#im sure it’s for traitor reasons but like damn. they took his last name.

[vanhelsingapologist]

Drew this for @antichrist-vevo in a small secret santa event. Thank you for the prompt and letting me draw for you! Raharomancers, you are braver than all of us.

[24hlevi]

Dangerous Lovers

Suguru Niragi (Alice In Borderland) X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff? i don’t really know tbh

Summary: Upon first meeting Y/n, Niragi always had his gun in her face. Now, he points it to anyone who threatens or does something he doesn’t like to Y/n

Word Count:  1.5k

A/N: Italics means flashbacks, i love niragi so im very happy i got this request 💙

gif is not mine !

When you first arrived at The Beach, you still had barely any clue on what was going on. You had played a few of the deadly games but still had no idea what anything meant. So when you stumbled across the large location and being forced inside. Well, it didn’t exactly go very well.

You sat in the chair with your hands tied behind your back with a group of people surrounding you. When the man with long brown hair and sunglasses on cleared his throat, you looked over at him.

“Welcome to The Beach. My name is Hatter.” He said to you. “Now tell me, do you know what this place is?”

You shook your head in response, glancing around at everyone else who was in the room.

“Then I shall explain. This is a safe location where we all contribute to one thing, collecting all of the cards of the deck and helping 1 person go back home.” Hatter explained. “Do you understand the cards and their meanings?”

You shook your head again, “No.”

“Ah.” Hatter nodded. “So here’s how it is then. Spades mean a strength game, Clubs mean a team battle, Diamonds mean wits, and Hearts mean betrayal. The number of the card is the level of difficulty. Quite easy to understand, yes?”

You nodded slowly, “Yes.”

“Good! Now let me see the cards you have.” Hatter held his hand out towards you before realizing you were still tied up. “Oh, that’s right, Hey.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the man that was leaning up against the wall with a sword in his hands, hood over his head as tattoos ran down his head and face. “Untie her.” Hatter pointed to you.

The male nodded, walking over to you and raising his sword before cutting the rope that held your hands tied together. You looked from the man to Hatter who had his hand out towards you still. You dug into your pants pocket and took out the one card you had which was an 8 of hearts.

Hatter looked at the card and a smile lit upon his face as he looked back at you, “Well, my dear, here’s what you can do. Join us at The Beach and help contribute to collect all the cards, or leave and die very quickly.”

You didn’t respond for a few seconds as you looked around before back at the man standing in front of you. “It seems I don’t have much of a choice so I’ll join, I guess.” You replied.

“Great!” Hatter clapped his hands together. “Before you go, though. There are 3 rules here at The Beach. 1, Always wear a bathing suit. 2, Feel free to live your life exactly as you wish, that included drugs, alcohol. And 3, death to all traitors.” He told you.

Your eyes widened a bit at the last rule he said but you nodded anyway, “Okay.”

“Great! Now someone get her a bathing suit while I get her a room.” Hatter told everyone before walking away and out of the room.

You stood up from the chair and glanced around before stopping once you noticed a raven-haired man with many piercings looking at you, gun over his shoulder. You quickly looked away and started to walk but you didn’t get very far before the male rushed in front of you, putting the tip of the gun right in your face, making you stop abruptly, eyes wide.

“What’s your name, hot stuff?” The man smirked at you.

“Y/n.” You replied quickly.

His smirk remained on his face as he spoke again, “Come with me then, Y/n. I’ll show you a real good time while stuck here.”

“I would accept, but you’re still a stranger.” You responded, continuously looking from him back to the gun that was still pointed at your face.

“Tsh.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he clicked the safety off the gun. “I’d chose your words carefully, princess.”

A tall and extremely intimidating bald man walked by you two and he stopped beside Niragi. “Cut her some slack, Niragi. You can’t go around killing our new recruits, especially when she got us a high card for hearts.”

NIragi scoffed again and took his gun away from your face, looking back at you. “I ain’t a stranger anymore, so how about you come with me? But you can’t say no.”

You just nodded in agreement, not wanting to get killed the first day you were there.

A smirk fell back on Niragi’s face as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “Let’s go then, princess.”

After that happened, you had grown to develop a liking to the male but not exactly knowing why. But after a few drinks with him one night and long kissing sessions, you two had decided to make it official that you were his and his only. Shortly after that he taught you how to shoot a gun and protect yourself in case anything went wrong and he even convinced Aguni to let you carry a gun with you anywhere you went. Since that, you two had become known as the dangerous lovers from the people at The Beach after Niragi taught you how to also not take shit from anyone and how to get what you want and when you want it.

Now, everyone knew not to mess with either of you, but you especially because they knew the consequences that would happen if they did anything to you that Niragi didn’t like or felt was threatening to you. When you first met Arisu who was extremely sweet to you, Niragi took notice and pointed his gun at the boy.

“The hell do you think you’re trying to do?” Niragi growled, pointing his gun right at Arisu.

Arisu’s eyes widened as he raised his hands up in surrender, “I wasn’t trying to do anything I swear!”

Niragi eyed down the boy and scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Sure. You’re just being ‘nice’ to my girl.” He clicked the safety off the gun.

Arisu’s eyes went even wider as he looked between you and your boyfriend, “I didn’t know, I swear! I just wanted to find out how everything worked here!”

You put your hand on Niragi’ shoulder and he turned his head to look at you. “It’s okay, babe. Besides, I have a feeling we’re going to need him.”

Niragi looked back at Arisu and tossed him a hard glare, taking the gun away from his face and putting it back over his shoulder, “Just know this, kid. She’s mine.”

Arisu nodded quickly, “Got it!” He said before quickly walking off.

You let out a short chuckle while watching Arisu speed walk away and you looked back at Niragi, “Trust me, baby, you won’t ever lose me.”

“Damn right I won’t.” Niragi leaned down and kissed you.

Then there was another time when Chishiya wanted to be an annoying fuck like he is when you were at a game with him and Niragi and he kept helping you with strategies and he even dragged you away from Niragi for a bit of the game.

“Chishiya what the fuck are you doing?” You hissed quietly in a whisper, “Niragi is by himself.”

“That man can take care of himself.” Chishiya responded.

You rolled your eyes at the male before questioning him, “You’re doing this just to piss him off, aren’t you?”

“Obviously.” Chishiya nodded, “It’s funny seeing him get all mad.”

“Fucking hell.” You mumbled to yourself before looking back at him, “You know, I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“You little fuck.” You heard Niragi’s voice from behind you, causing you to turn your head and look at him, seeing he had his gun pointed at Chishiya.

“Ah look, there’s the boyfriend of the year.” Chishiya said sarcastically, raising his hands up in defense.

Niragi glared harshly at the other male and grabbed your hand, pulling towards him, keeping the gun held at Chishiya. “Fuck off from my girl or else your brain will end up scattered on the floor.”

“Whatever you say.” Chishiya said as he walked away from you both. “But we both know Y/n could use a little variety in her men.”

“You little motherfucker!”

You had to admit, you liked it when Niragi got protective over you and would scare the shit out of people, but you knew when to stop him if it was getting too far which it almost never did because everyone would usually back off immediately after seeing the gun up in their face. Plus, it meant that everyone knew you were his, and you both wanted to keep it that way. And you did the whoke time. Sure, there were scary moments when he would lose his head for a couple minutes, but you knew how to deal with it, and Niragi loved that. Knowing that you weren’t scared of him and he could go as far as he wanted and you still wouldn’t be scared of him. He didn’t know the reason why, but he didn’t care much. You two were the couple that no one wanted to fuck with.

A pair of dangerous lovers.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 24

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N:  the problem with Ernesto’s murderous plans is that they tend to only have a 50% success rate.  Art is by @lunaescribe​ and @swanpit​​

***

“... And you killed how many Villistas?” 

“Ah, I lost count. At least thirty.”

“Five, more like!”

“Shut up! Maybe some were just wounded, but I killed no less than twenty of Villa’s bastards, at any rate.”

“Sí, sí, and then you wounded Pancho Villa himself. One would think that with such a warrior among us, getting through the Zapatistas on our way here would have been a child’s play. I didn’t see you hit a single one. Did you forget how to shoot in the meantime?”

“Ah, shut up. They fought better, is all. Everyone knows Zapata and his followers are twice the mad dogs as everybody else, and I did hit one!”

“Your own shoe doesn’t count, pendejo.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“You’re so full of--”

As an argument broke out, Héctor watched Gustavo sigh and fall back a few paces with his horse. His attempts at buttering up the soldiers to get any sort of useful information had amounted to nothing, when they hadn’t straight-up started an argument like that one. The only question he was able to get a real answer to was why Commander Hernández hadn't allowed them to spend the evening and night in Santa Cecilia before setting off. 

“Ay, he won’t hear of it,” a soldier had replied. “He heard of a battalion that was decimated like that - they stayed in a village overnight, but turns out it was chock-full of traitors and they called their friends in during the night, and the men were slaughtered before they could grab a gun. So he’s paranoid about that.”

The expression that crossed Gustavo’s face for a moment, that of a man who just sucked on a lemon, had been enough to tell Héctor that was very much something he had hoped to pull off in Santa Cecilia. Unaware of that, the man - “call me Chucho”, he had said - had added: “It’s a myth if you ask me, more likely all of them just got sick of this shit and deserted.”

“Can’t blame them,” someone had muttered only a couple of paces behind Héctor, only to be immediately shushed by no less than ten of his comrades. 

“Shut up, idiota!”

“You want the commander to nail you to a telegraph pole or what!”

“He’s off ahead scouting anyway,” the man had muttered, and promptly fallen in a sullen silence. Morale was low, Héctor had quickly realized; he had been aware of the fact the war was not going all that well for the Federal Army, but this was the first time he saw its effects on the troops. All things considered, he got the distinct feeling most of those men didn’t want to be there a hell of a lot more than Ernesto had. 

Only that Ernesto had seized his moment to escape, and they were still stuck.

“-- shoot that cigarette off your mouth from a hundred paces, and if you don't believe--”

“Amazing, think you can hit the men attached to the cigarettes every once in a while, too?”

“If what you're asking is a bullet through your brain--!”

“Brain might be a big word there…”

“Shut your mouth, Nachito!”

As the argument continued, Héctor did his best to tune it out and reached into his saddle bag for the water. They had been warned the water rations were scarce and he had been trying not to drink too much, but they had been riding under the sun for hours, he’d been sweating half his body weight, and there seemed to be no moisture left in his mouth. At least the sun was starting to get lower at the horizon, evening not too far away.

Héctor wondered how they’d spend the night. Would they make camp? Just sit around fires, rifle in hand, and try to shut their eyes for a few hours before they kept marching on? Surely someone would stand guard, were the revolutionaries really going to catch up as Gustavo seemed to think they would? Would there be a battle? How many would come? Or would they decided a few men off Santa Cecilia was not a big enough loss to bother--

“Water?”

“Huh?” 

Héctor looked up to see a man riding next to him, holding out a flask of water. He seemed about his age, maybe a little younger, an attempt at a mustache on his upper lip and an uniform almost as ill-fitting as his own. He tried to smile, grimaced at the heat, and awkwardly avoided his gaze at the same time. 

“You, uh. If you want water.”

“Ah. I’m getting mine, don’t worry. I don’t want to take your ration.”

“... Right,” the young man muttered, and kept riding by his side. Héctor took a couple of sips from his flask, just enough to make his mouth feel a little less like an entire desert had moved in, and glanced back towards the man. He seemed to hesitate, but as Héctor rather expected he finally spoke again. “So you are, uh, a novice?”

“I… I was, I suppose. I suspect leaving the parish to join the Federal Army means that’s going to lapse,” he said, trying to smile like the idea was funny. The man didn’t seem amused, and Héctor cleared his throat. “... My name’s Héctor, by the way.”

A nod. “Alejandro,” the man replied. “Look, me and the others - several of the others, we… I mean, back there, when the commander shot the gringo-- I mean, the priest, I would have never,” he finally blurted out, holding onto the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

Ah.

Héctor had barely looked at Father John’s body on the cobblestones, focused as he was on the fact that man had Miguel, but the mental image had still been lingering in the back of his mind ever since they left. The pool of blood, the way it got into every crack, the sticky warmth of it through his robes when his knees hit the ground. 

Some men had taken him away to get him help, he knew, and the Federales had allowed it, but Héctor had no idea if any help would even be possible. He was probably dead, for trying to reason with someone utterly unreasonable, for trying to save Miguel. 

He found his martyrdom, at last.

Something in Héctor’s chest ached; the gringo was not a simple man to get along with, easy to despise and quick to judge, but he had tried to do the right thing and he did not deserve a bullet for it. Perhaps taking note of his pained expression, the young man fidgeted. 

“Maybe God will save him,” he murmured, and swallowed. “I… we wanted to ask… do you think God will curse us for this? For shooting down one of His servants?”

Why ask me, Héctor almost replied, but then again it was the sort of question one would ask to a priest and he was the closest thing to one those men had at hand. Part of him wanted to believe God would indeed curse them, all of them, Huerta’s damn Federales - but as he looked around himself now, those men who’d seemed to terrifying looked so tired, dirty from days of travel, many of them young and probably wearing their uniforms no more willingly than he did. 

How many had been taken the way they were in the first place?

“There is no mercy in war,” he remembered Ernesto saying when he was found out and they confronted him. “They die or you do. On and on, day after day, until you forget you’re looking at humans because it gets easier if you get that detail out of your mind.”

“... The Church says that as long as there is regret, all can be forgiven,” he found himself saying instead. Alejandro nodded, but he looked far from reassured and just fell silent as they rode on towards the top of a hill they were never going to get past.

***

“Those bastards were supposed to come through San Luz!”

Arms still aching and palms burning from the friction with the rope, Sofía made it down the belltower and to the churchyard just on time to hear the frustrated shout. Right before the church were maybe twenty men and women on horses, all of them armed, being filled in on what had happened by a few very confused bystanders who likely had no idea what was going on but were relieved that these new visitors were not Federales at least.

As Sofía approached with quick steps, the man turned his horse to face her. “Gustavo--” he began, and trailed off. He blinked. “... You’re not Gustavo.”

Sharp as a knife, this one. Nice to see we’re in good hands.

“Gustavo went with them. He told me to call for you,” she added, pointing up to the belltower, where the bell still swung slowly. “He said I should tell you to follow the trail.”

The man seemed taken aback, then he nodded. “Very well. What direction did they--”

“They took the road west, through the hills.” 

Imelda’s voice rang out suddenly, causing several heads to turn. She was riding an aging horse that had belonged to her family for years, but that was not what made Sofía raise an eyebrow.

The robes were gone, replaced by a gown and a blouse, a belt at her waist with ammunition and the pistol they had taken from Ernesto’s room. Her head was uncovered, her jaw set; the man stared at her a few moments before he tilted his head in recognition. 

“... Sister. I was hoping to meet you again in better circumstances than this.”

“José. You probably already gathered as much, but the Federales that took our men outnumber you, at least three to one. I assume you could use an extra pair of hands.”

“We could,” one of the women spoke up. She spurred her own horse closer to Imelda, a rifle slung over her shoulder. Her hair was braided back, showing a still healing cut on the side of her head. “How much practice did you get with that pistol?”

Imelda met her gaze. “Not much. I’ll have to hope what practice I could get will be enough.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I die. Not the first or last.”

The woman smiled. “Very well. We’ll need someone to tell us what men not to shoot, after all, in case Gustavo can’t,” she added, and turned to look back at the man she’d called José. At this point, Sofía suspected she may have been mistaken in her assumption he was the leader there. “They can’t have gone very far, with the supplies and carts they took. We can catch up with them. Gabriel, you and I go ahead to dispatch anyone guarding the back of the column. If we don’t take them by surprise we’re fucked.”

“Well, you heard her, everyone. Let’s get going!”

As they kicked the flanks of their horses to get moving, Imelda looked back, and her gaze met Sofía’s. “... Sister,” she said, “I should mention this marks the end of my novitiate.”

Something gripping her throat - don’t die out there, she wanted to say - Sofía managed a smile. Trying to talk Imelda out of her plan, she knew, would be absolutely fruitless. “About time,” she said instead. “Go take back your stupid fiancé.”

The smile Imelda gave was sharp, telling her clearly that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not that Sofía had doubted that even for a moment. 

“You can be certain I will,” she said, and kicked the flanks of her horse, riding off.

“Ay, a novio,” one of the men muttered as he rode past. “And my heart breaks already.”

We had enough heartbreak as is for the day, Sofía thought, but said nothing. Instead she turned away from the galloping horses and let her gaze wander across the parish grounds. A few men were running off to grab what horses and hunting rifles they had and join the rescue party, but no trace of Ernesto. He’d returned, she knew, but no one had seen him since. 

Where in the world is that idiota hiding now?

***

Following the trail left behind by the column of Federales - the imprint of hooves, the wheels of carts, the cigarette butts they left in their wake - was easier than finding gonorrhea in a brothel.

Well, at least Ernesto supposed it was; he wouldn’t really know, as he had never in his life had gonorrhea or needed to resort to a brothel for pleasurable company in the first place. His good looks and charm had served him well enough with men and women alike, as Juan could testify.

Except that Juan was dead, shot like a dog in the middle of the plaza, what little color he had on his face draining away along with the blood; Ernesto had not seen it happen, but he could imagine it all too well each time he closed his eyes against the merciless July sun. 

Juan could never testify anything anymore, nor roll his eyes or start a lecture whenever Ernesto said something outrageous. He was far enough from Santa Cecilia that he could barely hear the bell anymore, but its toll was still ringing in his head, in every thudding beat of his heart. 

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I want them dead.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks, or so he told himself. Ernesto kicked the donkey’s flanks to make the stupid animal go faster, the reins of the other clutched tight in his hand, and wiped his forehead, teeth clenched hard. He clung to his fury, allowed himself to bare his teeth in something resembling a smile as his gaze fell on the caskets of wine. Holy wine, plus a special ingredient courtesy of the parish’s old rat problem.

He would see them dead. He would see them writhe and suffer, and he’d let them know it was by his hand; Juan would probably disapprove, that stupid stuck-up gringo, but he was no longer there to talk him out of it. He was no longer there to disapprove of him, and someone had to pay for it. How gracious of God’s church to provide the means to make it happen. Perhaps it was his will, after all, and who was he not to help along divine will?

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina, Juan had said.

Todo modo. Todo modo. Todo modo. 

Ernesto let the words echo in his head until they drowned out all noise from the bell, or perhaps it had stopped ringing, or he simply got too far for its sound to reach him anymore. He pressed on through the dusty path and up yet another hill until finally, finally, he saw it just below: a long column of men who were not long for that world. A few men at the back were looking up towards him, surely there to guard against rear attacks. But they saw no rebels there: only a priest, far more charming than the one they’d shot dead in Santa Cecilia.

Ernesto stared for a few moments, and finally let out a long breath, relaxing his frame. He wiped sweat off his face, opened his eyes, and smiled. A real smile, not a grimace; the easy, charming expression that got him in the good graces of men and women alike oh so quickly. 

Who would refuse a blessing in those difficult times? Who’d turn away a friendly face? Who wouldn’t accept some holy wine to wash down the dust and dirt? With some luck, it would be the last thing they’d do before they got to confess their sins to San Pedro himself. 

Good luck explaining away the murder of a man of the Church, Ernesto thought, and got the donkeys moving down the hill as quickly as he could. No turning back now, not anymore.

The thought did cross his mind for the briefest moment - what if they see through me, what if they recognize me - but it hardly even registered. At that point he was one deserter among thousands and he’d left his battalion as it headed north, with no plans to go back down towards Oaxaca. Chances any of those men came from his battalion were vanishingly thin, he thought, and to be fair he was almost entirely correct in that assumption. Just almost. 

Ernesto de la Cruz kept clambering down the hill on top of his donkey, with the smile of a friendly priest eager to deliver a very special blessing to the heroes of Mexico.

***

He wasn’t there, either. The slippery bastard wasn’t anywhere.

Santiago kicked his horse’s sides again, hands clenching on the reins. He had gone off ahead, ostensibly to scout for any sort of possible ambush, but truth be told it was only an excuse to be alone with his storming thoughts for a time. 

He already knew there would be no ambush: the idiots were still waiting for them in San Luz, or had given up waiting and were drinking themselves into a stupor, which was just as likely. A few more miles, and then they could circle back to take them by surprise in the middle of the night.He’d toyed with the idea before, but it was not the current plan: he and his men were expected in Yucatan within days, which left them short on time. 

But it was… tempting, nonetheless.

We could get some scum out of the way. And maybe de la Cruz is hiding there, or passed by. Someone might know something. Someone might talk.

Santiago closed his eyes and lifted his head, letting the sun beat down on his face. It had been a scorching hot day when he had found Alberto’s body, too, shot in the back of the head and left to feed carrion birds by the monster who’d greeted them that morning with a smile before they went off on patrol together. 

It should have been Santiago out on patrol with Ernesto de la Cruz  that day. It was his turn; it should have been him to fall face down in the sand with his brains blown out. But he’d pulled a muscle in his back the previous evening, riding felt like having hot rods pushed into his spine, and Beto had offered to take my place. 

Said I owed him a drink. What wouldn’t I give to pay back that debt.  

Monster, the gringo had called him. What sort of beast, he had said, but the idiota knew nothing of monsters and beasts that must be put down for everybody’s safety. He, at least, didn’t feign friendliness. He didn’t hide behind a smile. He warned before he shot, stated his terms and delivered on his promises.

If it made him a beast himself, very well; perhaps he was. Perhaps trying to take the child had been a step too far - but he’d sooner be a lion than a snake hiding in the sand. 

I cannot turn back anymore. No way to go but forward. 

But first, San Luz. If he’s there, I’ll smoke him out.

Santiago Hernández stopped his horse on a rocky outcrop and reached into the saddle bag to pull out his map, so he could work out the best route back for a quick attack. He opened it and studied it under the merciless sun, waiting for his men to catch up

It took him a while to realize it was taking them much too long.

***

“Oye! Come here!”

“There’s a priest!”

“We’re getting blessed, muchachos!”

“And we’re getting wine!”

“... Huh?”

As word travelled fast up the column, causing men to halt their horses and turn, Héctor glanced around in confusion. He looked over at Gustavo, but he seemed about as lost as he was at the notion of a random priest walking into marching Federales to offer blessings and wine. Where did he even--

“He says he’s the parish priest of the hole we just left,” someone added, and Héctor’s blood ran cold, something clenching in his stomach.

No, no, no, no. What is he doing here? They were looking for him. They’ll kill him.

“Padre Ernesto?” Francisco, a young cobbler who’d been taken with him that day, blurted out. Sidling up to Héctor, Gustavo elbowed him in the ribs. 

“What’s going on?” he growled under his breath. “Why is he here, and why did you get almost as pale as the gringo just now?”

“I…” Héctor swallowed, unable to force words out. Gustavo didn’t know, and this really was not the time to explain him everything. He needed to get to Ernesto immediately, warn him to get away while he still could, so he ignored Gustavo’s questions and spurred his horse to go back, towards the end of the column. The men there were already starting to gather, dismounting their horses… and passing around caskets of wine. 

Héctor braced himself for the moment someone would cry out in recognition and every man present would turn against Ernesto, but there was no such cry; the men were none the wiser as they talked and laughed, took the wine and kept gathering, all semblance of order gone. 

Above all, Héctor heard a familiar voice.

“... And once I realized I had entirely missed your arrival, well, I had to catch up with you,” Ernesto was saying, all charm and smiles as he helped unload the caskets of wine. “I couldn’t let my parishioners leave to serve this country without giving them my blessing, you understand. And you, of course, it is the least I could do - careful there, it’s heavy…”

It was like an impromptu party, but it was soon clear not everyone was simply in the mood to celebrate. Héctor did his best to approach, but he got knocked back by several men gathering around Ernesto. 

“Padre!”

“Can we have your blessing, Padre?”

“I have not had confession in months--”

“Haven’t heard from my family since March, I don’t know if they are well, pray for them--”

“What happened to that other priest-- the gringo, we did not--”

“Our commander lost his temper, a man of God, I would have never--”

“We would never--”

Ernesto turned to the men, and his smile wavered for only a moment. But then it was back, full of understanding. “... Padre Juan was a man of principle who did not always know when to hold his tongue, but he is with God now,” he said, and Héctor’s stomach sank. So he hadn’t made it. He was dead, and Ernesto showed no sign whatsoever of being affected. 

“His soul is safe, and I know he would want me to take care of yours,” Ernesto was going on, and he lifted his hand to impart a blessing, speaking loudly to be heard by all. He spoke in near-perfect Latin John Johnson would have been proud of, giving everyone present absolution before crossing himself. Many of the men mirrored the gesture, relief plain on their faces. Alejandro was among them, looking close to tears.

The blessing done, absolution given, Ernesto smiled and spread out his arms. “Now, let us all drink the blood of Christ and--”

“Padre!” Héctor finally cried out, pushing his way to the front, and Ernesto’s gaze turned on him. His smile grew even wider. 

“My child!” he cried out, and pulled him into an embrace. “Ah, what a relief, having reached you on time to absolve your sins and give you the Lord’s blessing!”

Face smashed against Ernesto’s shoulder, Héctor barely managed to whisper. “What are you doing--” he began, only for Ernesto to turn his head and almost snarl into his ear, his voice so full of seething fury it made Héctor’s heart skip a beat in his chest. 

“Saving your scrawny ass so I can kick it myself. Don’t drink the wine, none of you. Tell the others.”

“Wha-- Ernesto, wait, they’re--”

“Not a drop,” Ernesto hissed, and pushed him off before anyone realized they had spoken to one another, patting his shoulder with a laugh. “Go to the others, tell them they have my blessing and that the parish will look after their families,” he added, and before he could add another word Héctor was almost ejected from the small crowd, reeling. 

What does it mean? What has he done to the wine?

He looked around to see Alejandro taking one of the opened caskets, saw the wine flowing and men drinking. Héctor wanted to stop him, tell him not to - he was not a bad person, he could tell; many of them were not bad people - but he knew he couldn’t do so without alerting them all, and in the end he had to back away. 

Guilt twisted in his gut, but he knew he had to ignore it and move quickly. The wine was being passed around so fast, and he had to warn Gustavo and the others not to drink it before it got to them. Regardless how tempting it was not to tell Gustavo, of course.

No one has recognized him. Maybe it will be all right. Maybe whatever plan he has is going to work. Maybe it will make them pass out, no one needs to die, Héctor thought, and with one last glance towards Ernesto - he was positively holding court now, men around him laughing at something he said or crossing themselves and asking for a prayer - he ran back to where he left the others from Santa Cecilia, trying to reach them before the wine could.

Whatever Ernesto had done with it, he knew none of them wanted to find out the hard way.

***

What got Santiago to lift his gaze from the map and realize his men really should have caught up by now was a very distant sound, one he did not recognize at first. He put away the map with a frown, focusing, and for a moment he thought what he heard were distant screams. It made his blood run cold and his hands clench on the reins. 

Had his men been attacked? Could it be? Was there an ambush - had he walked right past the enemy without realizing as much? Heart hammering in his throat, Santiago spurred his horse to trot back, straining to listen… and finally he realized what he was hearing were not screams. 

Well, they kind of were, but those were no cries of distress; there was a rhythm to it, all voices rising up together and then falling, then rising again, like… singing? Was that bunch of idiots singing at the top of their lungs?

Have they all gone mad?

Stunned and furious at the same time, Santiago kicked his horse’s flanks to spur it into a gallop back the way he had come. He knew those men’s discipline was almost non-existent, but that was ridiculous. He would see them punished for it, he’d make them march through the night, he--!

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Soon he was close enough to hear the words and, after turning a bend, he could see that the sorry excuses of soldiers he’d been leading were off their horses and standing around or sitting in the dirt, drinking and singing like they were off duty in a damn cantina. 

He opened his mouth to shout at them, demand to know what was going on in their empty heads, but another voice rose up loud and clear and Santiago’s own voice died in his throat. 

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano..."

He knew that voice; he heard it before in the barracks, at campfires, whenever a comrade picked up a guitar. He never missed a chance to sing, turning each break in a performance. 

Alberto had found it endearing; he’d found it annoying. Now it made him feel as though the sweat on his skin had turned into frost.

Still atop his horse Santiago turned slowly, very slowly, towards the source of that voice. He had not expected the priestly robes, and he’d had a beard when he’d last seen him, but he would recognize that despicable face anywhere; he’d dreamed of it almost every night, grinning down at him as he kneeled over Beto’s body.

And now he was there. 

How or why he had come to be there, let alone in a cassock and singing along with his men as they guzzled down wine, Santiago had no idea nor he cared to know. All that he knew, all that mattered, was that he was there within his grasp, and that he would never escape again. 

Santiago Hernández bared his teeth, and reached for the pistol at his hip.

***

BANG.

The gunshot was distant, reverberating through the hills, impossible to mistake for anything else. It made Imelda’s blood run cold, but she didn’t slow down; her horse was in full gallop, right at the heels of José’s own - which, come to think of it, looked an awful lot like Ernesto’s own missing horse - and she spurred it to go a bit faster, just enough to sidle with him. 

“Was that one of yours? Did you prepare an ambush?” she yelled to be heard through the rushing wind and beating hooves, knowing full well what the answer was but still hoping against hope to get at least some explanation for the gunshot. 

José shook his head, his expression grim. “No such thing. There may be insubordination among them.”

“Does it happen often?”

“All the time. But we’ll only know when we catch up,” he added, and spurred his horse again. Imelda could only follow, and hope for the best.

If he gets himself killed, she thought, I’ll have to kill him again.

***

The gunshot was deafeningly loud, and close enough to make Héctor cry out - him, and several other men - and the singing to stop abruptly. There were confused cries, men jumping on their feet and dropping their cups of wine to reach for their own guns, turning around wildly to find out who’d shot.

They didn’t have to look far.

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

Still on top of his horse, pistol raised in the air, Commander Hernández stared at Ernesto with enough hatred to make Héctor tremble. He was vaguely aware of Gustavo and another couple of men from Santa Cecilia talking to him under their breath, asking what the hell was going on, but Héctor was unable to speak, dread gripping his throat. 

He found him. It’s over.

He wanted to cry out for Ernesto to run, to do something, but there was nothing for him to do and he could only stand there, staring in horror. Ernesto had stilled, realization beginning to dawn on him that he’d been recognized, and that he was trapped. 

The soldiers around him were not quite as quick to grasp the situation. “What--”

“Commander, we, uh, can explain--”

“Shut up, all of you, and seize that traitor!”

“... Sir, that is Padre--”

“That’s no more a priest than I am, idiots! It’s the deserter we’ve been looking for!”  the man screamed, and leaped off his horse, pistol still in his hand. “ SEIZE HIM, I SAID!”

“Qué?” Gustavo blurted out somewhere on Héctor’s right, and it seemed that sentiment was prevalent among the Federales as well, most of whom kept staring at their commander as though he’d suddenly started speaking Portuguese. 

Then Ernesto tried to run, and all hell broke loose.

Héctor had gone hare hunting once, out of sheer curiosity, watching from the sidelines and not really doing much. The pack of dogs, all of them friendly mutts, had seemed comically clumsy, wagging their tails and snuffling about, seemingly more interested in playing than hunting… until a hare had burst out of its hiding spot to run away, and suddenly the entire pack had pounced. The chase had been brief, the screams unbearably loud, the outcome bloody, and Héctor had felt queasy as the owner of the dogs lifted the prey, grinning from ear to ear while his dogs went back to goofing off.

“This,” he had said, “is why you never try running before even the dumbest dog pack.”

Now Héctor watched Ernesto make the same mistake, and again the dogs pounced as one. The hare had no chance of escape that day, and neither did he now. 

“STOP HIM!”

“Got him, I got him!”

“Get your hands of me, hijos de--”

“Agh! He bit me!”

“Get him over here!”

If any of the soldiers had doubted Commander Hernández’s words and still believed him a priest, Ernesto thrashing and screaming insults to their entire lineage - through the flea-ridden Spaniards who’d forced their way between their great-great-great-great grandmothers’ thighs and all the way down to the Garden of Eden - probably took care of it. 

As Héctor stared, petrified and not knowing what to do, he was dragged in front of the commander and forced on his knees, arms behind his back. Hernández put the pistol back in its holster, walked up to Ernesto, and grabbed a fistful of his hair to force his head back. 

He gave a cold, too-wide smile that still did not reach his eyes and said something Héctor could not hear. Ernesto’s scowl turned to shock for a moment, and then his features twisted in fury. He screamed and tried to rise up to throw himself at Hernández, almost made it, but too many men were holding him down and he was pushed back in the dirt. Orders were barked and they began dragging Ernesto away from the rest of the still confused soldiers, off the path and towards a small grove of trees and shrubs. One of the men carried a long rope. 

They'll see me hang, Ernesto had told them after being unmasked, and God, he'd been right. “No, wait!” Héctor cried out and tried to run, but something gripped his arm, pulled him back. 

“Stay here, idiota,” Gustavo hissed, his grasp on Héctor’s wrist tight enough to cut off the blood flow. He glared. “Won’t let you become a martyr on my watch, you’re insufferable enough as is. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. Did you know about him?”

“I can’t let them kill--”

“Did you know!” Gustavo barked, and Héctor fell silent, his expression probably speaking volumes. Gustavo groaned, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “A Federale right under my nose and I never knew. Por Dios, José is never going to let me hear the end of it...”

“Gustavo, let me go, we have to help him--”

“Help is coming, idiota. Stay here.”

“But--”

“Help is coming,” Gustavo repeated in the forceful way of a man trying to will something into reality. “At least that damn liar delayed their march. Any moment now--” he trailed off when a sudden noise reached their ears amidst the confusion and exclamations, harsh and unmistakable - retching. Soon followed by another such sound, and another. And another. 

One by one, the men around them began looking very, very sick.

***

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastards--!”

Ernesto’s insults got him precisely nowhere, and his attempt at fighting off the men dragging him away was about as useless. Too many of them, too strong, his wrists already tied behind his back before they shoved him on his knees in the dirt before the cabrón who had somehow recognized his face.

When said cabrón stepped forward and grabbed his hair to yank his head back, Ernesto clenched his teeth to hold back a cry and glared up at him. Who was he? Dimly he knew he must know him, he looked vaguely familiar - something about the mustache, the unusually thin bridge of his nose - but he still could not put a name to the face the way that bastard had somehow put a name to his.

Unaware of his thoughts, the man sneered. “Ernesto de la Cruz - so the rat comes out in the open at last. What’s the reason for this masquerade? Did you think these robes would save you? They will not. I shot down a true priest today. Or was the gringo an impostor, too?”

Our commander lost his temper, one of them had said. 

That beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!

YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!

With a wordless scream, Ernesto strained against the men holding him down, against his bounds, wanting nothing more than putting his hands around the man’s neck and choke the life out of him. He almost managed to stand, but the weight of several men was too much and he was thrown back down in the dirt.

“You, take him and follow me. Rojas, get enough rope to hang this bastard. Quick.”

“Yes sir.”

No no no no no!

Ernesto struggled, but to no avail. Bound and overpowered, he was easily dragged away from the path by the small group of men - towards shrubs and trees, where they could hang him by the neck and leave him to feed carrion birds. They would not give him a clean death, he knew. No fall, no broken neck. They’d string him up and… and… 

“Let me go!”

“Oh, as you wish.”

The men threw him down on the ground, and with his hands tied there was nothing sparing his face a painful impact. Ernesto ground his teeth to stifle a cry, only for that cry to be forced out of him when a kick in his side threw him onto his back. A knee pressed on his chest and the man leaned down, all his weight on Ernesto’s sternum.

When is the damn poison going to work?

Maybe the parish got scammed and that wasn’t poison at all. Wouldn’t that be a laugh, a fake priest dead thanks to fake poison. 

As he struggled to breathe, Ernesto blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked up. Seen up close there was something startling in the sheer hatred in the man’s gaze, and it caused Ernesto to still a moment. The soldier, John’s murderer, sneered once again. 

“Tell me, traitor,” he all but snarled. “Do you even know who I am?”

Don’t make him mad, part of Ernesto’s brain said, but the rest clung to the hope the poison would start working soon. Make him waste time.

“Should I?” he spat. A fist connected with his face as soon as the words were out, causing his vision to swim. Blood ran down his face from a split lip, went down his throat. Somewhere above him he saw the rope being thrown up over a branch, one end already tied in a noose. 

And then, before his eyes, the blade of a knife caught the sunlight.

***

He didn’t even recognize him.

Of all the ways Ernesto de la Cruz had wronged him, that somehow was the final straw, the worst possible slap to the face. He’d murdered his best friend since childhood and ran off, leaving him to obsess over revenge for months on end - unable to sleep without seeing his face or Beto’s body in the sand, or both - and now he dared say he didn’t even know who he was.

Ah, but he’d know. Before he died, when he allowed him to die, he would know. 

“I know who you are well enough,” Santiago snarled, and pulled out his hunting knife. “A coward, a traitor, and a murderer. You’re a Judas, and you’ll die as Judas did - and everyone will know why!”

De la Cruz tried to squirm beneath him, still dazed by the blow but all too aware of the blade of his knife. Santiago sneered, held the knife to his throat, and watched him grow still. There was terror in his eyes, unmistakable, and he savored it like a sip from a bottle of fine wine. 

“Ay, you’ll wish I made it this easy for you.” The blade slipped beneath his collar and ripped down through the cassock, baring his chest. 

De la Cruz tried to squirm again, this time with more urgency, eyes wide. “Stop!” he rasped.

Santiago smiled. “Why? Have you recalled my name?”

“I have done nothing to you. I--”

“Liar. I should take an eye for that,” he snapped, and brought the tip of the knife’s blade to rest right beneath a widened eye, drawing the tiniest drop of blood from his skin. “Think again, you Judas. Think of the day you deserted. Someone was with you.”

“What…” Ernesto de la Cruz paused and finally, finally, Santiago saw his expression change - from terror and confusion to realization. Of course, that must have jogged his memory: the two of them had barely shared a few words, but he must remember Alberto. And wherever Alberto went, Santiago followed.

Until, of course, de la Cruz had sent Beto someplace where Santiago could not follow.

You took him away.

Something ached in his chest, and all of a sudden Santiago felt ridiculously close to tears. But he had him now. He would see him die, Alberto would be avenged, and he would finally feel better. He had to feel better. He could not contemplate feeling the way he did forever.

“Thiago,” de la Cruz choked out, and he scoffed. Of course, even now, the self-absorbed bastard couldn’t be bothered to remember anyone’s name. 

“Santiago,” he snapped, and leaned in so close their faces almost touched, pressing the blade a little harder on Ernesto’s skin and causing another pinprick of blood to well up. “But it matters not. You know whose name I want you to remember, sí? That of the man you killed.”

De la Cruz swallowed. “Alberto,” he managed. “I-- I didn’t want to kill him. I swear. I only wanted to get away, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I... he would have stopped me, he--”

“And so you shot him like a dog!” Santiago screamed, causing that disgusting coward to wince. He pulled back, knees still pressed against his sternum, keeping him pinned down. The grip on the handle of his knife was so tight it ached. And he even had the galls, this bastard, to lecture him for shooting a gringo! 

“You left him dead to feed scavengers, and you really thought I would let it stand! You really thought I wouldn’t hunt you down like the beast you are! Tell me, did you kiss him the way Judas kissed Christ when he betrayed him?”

A shudder beneath him that may have been a sob. “P-por favor--”

“Oh, you’re begging now?” Santiago gave a loud, ugly laugh, and pressed the blade against Ernesto de la Cruz’s chest. “Very well, traitor. Go on and beg,” he said, and began to cut.

He did beg, but only for a few moments. For a good while, all he could do was scream.

***

[Back]

[Next]

[boyy-wonder-grayson]

Crush

Summary: Jason has a crush on the reader who happens to be Dick’s girlfriend.

Requested: yes

Parings: Dick Grayson x Reader. Jason Todd x Reader (kind of)

Warnings: angst, smut a little

A/N: just a lil imagine that my lovely frined @riseofnightwing requested. (not beta read cause im tired so sorry for mistakes)

The rain tapped against the windows of the tower, a quiet sort of night. The air around the tower was so tense that you could almost cut it with a knife. It's been almost three days since the last time Dr light attacked,and the team was frustrated without new leads to follow. Dick, Hank, Donna and Kory were trying to find something out in the streets,but it's been two hours since they've gone out and so far nothing.

Y/n sighed in frustration, she cracked her neck trying to release the tension from the last few days and went to the kitchen to get some coffee. She's been sitting at the computer for most of the day trying to find something, and waiting for something from the others but to no avail. 

"Hey Y/n" Jason greeted her from his spot on the kitchen. He was already drinking coffee and offered to make some to Y/n which she accepted gratefully. 

"Got anything on Dr douchebag?" He asked making her chuckle. 

"Nothing so far" she yawned covering her mouth with her hand. "And the other have nothing either. I hate this dude, can he like surrender or something in getting really tired of San Francisco's jail system." She complained 

"It's like they let the villains out whenever the city starts gains some peace" she finished drowning the remaining of her coffee. She really needed caffeine today.

Jason laughed at her outburst and placed a hand on her shoulder rubbing comforting circles near the skin of her neck. 

"We're gonna get him, that's what we do" he said looking at her with softness on his gaze.

Y/n smiled down at him, she was a few inches taller than him, and placed her hand on top of his "thanks jay I kinda needed that". Jason felt his heart hammered in his ribcage at their close proximity. It was now or never, he leaned in trying to kiss her, much to her oblivion, but the moment was cut short when her phone rang.

"Hey Dick what's up?" She answered the phone, throwing Jason an apologetic look, leaving the boy alone in his frustrated state. She left the room and went back to the computer and sat down.

"I was thinking maybe we could have some...alone time when I come back to the tower?" Dick asked her. She knew exactly what he meant by that and to be honest she was thrilled that Dick needed her as much as she needed him. She released a breathy laughed and told him that she couldn't wait for him to come back. 

It's been three months since they started dating and almost two years of mutual pining for each other. When she had enough of Dick's bullshit she decided to take the first step and kissed him after one successful mission. A victory kiss if you will, and Dick was happy that at least someone had the balls to make a move. 

Ever since then things went pretty great. What they didn't know was that Dick was not the only one with a massive crush on the female hero. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd was in love. Or so Rachel said. She was the only one who knew about her gigantic crush on Y/n and it was an honest mistake that she found that out. Sometimes her powers get out of control and casually that day, Jason was around. He made her swear  not to tell anything to anyone and Rachel assured him she wouldn't say a word.

Jason wasn't the type to pine after someone like Y/n. Not because he was some sort of asshat that believed that he was better than anyone,or that she wasn't enough. It was because y/n was the total opposite of him. While she has a happy-go-lucky attitude towards life, Jason was more of  when-life-doesn't-give-you-lemons-you-kick-down-the-tree. That was one of the main reasons; another one was how much everyone enjoyed having her around, he sure as hell did. She was so optimistic and full of life that at the beginning, that it surprised Jason so much that he thought she was faking it. In this type of life no one was that happy. But with time he realised that she was genuinely just a happy person; which made Jason feel things he didn't want to. He wasn't expecting to fall for someone like her, specially when she's a bit older than him. And specially when he saw his brother act the same way as him towards her more than once. 

It drove Jason insane to see him all over her, but he didn't want to give away his feelings for her.

He was supposed to go on patrol later that night, since the other were already out he would take their place, alongside Gar, Rachel, Conner and Dawn.  He didn't want to leave now that he could spend some time with her, but the job needed to be done. He suited up and just as he was going out Y/n walked past him, she smiled at him.

"Looking good Robin" she told him playfully. He winked at her and made a reverence which made her rolled her eyes at the boy.

"Be safe out there, okay?" She told him with softness. Jason's heart did a flip and he felt his face turn red. He only nodded and before he left she hugged him. He melt into her embrace that didn't last too long much to his chagrin.

He left for patrol not without promising that he would confess his feelings for her when he got back.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Y/n sighed when she felt Dick's lips on the inside of her tights. She grabbed a fistful of his hair to bring her closer to where she really needed him. The brown haired boy chuckled but obey without a fuss. Truth is she loved when he went down on her, and Dick was damn good at it. She bit the inside of her hand trying to tune down her moans but she failed miserably. She pulled Dick's hair harder than before making him grunt in response. She was so out of herself that at this point she didn't give a shit if someone heard them or not. When he was done she plopped down on her side laughing at her state. She was breathing heavily and sweat run through her forehead. Y/n looked at him and saw a smug smile graced her boyfriend's face.

"I guess you enjoyed that" he asked cuddling her.

"Mm what makes you said that?" She asked playfully.

Dick kissed her shoulder and pulled her closer to his chest.

"Oh I don't know, maybe the way were moaning my name when I put my-" he was cut short when she elbowed him in the stomach making the boy laughed. 

"Shut up and go to sleep" she said closing her eyes. She was exhausted and so was he. Whenever they had sex Dick usually leaves in the morning before everyone could catch them,but since they were so exhausted Dick just sleep right through his alarm until a certain black haired boy bursted into the room the next morning. 

The two heroes were soundly asleep when Jason entered her room. He was shocked when he saw them sleeping together and naked. Dick's hands were all around her and she was grabbing the former arm. Jason felt sick. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His brother and his crush sleeping together. Naked. He got out of there fast and bumped into Hank in the hallway.

"Hey man watch it" the blonde said.

"Fuck off" he yelled not even bothering how much attention he drew to himself. He felt his eyes watered. It shouldn't be this bad, it shouldn't affect him this much. But it did, he felt his breath quicken. 

"What the fuck is your problem dude?" Hank questioned.

"You! And everyone in this fucking tower!" Jason yelled.

Y/n and Dick woke up when at the commotion and quickly got dressed. When they reached the living room they saw Jason and Hank fighting.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Dick asked walking towards Jason to calm him down. He tried to put a hand on his little brother's shoulder but Jason shook it off rather violently.

" don't fucking touch you. You fucking traitor" Jason said through gritted teeth. Dick was taken aback by his brothers rage.

"What are you talking about?" 

"You knew i liked her!" He pointed at Y/n who was quiet throughout this whole exchange. "And yet you still went and fucked her behind my back" he spewed the words.

Dick face felt. He cursed under his breath and tried to talk to Jason but the boy just shook his head and walked away. 

Y/n walked out of the living room feeling like shit. How could she not notice this? She asked herself. Jason's been spending so much time with her but she never really thought about this, she thought they were just friends. Just really good friends.

Dick found her crying in her bed. She truly felt like a shitty person.

"Hey stop that" Dick said wiping the tears from her face. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just" she took a shaky breath before she continued "how come we didn't realize this? He's your brother for fucks sake! And now he hate us for this" 

"Do you regret this? Us?" Dick asked with concern across his face.

"What?" She sniffed "no! Of course not. But I just can't help but feel like shit because I love Jason,like a brother and now I don't think there's coming back from this" she sighed.

"Look, I know Jason. He's hurt right now but he'll turn around and come back. He's a good kid he just needs time" dick reassured her.

Y/n nodded and looked at his boyfriend. She took his head on her hands and gave him a deep long kiss. Hopefully things will get better soon.

[heartsywritesthethings]

Tickling! Plus Ultra! 5 (End)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The class of 1-A was quickly transported over to Momo Yaoyorozu’s mansion after both Bakugo and Deku were taken from the villains. They all had bags with their clothes and other items with them, standing in the middle of the foyer awkwardly. Even Momo seemed to be awkwardly standing around, even though this was her house. Sure, he had a few of the students over before, but never in a situation like this. Bakugo was being more distant than usual, not even standing near Kirishima like he usually did. Deku was smiling, but it was strained. Even Kirishima who was usually their spot of light in darkness, seemed to have a cloud over his head. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s get everyone settled and…uh…” Momo said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. She took a deep breath before leading everyone to their rooms. 

“We should try and play a game to get everyone’s spirits up before we fall asleep.” Iida said, though the steam had left his voice. All of that running around had really taken the wind out of him. 

“I…I think I’m a little too tired for our kinds of games tonight, guys.” Deku said, rubbing at his sides absently. All of the tickling from both their games and…especially since Toga had really done a number on his ticklish nerve endings. He wasn’t exactly ready for another round. 

“‘Night.” Bakugo said curtly. He stepped into a room and closed the door behind him. The other students of 1-A heard the lock click and that was about it. 

“Guess he’s tired.” Kirishima hummed to himself. He stared at the door a moment longer, wanting to go in and help Kacchan. It couldn’t feel good being attacked and kidnapped so many times by the league of villains. He couldn’t even imagine what those villains must have done and said to him.

“Well, everyone else is going to have to share bedrooms. I’ll take the couch in the main room since Bakugo took a room to himself.” Momo said with a small sigh. Not that she could blame him, but it still wasn’t entirely fair for him to just lock himself in some random house.

“Don’t worry about it, Momo! Since you were so nice to let us stay in your house, I’ll take the couch.” Kirishima said with a charming smile. Momo thought about it for a moment before shrugging. She was absolutely exhausted after making so many things on such a short notice earlier tonight. 

“Alrighty then. The rest of you can follow me.” Momo said, waving for the rest of the class to shuffle behind her.

On the couch, Kirishima checked his phone for just about the millionth time. He was waiting for Bakugo to finally tell him that he was alright. A meme. A link to a Youtube channel. Anything. When nothing came across, he decided to put matters into his own hands. In the Bakugo Squad Group chat (Chaos Crew), he decided to share the code for the game that Bakugo couldn’t say no to.

QWTRZ - Among us code.

Kirishima’s red character ran around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join. 

A pink character with a flower named SlimePrincess joined.

A yellow character with the dum sticker named ChargeBolt joined.

A white character with the floppy brown hat named 0 joined.

A purple character with a red beanie named EarJackD joined.

Kirishima chewed on his bottom lip as he waited. If they waited much longer, then they would be kicked for inactivity. Damn…Bakugo must really be in a bad mood if he didn’t want to play a game where he could slaughter his friends.

An orange character with an egg on top named ExplosionMrdr joined.

Kirishima smiled at his screen and began the game. The little sprites began running around the map and Kiri’s character stuck with Bakugo’s. He wished that there was a way he could chat with him within the game, but just sticking with him was good enough. 

Well, that was until the little orange guy turned around and stabbed him in the back. Kirishima pouted at his screen. Just like Bakugo to kill him first thing in the game. 

As a ghost, Kirishima’s character followed Bakugo’s around the map as he jumped in and out of vents and slashed at passersby. It was a short game and an absolute slaughterhouse. The very last crewmate who was left alive as the game ended had been Sero. 

The next game, it was Kirishima who was the Imposter. He followed Bakugo around, ready to kill at a moment’s notice. As he did, Bakugo’s character ran to the button and pressed it. 

What the hell?

ExplosionMrdr: it’s ****** hair.

SlimePrincess: Proof?

0: Proof?

ChargeBolt: Where?

EarJackD: No one died, Denki.

EarJackD: Kinda sus.

ExplosionMrdr: u idiots its literally **** hair

ExplosionMrdr voted.

0: Anyone wanna follow me to Medbay? I gotta get scanned.

RedR10t: Ill go with u

ChargeBolt: How do I vent like pink did?

EarJackD: im voting denki. Sus af.

EarJackD voted.

ChargeBolt voted.

RedR10t voted.

SlimePrincess voted.

0 voted.

No One was Ejected. (1) Imposter remains. 

The game continued. Kirishima followed Bakugo again, but this time decided to turn off the lights and then kill Bakugo’s character in front of the medbay. No one saw because of the lowered lights.

There was a frustrated yell that the entire mansion could hear. Bakugo stormed out of his room and the sound of his pounding footsteps grew louder and louder. Kirishima stared at his phone screen as he heard his impending doom get closer and closer to him.

Bakugo grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

“Is it you? Are you the imposter?” Bakugo yelled in his face.

Wait, what?

“U-uh, it’s just a game, dude and I didn’t mean to kill you–” Kirishima stammered. This was definitely not the reaction he had wanted. Sure, the frustrated scream and the storming out of the room was something he wanted, but this seemed like something more.

“Did you sell us out, shitty hair? Did you tell that stupid group of low lives what we were up to?” Bakugo yelled, almost as if he didn’t even hear anything that Kirishima had said. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, putting his hand on Bakugo’s wrist. It was a small gesture, but Bakugo retracted his hand. Bakugo ran his hands through his hair in stress.

“Just fucking tell me if it’s you. You can’t keep lying to my fucking face.” Bakugo continued, his voice trembling. Small sounds of footsteps could be heard as the others in the class peeked out of their rooms to see what all of the commotion was about. Kirishima frowned and took Bakugo’s wrist and led him into a different room. 

“Alright, dude. What is going on? I’m sorry for killing you in the game, but this is a little much.” Kirishima said. He reached out and placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, but he pulled away. 

“There’s someone here, shitty hair. Someone here that could have sold us out. Could still be selling us out! It could be you for all I fucking know!” Bakugo yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in Kirishima’s direction. 

The red head sighed, a look of pity crossing his face. Whatever those villains had said to him…they made him think that there was some kind of traitor among the UA students. With how many times they had been caught and Bakugo had been kidnapped…it would make sense to a degree. 

“Kacchan…look at me.” Kirishima said, stepping closer to Bakugo.

“Don’t get close to me!” Bakugo said, flinching away from his friend. He looked away from the red head, his body shaking all over. Kirishima took the risk of getting burned and wrapped his arms around Bakugo, hugging him as tightly as he could.

“Katuski…please. Take a deep breath, man.” Kirishima said softly. 

Ever so slowly, Bakugo melted into the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s waist and buried his head in Kirishima’s neck. 

“That bastard…whoever it is in this dumbass class…I’ll kill them.” Bakugo grumbled. Kirishima shook his head, squeezing Bakugo closer to him. 

Having been taken hostage so many times has really gotten to him. After being beaten around and taken away from his friends so many times, it was perfectly reasonable that some trust issues towards his friends would start to surface.

“None of us would do that to you, man. Seriously. You may be loud and obnoxious, but everyone in this class thinks of you as a friend.” Kirishima said, resting his hand on the back of Bakugo’s head. He could feel something wet against the shoulder of his shirt and he just knew that Bakugo was…crying. It broke his heart. 

“There’s…someone here, Kiri. They’re going to take us down from the inside. It’s so damn stupid.” Bakugo wheezed, clawing at the back of Kirishima’s shirt. Kirishima sighed heavily, feeling tears of his own in his eyes as he held his friend. It really broke his heart to see Kacchan like this. This hurt. 

“No one is out to get you, Bakugo. Even if they are, I-I’ll protect you, okay?” Kirishima told him. He meant every word of it too. He pat his hand against Bakugo’s back and pulled away ever so slightly.

“Come on, let’s go to bed, okay?” He said. 

Bakugo pulled away and wiped his face wildly with his shirt. 

“Whatever. Yeah, sure. You should probably sleep in a bed, dumbass.” He grumbled and turned to walk back up to the room that he had stormed out of. Kirishima sniffled and wiped his own tears from his face. He snatched up his phone and his bag of stuff as he walked up to the bedroom. Once inside, Bakugo threw himself on the bed with very little grace. Kirishima set his stuff down on a nearby bedside and crawled into the bed as well. Once he did, Bakugo slowly pulled himself by Kirishima’s side. He rested his head on Kirishima’s shoulder, threw an arm around his waist, and tangled their legs together. Kirishima couldn’t help but smile as the blonde got himself comfortable. 

“Despite everything, I’m glad the class got to know your special weakness. Now I can tickle you out in the open,” Kirishima said, sliding his fingertips up and down Bakugo’s back. Bakugo squirmed slightly, but he didn’t remove himself from Kirishima’s side.

“Bet your ass that I’ll kill you tomorrow. You won’t escape my wrath.” Bakugo grumbled, pushing his face further against Kirishima’s shoulder.

“Plus ultra?” Kirishima teased and tweaked a couple of Bakugo’s ribs. 

“Pluhus Ultra.” Bakugo chuckled. 

Kirishima hummed softly and pressed his lips against the top of Bakugo’s head in a soft kiss. 

“Shut up and go to sleep, shitty hair.” Bakugo said. Kirishima let his fingers drag up and down Bakugo’s back just a few strokes longer before he slowly drifted off to sleep.

12/25

 -Ga!babe

[dapandapod]

Also posted (by me) on Ao3! ~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~ Jaskier sits at the local tavern. It’s their second night there, it’s a decent place. Comfy beds, clean rooms, locals… not unfriendly. Which is nice, for a change. He didn’t even have to sweeten them up with his amazing bard talents to get them a room.
And for once, Geralt didn’t mind sleeping indoors instead of outdoors. Even though it’s a mild, dry autumn night.
Also nice. But weird. They don’t even have a contract here. Perhaps Geralt worked one previously and was successful? If so, he failed to mention. Jaskier watches him from his place at their table, which for once is not located in the innermost corner against the wall.
All his alarm bells are ringing, but Geralt is calm. Content, one might even say if one knew him. Jaskier is pretty damn sure he knows him. Or at least he was sure, until now. Jaskiers eyes narrow, but all Geralt does is talk to the barmaid and puts coins on the counter. He can’t hear them talking, but he can hear her laugh.
Wait. Are they flirting?
No, can’t be. She might be flirting with him but Geralt wouldn't…. Would he?
She is awfully pretty, with big blue eyes, a soft body and a bright smile. Not an ounce of fear from what he can see. Well, he is glad for Geralt, who now is smiling at her. Weird. The witcher grabs the tankards the barmaid poured for them, and with a last smile over his shoulder walks over to Jaskier and hands him one of the tankards. They have a normal and pleasant conversation, Jaskier doing most of the talking as per usual and Geralt contributing with his usual “Hmm”s and grunts. Everything is normal. Suspiciously so.
Jaskier keeps an eye on that barmaid as she walks around the tables, pouring drinks and serving customers. Not sure what’s irking him.
When she approaches their table a small flare of irritation blossoms in his chest, and he honestly can’t tell why. She smiles brightly at them, a little brighter at Geralt, if Jaskier is any judge.
“You’re a bard right?” She fixes her blue gaze at Jaskier. “Would you do us the honor of a performance?” This is not weird. This happens all the time, earning them coins and boons, and so he obliges. Because this is a normal night, even though nothing is normal about it. He grabs his lute, sips his drink to sweeten his moneymaker, and starts his performance.
His audience tonight is kind, appreciative and generous. They toss coins at him and send wine and beer to his table. And that is when Jaskiers eyes return to Geralt. His eyes do that, from time to time. It is almost out of his control, but it is his muse and whom many of his best songs are based on so it is reasonable to keep a lookout.
What is not reasonable however, is that bright barmaid sitting in Geralt’s lap. With Geralt’s arms around her. Jaskier almost drops his lute. That irritation returns, he feels it like a stab, like a burn, like a fucking dagger. What the hell Geralt?! He never does that? Jaskier knows his witcher, knows his habits concerning this kind of escapades. He is usually more discreet! This was, if he is honest, more something Jaskier himself would do. So he can’t really judge him.
But what the fuck? He finishes his performance, trying to keep up a pleasant expression. It gets increasingly harder as the barmaid leans in against Geralt, pressing her breasts against him in the process, and whispers in his ear. Jaskier approaches their table and sits down.
They barely notice him, her hand stroking over Geralt’s chest, pulling at the collar at his tunic. Jaskier has never seen Geralt allow that, so he just waits for him to pry her hand off.
But he doesn’t. Jaskier nods at one of the patrons who paid for his drink and sips at it. The red colour identifies it as wine, but he can’t taste it. He can only feel that uncomfortable churning feeling in his gut as he waits for the pair on the other side on the table to notice him. When he puts down his drink a little harder than probably necessary (Jaskier is not good at not getting attention) they finally do.
“Oh, hi Jaskier.” Geralt hums at him from behind the barmaids softness. His yellow eyes twinkle in the dim lighting, which is hella weird. Is he under some spell? Because that looked like mischief, and that is a look he never saw on Geralt’s face before.
“Oh, that’s a big bite Geralt.” Says the barmaid in Geralt’s lap. Her fingers are now inside his collar, probing a scar at the side of his neck. “That must have hurt.” Now, Jaskier is well versed in Geralts scars, and how to get him to talk about those he was not there to witness. It is not easy to coax it out of him. She will get a grunt, or a “Hmm.” if he’s generous.
A “Fuck off, bard.” if he woke up on the wrong side of the bedroll.
Which is more often than not.
He smiles into his drink in anticipation of what’s to come. “Yeah, I passed right out from that one. A striga took a chunk out of me as she turned back to a human.” What the actual fuck. Jaskier had to DRAG that from his evil, traitorous, selfish lips that would not share a thing if not threatened with getting his hair cut off! The betrayal. Jaskier and Geralt are FRIENDS. He slaps his hands on the table in indignation. How could he do this to him? Jaskier prided himself as one of the few privileged with this information, relayed to him in trust and …. well, threats with scissors, but those stories are HIS. Not some… some barwench flimsily touching his, HIS witcher. And that puts a halt on all thoughts for a while.
Geralt is not his. Not like that. Even though the thought MIGHT have crossed his mind a few times (a day), there is nothing like that between them. He studies the wooden veins in the table, tracking them absently with his finger, lost in thought. He barely registers their continued conversation.
When he snaps out of it, Geralt’s eyes are on him.
“You okey Jaskier?”
“Hmm.” Jaskier finds himself grumbling before he can stop himself, but nods yes. “Uh, yes, yes, I’m fine. Just… tired. Might go up to our room soon.” he grumbles. This is jealousy he realizes. And that’s not good. Because that means HE wants to be the one in that muscular lap. Damnit. The antidote for this normally would be to find some handsome bloke or… a pretty barmaid. And with a barmaid on display like that he is very much not up for it. “Im… Yeah, I’m just gonna go to our room.” Dropping our room makes him feel just a little better. With a tiny (tiny) spark of hope he looks at Geralt. “You coming?” But Geralt, damn that evil bloody witcher, just pats the bright barmaids bum (she fucking giggles!) and shakes his head.
“I’ll stay here for a while longer.” Jaskier tries so hard not to show his jealousy, trying not to glare at the offending, boobwearing monster that put his claws in Geralt, nods, and walks off to the stairs. Definitely not pouting. ~~*~~ When Jaskier is well out of sight, the barmaid Bella, as her name is, sighs and shakes her head.
“That poor boy.” She says, looking back at the stairs. “Well, as nice as it was seeing you again Geralt, but I really must get back to work.”
Geralt releases Bella from his arms and she gets up, patting down her dress to straighten nonexistent wrinkles. She snorts suddenly.
“His face when you told me about your scar!” she smirked. “He will be pouting for days.”
“Counting on it.” Geralt smirked back. “But maybe that will teach him not to bring his conquest of the night to the table.”
Bella studie him as she reaches for the empty tankards.
“Or, you know, you could just tell him you want to fuck him over the table. Because clearly I was only here to make him jealous.” Geralt is a very, very controlled man. He does not blush. He does not splutter. He does not appreciate it when someone (other than Jaskier) can read him.
Geralt splutters. And blushes furiously.

[stormcrawler75]

"You helped me. And now I will help you." With analogical, preferably romantic but I'd be content with however you decide to do it.

Virgil looked over his shoulder fearfully. He could hear the pounds of hooves coming closer to him and he pulled desperately at the lock on the iron cage. The captive inside watched him with eyes that were large and unafraid. His blue butterfly wings were curled tight to his back and he was sitting in the middle of the cage, as far away from the iron as he could get.

“You won’t get the lock off,” The Fae said softly. His eerily large eyes were locked on Virgil’s hands which pulled more and more frantically on the lock as the hoofbeats drew nearer. “I will die at the hunters iron swords and my brothers will take their names and make them pay for each second of life that they took from me. But you need not to die, little Human.”

“Shut up,” Virgil hissed. He picked up a rock from nearby and slammed it down on the lock. The lock rang with each hit it took from the rock but it stayed steady. Virgil wished that he hadn’t found his friend like this. Tricked out of his Faery circle and threatened into an iron cage by farmers with iron swords. The farmers, according to Logan, the name that the Fae had told Virgil to call him by, had been unusually tricky and sly for Humans. Logan had assured him that they would also be punished also but Virgil couldn’t think about that now. He needed to get Logan out of the cage and out of the cage now.

“Anxiety,” Logan said, using the faux name that Virgil had given the Fae. “Run. I do not wish to see you slaughtered in my name.”

“Virgil,” Virgil snapped. He hadn’t meant to say it but it was too late now. His name had already left his lips and Logan had already heard. “My name’s Virgil. I’ll tell you the rest once I get you out of this damn cage.”

“Virgil,” Logan said, drawing the name out slowly. “Please, Virgil,” he begged. “Run.”

But it was too late. The clearing that they were in was invaded by men on horses all with iron swords in their hands. Virgil whirled around and held up the rock in his hands threateningly. He glared at the men and bared his teeth, just like he had seen Logan do once.

One of the men slipped off of the horse and brandished his sword at Virgil. “Step out of the way, boy,” he snarled. “We’re here to deal with that Fae.”

“My brothers are going to make you pay,” Logan promised. His eyes were locked on the sword in the man’s hands. “Allow Virgil to leave and perhaps they will make your suffering less painful.”

“I’m not leaving,” Virgil snapped. He held up the rock in one hand as if he was going to throw it. “Let him go! Now!”

The men surrounding them shifted on their horses and Virgil could hear the whispers of, “Traitor.” The lead man took a step closer. “Move,” he said lowly. “Or have your head removed from your shoulders.”

“Get fucked,” Virgil snarled. 

Logan cried out when the man lurched forward. Virgil barely moved out of the way in time and the iron sword cut through the lock’s shackle. “Dammit,” the man growled. He turned around just as Virgil came at him with the rock. The man knocked him to the ground and ripped the rock from his hands. “I’m going to slit your throat,” the man hissed. Virgil howled with pain when the man pressed the sword against his chest. “But,” The man sneered, “I’m gonna have some fun first.”

The hunters laughed and closed in on Virgil, eager to see his death. In all of the excitement, no one heard the grunts of pain coming from the Fae as he grabbed into the iron lock and slid the broken shackle through the cage door, sending it the ground with a dull thump. They only turned around when the cage door opened. They turned to see Logan standing in the cage door with his hands burnt by the iron. But his wings were unfurled, pupils turned to slits, sharp teeth bared, and his nails so sharp that they looked more like talons.

He looked like the Fae children were warned about. And they had just made him mad.

Virgil closed his eyes just as the man was ripped off of him. He curled up and pressed his hands to his chest to try and stop the sluggish bleeding. There were cries and screams all around him but then it all came to a sudden stop. There was no more noise, except for the panicked mutters of the man who had cut Virgil and the soft but dangerous whispers of Logan. Virgil thought that he heard the sounds of a name being said in a rush along with the words, “Spare me, please,” before there was a stop of someone hitting iron, a scream, and then it stopped.

And then hands were turning Virgil over on his back and he was being lifted into the air. Virgil cried and jerked in pain but he was gently shushed and a kiss was pressed to Virgil’s forehead. “Shhh, Sweet Virgil,” Logan whispered. “The evil men are all dead now and I have taken your attacker’s name. He has been punished accordingly, I swear it to you. Now, tell me your name.”

“Logan,” Virgil whimpered. “Logan, it hurts.”

“I know,” Logan said softly. His voice sounded like it was drenched in pain. “So please, tell me your name so that you are never hurt like this again. Tell me your name so that you will be mine. I will see to it that you are never touched like this again. Please, Sweet Virgil.”

Virgil sniffed and opened up his eyes. Logan was staring at him pleadingly and Virgil had never seen the Fae look so desperate before. He swallowed, wet his mouth, and then whispered, “Virgil Angel Payton.”

“Virgil Angel Payton,” Logan whispered back. Virgil felt a shiver go down his spine but leaned into Logan’s chest trustingly. “You helped me. And now I will help you.” He started to walk out of the clearing and Virgil got one last look at the cage Logan had been held captive in.

Right in the middle of the cage, A large oak tree grew where before there had only been tall grass, splitting the top of the cage open. An iron sword with blood on its blade laid across the roots of the tree, one that Virgil was more than familiar with.

Logan tilted his head away from the tree and kissed his nose gently. “Let’s get you all patched up, Virgil Angel Payton. My sweet and powerful little Mortal. You will never be hurt again. Not while I draw breath.”

And Logan walked deep into the woods, bringing Virgil with him.

In the weeks to come, word would spread far about the Fae Hunters who had disappeared after attempting to kill one of the Fae. The Farmers who had tricked the Fae out of his circle would all disappear as well, and it was rumoured that you could hear them sometimes, dancing wildly to a fast-paced beat that would never stop. 

In the midst of all of these rumours and the grief that people went through for these brave men, few noticed the poor village young man that had disappeared the same night as the Fae Hunters. The few that had noticed mourned for the young man that had surely been duped by the Fae and was now dancing in the forest with whatever Fae that had stolen his name.

Though, that story would evolve over time. Some would whisper that perhaps young Virgil had given his name over willingly and wasn’t tricked. Virgil always was an odd sort of lad. Perhaps he had turned himself over to the Fae for some reason that no one would ever be able to fathom.

But no one spoke these rumours too loud. After all, just in case it was true, why risk upsetting the Fae? No, better to not say those whispers too loud. Fae were temperamental creatures.

One only needed to look at the tree growing through the iron cage in the middle of one of the wood’s clearing to see that.

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[tommyquackson]

Getting Me a Little Bit | t. holland | part 2

Not My Gif

summary: toms an angel but his life begins changing when he meets one of the most dangerous monsters he’s ever heard of, you. angel!tom and demon!au

warnings: cursing, uh angels? blood and stuff

note: yea idek why i made a part 2 tbh but make sure y’all request!!!

Walking into the Office of Heavenly Affairs, Tom is nervous. Y/ns walking next to him, somehow acting confident and innocent at the same time. She has a small smile on her face and a file in her small hands and she’s leading Tom through the building like she’s been here multiple times before. It isn’t until they arrive into the Demon and Unholy Creatures Department that he realizes y/ns winging this whole thing. He watches her as they both walk up to the secretary’s desk. The secretary, Harmony, recognizes Tom, but her face twists in confusion when her eyes meet Y/n.

“Tom, they’re almost ready for you in the conference room. May I ask who you are?” Harmony speaks to y/n.

“Harmony, I know i’m not down in this division a lot, but I do find it insulting that you don’t remember me. But I forgive you.” Y/n smiles sweetly, showing a ID badge with her name and picture on it. Harmonys eyes widen in shock.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met” Harmony speaks. Y/n sighs and rests on her elbows on the desk, looking into Harmonys eyes. It’s only a few seconds but suddenly Harmonys face flashes with recognition.

“Ms. Y/n! My deepest apologies, i don’t know where my mind has gone, please forgive me. Are you on official business with Agent Holland?” She smiles typing things into her computer.

“Yes I am, it was great seeing you again.” Y/n smiles, tapping the desk before looking at Tom and winking and walking away and towards the conference room where the meeting will be held.

She waits at the door for Tom and he pulls it open, straightening his collar while walking in. He and Y/n walk up to the table and sit down.

“Ah, Agent Holland, im fairly busy today so- oh, who is this?” One of his directors speak now looking at y/n, who immediately stands and hands the file over.

“Hi, I’m Y/n over at the Government Division, as you know, our reports show there’s a suspected 434 demons and other unspeakable creatures in the government in New York City alone, not including Lower Statten Island, but once we tackle our larger issues we’ll take care of the smaller challenges. Anyway, I was doing work in Hell’s Kitchen last night and realized you had field agents stationed there, specifically in The Devil, a popular nightclub. Now that’s not his fault, but it is yours because it has come to my attention that you haven’t alerted us or anyone for that matter about suspected demon activity, now as you know that’s a serious offense and I would hate to see a lot of your hard work be wasted simply because you were careless on a small intel project.” She finishes and looks sweetly at all the Angels sitting on the opposite of the table.

“We sent Agent Holland because we believe there to be a succubus in that nightclub, we didn’t think we’d have to alert anyone about our own mission. What did you say your name was again?” The first Director speaks up, looking her up and down.

“What is it with you guys today? Is there something in the water? Y/n with the Government Division. Have you not been getting my memos?” She puts her hand on her hip and looks at all of them.

“Uh no, I mean yes mam we have, but we had a credible lead that-“

“Well your lead isn’t as credible as you think, Tom, please give them the status report from last night.” She looks at Tom and nods.

“Oh uh, upon entering I saw no suspicious activity, everything was surprisingly human. I was there for a while and no trace or word of a succubus in that club,” Tom gulps, he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t think of what he was going to tell them.

“Great, so, I think you it’s safe to say you can stay out of GDs jurisdiction and we can avoid stepping on each other wings. It was lovely seeing all of you, see you at the Christmas gathering.” Y/n speaks, grabbing the file back and walking out of the room.

Tom is dismissed immediately after and jogs to catch up with her.

“What was in that file, they believed everything you were saying,” Tom gasps.

“Oh it’s empty, i just projected whatever I was saying onto the file and it appeared, simple illusions. Now shall we go get lunch?” She smiles, clothes changing as soon as she steps out of the stark white building.

—

2 weeks later and Tom has been hanging out with the literal spawn of satan nearly everyday. Except for last week when Y/n disappeared for 4 days and came back looking a little worse for wear. She demanded Tom to not talk about it or even question her when she arrived at his place.

Toms been neglecting his heavenly duties to spend more time with her. Although it always made him sick when she brought men to his place while he was out for a bit. He hoped it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence in the future.

He hadn’t seen her today however, she said yesterday that she had important things to do and wasn’t sure when she’d be back. She seemed annoyed at whatever she had to do, but Tom held his tongue.

He sat in his living room, eating spaghetti and watching a beautiful nature documentary. The polar bear cubs struggling to find food always struck a cord in Tom, it seemed so cruel and unfair. He watched as camera men followed penguins and seals around for 5 months and analyzed their behavior.

He’s interrupted by a quiet knock and then a large thump against his front door. He stands and moves quietly to the door, wondering who could be knocking at 11pm on a Tuesday? Y/n always appears in whatever room he’s in, usually scaring him half to death.

He slowly pulls open the door and her smaller body falls into his arms. Y/ns halfway covered in dark blood and her horns look battered. She looks up at him and her face is covered in cuts and more dried blood. Her “human” eyes are hidden and the whole space is covered in black with low flames flickering. She smiles lightly and he can see her sharp teeth barely poking out.

He pulls her in and lays the demon on the couch, spewing questions in her direction.

“Tommy, relax. You yelling at me ain’t gonna cure my headache” She winces, clenching her jaw.

“Y/n, what happened” He asks softly.

“Don’t wanna talk about it” y/n goes to turn over but quickly hisses and grab her ribs.

“You have to” He stands up straighter.

“I don’t fucking want to” She nearly growls. He’d be more scared if she wasn’t so pathetic looking.

“Y/n, I don’t care what you want to do. You need to tell me what happened so I can help you, NOW!” He shouts the last part and she almost chuckles at how adorable the angel looks yelling at her.

“had’t go t’hell and ran into s”trouble with m’dad” She mumbles, looking at the TV instead of Tom.

“I can’t hear you when you mumble” He says rolling his eyes at her stubbornness.

“I had to go to hell to do some shit and Lucifer found out I was there and decided to meet with me but things took a bad turn and I got my ass kicked by a bunch of leviathans while my dad watched” She spits out, louder and clearer.

“Oh”

“Yep, and since they beat me so damn bad, none of my powers or magic works, had to walk all the way here from the nearest portal, which i’m not sure if you’re aware, is VERY far” She pushes through and sits up on the couch.

“Why did he do it?” Tom asks quietly, unsure of the question was upsetting.

“Eh, there’s a few reasons. Main one being he’s god damn Satan. The other is he found out I was at the Office of Heavenly Affairs, got pissed and accused me of being a traitor” She shrugs like the information is nothing, leading Tom to wonder how much stuff y/ns already dealt with.

“Well, uh. I can do my best to patch you up and you can sleep in my bed.” Tom pushes his glasses up on his face and rushes to get some things to help, he doesn’t usually get hurt so he’s not super prepared, but he’s got the basics.

He spends a few minutes trying his best to disinfect her most serious wounds and cleaning the voood off of her. His hands are shaky as he sews a few cuts up but she doesn’t seem to notice, by looking at Y/ns face, you wouldn’t even know she’s in pain. She’s staring at the now black TV, watching her blurry reflection. Her eyes have gone back to normal and her horns have retreated, though it’s still not easy to read her. Tom usually prides himself on being able to read body language but he’s drawing a blank with y/n. Is she mad? maybe upset? maybe just tired? He’s not sure.

“Thanks tommy.” She winks as he wipes the last bit of ointment on her skin. She stands and clenches her jaw to stop from groaning in pain.

She walks towards the front door, leaving Tom in complete and utter confusion before he snaps to action.

“Wait! What? You can’t leave you’re hurt and in pain, you-“

“I’m fine” She shrugs, not turning around.

“No you aren’t! Why are you denying this, you need to stay here.” Toms eyebrows furrow together.

“Why does it fucking matter?” She finally turns around, eyes switched back to her demon form.

“Because you’re my friend,” Tom speaks quietly. He looks down at the ground afraid of her glare.

“Let’s get one thing straight Thomas. I don’t need a friend, which means i don’t need the bullshit that comes with them. I don’t need you to care about me got it? I’m perfectly fine without you, so don’t act like I need you to survive or like you’re the goddamn air i breathe. You’re nothing to me but an idiot fucking angel. So i’m gonna fucking leave and you’re gonna fucking let me. Any questions?” She throws her hands towards him. His head shoots up at her.

“You came here? You didn’t go to the club, you walked all the way from the nearest portal, which is 34 blocks by the way, you needed someone and you came here. Don’t get mad just because you want to be the one to hurt someone instead of the other way around. So you can leave if you really want to y/n, but don’t lie about why you’re doing it because you’re only fooling yourself” He spurts out, face red and hands shaky.

Y/n doesn’t say anything for a while. Just stares in anger, her eyes fill with tears and she quickly wipes them away as they fall.

“I don’t wanna be friends anymore Tom, that’s it.” She shakes out between her deep shudders of breath. She turns and limps out quickly, slamming Toms front door behind her.

[crqstalite]

so that happened.

the rise of skywalker was a thing...

spoilers below the cut >>

honestly? tros wasn’t drop the whole franchise bad like i thought it was. it had some good moments. i liked the main trio in this film. i LOVED the cinematography of the movie, god it was gorgeous. i adored the chemistry between finn and poe. yes, i am very aware of what both actors have said and am disappointed in my own way because goddamn that should’ve graced my theater screen, one little finnpoe kiss was all i asked for. there will be a lot of fixit fics for stormpilot, and i will enjoy them all. and i liked that it wrapped up four years of movies in one little package. it really did feel like the end of an era when the last few seconds scrolled on screen. i’d be lying if i said i didn’t scream internally at the ‘rey. rey skywalker’ at the end. the sequel trilogy wasn’t bad, it was just handled improperly and probably would’ve been better received had it not ended like thi

but i didn’t like how it tried to apologize for what happened in last jedi. i didn’t like kylo ren--sorry ben solo in this movie. hell, i didn’t like him to begin with in any of his other movies. they kept trying to redeem him and honestly?? i don’t think he deserved it if i’m being honest. why, i’m not sure, but he just gives me that hella iffy feeling and he gave me the heebie jeebies the whole time. and i sure as hell don’t know what the hell this simmering romance beneath the surface was between rey and ben. doesn’t mean the ship’s followers or general idea is bad (after scrolling through the finnpoe tag on ao3, i can safely say there will be a few coffee shop aus i’ll end up reading), just that i don’t agree with it. he berates her for years (?), literally telling her she amounts to nothing??? and then they expect us to be like ‘they were in love the whole time, Actually!’ i don’t like that in man but go off. 

on the subject of ben solo and rey. what the fuck is this teleportation shit? if someone could explain it to me, that’d be great because it makes no damn sense in context with the movie. yes, i’m aware they share some sort of force bond, but this feels so ‘pulled out of our ass for the sake of the movie’. it’s just something i couldn’t feel all that good about because of it. they fight each other in different areas, they talk to each other in different areas, she teleports a lightsaber to him in a different area entirely. why is this??? it makes no fucking sense and honestly drew me out from that development of those two.

rose?? was sidelined the whole movie?? as much as i like the girl who was with finn at the end of the movie (i didn’t catch her name but damn she was pretty), i think she easily could’ve been replaced with rose, and i probably would’ve felt more for this scene because finn and rose have fought together before. rose was a great character in the last jedi and she could’ve made this movie great. fuck off. rose tico and kelly marie tran deserved so much better. there better be alternate endings for this movie or i will riot.

finn???? even before seeing the tweets that were like ‘hey uh finn was supposed to tell rey about being force sensitive the whole time’ i predicted that he was. ‘i had a feeling’ and all that bullshit, i’m praying sometime he told her. it would’ve opened up some cool scenes of them training together on the falcon or something. other than that, enjoyed his character wholeheartedly because goddamit it’s finn and i have nothing bad to say about him. poe too, i adore poe.

the ending was symbolic?? in a way i didn’t understand. i get it, her master grew up there so then she was symbolically leaving their past behind to reach her future yada yada yada yada. but unless i’m missing something, did rey even know he grew up on tatooine? she went back to get the x-wing and lightsaber from ghost!luke but it felt unfinished and rushed there. her relationship with leia, while touching, simply hadn’t been developed enough on screen for me to really feel in tune with this scene either. understandably with carrie fisher being gone they probably couldn’t have, but it is just a tad frustrating either way.

hux being the traitor? maybe i didn’t pay attention enough in the last few movies but was there really a reason for him to defect? it didn’t feel real enough for me to be honest. then, bam he’s dead i guess mOVING ON. the fuck. i kind of liked him too but nooooooo....kill him for the plot.

PALPATINE. FUCKING PALPATINE.

this one confused me, rey palpatine? the fuck. her dad was his son? the man is over a millenia old, if not more. how in hell did he create a child? how did he escape from palpatine’s grasp? why did palpatine let him go? why the hell does palpatine want a clearly light side influenced jedi to rule as empress? could someone else have killed him and become all the known sith in the galaxy? there are so many questions i have regarding him specifically that i’m probably going to need a guidebook just to not have an aneursym trying to make sense of it all.

REY WITH FORCE LIGHTNING. I GET SHE’S A PALPATINE BUT WHEN THE FUCK DID SHE BECOME SO POWERFUL??

chewie was cool, i love chewie. lando was...interesting. a cool cameo, yes. adored the scenes he was in but i felt he was kind of shoehorned in at the last minute. my opinion, doesn’t have to be yours.

c3po. i liked c3po a lot, and i’m glad he got his memory back but then i felt like that heartfelt line ‘im looking at all my friends for the last time’ was meaningless. in the back of my mind i knew that for old time’s sake they wouldn’t leave him without his memory, but it also took away from the emotional impact of his memory loss.

poe’s spice running past was interestingly touched upon and not mentioned again. nothing ever pointed to it beforehand which is the only reason im mildly confused by it, but zorii’s survival after uh...that planet (kijimi, which i struggled to spell until i looked up the wikipedia) basically blew up felt weird. the little headnod at each other at the end was kind of cute but?? zorii (???) could’ve been handled better i guess.

i struggle not to write a paragraph on why finnpoe should’ve been canon but that can be discussed at a later date. feel like zorii and the other stormtrooper deserter were only there for finn and poe but i digress, and really hope that i was just been paranoid. at least rey didn’t get dragged into it.

han solo didn’t come back as a ghost but as a memory so he could redeem his son. nothing more needs to be said here because thats a sin on it’s own.

honestly?? i would’ve sat in the theater for three hours like i did endgame just for some of these plot points to be explained better. thanks anyways for these great, sometimes underdeveloped characters, disney.

also?? according to my father a ghost-like ship was in the final fight?? i need explanation, now.

ALSO! only now after i finally came back to the game after all these years (i hadn’t played swtor from 2013 until late 2017 i think) and i begin wondering ‘the hell happened in between those 3000 years before the battle of yavin to have us lose the empire and republic and end up with the first order and the rebellion??’. if anyone can answer this, i’d be forever grateful.

[deeafrotailmisstress]

Bacon and Bar Fights

((A super fun RP with Jazz makin’ friends with an ex-dominion dude called Braiden! :D It was super fun and @datela-vodenit​ is a super chill person so I highly recommend checking out their blog and art! Hope you have fun reading this as much as I did RPing it!))

Braiden Sabius sat down at the bar, tired from a long day of traveling, waving to the bartender, “A strong one for me.”

He only had a moment to enjoy the silence before a small woman with big hair kicked open the doors with a loud yell “Oi Barkeep,” she marched up to the bar carrying a big bag full of goods and with a wide smile ordered, “Biggest meatiest meal ya got on the menu for me, t’anks!”

She sat down with her feet kicking happily in the air, not really taking notice of the man beside her and simply looked around absorbing her environment. Braiden flinched for a moment, shifting his seat aways from  her, waiting for his drink. Unfortunately for him Jazz noticed his movement from the corner of her eye and snuck a peek at him before she asked with a grin, “Hey, ya gonna eat dat?”

Braiden looked at the plate of cheese the woman was pointing to; it looked like it had been sitting out for a while. He shook his head, “Uh, I wouldn’t even touch that. That’s got ‘you’re going to have a terrible night’ written all over it.”

The barkeep finally slid him his drink and Braiden quickly took a sip - avoiding eye contact. Jazz’s eyes widened worriedly. She shuffled away from the plate and closer to Braiden with a cringe, “Oh nono, I don’ want dat kinda night, I wanna celebrate tonight!”

She patted him on the shoulder roughly with a grateful dimpled smile, “T’anks fo’ da heads up! Ya gots a name fella?”

The weary traveler’s eyes widened as he flinched from the sudden contact. He shifted on the barstool in worry, “I-It’s um...Callen...The name’s Callen.”

Jazz’s smile, somehow, gre even wider as she repeated, “Callen...d’az a nice name!” She jutted out a hand, “Da name’s Jazz! Friends call me Jazzy or Shorty, enemies call me little shit, but ya can take ya pick, I don’ mind!”

The stranger looked at the hand for a moment then her face before he gave her a nervous smile and hesitantly shook it. “It’s nice to meet you Jazz.” He eyed the baggage she carried for a moment, “You seem to be on quite a journey. Is that all yours?”

Jazz hauled up her bag and patted it proudly, puffing her chest as she bragged, “Jus’ some stabbies and punchers I made meself. YA WANNA SEE?!” She asked and leaned in eagerly towards ‘Callen’.

He squinted in confusion. “Stabbies and punchers?” He mouthed to himself.

“Yeah! Stabbies -” The big haired woman reached into her bag and pulled out a long, silver dagger with a bronze handle that still looked unfinished, but very much sharp, “-And punchers!” She then reached in and pulled out a set of knuckle brasses of very discerning designs, one of them encased in very sharp spikes. Braiden looked on in shock at the sight. He carefully took the dagger from her and studied it.

“Not bad,” He grinned, tossing it around in his hand. “While I wouldn’t call them...ah, stabbies, it feels fairly comfortable. Still needs some work, the handle feels too light for its size.” He handed it back to her.

Jazz groaned exaggeratedly, “Ugh I knoow, Olka tells me I still needs ta work on the kinda metals I use, but I’m still pretty new to dis metal-workin’ shit. But!” She jutted a thumb behind her with an acomplished smirk “I gonna meet up wid some customers ‘round here who asked for my stabbies, an’ now Jazz gonna ‘treat mah self’~” She chirped the last phrase with a sing-song voice and gasped with glee when her plate finally arrived.

Braiden couldn’t help but snicker at her enthusiasm. “I’m sure whomever they are, they’ll be happy with their ‘stabbies and punchies’.” He eyed the food as well, but tried to resist stealing from her plate and took another sip of his drink to distract himself.

“Aw man, I sure hope so, but either way, Jazz gonna eat!” She rolled up her sleaves before grabbing a leg and took a bit bite. It became obvious very quickly this woman was not one to eat daintily in public as she ripped a large chunk of meat and skin aggressively off the bone before swallowing whole. “Whasha doin’ roundeez pars’ frien’?” She asked ‘Callen’ around a mouthful of food.

He wiped away a stray crumb off his face from Jazz’s talking and answered “Just stopping by for a treat. I’ll be out of here as soon as I finish this.” He took another sip of the drink and looked down at the table, tapping at it anxiously.

Jazz blinked owlishly at the tiny cup in his hand and swallowed around her large bite. “But. Ain’cha gonna get somethin’ else? How ya jus’ gonna have a tenny drink when it be feast time?!” She asked ignorantly with an incredulous wave of her hand.

Braiden raised a brow at her for a second. He reached into his pocket and slammed a few copper pieces on the table. “Unless there’s a menu item I’m not seeing that costs two pieces, the drink is the only thing I can get.”

The feasting lady froze as she finally connected the dots. “Ooooooh I’m a dick.” Jazz smacked herself on the forehead with a groan, muttering to herself “Stupid stupid stupid, gotta pay attention to dis shit!” Feeling bad that she had been eating so loudly next to him too, she sheepishly glanced at her companion. It wasn’t really in Jazz’s nature to ever share any of her food, but due to her own faults, she told herself to ‘suck it up’ and grabbed a napkin before shoving the smallest piece off of her plate to him.

Braiden eyed the leg, looking between her and the piece of food. He thought it would have been more polite to refuse the gesture, but at the sound of his growling stomach, he sighed and hastily took it; eating it as messily as Jazz did.

“...Damn, ya really was hungry!” She couldn’t help but laugh before getting back to her own plate and chirping “Ya welcome!”

The hungry traveler swallowed the rest of his food and wiped his mouth, a little embarrassed he had acted so barbarically. “Ahem, yes, thank you. I should’ve said that before.” Braiden looked around the bar once more, fidgeting with his drink glass. “I should probably get going now.”

Jazz didn’t notice his nervous demeanor and simply guffawed, “Whaa-? Da night’s still young dude, jus’ stay an’ chill a while! We’ll even have a treat day together, how about it!” She grinned excitedly and grabbed his shoulder “Jazz got da monies now, so I’ll jus getcha somethin’ too, tonight we’ll feast like food bros!” She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say before calling the Ekose for another plate.

Braiden was reduced to a stuttering mess at her sudden generosity, he tried to refuse her, “I-I can’t stay! I really have to go! There’s uhm p-places, yes places for me to-” Before he could get out another word, another plate of food was set down on the table. “To… To… ah…” He looked at the door then to the food. He mulled it over in his head and sat back down slowly, “Just one more round.”

His new ‘food bro’ snickered “Atta boy!” Jazz got another devious idea and smiled mischievously at Braiden. “Betcha I can finish deez faster than you!” She challenged and in her excitement slammed both her fists onto the counter at the ready.

Braiden eagerly smiled and matched her excitement, “You’re on!” He reached for the first piece when the doors to the bar swung open. He turned to glance at the newcomers and immediately turned away. “Shit…” He cursed.

Three men entered the bar, one short, one tall and the other average. They scoped the bar until their eyes landed on Jazz. The three of them slowly approached her and the average sized man greeted her, “Ah, are you our contact for tonight?”

Jazz quickly shoved a rib into her mouth and was about to gorge onto their feasts like there was no tomorrow until she whirled around and blinked at the man with a confused hum. An espernetic light bulb went off above her head however as she realized who these men were. She cheered a garble of words around her food with both fists raised into the air.

She quickly swallowed her food before waving her arm at the gents, grinning at her companion “Yo dude, it’s mah customers I was tellin’ ya ‘bout!”

Braiden continued to hide his face from this familiar group of men. He stood swiftly and turned in the direction of the bathroom, “Excuse me.” The hand of the leader caught his arm, “Hold on a second there, cowboy.”

“Why don’t you stick around,” The man said. “You might be of use to us.” He leaned in close to Braiden’s ear and whispered “Traitor.”

Jazz glanced at each of the men curiously, not sure who she should be focusing on “Ya know dees fellas Callen? Boy ya sure get around!”

All of the hunters laughed at Jazz, the shorter one asking Braiden “‘Callen’? Is that the name you gave her? You can come up with better names than that!”

The taller man growled eagerly and took up one of the ‘stabbies’ from Jazz’s bag. “Luckily you’re here, face ache. Perfect timing to be our test dummy!” The leader held out a hand “We’re not here to kill ‘im, just to collect him remember?”

The leader looked to Braiden and smirked “Look, you ready to come quietly or make this as difficult as last time, Sabius?”

Braiden glared at the men for a moment, then to Jazz, then back to the leader, “I’m no traitor, I’m not something to collect, and I’m definitely not going to let you poke me with that thing.” He looked to Jazz and motioned for her to leave, “Get out of here, I’m sorry this had to ruin your dinner…”

Jazz didn’t understand what was so funny until one of the men took out her blade and their interactions slowly started to make sense. Afterall, she was in an almost exact situation not too long ago. She quickly grabbed the hand holding her blade and grinned, “Woah woah fellas, now Jazz ain’ too familiar wid dis whole situation…”

She gestured vaguely to...Savius? It certainly didn’t sound like an Exile’s name. “But it sure ain’ no reason fo’ ya to start stabbin’ my food buddy over here.” Her grip on the man’s arm did not align with her friendly demeanor.

The taller man grabbed Jazz by the collar, “Stay out of this, contact!” The smaller one nodded, “Just take the money and do as the traitor says, get out!” The leader then took Braiden’s arm and started to pull at him, “We’re getting our money’s worth out of you, Sabius, whether ya like it or not!”

Jazz’s espernetics started to act up subconsciously as she clutched onto the hands of the taller gentlemen, but unfortunately tripped over as her feet were still caught on the stool’s legs, “Oi oi, donchu grab Jazz or I’mma beat your ass senseless!” Braiden attempted to grab at the empty plate of ribs and tried decking it over the lead hunter’s head, but it was swiftly swatted away as he pushed Braiden down onto the bar.

“Trying to be sneaky, eh?” The leader raised one of the daggers above Braiden’s head, “You’re smarter than this!” Braiden stomped on the lead hunter’s feet, making him drop the dagger. He kicked the fiend away, making him crash onto a table.

Jazz grinned wildly, “Aw yeah, IT’S ASS-KICKIN’ TIME!” She reared her head back and slammed it right into her captor’s before dropping down and shaking her head. It hurt her too, but hey, at least she was free! She whipped out both her machetes from their sheaths and beamed “A’ight fellas, who wants ta go first!”

The shorter hunter, shaken from Jazz’s battle cry, attempted to have at her with his own sword, but she easily dodged his swing without a sweat. Seeing Jazz occupied, the taller one went for Braiden and snatched his neck, throwing him towards the back of the room. Braiden managed to recover, but only had time to dodge another attack from the giant brute.

Quickly looking up at Briaden Jazz cried out, “Ah shit, sorry bro!” She quickly tried to throw her blade at one of the hunters to help her friend, but missed horrible and landed in the fireplace. Her left eye twitched as she growled, “Ugh for the love of-!” She got cut off by another swing from the shorter gent and quickly dodged out of the way again. He cackled at her failure and tried to slash at Jazz again, but in his fit of laughs he only landed a small scratch on her.

The giant gang member slid his foot on the ground like a bull and readied himself to charge at Braiden. He let out a cry and charged, but Braiden took one leap over him and the hunger smashed into the wall. In a rush of energy, Braiden grabbed a small stool and threw it at the smaller hunter, making him stagger slightly but not down just yet. Getting up from the table, the leader tried to punch back at Braiden. Braiden caught his fist and returned the punch to the leader.

Seeing the smaller one knocked down momentarily, Jazz grinned, “Woah, nice one dude!” When the leader approached however, her instincts took over. Blue flames encompassed her fists and without thinking she roared “Oi, DON’T TOUCH FOOD BRO!” And bashed it right into the back of the leader’s skull. The blow was finally enough for their enemy to fall unconscious to the floor.

Completely forgetting about her previous adversary, the smaller hunter latched onto the back of Jazz and tried to scratch at her a few times but was immediately met with an angry backhand from the fiery esper as she growled “Boy sit down, Jazz ain’ dealin’ wid yo’ ass right now.”

Braiden approached the downed leader, leaned down and whispered “Can’t wait ‘till next time, buddy. See ya ‘round.” Once that was over and done, Braiden smiled at Jazz and nodded, leaving for the door. She wasn’t paying attention however, her mind currently occupied by the blue flames that flickered across her hands. Her panicked eyes clenched shut as she held her head and deeply breathed in and out, remembering the calming exercises Olka taught her. Once they finally calmed down, she looked up to find Braiden leaving. She yanked him back by the collar and pointed her other machete at his neck threateningly.

“Oh no ya don’, ya gonna explain some shit ta Jazz.” She growled at him.

Shocked for a moment, Braiden gave in and nodded at her. “I guess you deserve one. But can we do it somewhere else? I don’t want to hang around for these guys to wake up.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him, but nodded reluctantly and lowered her blade. She followed after Braiden but not before kicking the poor small hunter in the nuts while spitting on him. “Fuckin’ rude-ass shitheads interruptin’ my goodass meal.” She grumbled.

Once they were outside, Braiden took a deep breath and began, “Okay. So my name is not ‘Callen’, it’s Braiden. I have a bounty on my head for charges that I’m accused of with the Dominion. As you have seen, I can’t have that, so… I ran away… It’s been years.”

There was a really long pause before Jazz suddenly barked a loud laugh and let out a releaved breath, “Hah, dude was dat all?! Jeez, ya got me here thinkin’ dat you’re some freaky-ass child murderer criminal dat I accidentally gave food to!” She put away her blade and scratched the back of her neck sheepishly “Truth be told I totally gets ya, Jazz been runnin’ away fo’ quite a while too...still runnin’ actually.”

She shuckled meekly before smirking, “Braiden though? D’az a cool name too I guess. An’ real quick bro, ya kicked ass pretteh well, an’ dis is coming from the amazing Jazz!”

Braiden laughed nervously along with her until she told her story. He nodded and smiled “I’m just glad we didn’t have to fight whoever’s after you. And thanks, you fight real good too, I certainly didn’t expect you to be an...ah…” He tried to make fiery motions.

“...A badass lean mean fightin’ machine?” Jazz flipped back her long curls with a cocky grin “Yep, I know. It comes wid da awesome hair, what can I say?” She was about to grab her bag when she fiddled with her other blade sheath and winced “I...probably oughta grab my Krog-Killer from da fire…”

“B-but...he was my favorite…” She pouted very sadly at the door.

Her friend grinned at her remark and turned towards the bar “I don’t think it’s worth it at this point.” He turned back to her and held an open hand to her, “Thanks for the help...and the food...Even if you did eat most of it.”

Jazz blinked when he held out his hand. She snorted in a very unlady-like manner and pointed at his hand with a smirk, “Dude, ya kiddin’ me? Put dat thing away.” Instead she spread her arms out with a grin that threatened to rip her face in half “C’meeeeere!” And without warning put both her arms around his waist in a tight hug and even lifted him up a bit with a happy laugh, “Ya kicked ass wid me in a bar fight! That officially makes ya a certified Jazz friend dude!”

Braiden tried bracing himself for the hug, but let himself get crushed under Jazz’s bear hug. He let out a wheeze and lightly patted her back, “Heh, I’m-” he coughed “- glad! Maybe we could kick ass-” he heaved “-some other time!”

Jazz gasped enthusiastically with a very bright beam as little joyful espernetic swirls of yellow bounced around her head, betraying her excitement “REALLY?! Dat’d be great I can’ wait ta- Oh wait shit lemme put ya down now.” She quickly placed him back on the ground and patted his back awkwardly, worried that she broke a bone.

Her friend brushed himself off and took deep breaths. “Well, this is goodbye for now Jazz. Oh, and do me a favor, don’t do business with those shitheads again.” He warned playfully.

“Nope, I ain’t takin’ money from those wank-stains again. ...But I be goin’ in dere for Krog-Killer soooooo…” She gave Braiden a thumbs up before rolling up her sleeves grinning “Back ta kickin’ ass, takin’ blades and leavin’ dis joint! Don’ be a stranger Brai-bro!” And with that she turned around and marched determinedly towards the bar with a violent twinkle in her eye.

Braiden gave one last shake of his head, still smiling, before walking off.

[luucarii]

Persona 5 Ramblings

this shit is long. like really long.

and I sound like a crazed fangirl so....

MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IM TALKING ABOUT LIKE ALMOST EVERYTHING BUD!!!

also, i curse way too much in this... apologies in advance 

also, happy father’s day even though this has nothing to do with it :)

THIS IS ALL BACKGROUND ON ME BEFORE I GOT THE GAME SKIP TO THE NEXT BOLD PART IF YOU WANT TO HEAR MY OPINION ON THE GAME ITSELF.

Okay, so I’ve mentioned vaguely how Persona 5 is my first encounter with the Persona series. I’d heard bits and pieces about the series but I never really understood the concept of Persona until maybe mid April of this year. I was on spring break from school and I don’t remember how exactly how I stumbled across it but i found this playthrough of Persona 5 on youtube and I was mildly interested. So I clicked on it, and into the emotional rollercoaster that is this game i went.

At the time, there was only about 11 episodes of the play through (each around an hour long) so I binged watched each episode ending up with me staying up past 2 am. I was just so invested. The opening drew me in the minute the camera showed off that smug little bastard Joker’s smirk over the casino (I’ll get into why I love this kid and the rest of the cast later). I was confused since I was going into Persona 5 with no knowledge of the whole concept of Personas at all. I was kinda just like “wow this looks badass. What is he doing? Oh my god, this game is so pretty.”

I ended up skipping around once I got tired of waiting for a new episode and watched this long ass livestream. I got to about Okumura’s Palace before there was nothing left for me to watch but the boss battles uploaded, which did spoil me a little bit and got me a bit confused but I was so interested that I honestly didn’t care. I was so surprised at Niijima’s Palace and her boss battle as a whole and was like “SHIT THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME!!!! OH MY GOD EVERYTHINGS BACK”

From there, I skipped straight to the traitor - aka Akechi’s battle - and can I just say, I was not surprised that he had a Persona but I was surprised that he betrayed the group considering all the story shit I skipped. Shido’s fight was fairly interesting to me but again, I skipped a bunch of story shit so I was really just rooting for the Phantom Thieves because this was THE ASSHOLE WHO GAVE MY POOR LITTLE AKIRA A CRIMINAL RECORD.

Skipped a bunch of shit again and onto the fight with Yaldobaoth. At this point I was drawing a lot of similarities to Xenoblade Chronicles, fighting a God for freedom and then THEY PULLED THE WHOLE BELIEF THINGY (which they did at the end of Okami as well) AT THE END WITH MISHIMA AND THE REST OF TOKYO BELIEVING IN THE THIEVES AND I WAS SOBBING LIKE A LITTLE BITCH AT 2 AM.

And after that, I made it a point that one day I’d play this game for myself. And it was maybe a few days after that I finally got the game.

Now at the time (and still now) I didn’t own a PS4 and was forced to use my brother’s when he was at work. Adding to the fact that school was beginning to start up again, I had at most maybe 6 hours to play a day if homework didn’t take up all my time. So what might’ve taken me a few weeks to beat took me almost 2 months to beat because of timing. 

BUT OH WELL, I HAD THE GAME, I PLAYED THE GAME, I LOVED THE GAME AND NOW IM GOING TO SQUEAL LIKE A FANGIRL OVER EVERY ASPECT OF THIS GAME THAT I ADORED.

GAMEPLAY

Okay, so I’ve played my fair share of JRPGs and Persona 5 was a nice familiarity. All the dungeon crawling, the fighting, turn-base combat, ya’ll get it.

BUT UM THESE DUNGEONS (Palaces if you would) ARE FREAKING GORGEOUS, HELL THE GAME ITSELF IS GORGEOUS.

Each Palace and their respective Shadow ruler has their own design, personality and each are based on the seven deadly sins which (after finishing FullMetal Alchemist a few months earlier) I thought was clever and interesting.

Kamoshida’s castle was a nice balance of a first dungeon and “hey we’re not gonna hold your hand, this is fairly simply kill some Shadows, find the infiltration route and don’t get kicked out.” ALSO RYUJI AND ANN’S AWAKENINGS. JUST THAT. INCREDIBLE.

Madarame’s museum had a little bit more difficulty but was still fairly easy. The security bars kinda gave me a little anxiety considering I was still getting used to all the controls (I had just finished an Xbox One game before playing this so my buttons were mixed up) and the little painting guessing game was a bit dumb considering each Sayuri looked EXACTLY THE SAME TO ME (except the color swapped ones) ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING YUSUKE WAS THERE AND COULD HAVE EASILY TOLD US BUT NO HE WANTED TO TEST AKIRA’S ART SKILL. ARE YOU APART OF THE PHANTOM THIEVES OR NOT YUSUKE??????????

but i digress…

Kaneshiro’s bank was fun but GOD SEND THOSE FREAKING SECURITY CAMERAS AND THOSE SHADOW DOGS TO HELL OH MY GOD I HATED THOSE. See my thing is, I’m not exactly a stealthy person. Which is why I love hiding because you can sneak up on Shadows and ambush them easily. I hate raising security level and those damn dogs were so annoying and just ugh. Those dogs are honestly one of the few grips I have with the game. Also, MAKOTO IS THE ACTUAL QUEEN.

Futaba’s temple was by far the longest one for me in terms of gameplay hours (in game time took me about 2-3 days) but it was still fun nonetheless and I’m glad Futaba (who is one of my favorite female characters) got some closure on her story with her mother and was able to rise above that. I’m a sucker for tragic backstories when their well executed. (i still to this day do not know how to pronounce her Persona…)

Okumura’s spaceship was my favorite aesthetically because I’ve always been interested in space and the stars and the little puzzle at the end with the space pockets was a nice bit of challenging and flying through Metaverse space. ALSO HARU HAS FLUFFY FLUFF HAIR AND HAS MY SECOND FAVORITE PHANTOM THIEF OUTFIT 

hmm, i wonder who has my favorite Phantom Thief outfit... Joker... It’s Joker... god damn those red gloves

Niijima’s casino, which OH MY GOD WERE BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND AKECHI’S WITH US AHH, and WHIMS OF FATE IS BEST PALACE THEME.

It was my favorite palace, no questions asked.

Shido’s ship was another long one but finally getting revenge on this dick was incredible. Also, AKECHI AND RYUJI PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS.

Mementos was a good idea as a whole but the way it was executed everything just sort of blended together for me and there were only a few requests that stood out to me. The music was bland (one of the blandest on the soundtrack, especially compared to the other Palace themes casually mentions Whims of Fates again) and during the late floors of Mementos, everything got so dark and it was really hard to see.

CHARACTERS

expect this to be me screaming a lot.

Akira Kurusu (Protagonist)

okay, um, i love this boy. like a lot. LIKE I WOULD DIE FOR HIM.

For a silent protagonist this guy sure has a lot of character. The rare times he speaks in cutscenes, specifically the ones where he’s Joker, he has this sort of cocky arrogance yet when he’s little Akira in his Shujin uniform he’s a quiet little curious boy. He’s incredible under pressure, like there’s only a few things that make him crack and his dialogue options are priceless.

I especially love Joker because I’m an honest to god mess when it comes to smug bastards and I have an unhealthy love for those crimson gloves of his.

But honestly he doesn’t deserve half the shit he gets in game. Besides the whole “game” set up by Yaldobaoth, he was sent away from his family and presumedly the friends he had back in his hometown all because of his probation, literally no one treats him with any sort of respect when he gets to Shibuya. Sojiro reminds him countless times the first what 3-4 months that he’ll be kicked out if he breaks his probation which (besides doing all that illegal shit as Phantom Thieves) he honestly just goes to school (a place where he gets even more shit from teachers and students), hangs out a little after and comes straight home. I know Akira’s been established to have a bad reputation because of his record but don’t these people have eyes??? Can’t they see that he’s obviously not a bad guy based on what he’s doing in school and not getting involved with the police??? Sojiro's exempt from this because he at least grows to like having Akira around and trusts him enough to go out at night, work in the store alone and lock up from him when he leaves.

AKIRA IS A GOOD BOY WHO DIDN’T DESERVE ALL THE SHIT GIVEN TO HIM

Also, Xander Mobus did a good ass job with his voice

Ryuji Sakamoto

see this post that basically sums up my feelings on this boy.

Also, Max Mittelman.

Ann Takamaki

CAN I JUST SAY ANN IS ONE OF THE BESTEST FRIENDS IVE EVER SEEN???????

Like she went through all that shit with Kamoshida, the harassment, possibly rape, all for freaking Shiho’s sake. Just… wow. That’s some freaking loyalty there. Shiho's the closest friend she has at Shujin (at least before the events of the game) and God knows how long she went along with Kamoshida’s bullshit all for Shiho. I mean I may sound a bit repetitive but holy shit that just amazes  me. SHE. ENDURED. SEXUAL. HARASSMENT. ALL. FOR. HER. BEST. FRIEND. And the minute she watched Shiho’s suicide attempt that was it. Any last bit of restraint she had left broke and she went full on at Kamoshida all for revenge for her best friend. My god.

Onto her confidant ranks, Ann is just a charismatic bundle of joy who just wants to make people happy. Yeah she butted heads with that girl (forgot her name…) and did fall down a little in terms of confidence but Akira and Shiho helped her through it and brought her back on her path of what she wants to do… Just ugh, I love Ann so much.

Yusuke Kitagawa

Yusuke’s a fan favorite and for good reason.

His backstory about how Madarame took him in after his mom died and overlooked his painting which led to the later plagiarism is an interesting one and I love how the Sayuri, the only thing left to connect him to his mother, is an important factor that leads to his realization of “oh shit this guy’s a dick who watched my mom die without helping her and he used me for money and fame.”

As a character though, Yusuke’s freaking weird. But i love him because of it. He has his formal tongue but that formal tongue casually overlooks any weird shit that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t give any flying fucks about what people think of him and he speaks his mind like there’s no tomorrow. I still crack up at the nude painting scene with him and Ann because his mix of awkwardness and passion to paint a nice ass picture is just incredible. Also, another thing. He’s. So. Damn. Passionate. Like he ties art into everything, even fighting Shadows and he’s always looking for new ideas for paintings.

Also, Matt Mercer

Makoto Niijima

MAKOTO IS QUEEN.

She’s not my favorite female, that role goes to Futaba but she’s definitely number 2.

I genuinely have a love for the Niijima sisters because they complement each other so well. Sae’s the head of the house who also works tirelessly just to support her younger sister and it’s clear to see why Makoto would feel useless. She’s a high school student and as a student you really can’t do much that’ll pay the bills and keep food on the table unless you have a job which Makoto’s student council president and (i’m assuming) is in everything so it’d probably be hard as is to get a job and be of some sort of use to her sister. Then Kaneshiro comes around threatening her and Thieves and her sister and she just doesn’t want to feel useless anymore. She wants to do something after being forced to sit back and watch other people be counted on. And just, ugh, her awakening is by far my favorite out of all of them just because of everything behind it and just MAKOTO IS AMAZING, CASE CLOSED.

Also, Cherami Leigh.

Futaba Sakura

By far my favorite female as I feel our personalities are pretty damn similar. Besides her being a hacker and me not knowing anything about possibly illegal things like that, I relate to Futaba as she’s an introvert. She and I value our alone time and (although for different reasons) like being shut in. Now I’m not going to say Futaba and I share the same backstory because my God I’m honestly baffled how this girl went through years in solitude after her mother’s death thinking it was her fault. For one, she WATCHED HER MOTHER DIE IN FRONT OF HER. HOLY SHIT HOW DID THIS GIRL MANAGE TO FUNCTION WITH THAT MENTAL IMAGE IMPRINTED IN HER BRAIN???? AND THEN FOR YEARS ON END SHE LOCKED HERSELF UP AWAY FROM THE WORLD AND BEGAN HAVING ACTUAL PHYSICAL AND VERBAL HALLUCINATIONS AND IF IT WASNT FOR THE PHANTOM THIEVES SHE PROBABLY WOULD HAVE ENDED UP KILLING HERSELF AND I DONT WANT TO THINK OF A WORLD WITHOUT THIS ADORABLE LITTLE OTAKU.

also, i really ship her and Yusuke Inari

Haru Okumura

For one, Haru is freaking adorable, I mean look at her. She has the short little fluffy fluff hair and her voice is so light and feathery and polite and WHY DOES SHE COME SO LATE IN THE DAMN GAME????

I was lucky enough to manage to finish her confidant before the end of the game but when her confidant first opened up to me (getting rank 5 Proficiency was a bitch) at that point I was planning on not doing her confidant at all, I was just planning on getting Baton Pass and ditching her because I didn’t think I’d finish it. I did (at the cost of not finishing Makoto’s, still extremely disappointed on that) and I have to say Haru’s confidant was by far my favorite one out of the ones I maxed out.

Her whole thing is now that her father’s dead, she’s basically the one inheriting everything from Okumura Foods and she never really understood anything to begin with and she thinks everyone who’s trying to help her is just doing it for their own self-gain.  Okumura Foods, at this point, is attempting to rise back up after all the shit her father put the company through and all the current bad reputation it has. Haru’s never had a chance in her life to make things for herself. She’s always been told what to do and has been very obedient (even agreeing to marry a literal dickhead all for her father’s company) and suddenly she’s given all control and doesn’t know what to do with it. All these happy smiling faces offering their help just seem like people attempting to take advantage of her incompetence. Akira helps her through it like the amazing boy that he is and Haru ends up finally being able to speak her mind about the company and what SHE wants to do. She gives the company up to someone who she believes is trustworthy and decides that she’ll one day open a small little cafe like Leblanc in the future after college. And honestly, just her overcoming her distrust and her previous shell of being obedient to rising up and making her own decisions it makes me so happy and proud to see her grow and change and just UGGH I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS DAMN CAST.

Morgana

This cat, literally this cat. HE BELONGS WITH AKIRA AND THE REST OF THE THIEVES NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

Loud-mouthed, a little bit arrogant, Morgana is just an amazing character in general for me. I know Ryuji’s technically supposed to be the comic relief (and he does fulfill this role, don’t get me wrong) but I feel Morgana takes this spot too, especially the two bickering like an old married couple. I know some people hate on Morgana because of how he treats Ryuji and the amount of “go to bed” memes on Tumblr but all around Morgana is just a cat who was just looking for a place to call home. He was just looking for people to accept him.

And a part of me honestly hopes if there’s an add on for this game in the future, Morgana gets a human form because I’d love to see that.

Also, please tell me I’m not the only one who still mixes up Morgana’s gender. I still sometimes call him a her just out of habit because I can’t hear Cassandra Lee Morris as anything but a girl.

Also, Cassandra Lee Morris.

Goro Akechi

OKAY SO CONTROVERSY??? MAYBE??

I LIKE AKECHI

NO FUCK THAT

I LOVE AKECHI

LIKE HONEST TO GOD THIS BOY DESERVED BETTER.

Don’t misunderstand, I know he killed people. I know he caused all those shutdowns and was planning on killing the Thieves and eventually Shido himself (which now begs the question, say he did kill Shido, what next?)

I’m not denying anything he did. And yes, his backstory (although extremely saddening) does not justify his actions. He knew what he was doing and he still did it.

Akechi took the wrong path in his life. If anything you can sort of compare his story to Futaba’s in the sense that they both lost family members and were left with nothing. In Futaba’s case however, she still had people trying to help her. She had Sojiro who took her in after her uncle was abusing her or something and she had the Thieves who literally changed her heart and made her see the truth.

Akechi had absolutely nobody.

His mom died (suicide if I remember correctly), he was thrown into foster care, his own father (seriously, fuck Shido. Not just because of how he was with Akechi but everything in this damn game) didn’t even knew he existed. He had no acknowledgement, no affection, nothing. He was forced to make do with what little scraps he could find and make a life for himself.

Again, don’t misunderstand me. I know he killed people and his backstory does not justify his actions because he knew what he was doing was wrong. I’m just saying maybe if he had someone, anyone who was there to help him out, to pull him out of his misery he most likely would have been a different person. He wouldn’t have had his revenge for Shido be his only reason for living and he wouldn’t have gone out the way he did. It’s hard not to feel bad for him. He’s been alone all his damn life and all this guy really wanted was a friend, some teammates, people who wanted him around. I just wish Akechi had gotten a way to repent. I hate the fact that he died. One because we lost a good character and two because I genuinely believe that he wanted to change at the end. Akira changed him. The Thieves changed him. I wish he had gotten an ending where he could own up to his mistakes and be able to make up for lost time.

Just… ugh.

I’m apart of the “Akechi deserved better” group.

And I also ship Akeshu really really really hard.

Also, Robbie Daymond was freaking fantastic.

VERDICT

THIS IS LONG ENOUGH SO LET ME SUM IT UP IN A SENTENCE.

PERSONA 5 IS AMAZING, I LOVED IT.

[sintheyokai]

Layton Brothers: Devil’s Child (8): Chapter 7: Son of the Devil Himself

Word Count: 3787

She was cold.

She didn't know why, she just... was.

Her head ached and throbbed, in fact, her whole body felt feeble and tiny; it was pitch black and she couldn't see a thing. Where was she? And on that matter...

Who was she again?

Right. Destiny.

Destiny Knox.

She remembered now. Faintly but she remembered. She had been attacked from behind, she'd been put into... something... A box? Or had it been a car? She remembered it had been nighttime, no one had been on the street, and no one came when she had started an uproar screaming.

Now where had she been taken?

Destiny soon realized she had been blindfolded and ripped the thick, black cloth from her eyes.

Upon removing the blindfold, she knew her kidnapper and where she was.

The cell walls around her were plenty enough explanation. Immediately, her heart began to quicken.

The tall man...

No. There was no way she'd been taken back by him... Was there? The more she looked around, however, the more it seemed so.

She stood up and approached the vent on the far wall, beginning to softly sing into it.

*to the tune of Twinkle Little Star (in B key, alternately known as Spooky Twinkles)*

Miss Death will I see the Sun?

Destiny waited, hearing her echo for a few moments before hearing a response:

No no see your time has come.

To make sure the woman on the other side wasn't an imposter, she continued

But might I see my dear friends?

Or my family again?

The voice responded:

No no see your time has come

As the devil snuffs your light

Reassured, Destiny called out, "Who else is here?"

Silence. Suddenly, a small voice spoke.

"Destiny?" it called out, "Is tha' you?"

Destiny felt relief as she recognized the voice. She responded.

"Yes, Luna, it's me. Did the tall man-"

"Aye. 'e did." The answer came with such restrained fury, that if hatred were a liquid, it would have flooded from Luna's lips.

There was a silence before Luna continued, "'e got Sissy Lou after 'e found us 'idin'. Whatever you do, do not, again: DO. NOT... Trust a man by the name of Blaine Dartwright." Her voice ceased to a barely audible whisper, so soft that Destiny only caught the last two words.

"Fallen Angel..."

Destiny's heart clenched. The Fallen Angels of the dungeons were traitors who had been tricked by the offer of freedom. They believed they'd be free if they caught enough escapees and runaways, the damned fools.

Destiny's heart continued to ache as she kept talking to her old friend. Luna spoke of how they had escaped, how they reunited with their mother...

Then she mentioned a name that sounded familiar.

"We've only worked wiv Mr. Alfendi once an' a 'alf, but we really like 'im! Even Lucas is warmin' up!" Luna chirped, happily continuing to chat away.

"Alfendi?" Destiny cut Luna off, "Last name, Layton?"

There was a still silence, cold and empty.

"H-How d'ya know 'im?" Luna's voice dripped with fear, "Wh- Who've I been talkin' to?"

"Still Destiny." the woman responded assuringly, "I just know him from a case I was a suspect in."

Another bit of silence.

"Which one?" she asked in a suspicious and accusing tone. She didn't want to sound rude, but for all she knew, this person calling themselves Destiny was just another Fallen Angel.

"The Roscoe Strapping case with Gloria Blaise" Destiny answered without missing a beat. Luna sighed, relieved she hadn't been fooled.

"'ow are things on your side?" Luna asked, "I'll try an' get out, but is there any way you can-"

"Shh!" Destiny quickly hushed the Baker.

A pause.

Clip clop, clip clop

Heavy footsteps, approaching fast in Destiny's direction. She whispered into the hole.

"He's coming! Keep quiet!"

And soon enough, he turned the corner.

"Every time..." he growled, the gold and white mask he wore echoing his every last word, "Every time I banish you, you simply come back again, why?"

Destiny did not answer, for she knew punishment would only be worse if she spoke out of turn. The man scoffed from behind his mask.

"I see you've at least learned to behave in the presence of God's Chosen One. Come."

He opened Destiny's cell door and stepped aside, a test to see if she would attempt escape.

Now Destiny was presented an option: to try and run, or comply with who would inevitably become her murderer.

Deciding she didn't want to die slowly, she played her Obedient Little Girl card, quietly walking out of her cell.

"Good choice. Follow." the man said, his heeled footsteps echoing down the hall as she obeyed.

After minutes of navigating the stone corridors, they arrived at a wooden door. The man removed his mask, at which Destiny quickly turned her gaze away from him.

"It's good to know you remember the punishment for looking upon the face of God's Prophet. Wait here," he said, shoving the mask into a small box next to the door, "If I find you gone upon coming back, the consequences will be severe."

With that, he opened the door and entered the room. Destiny, curious, put her ear to the door.

"Mr. Dartwright!" she heard, "I'm glad to see you brought my daughter; what method did you use?"

A velvety voice answered.

"Chloroform, Mr. Baker. I hope you don't mind; I just didn't think she'd cooperate, so I used a more forceful tactic."

"I appreciate it, Mr. Dartwright, although I do think it's best you step out while I bring the therapist in."

"Reasonable. For privacy, I assume?"

"Quite so."

So she was to play the role of a therapist. How ironic, considering her adopted, abusive mother had been one.

Or, at least, one of her adoptive, abusive mothers.

The door opened, both the Devil and the man called Dartwright stepping out. Destiny studied the Fallen Angel. He was tall, but not so much as to be eye level with the Devil. His blonde hair flared in the back, almost giving him a sense of charm. His white rimmed glasses and clean beige suit gave off the same sophisticated vibe as the Devil, albeit not as high strung.

"Ah, you must be the therapist; Mrs...?"

Destiny could feel the smoldering glare of the tall man on her. She only thought of one name.

"Knox. Fate Knox." She responded.

The Fallen Angel nodded. "Fate..." he repeated, "You look very familiar, have we met?"

"No, I don't think so. You must be thinking of my twin, Destiny. The one from the Gloria Blaise case that made it to Scotland Yard?"

Blaine made a face of acknowledgment before turning his attention to "Mr. Baker" as Destiny had heard.

"Mr. Baker, shall we take our leave?" he asked.

Lucius shook his head,"You may, but seeing as I am a part of the therapy, I must stay behind. I can, however, take you to a b- a waiting area, if you would like."

Blaine nodded, sounding approval as he proceeded to wait. Lucius turned to Destiny, who, in pure fear, forced herself to look up at him.

His bright green eyes pierced her very soul, flashing with such pent up rage that it took every ounce of her will to not go into animalistic cowardice.

"Mrs. Knox, I think it's best that you wait inside." he practically growled that last part.

Without another word, Destiny entered the room. There, unconscious on the couch, was Lucille. Her ginger hair had been tussled and her peach cap was over her eyes. Her mouth was parted slightly; her green jacket was scuffed and ripped in some places, showing signs of struggle.

Destiny scurried over to her, grasping the poor girl's shoulders and shaking her.

"Lucille! Wake up!" she shouted in a hushed tone; she'd be dead for sure if Mr. Baker heard her.

Disrupted, Lucille stirred awake, eyes landing on Destiny.

"D-Destiny?" she stammered, "Is-Is it really you?"

Destiny nodded, "And I've been told I'm your 'therapist'" she scoffed.

"Wo-Wot are we gunna do?"

"Wait. We'll wait as always. It's worked before, it'll work this time, I promise.

As Destiny said that, the door opened to reveal him, the Devil, mask and all. She sat down out of instinct.

It was still and silent, the room sounding devoid of all life. Lucius strolled to his desk, every muffled click of his heel striking rising panic. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a long coil.

A whip.

He unraveled the long, black cord at a slow, agonizing pace. Both Lucille and Destiny knew what he was doing.

He was stalling time. Trying to draw out the fear and make them beg for him to just get it over with.

He was trying to show them that they had no choice but the one he presented: A brutal beating.

After the length of the cord that spelled anguish had been strung out, he began slowly approaching them.

Clip... Clop... Clip... Clop...

He stood in front of them, whip in hand.

And slowly, he lifted it above his head.

***

Time-???

It hurt. It hurt a lot. Why did it hurt so much?

His head was throbbing, and his vision was nothing but black.

Where... was he?

Alfendi struggled, but he was tied down to a mental patient's bed. He heard Potty in his head.

Placid what happened? Everything's blurry...

Gassed. Some man tortured us last I remember.

Damn... Lucy! Where's Lucy!?

I've no clue, she wasn't in the room we were in. Can you bust us out?

Only if you relax.

Alright.

He relaxed, closing his eyes as Potty took over. The second he had the wheel, Potty tugged at the straps with such great strength, that they slowly began to rip from the mental bed.

Arms loose, he pulled them out and untied his torso and arm straps. As he removed his blindfold, he told Placid.

And look who said our little fist fights with Fauna were useless~

Shut it.

He unstrapped his legs, then stepped off the table. At that moment, the door opened behind him.

"M-Mr. Alfendi! You're awake!"

Alfendi turned to see Lucas, trembling.

"Lucas?" he exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

Lucas said nothing, simply grabbing him by the arm and tugging. Alfendi, albeit trusting the boy, stopped him. When Lucas gave him an odd look, Alfendi pointed to the still and quiet body of Lucifer. Quickly unstrapping him, Alfendi picked him up.

Lucifer was surprisingly light for a 25 year old man.

Lucas grabbed Alfendi by the shoulder and tugged once more. This time, Alfendi followed.

As they crept through the stone halls, Alfendi took notice of the boy's behavior. Constant head turning, walking quickly, rapid breathing...

He was paranoid, but of what?

He then heard a whisper, which he finally registered as Lucas trying to talk to him.

"Did ya see 'im?" he asked.

"Who?" Alfendi questioned in an equally soft whisper, "The masked man?"

Lucas flinched.

Correct.

"We go'a 'urry, we're almost ther-"

There was a loud scream. A male one, much to Alfendi's horror. Because if all the male Bakers and himself were there...

Then that meant Blaine was getting tortured.

Alfendi practically shoved Lucifer into Lucas's arms before taking off in the direction he'd heard the scream. He stopped at a large wooden door, edged in iron, on which someone was pounding the other side.

With one swift roundhouse, Alfendi kicked the door clean off it's hinges, accidentally whacking Blaine in the face.

The room was edged in fire, and any oxygen in the small room seemed to quickly be replaced by smoke. In the middle of it all, on the floor from being hit with the door, was Blaine.

Blaine only dawned a white tank top and his boxers, the rest of his clothes discarded on the stone floor. Door opened and him free, Blaine grabbed his clothes and stepped out of the room.

"Lay...Layton?" he panted, "Wha-" he let out a devilish cough, the smoke having taking it's effect on the poor inspector.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came with you, do you not remember?" Alfendi raised his eyebrow.

"But... he said-!" Blaine's eyes went wide in realization.

They went wider after Lucas slowly asked, menace laced within the question:

"Where... is... Lucy?"

Blaine looked at him, eyes filled with unspeakable pain.

"I-I'm so sorry...!" he said. At this, Alfendi tensed, both Potty and Placid. He grabbed Blaine's shoulder with the grip of a python.

"What did you do?" it came out as an odd growl, like both personalities asking at once.

Blaine stammered out, "I- I didn't know! I thought he was being honest! Then... he trapped me in that room when the fire started...! God, Layton, end me!"

"Who's 'he'?" Alfendi questioned, fearing the worst, "The masked man?"

"What? No, Lucius Baker; what masked man?"

Alfendi felt his blood run cold as he pieced it all together. He didn't get to say it however, as Lucifer suddenly began to stir awake. Lucas, startled, nearly dropped his elder brother.

Lucifer quickly escaped his brother's arms, landing with a silent thud on the stone floor. Standing up, he scanned the area, acknowledging Alfendi and the others. He turned to Lucas.

"Where are th' girls?" he questioned rather urgently. Lucas, in response, pointed to Blaine.

"Dartwright's a Fallen Angel, Lucifer. To Lucille at least."

Lucifer snapped his head towards Blaine, eyes filled with unfathomable rage. He grabbed the inspector by the collar and rammed him into the wall.

"You inconsiderate, shit-stained BASTARD!" he roared, "After ALL we said, you STILL TRUSTED 'IM!?"

He let go, Blaine collapsing onto the floor before Lucifer swiftly kicked him straight in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. He turned to Alfendi.

"Go on. Arrest me if ya must for assaultin' a bobby. I've done wot's right."

"Oh, don't you worry about it one bit, Lucifer," Potty waved his hand casually, "Smartass Shitwright had it coming anyway."

Lucifer flashed a grin before turning to his little brother.

"We 'eadin' t' Limbo now, I'm assumin'?" he asked.

Lucas nodded, "Aye, but we really 'afta 'urry now." he pointed to the unconscious mass that was Blaine, "An' I know you don't wanna, Lucifer, but we should take 'im too. Th' Devil's been torturin' 'im."

Lucifer's face twisted into an annoyed grimace, lips pressed into a solid, thin line. He nodded, picking up the inspector before roughly tossing him over his shoulder.

The camaraderie continued their journey, navigating the seemingly endless corridors. After what seemed like hours upon hours of staring at the blood stained stone, they came to an empty corner.

"We found out pre'y early that this Place were full of secrets an' th' loike (like) that Daddy knew nowt about." Lucifer told Alfendi, glancing at Lucas, "Care t'do th' 'onors, lil brother?"

Lucas, grinning, turned to the stone wall. He scanned it before lifting a slender digit and putting his long, sharp nail into a large crack. There was a rumble, and a small portion of the wall caved inward like a door to reveal a flight of stairs.

Awestruck, Alfendi stood at the entrance, mouth agape as Lucifer trudged down the stairs, carefully as to not drop Blaine's unconscious body. Lucas followed Lucifer, and, snapping out of his stupor, Alfendi followed him.

They had only gotten a few steps down when Alfendi's feet betrayed him.

"Ohfuck!" Potty quickly yelped, as he slipped from a narrow step and began tumbling down the rest of the stairs; he knocked Lucas and Lucifer off their feet, and soon they were tumbling after the inspector along with Blaine's body. None of them could stop; the stairs were too narrow and uneven.

They eventually piled up at the bottom of the stairwell, bruises beginning to form.

That's definitely going to leave a mark tomorrow... Potty painfully groaned in his head.

For once, I couldn't agree more. Placid responded in an equally pained groan.

"Are you all alright?!" Alfendi looked up to see Luna, eyes wide and concerned, and Loosha, stifling laughter on a stool.

"Aye, just fockin' peachy Luna! Loike can't ya see that? Thought it were fockin' obvious!" Lucifer groaned sarcastically, "An' Loosha, if ya dare turn into a gigglepot, I'll grab ya by yah elephant lugs an' chuck ya straight across th' room!"

This threat only fuelled Loosha's immense urge to laugh; she soon could no longer hold it and burst into a fit of giggles as the men stood up. Alfendi looked around.

The room they had crashed into was small, albeit large enough to host a large family, probably 6 to 8 people. A single lantern hung in the center of the ceiling, and there was a desk at the far west end, papers upon papers scattered about its surface. At the back, a dartboard with a picture of Lucius at its center and several knives stuck in various spots. Five stools sat in the middle, forming a circle around a miniature table that was much like one a child would play with. And on the table, torn and dirty, were five stuffed toys.

Alfendi walked over to the table and picked one up.

It was a doll, a girl, dawning a red dress and white apron with a little heart in the corner. Her blonde hair was in braids, her eyes and lips piercing shades of green and red, and her face plastered with a sweet smile.

"That's Elise. The doll Mummy made me." Loosha sighed, "Pretty, in' she?"

Alfendi nodded, "Your mother certainly has excellent craftsmanship..." He put Elise down and picked the two bears off the table.

One was a deep, chocolate brown, its tail missing, with stab marks scattered about its soft, fabric fur, and it's large button eyes were a bright, candy red. The other bear was white, littered with beautiful blue patches, a royal purple stomach, and was missing its right leg. Instead of red eyes, it had mismatched eyes, one a bright, key lime pie shade while the other was a sweet blush pink.

"Th' brown one's Cocoa, an' she's Luna's, while th' other is Mochi, who's owned by Lucas." Loosha said, the aforementioned individuals gathering around the table. Alfendi then picked up the cat in the group.

It was red, much like Potty's hair, with deep blue button eyes and a bright green stomach. Unfortunately, the poor thing's left leg was missing, ripped off from what looked like rage.

"Tha's mine, Eve." Lucifer said, "Daddy ripped 'er leg off when I tried defyin' 'im..."

Alfendi only made a noise of pitiful sympathy in response as he picked up the last stuffed toy: another bear.

This one was a brighter red than Eve, though had a raw pink undertone, cherry red buttons for eyes and a ripped off ear.

"An' that's-" Luna managed to say before Alfendi interrupted her.

"Strawberry," he said, gently holding his assistant's precious toy. He noticed a little brown clump in the stuffing of the torn ear. He smiled, "And I believe I see a little Guardian spider hiding in her ear."

The clump twitched, slowly crawling out and onto the bear's head. It waved its front legs eagerly as if saying hello.

"Can you find Lucille?" Alfendi asked the arachnid, "And Lucius, for that matter?"

It waved its hairy little legs in understanding before scurrying off his and into the cracks in the wall. Alfendi turned to the Bakers.

"We need a plan to get Lucy back," Alfendi statedcu firmly, "I know you lot are scared to go against your father, but we're going to have to, like it or not. Pray I still have..." he reached for his waist.

The gun he had brought along was no longer there.

"Damn..." Potty cursed, "Stolen."

"I-if ya can't find 'em, Mr. Alfendi, maybe this'll 'elp?" Lucifer reached behind his back and underneath his shirt. Before Alfendi could even see what he had grabbed, Luna squeaked and fiercely grabbed her brother's arm, violently shaking her head no.

"We 'ave to 'elp Mr. Alfendi, Luna. No ma'er wot." Lucifer's voice was soft, but firm, higher than usual, but somehow dark and beastly.

He finally pulled a large knife from behind him, Alfendi's eyes growing wide at the size. The knife was no longer than the length of Lucifer's hand and half his forearm combined, and the blade was about the width of a machete.

"Dad doesn't usually carry guns, unless 'e's usin' 'em for torture," Lucifer said, twirling the knife whilst gazing at it, "So a knife is fair game." he grabbed the blade and held it out to Alfendi.

Alfendi had a dilemma now. Usually, Placid would be declining such an offer, and Potty all for it.

But the minute Lucifer offered the knife, the roles seemed reversed. Placid felt the urge to brandish the weapon, while Potty wanted nothing to do with it.

We shouldn't, Potty fretted, Besides, I haven't swung a knife since the wolf incident!

Which was before I existed, Placid retorted, Thus, I don't think you have much a right to make this choice for me. I may believe in less physical methods of breaking people, but a man like Lucius? Well, he certainly seems like an exception.

With that, Placid took the knife, turning it around between slender digits. It gleamed in the light of the fire lit lantern, the golden reflection lighting up his face in an eerie fashion.

"It's se'led then, innit?" Lucifer said, "We're goin', so let's raise up the chant." He handed Alfendi a slip of paper, "It's a bit creepy, but in case ya wanna join, 'ere."

Alfendi looked at the paper whilst the Bakers each sat down and grabbed their own stuffed doll, Strawberry in the middle of the table. Slowly, they began to chant, Alfendi joining.

Down here for years we've been Longer than any soul that toils in sin The Devil Himself 'round every corner Puts us on edge every second, minute, hour We've longed for the day that we'll be freed Daybreak after daybreak Nightfall after nightfall Tedious minute after tedious minute Yet no matter how long we've waited We've never seen the sun Not since the Devil got us in his hands The time to riot's now We won't suffocate below Come now demons Come now angels We'll go on down Down, down, down... Down to Hell we'll go Down, down, down... Clock strikes the midnight hour It's the time for devil's dance Now up we go Up we go... Clip clop, tick tock

It's time to pay the Devil himself a visit...

[junker-town]

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, Alabama’s Iron Bowl loss reveals that the Playoff itself is just a conspiracy to stop the Tide

Your weekly sojourn through the most upset in college football internet runs through Tuscaloosa.

(It should be noted that the weekend’s actual most upset fans were at Tennessee, but this post is about games only.)

Alabama got dominated in the Iron Bowl, falling from No. 1 in the rankings, losing the SEC West to Auburn, and putting its College Football Playoff fate in jeopardy. It was the Tide’s first loss of the season and 20th in more than a decade of Nick Saban.

Let’s tour Bama Fan Internet and see how it responded.

The most ironclad conspiracy theories

Is the very existence of the Playoff part of a plot to ruin Alabama’s title hopes?

This thread at the Tide’s 247Sports message board answers the hard questions.

We need to Remember why the playoff was created.

It was created to stop Alabama. (Sec post 2011) The rest of the teams wanted Alabama to have to win two big games to win the championship. They also didn't want hot teams at the end of the season to miss a chance to neutralize Alabama with the awesome play late. It has worked two of the first three years of the playoff. It will not work this year if they let Alabama in. We will win both games. Mark it down.

It may well go even deeper than that. College football’s powers have been trying to stem the Tide ever since the Associated Press awarded them the national title before they lost the 1964 season’s Orange Bowl to Texas.

Is something deeper at play preventing Damien Harris from getting more carries?

One poster’s freshman daughter is friends with the Tide’s starting running back’s girlfriend, allegedly. And it seems like we’re headed for a break in the case.

im getting to the bottom of it hopefully

My daughter is a freshman at bama, she's become good friends with Damien Harris's gf, she sees him a couple of times a week at the sorority house and talks to him while he's there. Shes gonna ask him why he's been getting so few carries lately. Maybe he'll give an honest answer cause it makes no sense why he wasn't fed the ball against auburn and several other times throughout the year... stay tuned

Stay tuned.

Is Ohio State going to lose the Big Ten championship game on purpose to guarantee Wisconsin a Playoff spot in the name of conference solidarity, potentially changing Bama’s outlook for the No. 4 seed?

How important is it to the Big 10

To get a team into the playoffs? Would Ohio St. throw the game against Wisconsin to guarantee that spot in the playoffs? A lot of people still believe that Wisconsin laid down and allowed Ohio St. to steam roll them to get Ohio St. in. I know it sounds like quite the conspiracy, but...

I mean, who’s to say they’re not.

The most obvious suggestions to get better

Phase 1: Fire first-year offensive coordinator Brian Daboll, a five-time Super Bowl champion with the Patriots who leads the nation’s No. 12 scoring offense.

Brian Dabol needs to be fired .

This offense has gotten worse under him.

Phase 2:

Mac from Florida needs a job, bring him back!

Saban’s old offensive coordinator from Florida needs a job, bring him back....

The real problem is Alabama’s recruiting, which might drop off from No. 1 in the country this year to somewhere lower in the top 10.

With our recruiting lagging,

things don't look so well right now. I do believe that they need to re-evaluate this whole deal.

rtr

(The actual reason for Bama’s slower 2018 class is scholarship limits, fwiw.)

Actually, maybe the problem’s the QB, who was one play from a national championship as a true freshman the year prior before being outdueled by the NFL’s best rookie quarterback.

Bama will NEVER win a national championship with Jalen Hurts

Saban should have given Tua a shot in the 4th quarter to spark the offense. Another lost season for Bama. Disappointing.

Here’s a totally unrelated photograph I found:

Photo by Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images

The most comprehensive piece of advice

@AlabamaFTBL you have one game to win in any season and this was a massive loss. Guess @CoachDaboll needs replaced. @JalenHurts needs to sit. We need a QB, not a runningback. @NickSabanUofA may be out of magic. Seems we might need to make some changes.

— I R Foof (@I_R_Foof) November 26, 2017

The most passionate tweets sent to Bama’s offensive coordinator during the game, in case he’d been checking Twitter.

@CoachDaboll you’re gonna get fired

— josh c (@josh_c1995) November 25, 2017

@CoachDaboll Fuck You!

— Garret Cook (@gibbousquan98) November 25, 2017

@CoachDaboll why?why why why do you have a running back as big Scarborough and you run him sideways?!? Shit! How many damn years of watching this same shit do bama fans have to endure?

— Nicholas Daniel (@nicdaniel4UA) November 25, 2017

@CoachDaboll you suck

— josh c (@josh_c1995) November 25, 2017

@CoachDaboll DIAL IT UP

— Pats(7-2) (@KFCGodfather) November 25, 2017

Later, an addendum:

@CoachDaboll PLEASE DIAL IT UP

— Pats(7-2) (@KFCGodfather) November 25, 2017

DIAL IT UP.

Damn @CoachDaboll what about some damn slants

— Ken Morris (@bikecop24) November 25, 2017

Get. Your. Head. Out. Of. Your. Ass. @CoachDaboll

— Colby Murray (@Colbylm) November 25, 2017

Calls for Bama to just run the damn ball:

Endless.

The Tide’s last national championship offensive coordinator weighed in by just happening to cite his own team’s rushing stats.

Hmmm. Who isn't on here??? Come to #thefaU http://pic.twitter.com/SmVcNF9bRN

— Lane Kiffin (@Lane_Kiffin) November 26, 2017

If u want to win rivalry games. Run the BALL!!! Come to #thefaU #5forheisman https://t.co/MMpPr3S9ip

— Lane Kiffin (@Lane_Kiffin) November 27, 2017

Is there now a surely ironic Twitter account dedicated to sharing all calls for Saban to be fired?

There is:

Breaking news Nick Saban arrested by Alabama State Police for first degree murder of the Tide football program. http://pic.twitter.com/MBxFBztPAJ

— Fire Nick Saban (@FireSaban) November 26, 2017

And other postgame analysis

A bit earlier, from the game thread at SB Nation’s Roll Bama Roll, some comments:

Welp thats game

Fuck this team. Coach im counting on you to give this sack of shit of a coaching staff all hell tonight tomorrow fuck it give it to them until next year. This is fucking embarrasing and if anyine doesnt feel that way and is wearing crimson and white on that bench send them packing. I dont care if its a five star freshman or a coach. Send a gad dam message.

And this nice exchange between friends:

One of the cool things about any time Bama loses a game is that legions of Tide fans record YouTube instant reaction videos. And, hoo boy, have we some treats.

This guy claims he punched out his wall.

“The Eagles come in and ruin my perfect season,” our man says. “Now I was all happy and everything because Bama was winning. Now Bama is not winning. They got an L, a loss. And now, now it’s gonna change things. Are they gonna make the national champions? Are they gonna get into the SECs? I just don’t know.”

Expect an invoice for the damages to arrive in Tuscaloosa soon.

“When I gotta pay to get the new wall done, I’m gonna send the bill to Alabama.”

Here’s another Bama fan eating “one of the hardest damn crows I’ve ever had to eat”

The points made here are pretty regular and reasonable, but stop by for the excellent glasses:

In the end, Alabama was the real winner here, because the Tide experienced no joy whatsoever.

From the 247 board, in response to Auburn fans having fun after winning the SEC West:

The last time Alabama fans rushed the field? Probably the early 1990's at Legion field (Might have been the 1990 win over the booger-eaters), and it was NOT a mass event, but only about 20-30 drunk students, many of whom felt the sting of Birmingham's finest who were on the field waiting for them. Lots and lots of upset Mommies and Daddies after their drunk darlings got bllly-clubbed and/or arrested!! LOL!!!

It probably HAS happened at some point in Alabama history, but I cannot recall an "en masse" rushing of the field by Alabama fans at any time in my life.

There's a reason the SEC (and EVERY OTHER MAJOR CONFERENCE) bans it - and not just because its Classless and "Bush League" - but because its Very DANGEROUS, both for the trashy fans running out on the field, as well as for the players and staff of the losing team. People are invariably injured in these "mob scenes" - often seriously, but you don't hear about it because the schools ALWAYS keep it on the "down low"

Now, a quick whip around some other fan bases whose teams lost.

Michigan

Lost to Ohio State for the sixth time in a row.

A basic summary of how that went:

Comments are off at MGoBlog. They'll be back when I feel like it.

— mgoblog (@mgoblog) November 26, 2017

Notre Dame

Lost 38-20 at Stanford, the result of a swift, epic collapse.

Would Bob Stoops come out of retirement, less than a year after leaving a good job at Oklahoma, to take over the Irish? The evidence that he would is mounting, folks.

I sort of wondered because he bought 2 expensive houses next door to each other in Chicago recently.

Why would you buy houses there? I sort of wondered if he took this year off to watch his boys play HS football as seniors. I wondered if maybe he was waiting in the wings to take the ND job, and maybe already had contact with ND for when Kelly was let go.. I have mixed emotions. He wins a lot. He loses the really big game most of the time (NC). He had tons of criminal type players at ou, I am not sure if it could work out or not. He is Catholic. I also wonder if he is ok healthwise. It is interesting to think about.

Food for thought, indeed.

Mississippi State

Lost the Egg Bowl to Ole Miss, then had its former AD who now works for Florida hire away maybe the best coach in program history.

Scott Stricklin The Traitor

Scott Stricklin is now the biggest traitor to our university of all time.

Some folks are our enemies and big pieces of shit like Ole Miss folks. These people actively try to hurt us and they hate us. However, all of these folks we knew hated us and we never expected them to like us.

However, to have one of your own intentionally hurt your program this bad for his own personal gain, you are far worse than any of the others.

From your enemy you can protect yourself. You can fight them, you know who they are and you can build your defenses.A traitor is someone you have trusted like a brother, and you know he is a traitor only after being betrayed.... The enemy is in the open, the traitor is moving in the dark.

Stricklin should never be allowed to step foot on campus as a friend again. Hugh Freeze is now more respected by me than Stricklin is. Hippocrates suck but there is no one worse than a traitor.

It’s not clear what this person thought Stricklin’s job would be once he left Mississippi State. But I’m sure the ancient Greek physician Hippocrates would disapprove.

South Carolina

Lost 34-10 to Clemson. This post is about Clemson, I’m pretty sure:

Tater Tots have The Answer!

Recruit with attorneys! Turnupseed from ALA? Daba Dabe do knew what he was doing I think is the answer. Bringing the e-factor's dad (whom was in jail in Florence to a Jail in Greenville) just as he is visiting taterville and BOOM he is a tater with a Caddy and a bag full of money. By the way, Turnipseed came from Ala about 4 years ago