters like amazon products.

Elaida: installation messy. Performance erratic and incompatible with some programs. Removal required near reboot of entire system. 1 Star. Would not recommend.

Rand: I ordered a new one but this is clearly a refurbished piece. Contemplating putting it back in the box for a return.

Perrin: slow moving but gets the job done. Doesn't move at all until paired with the Faile update. Until update is found seems like it is just spinning its wheels. Once done however, works like a dream especially while in sleep mode!

Mat: This pet was not trained as advertised. It never did what I wanted it to when I wanted it to. It was stubborn to a fault and always managed to get into everything it shouldn’t have. I swear it was following someone else’s instructions in a language no one else could understand. It is always slipping its leash and seems to be the object of constant animal attacks at the park. I am sure it is blind chance the blasted thing always seems to come out on top, but in the oddest and most embarrassing ways. I’d send it back but somehow it became my daughter’s favorite.

Androl- Who ordered this? Not me! I’ve been ordering characters from this series for YEARS and bam, suddenly this thing is shoved up my flaming rear. Since I have no idea where this thing came from I demand a full refund. 1 Sta 

Leane: Fab service. My model broke, it just wouldn't power up so they sent me a newer looking more attractive upgrade. Doesn't hold as much power as the old one but improved appearance makes up for tha 

Nynaeve: I have a love/hate relationship with this product. I got it based on the specs and was under the impression it was one of the most powerful to be produced in years. Well I'm here to tell you, it is- if you yell at it and tell it you're going to destroy similar products from the same manufacturer. I've never seen more raw power! Now, if there was only a fix so I didn't have to piss the poor thing off every time I need something repaired!

Vanin : do not be deceived by the advertising photos. This item looks like 10 pounds of crap stuffed into a 5 pound sack. Works surprisingly well.

Balthamel/Aran’gar/Halima: the labels on the product describe the total opposite of what’s actually inside!

Seanchan: Caution - avoid this company at all costs! You cannot unsubscribe. Even after YEARS of disuse they will keep sending free “upgrades” that disrupt the whole system.

Olver: If I could give less than one star for appearance I would. For its release date one of the ugliest products on the market today. Perfect for those with horses, snakes and foxes. Works especially well with women that have, erm, larger cup sizes. Despite the look of the product will totally redeem itself in the end.

Cadsuane: I was so pumped to find this model as I was assured by multiple vendors it had been discontinued. And it came with all the original accessories! Of course it is a powerhouse. Solved all my pest problems AND taught me which fork to use at the dinner party. You can’t beat the classics.

Aviendha: Caution - as abrasive as advertised!

 Bela: At first glance product seems to move slowly but can move quickly when needed. Grows on you because somehow its always in the right place at the right time.

Aginor: This surprisingly flimsy device broke down repeatedly and soon became inoperable, to my great disappointment. But the products I created with it are utterly unique, multi-purpose, and far more durable; I've enjoyed them for many years.

Couladin: cheap Chinese knock-off. 0 stars.

Egwene: Highly creative problem solver. Using it I was able to come up with unique solutions that many have declared long lost. Highly flexible and able to defeat many different forms of malware. I'd give it 5 stars except that it has a strange affinity for the deeply flawed Gawyn program. 4.5 stars.

Valan Luca: As advertised, this product took care of ALL my marketing needs. It designed and printed the most colorful business cards and brochures, and created the most colorful and flashy website for my home-based business than I could have hoped for. The only downsides are that the Valan Luca seems to only use the very brightest colors, it’s a little hard to control, I can’t figure out how to turn the volume down, and I still can’t find the off switch.

4/5 stars

Dark One: This thing is packaged so tight I couldnt break it free for whole 7 days. Thats it I'm returning it whatever hole it came out of.

Semirhage: I read all of the reviews hyping this model up. Dangerous, mysterious. When it finally arrived, an utter disappointment, fell over almost immediately. Spent a couple of hours reading my copy of 50 Shades of grey, then stopped working permanently.

Alviarin: Worked great at first, helped me realize all my ambitions, then BAM! Stabbed me right in the back!!! To the Pit of Doom with it 0 stars.

Lan and/or Rhuarc: What a solid piece of machinery. The reliability of this product is bar none. Tough as nails and never lets you down. Will dutifully complete all tasks asked of it - and more. I swear this thing could survive a category 5 hurricane. There's a reason why those familiar with this brand are die hard loyalists. 5 stars!!

Selene: Tall beautiful pleasure doll. It has a bubble of evil in it so it is not advised to slide your tubesteak inside the stimulated orfice. Sorry a bit x-rated I know.... it's selene for crying out loud! -12 millon stars

Padan Fain: Warning! This “anti-virus” software is nothing but a parasite! Sure it removed all the spyware and malware from my computer. But then it infected the computer with a different virus that’s equally destructive. This product should NOT be on the market! However, I’ve heard that some customers have found a little known workaround that causes existing viruses and the Padan Fain to cancel each other out.

I still give it 0 stars!

Moiraine: This product is amazing! When it first arrived, the instructions were a little vague, and it was constantly making me feel stupid, but pretty soon it proved time and again to be a real life saver! I was so upset because I lost it for what seemed like forever, but it finally turned up once I stopped looking for it. Even though it had been constantly running for years, it still had enough power to come through when I really needed it. 5 stars all the way!

Demandred: product arrived late and was defective. I suspect counterfeit

Lan: arrived unexpectedly, sleek and very sharp with a hint of something ancient . Definitely battle ready. I have a feeling it wants to die but is just so well put together that nothing can kill it. 10/10 would recommend, everyone needs one of these in their lives.

[spideymybucky]

Its mutual part 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Bucky x Dot at first, Wanda, Tony Stark, Sam WIlson, Pietro, a lot more.

Word count: 1k+

Loosely based on the movie Its a girl boy thing, promise its gonna be different but at first might be very similar.

Summary: Both Reader and Bucky have hated each other for years, but an unexpected event will bring them close, so much closer than they wanted.

Warnings: Insults, bullying, idk what else.

Part 1 Part 2

(Y/N) woke up with the annoying sound of her alarm, the beeping never seized to stop. Her    (Y/E/C) eyes shifted towards the clock, which was stating 6:30 am. She had to get up if she didn’t want her mother to come in, but her body refused to move. Her bed was warm and cozy, plus her brain needed five more minutes of sleep.

“Honey, Wake Up, your breakfast is getting cold!” She heard her mother scream. A groan left her lips while she stood up from her pink bed. Her same old routine started, first she stretched her muscles and after that she grabbed some clothes, took a cold shower and changed into her usual clothe: a pair of jeans, a blouse and her snickers. She had a tendency to dress smart, preppy some would say. Finally she directed herself down stair to the kitchen, where a big old bowl of oat meal awaited her.

(Y/N) sat in from of her mother, smiling at her. Appearance was what ruled in this house, it was a must-have to smile or else her mother would pester her till no end. The woman in front of her kept talking and talking, a never ending conversation. It was hell. God, did she wish to leave.

“Whats your opinion (Y/N)?” Her mother unexpectedly asked.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“(Y/N) (L/N), You should be paying attention to everything. Is this how you’re going to answer at your interview? Yale wo-“

“Have to go mom, school awaits.” She stood up and left rapidly, annoyed at everything. She hated how thing were turning but it was the only way to get out of her mothers way.

“Don’t be rude and interru-“ (Y/N) slammed the door shut and looked at the phone. Fuck, she thought, Late yet again. She ran to the bus stop but it was too late. The school bus left without her, fucking hell. All she had to do now is walk.

——————————————————————————————————————————

“James Buchanan Barnes, Wake Up! Your gonna be late again!” Winnie, is mom, screamed from the top of her lungs. Bucky stirred in his lips, mumbling incomprehensible words. God, did he hate weekdays.

“Hey, douche wake up. I need a ride to school!” Becca stated, while throwing a pillow towards him. Bucky groaned more, slowly raising his middle finger towards his sister. The smell of greasy bacon made his stomach stir, which finally made him get up. He slammed his door closed, hearing the laughter of his annoying little sister and sizzle of food. He rapidly changed and left to eat whatever was on the table.

“Mornin’ Ma” He said kissing her at the cheek. He was much taller than her, even taller than his dad.

“Hey Pops.” He slouched on the chair, in front of his dad and started eating some pancakes and bacon.

“You ready for Fridays game son?” Bucky nodded, not saying a word.

“He’s always ready George.” Winnie interjected.

“I’m just saying, if football doesn’t work out he can work at Wins with me.” Bucky stood up, abruptly, and left. Its was always like this, a routine that he had. A car horn resounded through the house, as he left.

“Hey Steve” Buck screamed, as he jumped into his sit.

“Hey Buck, everything all right?” Becca jumped into the back, hugging Steve and whacking Bucky's head.

“Hey, fuck off Becks!” She laughed, and Steve pulled off just like always. It was all so monotone to him, and his only hope of getting out of this was the game on Friday.

——————————————————————————————————————————

(Y/N) started walking to school when a red car came into view. It was Steve Rogers red convertible, a classical. She loved it from a far, bur right now she was desperate for a ride. She was willing to do anything.

“Hey! Over here, Hey!” She screamed. Bucky looked at her, and the only thing he did was turn the volume up. He didn’t want to give her a ride and if Steve heard with all his chivalry ways, he would do anything to help her.

“Sorry, next time!” Bucky screamed at her, laughing with enjoyment. (Y/N) tried to run faster, catch up with them, but she only ended up tripping into a huge puddle. God, she hated her life. She hated Bucky. She hated this stupid town. She couldn’t wait to leave.

She walked all the way to school, soaking wet, She felt gross and stupid. Hell, she hated this, all of this, but the year was going to end soon and she was going to leave. Leaving was her comfort, her motivation. She hated this unforsaken town, so much.

She watched from a far, how Bucky paced through the grass and towards Dot, his beauty queen girlfriend. She was drop dead gorgeous but a total bitch. Everyone feared her, and how could you not if she was the she-devil, Satan’s reincarnation, Lucifer himself. She was worse than a venomous snake, she put the snake emoji to shame, and now (Y/N) she had to pass through them to get in. Life hated her.

“Oh my god, look it's a she-man.” Dot said, pointing directly at (y/n). Everyone laughed, but (y/n) didn’t really care.

“God she just uglier by the minute, I hope I don’t catch whatever she has” Sharon retorted. Steve nudged his girlfriend Sharon, and looked at (Y/N) with an apologetic gaze. She walked straight through them, ignoring Steve, and into the school hallway. The first warning bell rang, as she made way towards her first class, literature.  

As class ended, (y/n) was fed up with the amount of work she had to do. All her classes were advanced, expect art. She had to fight her mother for that one, and she was glad she did. Leaving the class room towards her locker made her feel relieved, the books she carried around were agonizing.

The closer she got to her locker, the more she realized that Bucky and Dot were kissing there. Life really hated her these days. She stood in front of them for a while, clearing her throat but they still seemed occupied.

“Damn it, can you please leave my locker?” She sighed. Bucky and Dot broke the kissing, looking at her but deciding to ignore and continue kissing.

“Don’t you know its grotesque to see two people having sex in the hallway? Its unlady like, and so disturbing.” (Y/N) said louder this time. Dot broke the kiss, stepping away from Bucky and looking at her.

“It seems to me that you’re just jealous .” Dot stated. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, really not interested in Dots stupid games.

“Well she is, you know she’s never had a man before.” Bucky continued. (Y/N) closed her eyes and turned around.

“I don’t need a man to feel wanted or important, less to feel loved. Any way, I’m not jealous of you, why would I be? Because the way I see It, you…” She pointed straight at Bucky, who just stared at her.

“You are gonna end up marrying Dot after school, and because you couldn’t get into a college you’re gonna end up working at Winnies with your dad. Years later, you all are gonna be unhappy, with a few kids and pounds too. You’re gonna be thinking ‘Oh how I regret not studying or paying attention’…” Dot just looked at her dumbfounded. Her mouth was hung open, not knowing what to say.

“So no, I’m not jealous of you, because I’m going to go to some great school and be a professional instead of staying in this god-for-nothing town.” (Y/N) slammed her locker, turning around and looking at both, Bucky and Dot. They just stared at her, not really knowing what to say. (Y/N) turned around and left them.

Bucky just stared at her, not being able to forget her words. He wasn’t going to work at Winnie's, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to live his whole life in this town. He was going to prove her wrong, god he had to win Friday night.

[gguksgalaxy]

Departed pt. 1

Departed – Engraved <– Engraved 20 | Chased 3 -> | Engraved 21 –> 

Short: What happened, before everything. The events that shaped today. Words: 3145 Type: Angst Pairing: - Warnings: Manipulation, confusing the reader A/N: If you are an Engraved reader, please don't skip these parts! A/N2: okay guys, this is the first flashback. I hope you enjoy and let me know!

5 months after the event, 3,5 years ago

Your pov

Your house was empty, and you were slightly at ease of being alone tonight for the first time in five months. It was a weird feeling, and the house seemed so silent. You turned on some music, and decided to make yourself some coffee to take to bed and just cuddle up. The room slowly filled with the aroma of dark roast and you inhaled deeply. Jongdae was a phone call away, you knew that. But you weren’t going to call him, you’d be okay. Tonight you were going to be fine, just fine. It’s not that you were afraid of something happening, it was totally safe. You just weren’t used to being alone anymore really. During the day it was fine, you were good. But at night, it was like the dark changed everything, your dreams never went easy on you. You used to love the night, but when days started to blur into one big night, it changed you. Since then you lived for the sunlight, sat in your window as much as you could. You stared for hours at the rays spreading through the curtains and lining the blankets, playing them with your fingers. A nightlight didn’t comfort you really, not much, but being able to see the moon did. So your curtains were never drawn anymore. 

A knock on the door startled you, and you dropped your coffee from your hands. The cup shattered, and the liquid burned your feet. “Shit.” You yelled, jumping away and moving to get a towel. Another knock. “I’ll be right there! Give me a second, I just dropped something!” you yelled, completely overgoing the fact that it was late in the evening and nobody should be up your door. Wait. It was 10pm, nobody had a key to the door of your shop. Had you not locked it? Who was this? Why weren’t they coming into your apartment. Your heart rate was suddenly spiking, your breathing stopping. You listened, they knew you were home now. Why hadn’t they broken open the door? You listened to the silence, your phone was a few steps away. Should you call Jongdae? Or maybe that would make them come in? Was the door even locked? God. You trembled, swallowing thickly. So you opened the drawer, grabbing a knife, and holding it out in front of you. You inched closer to the door, keeping your hand outstretched and the knife ready. The knob was cold against your palm, and something inside of you prayed it wasn’t locked now, because you’d have to fetch your key. “Y/n, are you okay?” Minseok’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Min?” you answered him, unsure still. The rain suddenly sounded, not passing your consciousness before this. It was pounding against the window, like the glass would shatter. He didn’t answer again, and you pushed the handle down. The door opened, more forcefully than you’d hoped, with his help. You looked at him, wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He was soaked to the bone, and you could see every line of his chest through that shirt, his tattoo’s, his muscles, his nipple piercing. Your eyes slowly went up, but before you could meet his eyes he closed in on you. Unexpectedly his hands cupped your cheeks, pressing you back, back into the kitchen. His lips landed on you, feverishly, forcefully, his skin was ice cold, the wetness of his shirt seeping through yours, wetting your skin. He parted your lips with his, tongue invading your mouth and making your body shiver. Your back hit the counter, and he made you arch into him. His kiss was raw, and almost animalistic. You felt his hands move down your, sides, grabbing your hips tightly, moving a leg between yours. You moaned, when he bit your lip, getting caught up in the way he played you. He was an expert kisser, pressing so close to you, his tongue raking along your gum, twisting with yours. He made you gasp for air, lips gliding down your neck, leaving a wet trail. A groan escaped his lips, teeth setting down tightly into your skin, sucking harshly. You were pliant to his touch, fingers tangling in his wet hair and pulling him back up to your mouth. There was a taste of salt in his mouth. He growled, chest rumbling deeply, making you keen. One hand snaked under your shirt, setting your skin on fire and scraping his nails over the skin of your sides. It sent a delightful sense of pleasure pain down to pool in your stomach. You let him devour you, tongue determined to touch every corner of your mouth seemingly. Finding the piercing under your tongue, pulling your top lip into his mouth. His teeth clanked with yours, your noses bumped, but neither cared. You were played by him like a fine instrument, like how he handles his knives. Complete control, perfect knowledge of every part, every weight, every balance point. His deft fingers found the strap of your bra trop, not having a clasp. He took the farbic between two hands, tearing it in two, breaking the straps and pulling it out from under your shirt. A strangled moan left his lips as he brushed over the soft skin of your breast, thumbing over a hardened nipple. That’s when you stopped, mouth going lax against his. “Minseok.” You breathed, panting loudly. “Hmm.” He hummed against your ear, fingers tweaking your nipple. “Minseok.” Your hand came down around his wrist, the other pushing at his chest. For the first time since you’d entered you looked at his face. His eyes were red, had he been crying? He stared straight at you, pupils dilated and nostrils flaring. “Stop.” You said, calmly, pulling his hand away from your chest and from under your shirt. He didn’t speak, he didn’t break your stare. “Please.” He whispered almost, voice sounding soft and small, contrasting with how he kissed you. You swallowed, looking at his face, his hair was messy, slightly dried now, atop of his head. The colour a light brown, how you’d know it from him. His eyes were pleading you, pleading you for something you couldn’t give him. “Minseok, what’s wrong?” “I need your help, with work.” This was unlike him, asking for help. “Can’t Junmyeon help you?“ “He…I haven’t seen him in days, he won’t come out of his room. Lay is off God knows where. I have people that need to get paid, I keep getting phone calls from men I don’t know. There’s meetings that need to be attended, things that need to be ordered and shipped.” His breathing became quick, and you were unsure of what to do. “I don’t want to disturb Junmyeon, he’s not doing okay. And…Luhan, I miss Luhan.” He mumbled. You pushed him back “Minseok.” “I need your help, I can’t do this alone.” “Min, you know I can’t.” “Please.” You closed your eyes, letting yourself slide down tot he floor, against the cupboard, head falling back. Your teeth found your lip ring, chewing nervously, thinking this whole thing through. “You were angry at me still two days ago.” He didn’t answer that, but you felt his gaze on your face. You didn’t open your eyes. “I can’t offer you my help, it’s not my place. I have no idea of how to do those things, it’s against everything I know.” “Just until…Junmyeon is okay, I don’t know how to do this.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Min, after everything that happened, because of me. You don’t want me there, it’s going to cause unnecessary trouble. You’re upset with me, and I don’t blame you, Lay probably wants so rip my throat out with his bare hands. Junmyeon…I don’t know if I can ever look at him again after this.” Your eyes were open now, looking at him, sitting across from you “I won’t be anything but trouble. You’re only here because you’re upset, you’re grieving, not because you really need me. You have to do this on your own.” The look in his eyes wasn’t desperation, but something close. “I’m not going to help you.” You stated, flatly then. His expression changed a little, something hardened, his mouth straightened out. “It’s the least you can do.” That took you aback. “Excuse me?” He stared at you, gaze changing, eyes narrowing. “After everything you’ve done, what you’ve caused, the least you can do is help us get back up again.” “You don’t want my help!” you spat. “You’re not thinking straight. You and I both know that you can’t think clearly when you’re upset. You came into my fucking house, broke into my front door, and KISSED me. You back me up against the counter, you were reading to fuck me right here, on the kitchen isle I bet. Where is your head at.” “You reciprocated pretty nicely.” “And what do you think that would get you?!” you yelled. He narrowed his eyes, the piercing in his eyebrow moving as he furrowed them. “What?” “You think sleeping with me is going to fix your problems? I would never, in my right mind, sleep with you.” He scoffed. “Nice one.” “I’m not kidding, you and I, were not like that, we never were and we never will be. I’m not sleeping with you, I’m not letting you get at me like that again. I’m not going to help you with this, I want my hands clean. I don’t want to have anything to do with your group, for my own good, and for yours!” There was something on his mind, you saw it, in the way the corner of his lips pulled up. “What about Jongdae?” Of course. “He has nothing to do with this.” “You want nothing to do with my group, you ain’t getting near him.” “He’s his own person he decides what he does himself.” “Not if it’s my command, he works for me, he does as I say.” You laugh then, a bit of a strange sound in the conversation. “And you think he’s going to join you.” Minseok shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that makes you want to slap him across the face. He was leaning against the cabinet on the opposite side. “He has no choice.” “You can’t do that Minseok.” “Traitors will be traitors love, I’m not letting him slip through my fingers.” You gritted your teeth. “I’m not going to help you because he’s part of your group.” “We both know you need him.” “Shut up, this is not about him, you don’t need to try use him and something to blackmail me with. You’re angry with me, but you want my help, I don’t think that’s working out well for you.” He rolled his neck, the joint cracking. “I didn’t lie, I do need your help. But you’re making me want it less and less. I don’t understand how you can be so condescending after everything.” “Condescending? Minseok, people died because of me, I want nothing to do with this.” “Pay for what you did.” “Me helping you isn’t paying! You don’t think I paid enough!?” He licked his lips, almost baring his teeth in a snarl. “Did you?” That was it, you got up on your feet, more shaky than you expected. “Get out.” Minseok raised his eyebrows. “You heard me, get out!” you yelled. “You’re going to help me out.” You shook your head, looking down at him. “I’m not Minseok, my hands will stay clean.” He chuckled, pushing himself up from the floor. “Your hands will never be clean again y/n, with Tao’s blood, Kris’, Luhan’s. It’ll stain, trust me.” “And mine on yours.” “How so?” Your breath was shaky, you didn’t want this, you didn’t want to say it. “You left me for dead Minseok.” “Did I?” “You think I was unconscious. I wasn’t, I heard you, I saw you. You left me, you didn’t even hesitate to do it. And you expect me, to help you? You don’t care about me, you never did. I have no idea what got into your head today, kissing me like that. But you definitely don’t care about me. And for that I’m not going to help you.” You said, voice breaking, tears in the corners of your eyes. He didn’t say a word, he just looked at you, from your toes back to your eyes. “Look at you.” He gave you a look that made you square your jaw. “You’re a broken shell, nothing what you used to be. You’re afraid, a mess, just as much as me. Don’t pretend a second you don’t miss me, I know you do. You’re pathetic, you lost your touch. You will never recover from what he did to you, we both know it. You aren’t strong enough.” He was such a dick, that he could say this to you after everything. “And yet here you are begging for my help.” “A man can try.” “No Min, don’t go pretend now that you didn’t mean that. That you weren’t here, begging, you’re afraid and in over your head. I’m not saying I don’t believe you in that, but I cannot help you.” “But you will. We both know you will. It’s in your nature, you aren’t truly cut out for this world. Raised on love and good morals. You will come to help me, because you feel like you owe me.” He moved towards the door, hands in his pockets. “I’ll wait.” You shook your head. “I won’t.” “And what if it was Suho here asking, and not me?” he turned around, crossing his arms over his chest. You thought about it, the true answer, could you give it to him? “We both know you’d have said yes in a heartbeat, because you owe him.” “No.” “Yes y/n.” “Stop it! You’re trying to guilt trip me! Yes I’m weak right now, yes I owe him, but that doesn’t mean that I have to stick my hands in your group again and cause any more trouble than I already have. I don’t want to, and that’s it!” Minseok looked at you again. “Just help me, please.” “Minseok.” You whined almost, begging him to stop. You wanted to be alone, you didn’t want more trouble. You were afraid, and upset, and angry, and so many things at once. But most of all maybe, weak, and alone. “There is no way I can convince you?” Something in his eyes was untruthful, dishonest. He was lying about something and you couldn’t reach it. Was it the fear? The guilt? “Anything?” There was…was there? You thought about it. “What do you want me to do?” why you caved, you weren’t sure. But something about the change in his voice just now…was…you weren’t sure. “What is it exactly.” “Go to the meetings with me.” “That’s it?” “Not physically, behind the screens, an earpiece, not much more than advice. You don’t have to show your face anywhere.” You clenched your jaw, crazy for actually considering this. “How long?” “Until I get the hang of this whole…thing.” “You need to recruit.” “Jongdae will be a fine addition, a thief always comes in handy where extra money is needed.” That was something you didn’t want. “Can we bargain?” “Bargain?” “My help for his freedom?” “No.” He stated, as if it was that simple, and maybe it was. “That’s not negotiable, I don’t trust him, but I trust him less out there on the streets having seen inside our group.” What Jongdae saw wasn’t more than a broken group, having lost 3 members and been through hell. He had no reason to tell anyone either, he didn’t want to be in this life. “Jongdae is joining, whether you help me or not. Your help will only ensure his safety maybe.” “Stop using him against me.” “It’s working.” “It’s not, you know damn well I can make him disappear so easily, you’d never find him again. The only reason I haven’t done it yet is because he doesn’t want me to.” You stated, honestly. “If I help you, what’s in it for me.” Minseok looked around your home. “You can stay here, in out territory, handling your own business. I won’t intervene, I just need you to help me get settled.” “And you think you will be able to do this without my help, ever?” Something in his eyes faltered again. “I will tell you when you’re done.” You clicked your tongue. “You were really just right now, in my house, like a little kid begging for me. And now you think you can treat me like you’re my boss? How do you work?” He came closer again, moving away from the door. You hugged yourself, stepping away. “We’re talking in circles. Will you help me or not?” You stepped further away, fisting your hands in your hair. Think, think. He came here, right the night after Jongdae had left you, the first night you were alone. You weren’t healed, you were weak, you felt it in how tired you were. Was he taking advantage of it? He wasn’t good enough to fake fear like that, you felt it. It was raw and real and he wasn’t playing. Maybe you’d just upset him, and he was covering now. He was good at that, covering up his emotions. “You’re lying to yourself right now. You’re pretending you’re not afraid, but you are. You’re scared of this, of fucking up, of letting Kris down, letting Luhan have died for nothing, Tao too. And you want my help, because I’m your only hope, there is nobody else you can reach out to. I should use this to my advantage, like to rogue I am. But I’m not, and you should respect that.” He stared at you, baffled then, and you knew you had him. Cornered right there. “Y/n. Help me.” He lowered his voice.   You had to keep the upper hand in this. “If you want me to help you, I want you to let me do it my way. I don’t want to work for you, I don’t want your money. I want you to give me full reign to help where needed, but also pass when I want to. There’s certain things I can’t and won’t do, not for you, not for anyone. I want to be treated as an equal, not as your subordinate.” “Kris never treated you as an equal.” “He did, Kris had respect for me, I had a choice, I was an ally.” Minseok gave you a look, one you hadn’t seen in a long time. But he nodded in the end. “Fine, if that’s what’ll do it for you.”

A/N2: okay guys, this is the first flashback. I hope you enjoy and let me know!

@oh-beyond @xingtrash @yeollieollie @xiubaek13 @littlekatlizzy @paark-haaraa @an-army-exol @nunchiwrites @melyyexo