#in fact there have been several times it’s opened up to much bigger buildings. creepy buildings.

[coldgoldlazarus]

Do you have a favorite of the metroid games (including pinball)

Despite the temptation to answer with Pinball for the meme, tragically I must admit that I have not played Pinball. I am sure that if I did so, it would take top rank, but alas. For now, my loyalty is to Metroid Prime 2: Echoes

Which isn't really an unpopular opinion anymore lol, I understand it used to be the least favorite, but now has been reconsidered and has plenty of defenders; for better or worse I came to the party late and uninformed and just like it based off my own experience with it.

I honestly think it's tied with Metroid Prime in terms of overall quality, though it has different strengths and weaknesses, and is kinda a more uneven experience overall. Soundtrack and aesthetic isn't as great and memorable, but they're more consistent in selling the atmosphere while still managing to achieve a few good wow moments here and there. World layout/progression/narrative delivery is more linear and direct compared to Prime, in both good and bad ways. (Though still less so than Corruption at least, lol) Story branches out from Metroid's usual subject matter and recurring motifs, but also feels kinda disconnected as a result. Bosses are bigger and better, and the Spider Ball gets its dues here, but there are also plentiful frustrating QoL-related decisions scattered throughout the game as a whole, one of which turns a potentially great boss into the absolute worst. (Spider Guardian Phase 3 my beloathed) Chozo Ghosts vs. Dark Pirate Commandos. Beam Ammo. (Which I had no problem with personally, but I've heard even other defenders of the game apparently tend to dislike.) From an objective standpoint, I think Echoes is on par with Prime, building off of its foundations well, but also liable to be a more frustrating experience in a bunch of little ways.

But from a subjective standpoint? I just love it a bit more despite its flaws, all thanks to Dark Aether. The creepiness of the dark world and overall moodier atmosphere, and how the game handled difficulty in a way that I really appreciated, make me able to look past its shortcomings in other areas and choose it even over Prime's overall smoother experience.

---

The vibes throughout are simply impeccable, and I love how little touches like Samus slumping exhaustedly in the save station animation, and the frequency of Luminoth corpses littered throughout the world, really help to sell the severity of the situation. Not to mention the opening investigation of the missing Federation troopers, and how their eventual fate (and the sobering realization that they never even met the Ing proper) really sets the tone powerfully right off the bat.

And it's not all gloom and doom, either, I have just as much love for the bright and sunny Temple Grounds and the associated banger of a theme as for the darker stuff. The environmental design is gorgeous throughout, and I love how bits of Luminoth decoration and artwork are visually echoed (heh) later on in the Light Suit. But even then, it doesn't feel like a complete break in tone, light to offset the shadow and make it darker by contrast.

On that note, I just adore Dark Aether, with its swirling purple skies, the twisted versions of parallel rooms, and eerie distortions of the light world area music; just mwah, chef's kiss from me. Plus the fact of constantly taking damage while outside the light bubbles, further underlining the grim atmosphere and adding an extra layer of anxiety to both exploration and combat.

---

Which brings me to my second point; I really enjoy how the whole concept of Dark Aether's toxic atmosphere provided a compelling challenge that is like, the kind of approach to difficulty that I actually like. AM2R, much as I love 99% of it, I wound up giving up on at the finish line, because the last two Shinespark puzzles demanded a level of pixel-perfect timing and precise execution of several consecutive, individually tricky actions within the space of a second at most that I simply could not pull off, which kinda killed my motivation to continue despite being right on the Metroid Queen's doorstep.

With Dark Aether, there isn't that same demand for perfect execution, but instead an ever-present source of danger; that emphasized, (for me at least) a fine mixture of thinking ahead by using knowlege of the light world's layout to navigate the dark, and a need to be willing to take risks and go into areas without the light-bubbles. Sometimes that risk would pay off, and sometimes it wouldn't and I'd die; but either way I'd be getting something out of it, whether the reward of success or the reward of learning.

Similarly, I think I died once or twice during the Chykka fight, to the atmosphere instead of the boss itself, and it felt like an entirely fair outcome for playing very haphazardly on that attempt. So to get back to the point, I like how it didn't demand flawless timing and execution, but still forced me to play well, and employ a fine mixture of cautious planning and calculated gambles to make my way through both exploration and the boss fights. Even if not done through the same means as Dark Aether, this is the kind of approach to difficulty I would like to see more of from the series in general; fingers crossed for Prime 4.

---

Like I said, I think Echoes isn't as smooth or polished an experience as Prime, and replaying it is as much a reminder of all those little frustrations as a reinforcement of my love for it, but I still think that the fantastic execution of the tone and tough-but-fair approach to difficulty keep it my personal favorite despite the flaws.

[orcelito]

I think one of the most fascinating things about my dreams is the fact that there are reoccurring locations in the dreams.

Not like places I know in real life, though there are a few of them that occur somewhat regularly. But places my mind just... fabricated, that it decides to go back to.

I have an abandoned house with long corridors that has been the source of several creepy dreams. I have a weird... tower of sorts, in a city, that has been the location of both a dinosaur attack and an anime convention (in different dreams). I have a pseudo-Boston, where I know it’s Boston (in the way that dreams are), but none of the buildings are actually ones in Boston... but I’ve been to these made up buildings several times, in a variety of dreams.

There are more, but these r just examples. It’s weird to experience a dream and realize upon waking that I had been there before. Especially when they are dramatically different dreams, but for some reason taking place in the same location.

[bokugaos]

Perfection

pairing: Bokuto x f!reader

length: 4.3k

summary: You are taken away and kept as the yakuza head’s trophy toy in exchange for clearing your father’s debt.

tags — traditional yakuza AU, dubcon, breeding, spanking, overstimulation, cum bulge.

a/n: (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ this is a secret santa gift for @kuroos-babygirl​! it’s also my first fic of 2021 and we’re starting the year right!!~ HAPPY NEW YEAR <33

You look so petulant and angry in your defeat and sink down on your knees as soon as you are dropped off to your own feet inside the walls of the estate. Still you press your clamped hands against your lips, and murmur encouragement for yourself.

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Your mouth is trembling in frustration—it makes Bokuto’s victory all the sweeter. He can tell that you haven’t heard him approach because you flinch back when his shadow suddenly falls across you.

Your pupils become little pinpricks of fear, then dilate again when the first confusion settles as you stare up at the yakuza boss, remembering why he is standing there now, tapping his foot impatiently.

He is slightly hunched over, yet still towering so high above you. A menacing grin slowly stretches his mouth. He looks a lot less tired when he smiles—and a lot less creepy. It doesn’t keep your heart from throbbing. You stare up at him quietly, your thoughts running across your face clear as day—so when you try to flee, he already knows about it long before you even move the first muscle. His arm shoots out to grab your hair and keep you right where you are.

“A deal’s a deal.” he murmurs into your grimacing face. You reach up and curl your hands around his wrist, but… it appears that he doesn’t even feel your fingers around him.

Bokuto doesn’t do deals with just any commoners, but your father is in too much debt, one that he wouldn’t even be able to pay back in an entire lifetime. Your father knows that, and the yakuza lord does too. Hence why he very kindly offered to clear the debt in exchange for, well, you. And of course, your parents agreed in a heartbeat. If there was even a slight hesitation or remorse of the fact that you were practically being sold to the city’s lord, your parents didn’t show any of it. You clench your thighs together, belly tight and prickly, tears ready to spill from your eyes.

Bokuto’s smile widens. The fist he has in your hair tightens and as you wince and whine, he pulls you closer to push your face against the growing bulge beneath his hakama.

He moves his hips, fucking against your face while you make choked little sounds and half-heartedly try to turn yourself away despite you becoming stupidly excited at the heat and smell of his dick through the fabric. You could use your hands to push him off of you, but you don’t.

“Take all your clothes off. The maids will take care of them.”

You pause at that. You’ve forgotten that you’re not alone.

You start to glance around as much as possible while he distractingly keeps smearing his bulge against your face. There are shadows slinking around the edges of the buildings.

You know that none of them would be able to help you.

—

It is rather embarrassing to admit this, but Bokuto takes care of you better than your parents ever did. He makes sure the servants make you good food, drapes you in lavish clothes, have you bathed in the finest of flowers; practically everything you’ve ever dreamed of about being in the higher class in the society.

And yet, you still spend your time as if you’re counting down the days to your release from a place so godforsaken. At this rate, and with the way you are behaving, you are quickly becoming more of an embarrassment to him than something he can show off.

Hurriedly spreading out the futon and sitting on the edge of it, he pulls you into his lap, only slightly sated by hearing your small yelp of surprise. He quickly locates the hem of your kimono and pushes it up to bunch at your waist, not even bothering to untie your obi. You try to get a word out at the same time his open palm comes down hard against the flesh of your exposed ass, and any would-be protests die in your throat.

Silently fuming, Bokuto holds you in place with a firm hand on the small of your back. Holding you close like this while also getting to take out his disappointment on you satisfied several needs at once, save for a particular need he only becomes aware of when the feeling of your belly against his crotch becomes too good to ignore.

However, his conscience sternly urges him to hold back. You are not perfect yet. This is not the right time.

If you are not responding to his graciousness, maybe you are the type who learns from being punished.

Once that thought crosses his mind, Bokuto feels like a man possessed as he hoists you off of his lap and onto the futon. You fall on your front with little more than a muted sound of surprise, and he pins you down with his own body before you can even attempt to find your bearings. In his haste to fulfill the desire that has finally been fully recognized, he begins tearing away your intricately wrapped kimono. You are in no position to refuse his grabbing hands, though you do become bolder in your soft cries of protest. You are becoming confident enough to use your words.

So Bokuto holds you in such a way to force you further against the sheets, quite literally taking your breath away. He is much, much bigger and stronger than you, holding all of your struggling limbs at once with ease.

He pins your arms behind your back and moves on to your legs and seizes you specifically by your ankles to spread them open in a humiliating pose. The position left your pussy open and vulnerable to him, and he can’t rid himself of his hakama fast enough. He catches sight of you glancing over your shoulder just in time to see his hard, leaking cock, and the look of fear on your face practically has him throbbing. When he grabs your thighs and aligns the tip with your distinctly unaroused entrance, he shoves in as deep as your body will allow.

You can no longer keep your pain silent, the pathetic cries bubbling out over your quivering lips as he holds you tight and prepares to spear in further. Your walls are beginning to grow slick from what he suspects is not desire but necessity, as the experience would have been much more painful than it needs to be if you were not at least a little wet. Every thrust slowly becomes easier, but the delicious resistance of your tight body remains dominant.

Bokuto buries himself within you and only moves his hips slightly at first, before starting a pace that wrings out the volume you are still holding back. You are crying out like a bitch in heat and it only encourages him to fuck you harder.

Bokuto hoists you back up just enough to arch your back towards him. This way he is able to look into your eyes, brimming with emotion and the primal fear of prey that felt its flesh being torn apart by a predator. He groans as his hand moves to your throat, holding you tight so he can feel you tremble and gasp for breath.

“I’ve been very patient. I gave everything you needed to adjust to living here with me. Yet you still refuse to fulfill your purpose,” he murmurs harshly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear with every word. “If you continue to refuse me, you’ll be sorry.”

With little more than a grunt of exertion, he spills himself directly into your abused womb. His hand slowly lets up its grip on your throat and you are able to breathe, though each breath comes out ragged and pitiful. Your body falls slack against the futon as soon as he lets you go, and he moves in to catch your legs and lift them up. Then he shifts to move closer to you, pulling you close and slipping a hand downwards to scoop up his release and push it back inside of you.

He feels you shiver against him when he presses his lips to the back of your shoulder. The hand that is not between your thighs is idly rubbing your belly, and his voice came out smooth as silk. “Don’t disappoint me again, you hear me?”

You are quiet, but Bokuto knows better than to read this as hesitation. It is more like you are tired and trying to catch your breath, or to find the proper words to say.

You are not yet in love with the idea, but rather, it’s as if you are at peace. Like you are finally coming to terms with what your life is now. The thought brings a bright grim to Bokuto’s face. Acceptance constitutes progress too, and it brings you one step closer to perfection.

—

There are many days where he is rough with you. Bokuto has taken over leadership at a very young age, and oftentimes, he takes his aggravation with him and takes it out on you. Part of him is dimly aware of this, but not aware enough to make him stop. Today is one of those days, and he is in a sour mood, desperately in need of both an outlet to pour his anger out and consolation.

You are shivering when Bokuto returns to the room, his steps heavy even on the carpeted floor. It is not exactly cold but you are naked, without even a single strand of hair out of place and your slender neck is on display just as the rest of you, and so nothing gets caught within any straps and hinges.

It is more the trepidation—and anticipation—that has you nervously dancing in place despite the thing he has carefully strapped you into a few minutes earlier. The wood is polished within an inch of its life, cinched around your neck and wrists, keeping you forced to bend over, ass to the door—just another little twist to his games that will keep you nervous and whiny because the thought of someone else stumbling in and getting an eyeful of your cunt is getting you tingly all over.

His little slut.

For the first time, Bokuto stays quiet. He is known as loud and boisterous young yakuza boss across the land, so to experience this silence is extremely unnerving for you. He does not even address you as he makes his way over with slow, heavy steps, but the thick air in the room makes his labored breathing all the louder.

It’s as if your cunt is glowing like a stop sign between your thighs, beckoning him closer. He wants to drag his fingers through the soft gape of your lips and pay some attention to your plump clit; torture it with some mean pinching like he knows you’ll go crazy for, but first, he slowly rounds to the front to have a look at your expression.

Your eyebrows are furrowed, anticipating his every move. You try to look up at him but his height and your position makes it impossible. He reaches for your chin, and you try to turn away from it but he grabs you anyway and slowly leans down, bringing his face very close to yours. You jerk away and abruptly avert your gaze elsewhere when you remember that you’re not supposed to look at him—not yet, not until he gives you the permission to—but he can see your face: bright and every bit scared as is excited.

He breathes slowly and measured, staring at you a bit longer just to unsettle you—then he lets go of your face and carefully tucks a lock of your hair back behind your ear. Some of the nervous fear seems to vanish from your expression after that.

Satisfied that everything is back in order, Bokuto stands back up and rounds you, watching the sway of your tits hanging down, and how your nipples are already swollen and needy. He pinches one—hard—and you cry out in surprise, your hips jerk as you automatically try to get away from the pain and realize you can’t go anywhere.

“No!” You whine, but it sounds weak. Your voice is trembling. He ignores you and pinches again, slower this time; increasing the pressure bit by bit until you start whining louder and louder, your knees bending then stretching again as you try to somehow mitigate the pain radiating off the tip of your breast.

He pulls down slowly, stretching the tissue until your whining becomes a short, rough cry of real pain, then he lets abruptly go.

When he leans over, he can see your cunt clench and relax desperately, slick already starting to glisten at the opening. You’ve always been a slut for pain.

He rounds you slowly, making a show out of letting his belt jingle loudly so you know he’s getting his cock out. You start whining again but a sharp two-fingered slap to your cunt has you shut up quickly.

Bokuto presses down with one big hand on the small of your back until you bend for him to have a comfortable grip on your hips as he drags the wide head of his cock through the valley of your ass.

Finally, it catches at the pouty rim of your pussy, pressing against it and forcing it to start spreading for the massive intrusion. He can hear you gasp for breath and he smirks in triumph.

“Squeal for me,” he murmurs, deep and ominous, then presses forward in earnest.

You do, because there’s no way you can keep quiet when Bokuto is fucking you open on his dick. You spread your toes against the carpet and curl them, trying to twitch out of the way but being held in place by his huge hands and his heavy weight on your back.

You are pinned in place, made to take his cock—basically letting him use you anyway he wants—and you couldn’t be more happy that he’s not hurting you too much, even though it is so very scary. You trust him, deep down. Of course you do.

But when you are like this, deep in your head space and reduced to a breeding sow gagging for dick, it is difficult to remember that you are nothing else but a trophy for him.

Bokuto tells you to squeal—and you obey. Simple as that.

His cock digs into your hole, spreading you so wide you are sure you are going to tear right through the middle. You don’t know when he stops existing as Bokuto in your mind and becomes your owner; domineering, possessive and belittling.

“Gonna put some little babies in you, yeah? Get your belly so swollen you can only waddle around.”

The words settle like hot coals in your belly, burning through you and sparking electric and delicious at the tips of your nipples. Bokuto can be really mean to you when he is angry. And while you are scared of his wrath, his words only serve as the fuel for your slippery slide down the slope. “Have to piss standing up because you’d not be able to get back up by yourself.”

You groan low—more a gurgle, really—and helplessly clench down on the big fat dick fucking into you. With everything compounded, you feel hot and suffocated. He’s fucking destroying you from the inside out, starting at your poor womb that will get massively dilated by the time he is done with what he is going to put into you.

Because that’s what you’re meant to be. He wants you to be waddling around with your holes sloppy and gaping from that massive dick of his you regularly get. Think about the others seeing you like that and knowing exactly that you’re nothing more than a disgusting breeding sow, made to be pumped full of his cum.

He fucks you like a beast and you grunt with every filling of his dick you receive. You can feel his balls swinging between your thighs; full and ripe, ready to fill you up until your belly is distending and your guts are gurgling with the cum he’s filling you with.

He increases his pace and you’ve never felt more animalistic; he groans deep and drawn-out, his hands cupping your belly to feel it starting to bulge with the sheer amount of cum he’s flooding your with while your eyes roll up into your head and your tongue is lolling out, drooling onto your chin, undignified and animalistic.

When he pulls out, it is not smooth. Even the head of his cock is big, and despite the massive spread of your pussy lips, it gets caught behind it anyway and needs to be dragged out with a humiliating wet pop like a plug getting pulled.

His cum immediately starts flowing as you can’t help but bear down, knees bending and clit pulsating needy and ripe between your thighs when the warm mess slides down your thighs as if you had pissed yourself in your excitement.

You don’t notice much of what is going on around you, not when he unclasps the thing from your neck and wrists, until big hands carefully touch you and turn you around into his big arms.

He carefully pats your cheek with a wide fingertip until you blearily blink open your eyes that feel glued-shut from the tears.

His anger should have dissipated by now, because there is a spark of affection in his bright, gold eyes and he nods before cradling you closer to his wide chest with one arm as the hand of the other descends between your thighs.

He’s gentle as his massive fingers slide into your cunt, fucking you slow and gentle while his thumb presses just this side of pleasurable against your swollen clit, dragging painfully tight circles into it until your body is strung tight as a bow string again, your teeth clenched together, sharp little nails digging into his huge forearm.

He keeps at it until you come, messy and loud, crying out as you jerk in his secure hold and gets everything wet as you squirt and he fucks you through it all.

Afterwards he holds you close, warming you with his massive body as he gently rocks you and leans his cheek against your forehead.

Bokuto can be awfully affectionate like that.

And that’s the only sign you need to see that he adores you just as much as you trust him… so far. But trust and security is different from love, and you’re not sure if you will ever be able to. He’s your owner and nothing more, and you’d be naive to think otherwise.

—

Even though you’ve grown accustomed to his presence as well as your new life in the estate, you still tense at the sound of his footsteps as they draw closer and closer over the floor.

You are still not sure about just how much you are allowed to see—your every question in that regard is easily ignored.

By now, you are more eager—as much as that makes you loathe yourself to admit it. You begin to anticipate his visits, lying on your back on the lush mattress he equips your room with and fucking your hole with your fingers as fast as you can without getting a cramp in his arm.

Your loud whimpers suffuse the air and bring an indulgent, broad grin onto Bokuto’s face as soon as he finally emerges in the doorjamb.

“So eager, my feather,” he purrs, slowly collapsing the stick in itself. He strolls casually to where you are wriggling on the sheets, and you turn your face away from him, subsequently baring your throat. Predictably, a large hand finds it without problem as if that’s the only thing his eyes are focused on.

“Are you ready this time?” he rumbles, the deep voice making you shiver and your nipples tighten into sensitive, little nubs. You wet your lips with a quick tongue, legs spreading wide for the hand stroking down his throat, between the valley of your breasts and down your abdomen, in order to vanish between your legs. A soft whine escapes you as he circles your hole, sensitive from getting fucked so often, before one of his fingers dips inside alongside your own fingers, making you strain and gasp.

“Is this… is this going to be the last time?” It is your standard question—almost like a ritual by now. It’s familiar to you like the broad length of Bokuto’s cock was, spreading you open and fucking you breathless. “Are you going to let me go after this?”

His lips stretch into another smile, his free hand stroking over your hair like a parent consoling their child.

“I told you I will breed you full,” he coos—just like always, seems like he’s in a good mood today. “Can’t let anyone see my little toy if she’s not well-bred now, can I?” He seems to take amusement in your predicament, setting you on edge, the humiliation driving ever deeper because you know you could do nothing against it.

You huff, ready to turn around and present your ass on all fours, but…

“Not this time. Stay just like that, beautiful.” Bokuto leans down, his voice—impossibly—dropping even lower as he slides onto the bed and between your thighs; still clothed.

He huffs a laugh, his tactile fingers sliding along your inner thighs, gently rubbing on the lips of your puffy, stretched hole, then curling two fingers inside you.

Your body is moving on its own—hips curling up into his stroking hand. You hate it. You love it.

“Have you been waiting long?” Bokuto asks in amusement, opening his own pants and drawing out that length that makes your mouth water and your hole clench in anticipation. Endorphins rush through your body, making you tingly and needy to be filled with nothing but his cock and cum.

You’ve already been trained so well by now… and from Bokuto’s triumphant grin, he is obnoxiously proud about it. Can’t wait to show you off and brag to his friends about his sweet little plaything; his trophy toy.

He leans down, his deep breaths ghosting along your collarbone. The fact that Bokuto likes your scent the most—he told you himself—and he likes to breathe you in while sucing on your neck, the artery there, feeling the pump of your blood there—is just as arousing as it is intimidating.

“You are... exquisite,” he whispers against your bare neck, dripping the words onto you like they were poetry even as the head of his cock slowly breaches you. You gasp—every time surprised at the fact that you could prepare yourself as much as you liked… Bokuto’s cock will still split you open and make you feel so fucking vulnerable.

“I will groom you to perfection.”

You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as his hips snap forward, driving himself in deep with the first thrust. He could feel tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, but whether from how much it burns (it still does, and you love it) or from the fact that he so casually tells you about his plans to corrupt you… you cannot tell. You don’t even want to tell.

You whimper, arms and legs curling around him, drawing him closer as he leisurely fucks you, his tongue and teeth scraping over your throat and collarbone.

“You are going to be the best there is.” Bokuto raises his head, mouthing along the line of your jaw. “Everyone else is going to wish that you’re theirs,” he sounded entirely too smug for that sentence, “but you’re mine. I own you. ”

You can feel Bokuto’s muscles flexing where your calves lay on his sides. He is so broad, so huge that you can barely wrap your whole body on him and yet… and yet…

Fuck, your whole body is primed to him. To this man brimming with strength and vitality and intellect.

Bokuto is the perfect owner to breed anyone… and your body welcomes him greedily—needy hole opening up despite the burn of the entry; just swallowing that cock again and again, clinging sweetly as if it loathes to let him out on every second stroke.

He laughs—low and painfully happy as if he has read your thoughts. The sound rumbles through his chest and directly into you, your toes curling and feet scrabbling at the backs of his thighs, fingernails scratching along his back as your lust spirals higher, soft sounds of satisfaction spilling out of your throat, no matter how hard you try to hold them back.

“Open up for me,” Bokuto whispers right into your ear—his voice sweet and deadly like poison. “Open up, sweet thing. Take it… take me.”

The last word is rasped in a low rumble—more carnal than human as he thrusts more harshly, grinding deep into you and making you cry with your head thrown back. You hear the breathy, rasping chuckle of him filling you up good and proper.

You love how satisfied you feel at being a good bitch for him.

—

Afterwards, when Bokuto is gone, you realize your face is wet. You think you must have been sweating more than you thought.

Yes. That’s it.

[happy-whumper]

Food Poisoning

Is this..actual content? Damn who would have thought that would happen again 💀🤣

For a bit of context, this is set before Olivia came to Nicolas, actually her last 'owner' before him.

psh psh @darklyria, come simp for the Evil bastard Man~

CW: Poisoning/Drugging, Starvation, Vomiting, begging, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon touching (non sexual), pet whump (if I forgot anything, please let me know and I will add it!)

5 days. It had been 5 days since Olivia had last eaten.

She was laying on her back on the wooden floor, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the aching emptiness in her stomach, another wave of nausea washing over her, causing her to tightly close her eyes.

Deep breaths.

Easier said than done, considering the just slightly too tight collar around her neck. Not quite tight enough to fully cut off her airflow but enough to cause her breathing to be labored and shaking lightly. She tried to swallow but her mouth was completely dried out, leaving an almost stale taste behind.

At the door stood two people, a man and a woman.Olivia didn’t need to turn her head to know that they were there. She didn’t know their names or maybe she had known them at some point and just forgotten.

Either way it didn’t matter, they never did anything to help her anyways. Just stood there, watching. Making sure she didn’t try anything stupid.

These times were still the closest she came to having some peace, the closest she came to being alone. But they never lasted long.

As if on command she heard awfully familiar footsteps approaching. Confident, determined and almost..relaxed in a way.

Olivia shivered, both from the dreadful anticipation as well as the almost numbing cold she had been feeling for the past days.

She tried to somehow prepare herself for what was about to come, knowing full well it wouldn’t have any use anyways.

As the door opened and a tall, blond man in a casually expensive looking white shirt walked in, Olivia had just managed to at least half sit up, still mainly leaning on her hand and elbow. Something about the man caused all the attention to immediately shift towards him, something he was clearly very aware of.

He was grinning, there was something smug about it, that made Olivia want to punch him, but since that wasn’t exactly possible she instead resorted to glaring dagger at him, only causing his smile to only get even more amused.

“Aw, well someone doesn’t look happy to see me…”

Clenching her jaw Olivia tried to push herself up a bit more, but failed because of the weakness in her muscles. “Yeah I wonder why.”

Nathan just laughed at that, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “What’s wrong Princess, not in a good mood today?” The ‘nickname’ made her skin crawl and she wasn’t sure if the next wave of nausea came from hunger or pure disgust by the man looking down on her.

She didn’t bother responding, which he didn’t seem to care about too much. He stepped a bit closer, crouching down in front of her and firmly grabbing her chin, causing her to instinctively pull away. “Ah, ah, ah, what did I say about pulling away from me, hm?” His voice was still calm but she didn’t miss the warning undertone in it causing her to immediately freeze.

He chuckled lightly to himself, lightly brushing his thumb over her chin, causing a feeling of discomfort and disgust to send a shiver down her spine. “That’s what I thought,” he made a gesture to the man standing at the door, causing him to move out of Olivia’s view, leaving her a bit uneasy as Nathan started talking again, “Well, I actually have something that might cheer you up a bit Princess~”.

She felt her heart drop, her eyes immediately going wider. That never meant anything good…

A few seconds later the broader man appeared again, handing Nathan something she instantly recognised, only increasing the feeling of unease in her chest and causing the hairs on her arms to stand up.

“No! Get that..fucking thing away from me!” Rapidly shaking her head and almost crawling backwards, she stared at the short, black leash in his hand. The man in front of her just smirked at her reaction, a hint of impatience.

“Hm, I see someone’s decided to be… difficult today, hm pet?”, he leaned back a bit, lightly tapping has chin as if he was considering something, looking towards the man next to him, “I am not sure if such an ungrateful pet deserves to eat after all…”

At his last words Olivia's head immediately snapped up, a sudden feeling of desperation taking over her, still awfully aware of her empty stomach. “No, please I’m sorry I-”, his head turned towards her, lightly raising an eyebrow with an expectant grin on his face. For a moment she stayed silent, her mouth feeling even more dried out than before, swallowing hard and as a result feeling the tight collar press into her throat. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear and even though a part of her wanted anything but to give in to him, the bigger, more present and louder part was desperate, willing to do anything to just get something to eat.

“P-please Sir...I’m sorry I…”, she closed her eyes for a moment, almost forcing the words out, “I’ll be good Sir, I promise, please!” Her cheeks burned from embarrassment and humiliation but as she opened her eyes again and saw the satisfied smile on his face, she knew that it had been convincing enough.

“Hm, I love hearing you beg like this… So desperate, aren’t you princess?” Olivia bit the inside of her lip so hard that the faint taste of blood filled her mouth but she nodded, her eyes glued to the ground. “Y-yes Sir…”

“Good pet.”

About 45 minutes later, Olivia could finally remember what it was like to not feel hungry again, almost allowing her to relax a bit.

She lightly glanced up to Nathan who was sitting in a chair at the head of a conference room-like table, calmly listening to the other Man around the table talking and discussing. Despite the fact that she was kneeling next to him, the humiliation burning through her, she almost felt...grateful.

As if it hadn’t been Nathan who had starved her in the first place.

Suddenly a wave of dizziness came over her, prompting her to close her eyes for a moment, trying to fight the dazed feeling, not thinking too much of it.

The sudden feeling of a hand in her hair made her flinch, her eyes instinctively flying open, from the corner of her eye noticing the light smirk on the Man’s face.

She let out a breath, trying her best to just ignore it and focus on something else.

Only a few minutes later she once again started feeling light-headed, more severe than the first time, causing her to suck in a sharp breath, catching Nathan’s attention again.

“Everything alright dear?” His voice sounded almost concerned, if Olivia’s mind hadn’t been so woozy she would have picked up on the fake sincerity behind it. As it was though, she just nodded slowly, suddenly feeling nauseous, her eyes going wide, shifting on her knees.

Nathan chuckled lightly to himself, tightening the grip in her hair lightly, but she barely even registered it over the sudden stabbing pain in her stomach, letting out a pained gasp.

She quickly shut her eyes again, the nausea and dizziness getting worse by the second. It felt like the whole room was spinning, the floor underneath her shifting and turning, leaving her dazed and disoriented.

What the hell…

What she couldn’t see was the cruel smile spreading across Nathan's face as he leaned back in his chair, watching Olivia. More to himself, not loud enough for Olivia to hear, he chuckled lightly “Well that worked faster than I expected… “. He gestured to one of his ‘assistants’, signaling him to walk over to him.

"Yeah, Boss?" Nathan didn't even so much as turn his head, his eyes fixated on his pet, who's gaze was getting more glossy and distant. "Take my pet back to my room, I'll be there as soon as this here is done. Until then you stay with her and watch her. Wouldn't want to risk any...more permanent damage."

The man Paused for a Moment, getting a mildly confused look on his face, frowning lightly. "Uh… With all due respect Sir, you want me to play Babysitter?".

At that Nathan turned to him, raising an eyebrow "Is there a Problem? James, isn't it?", as the other nodded he continued talking, "Now I understand it that you're new here, so let me explain something to you. If I say something, you do it, you don't question me, you don't give any comments on it, you simply Follow the Order. I pay you enough for you to simply do that, don't you Think?" His voice had gotten colder now, a clear warning to not test his patience any further.

James nodded quickly, clearly a bit more intimidated now. "Oh yes of course Boss. Sorry." He lightly cleared bis throat and Nathan just nodded swiftly, turning his attention back to the men at the Table whose conversation had fallen quiet, the attention turned towards the Man sitting at the head of the Table. "Excuse me Gentlemen, just something small I had to take care of, please continue".

As the conversation slowly started again, the taller Man, James, Walked around the Chair, harshly grabbing Olivia's arm and pulling her up. The sudden motion combined with the nearly overwhelming dizziness caused her to stumble and almost fall, reflexively reaching out to the nearest surface, in that case the armrest of Nathan's chair, grabbing onto it as though her life was dependent on it.

Without turning around, Nathan put a Hand on Olivia's back, something that would have normally made her skin crawl but she was almost grateful for now.

"Careful. I would hate for you to damage my property."

By the time they were back in the bedroom, Olivia was sure that she was dying.

Every part of her body was taken over by an aching, hot pain, making her feel like she was burning from the inside out.

Her stomach felt like it was being cut open from the inside by a thousand tiny knives, leaving her almost breathless. In Addition to that she felt a burning fire build up behind her eyes, Lifting her arms up with a groan and pressing her Hands against her temples, granting a short Relief of the burning heat.

That Relief only lasted until the overwhelming nausea caused her to empty the insides of her stomach into the Toilet in front of her.

She couldn't remember how she even got to the bathroom floor but at that Moment she also didn't have the energy to Think about it, as the bitter taste of bile made her gag again, despite her stomach being completely emptied out.

Hot tears were running down her face, a ragged sob shaking up her whole body. She let herself drop to the cold floor, savouring the short alleviation of the cold, pulling her knees up to her chest, hoping for any sort of relief to the pain. But it never came. If anything, it just got worse the more time passed, making her feel like her insides were twisting and turning in cruel agony.

As a sudden, almost stabbing feeling went through her she wanted to scream, but her body was too worn out to bring up the energy, only managing a broken whimper. Olivia once again screwed her eyes shut, hoping that she might at least pass out so the pain would stop.

While she collapsed on the floor, James was standing in the doorway, his back turned away from her, frowning in annoyance. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to what exactly she was doing, still irritated about the fact that he had to ‘babysit’ now.

He scoffed, shaking his head lightly and crossed his arms in front of his chest, half glaring at the door across the room.

If I had known that this was part of the job I would have thought twice before taking it…

At the sound of a broken sob he turned around, narrowing his eyes but instantly freezing at the sight before him.

The girl, or 'pet' as his Boss referred to her, was lying on the stone tiles curled up in a fetal position, her breathing unsteady and interrupted by muffled sobs, her whole body trembling and shaking.

He felt his stomach drop, a sickening feeling spreading throughout his body. From the others he had heard about how his new Boss treated his ‘pets’, that it was just to be ignored, but this was the first time he had witnessed it first hand.

James didn’t even know her name and yet he felt awful seeing her lying there, her pale face almost matching the colour of the tiles her head was resting on and the pained whimpers escaping her throat.

But he knew that there wasn’t anything he could do to help her, no matter how much he wanted to. The others had warned him about that too, it would easily cost him his job if not worse and at the end of the day, it would only make things worse for her as well.

So all he did was stand there, watching her with an almost overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

About 10 minutes later, the bedroom door opened and the tall blond Man stepped through, a relaxed smile on his face. James had turned around again, not bearing the sight of the girl suffering any longer.

As Nathan walked towards him, his smile only seemed to widen, causing James to feel sick. How could he seem so...happy while another person was clearly in misery? He shivered lightly, keeping his gaze on the wall across from him.

Nathan glanced at him lightly from the side, smirking. “Now, was ‘babysitting’ really so bad?” James didn’t respond but the other Man clearly didn’t really look for an answer anyways, walking past him and crouching down in front of the girl who was still trembling violently.

If he hadn't known better, James would have thought that the way Nathan looked down on her was almost… caring. But that was only until he saw the sadistic amusement in his eyes, as he brushed a strand of hair that was sticking to the sweat drenching her forehead, to the side.

"You can leave now." He didn't turn around as he gave the command and James didn't hesitate to leave the room, not turning back once.

Olivia could feel the light touch, too exhausted even so much as flinch. She heard him chuckle lightly but it felt as though the Sound was muffled through a thick veil.

"Please…", her voice was barely above a whisper, shaking and unsteady, "Please, Sir I-i'm sorry, I-i-i..i'll be good, I promise!".

Another Wave of pain shot through her, forcing out a broken sob. "Please...please just m-make it s-stop...It hurts…"

Nathan just watched her with increasing satisfaction, fully enjoying seeing her broken down like that. "Oh you're so pretty begging and crying for me like this princess…"

Chuckling lightly to himself, he tilted his head to the side a bit. "Let's get you somewhere a bit more comfortable, hm?"

The last thing Olivia became aware of, was the feeling of someone picking her up, instinctively grabbing onto Nathan's shoulder for support to fight the new wave of lightheadedness before closing her eyes again, the darkness finally taking over and letting her escape into the temporary safety of unconsciousness.

Taglist: @starnight-whump, @jordanstrophe, @froggywhumpy, @whumpasaurus101, @as-a-matter-of-whump, @jojothepanwithoutaplan, @myst-in-the-mirror, @whumpsweetwhump, @darklyria

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Jewelry Box: Amber’s Beginning pt. 2

Well, here’s part two to the intro of the series. There’s probably going to be a part three, although when that will get written is anyone’s guess.

Taglist: @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: intimate whumper, creepy whumper, collared, multiple whumpees, lady whump/whumpees, referenced death(s), Jess (and Sapphire) continue to have dirty mouths, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist here

---

To Jess’ eternal disappointment,  the key was not, in fact, for their collar. Instead the Jeweler - Jess’ lip curled at the name - used it to unhook the chain from the headboard. Once that was off, Jess leapt up, intending to sprint to the door and figure out the rest of their plan from there.

The Jeweler had other plans. As soon as Jess was on their feet, he swept a leg under them, sending them toppling to the ground with a grunt. 

Disoriented, Jess pulled themself onto their hands and knees, a hand holding their head. They were about to try to get back up when a foot pressed down on their back, between their shoulder blades. Their unsteady arms and legs gave out beneath them and they tumbled back down, flat on their stomach. They glared somewhere above them, snapping, “Jeez, dude, can you just not?!”

The Jeweler laughed above them, adding a bit more weight onto their back. “Before we leave this room, I want to make sure we have an understanding. There will be no funny business from you, okay? You will behave and then I won’t have to punish you. Everyone wins.”

Jess scowled into the wooden floor. Dream on, fucker, they thought, but they said, “Okay, fine. I understand.”

“Wonderful.” The Jeweler hauled them back to their feet, making sure to keep the chain wrapped tightly around his hand. When he tugged on it, Jess was forced to follow them or risk suffocation. The Jeweler gestured back to the tray he had set down on the nightstand. “Now, do you want to take it or not? It’ll help you recover quicker, last night was not nice to you, but I won’t force you. Not this time at least.”

Jess glanced back at the tray, noticing that there were a couple inconspicuous white pills and a glass of water sitting on it. Hell no, they thought, shaking their head. “No- no way, dude.” They glanced at the Jeweler, wondering if he was about to get angry and blow his lid off.

But he just smiled, opening the door. “Very well.” He lead them out into a surprisingly normal hallway, with several doors and branching hallways on either side. A few picture frames were hung on the wall.

As the Jeweler lead them, Jess let their eyes wander over the pictures, not realizing what they were seeing until one in particular caught their eye.

It was a figure dressed in bright, rich shades of reds and oranges. Their skin was warm brown and their hair, which fell in waves down their back, looked as if it was almost on fire. Orange-gold flakes decorated their skin and hair, and they looked to be posing on their toes, arms arching out above them. They were quite beautiful.

Jess shook their head and began to move on, wondering why they were thinking that, when they noticed that the Jeweler had stopped too. He was gazing at the photo, with a wistful sort of longing. “That was my Garnet,” he said. “He was such a shining soul. Shame…” He trailed off before looking up at Jess. “He was one of my first Jewels,” the man explained. “But an accident-” his lips pursed at that- “caused him to leave too soon. It was a mercy to put him down.”

Jess felt disgust and horror mingle inside them. This man had killed someone? Jess looked back at the picture, noticing what they hadn’t the first time. Nearly invisible wires pulled at Garnet’s wrists, forcing him to balance precariously on his toes. Bruises, almost perfectly concealed, dotted the man’s body. And his eyes were wide not in excitement, but fear, with tears welled up in them. 

Jess shuddered, not resisting as the Jeweler led them on further. A wave of nauseous dizziness swept through them, most likely remnants from whatever the Jeweler had slipped them. They turned down several more hallways, Jess quickly becoming hopelessly lost. There were no windows or doors that lead outside. Finally, after several tense minutes of silence, the Jeweler stopped in front of a door that looked like all the other doors in the halls. 

Using another key, he unlocked the door, revealing an illuminated set of stairs. The Jeweler cheerfully set off down them, pulling Jess along too. The door clanged shut above them, locking, and Jess swallowed, unable to help the feeling that they were being swallowed up by the earth. 

When they reached the bottom, there was another door waiting for them, this one made of solid steel. The Jeweler unlocked it using a very long pin number and a fingerprint ID. Jess watched on, amazed and terrified at the how well organized this man was. The door swung open after a short beep, and Jess frowned, peering closer to look inside. 

The Jeweler gave a quick tug on the chain, causing them to stumble forward into the room. The floor, ceiling, and walls were all the same plain white tile, and there were several racks filled with a huge variety of objects behind glass cabinets along the back wall. Jess saw everything from workout equipment to swathes of cloth to a number of items they chose not to take a closer look at. But that wasn’t the weirdest part.

No, the weirdest part were the six small cells set into the walls, three on either of the side walls, with large panes of glass acting as the fourth wall and keeping them sealed. Well, that and the humans trapped inside them.

Jess jumped back and stared, wide-eyed and unbelieving, at the five people trapped, one to a cell, with the one empty one glaring out at them.

“What- what the hell is this place?” Jess croaked, turning to the Jeweler.

Before the Jeweler could answer, though, one of the people - a young man, maybe a few years older than Jess, with vibrant blue hair and a scowl Jess could see from a mile away - banged on the glass of his cell, glaring at the Jeweler.

“You asshole!” he yelled. Jess blinked, surprised. How long had he been stuck in this place? “Carn- Carnelian’s only been gone a couple of days! And you’ve already replaced him?!”

Jess took a step back, curling in on themself. Whatever they had stumbled into must’ve been a hell of a lot bigger than they first thought.

The Jeweler just smiled, glancing at Jess. “Ah, yes, this is my new Jewel, Amber. Amber, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Amber.”

A wave of anger swept over Jess and they snapped before they could help it. “I told you, fucker, my name is not Amber, it’s fuckin’ J-” 

They was cut off by a sudden cracking noise and pain exploding in their face. It took them a moment to realize what had happened: the Jeweler had slapped them. They blinked, a burst of dizziness exploding through them. They were one of the most skilled fighters they knew, and they hadn’t even seen the blow coming.

The Jeweler watched them, an expression of interest on his face. Jess felt their lip curling, and forced themself to back off. The Jeweler smiled, as if he could tell what was playing through Jess’ mind. 

He turned, gesturing to each of the people. “This is Sapphire-” the blue boy let out what sounded too much like a growl for comfort- “Ruby-” a short, slight slip of a girl with the most vibrant red hair Jess had ever seen glanced up at them, fear in her eyes- “Amethyst-” a much taller, curvier, paler woman with pastel purple hair watched them with calculating eyes- “Emerald-” a man build like an ox with dark skin and kind green eyes watched without expressing much interest- “and my darling Diamond-” a person with the palest skin Jess had ever seen, white hair tumbling over their shoulders, smiled up at the Jeweler. With how pale and faded they looked, Jess could swear they might be a ghost. They also seemed like the only person who was actually happy to see the Jeweler. Everyone else seemed angry or fearful.

The Jeweler smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “Now that introductions are done, I’ll show you to your new home, let you get acquainted with the other Jewels, and then I’ll be back later to continue your initiation.” 

The Jeweler lead them to the empty cell, which was, of course, right next to the angry one - Sapphire. Jess had never been good with names, so it was a good thing that each of the other people were so obviously color-coded to go with the gemstone they were named after. The Jeweler unlocked the door to the cell, and shoved Jess inside, unhooking the chain and slamming the door back closed, all in a few smooth motions. 

Jess stumbled in, glancing around at their surroundings - a small bed attached to the far wall, an empty nightstand next to it, and a metal toilet across from it (Jess had seen prison cells more luxurious than this) - before turning back to face the Jeweler. They took up their fighting stance, legs planted slightly apart, arms crossed in front of them, and a look on their face that was a mix between a scowl and a smirk - a smirl, they called it - that Jules said could make anyone throw the first punch. 

“So what?” they drawled. “This some psycho dream of yours, kidnapping innocent people and dressing them up as, what are these? Gemstones?”

The Jeweler’s smile twitched, which was one of the first signs of his emotions, but when he replied, his tone was light. “Jewels, actually.” He took a step back, surveying Jess. “I’ll be back later,” he said with a wave of his hand, and before Jess knew it, he was gone.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[ibuki-says]

3AM Thoughts

Pairing: Ibuki Mioda x Kazuichi Souda

Rating: PG-13 - Slight mentions of violence/gore and cursing

Word Count: 2,173

Spoilers: Up to Chapter 2′s class trial and slight spoilers for Chapter 3

Prompt: “Why are you awake right now?”

If there was one thing someone shouldn’t be concerned with during a literal killing game, it would be dumb trivial things like romance. Hell, someone could go to sleep and the next day they’d wake up dead. If that wasn’t enough to get your heart racing and a pit forming in your stomach, then there’s no way someone holding your hand or not liking you back would cause the same reaction. However, for a certain raven-haired rocker, that was exactly what was happening. Ibuki Mioda always tried her best to keep the energy high and everyone smiling, but even she had her moments. She wasn’t able to keep her head up all the time, though she tried not to let anyone else see it. Things were already bad enough with their friends dropping like flies, her being sad wasn’t going to help anything!! These were all things more important than any stupid feelings she had, ones she was pretty much 100 percent sure weren’t even reciprocated anyway, so there was no reason to dwell on them!! Or at least that was something she hoped she could come to terms with. 

It was a few days after Peko’s execution. Everyone was still stunned and sad, as expected. Fuyuhiko was still recovering after the insane stunt he pulled and that (still kinda creepy) memorial thing Hiyoko created for Mahiru still loomed in the background while everyone was in the restaurant eating their breakfast. Ibuki was uncharacteristically quiet as everyone made idle chit-chat around her. It was alright though, it wasn’t like she was feeling particularly down or anything, just thinking. As she picked at her food and pondered, her eyes trailed up to focus on a particular pink-haired mechanic. Kazuichi was on the other side of the room, speaking with Akane about her eating habits. A sigh of quiet relief left the musician’s lips. She didn’t have anything against Sonia, not even in the slightest. In fact, she’d probably consider the blonde one of her closest friends at this point. However, even the toughest person would admit it was hard watching someone they had feelings for fall over themselves to impress someone that clearly wasn’t interested whatsoever. Not that anyone knew about this crush she’d been harboring. They were still stuck in a killing game, damn it!! This wasn’t important! So then why did her heart break a little every time Kazuichi attempted to woo Sonia only to be met with indifference? She shook her head clear of her thoughts as she finished her meal, just in time for a certain pink bunny to join the conversation. Monomi was greeted with the same annoyance that she typically was before she’d explained that she’d defeated another Monobeast and in turn, another island had opened up. The mood was still low, so there was some indecisiveness whether they should really go while Fuyuhiko was still recovering, or how sketchy Monomi’s position in this whole thing really was. However, they ended up agreeing to go explore the new island, mostly thanks to Chiaki encouraging everyone to go explore and instead of sitting around and doing nothing. With that, and the smallest amount of hope in their hearts, the group made their way to the third island. 

Ibuki was dead. That was what happened right? Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician, had died and gone to heaven, right? Cause that was the only explanation for what she was seeing right now. She was silently stunned for just a moment before letting out a loud “YA-HOOOOOO!!!!” Right before her eyes was a certified, amazing, best-thing-she’d-ever-seen MUSIC VENUE!! Her yelling had attracted the attention of several of her friends, who’d  immediately made their way over. 

“Is everything alright, Ibuki!?” Sonia was the first to approach the ravenette, who only nodded enthusiastically, pointing aggressively at the venue. 

“Ibuki found a music venue!! ...Ibuki found a music venue!!! This is the best day EVER!!!” Ibuki cheered, looking back and forth between her friends and the incredible building. Kazuichi, who was still panting some after rushing over so quickly let out a larger sigh as he crossed his arms. 

“Oh man, that’s it? I was- er- you made Miss Sonia rush over and worry for nothing!” The mechanic huffed, looking over to the princess as if she was going to reiterate his point. “Miss Sonia?” Evidently not as the blonde was simply grinning widely towards Ibuki. “That’s wonderful! I am certainly looking forward to hearing you play here, Ibuki!” She said as Akane let out an audible sigh from behind both of them. 

“Ok cool. No danger? C’mon then, let’s go find some more cool stuff!!” She exclaimed as the other two followed, clearly assuming Ibuki wanted to stay at the music venue for a little longer. After they left, Ibuki let out a long breath. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to Kazuichi prioritizing Sonia over pretty much anything and everything else, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t stung when he’d completely glossed over her excitement about the music video to worry over Sonia. Especially considering they were still supposed to be friends, right?? She sniffled then immediately shook herself out, determined not to let these dumb feelings overshadow her happiness about there being a music venue!! An entire music venue!! It was like it was made just for her!! With a slightly heavy heart, she went inside to explore the venue itself just a bit more. 

--

After...an incredibly eventful rest of the day in which Fuyuhiko was revealed to be alright, albeit missing an eye, Ibuki returned to her cottage, absolutely exhausted from everything that's happened up to this point. Her eyes were drooping and her physical body was more than ready to slip into as peaceful of a sleep as she’d be able to manage. Unfortunately for the musician, her mind was running a mile a minute, as was normal, but tonight it seemed to be at a pace that wouldn’t allow her to drift off anytime soon. Thus Ibuki was stuck pacing around her room, itching to play something in an attempt to empty her thoughts, but knowing everyone else was likely asleep, or at least attempting to. She was loud and a bit oblivious at times, but even she had the sense not to play her music this late. “Grrrr!! Shut up!” She whisper-yelled to herself, pointing an accusatory finger towards the culprit: her own head. Her thoughts normally didn’t bug her so much, so she had no clue what the issue was today! However, she froze when her mind took her back to a certain event from earlier. Huh. Suppose that was having a bit of a bigger effect on her than she would’ve liked. Groaning to herself, she finally decided she had enough of her room. She needed fresh air. Quietly opening her door, she confirmed that the lights in pretty much everyone’s cottages were off. Trying her best not to make a sound, she escaped to the only place she could think of.

The music venue was quiet. Not too different from earlier, but it was still an eerie silence considering how loud and lively they typically are. Making her way over the stage, she allowed herself to daydream about what it’d be like to play here. Perhaps for the others?? It wasn’t much, but it was definitely something she could do to help lift everyone’s spirits. Considering everything that’s been happening, Ibuki thought that would be the most important thing at the moment. Once she reached the stage, she turned around and lifted herself up, so she was sitting on the edge, allowing her legs to dangle lazily over the side. Alright, she got away from her cottage. Now what? She rubbed her temples as if that would keep her racing thoughts at bay. Unfortunately, not such luck. She sat in silence for who knows how long, eventually allowing herself to lay back down on the stage and stare absentmindedly towards the ceiling. 

Ibuki wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she stubbornly refused to leave until her mind had calmed down. Obviously, this hadn’t happened yet by the time she heard the loud creak of the main door to the music venue opening. Instantly sitting up and fearing for her life (she still was in a killing school trip after all) Ibuki scooted back with her eyes wide. “Who’s there!?” She demanded before seeing the unmistakable head of pink hair poke out from behind the heavy doors. 

“Just me!! I swear!!” Kazuichi almost immediately held up his hands in surrender before fully entering the music venue. Not sensing any sort of danger anymore, Ibuki felt herself relax a bit. However, she tensed back up once more remembering that the reason for her sleep troubles stood right in front of her, though completely oblivious about it. She let out a gentle sigh before pulling one of her knees up to reach her chest and resting her chin on it. “Thought I saw you leave your cottage…’spose I guessed right where you’d end up…” Kazuichi continued despite Ibuki’s uncharacteristic silence. Eventually he ended up at the stage as well, lifting himself up to sit beside her. Seeming to finally catch on to her mood, glanced over to look at her with furrowed brows. “Hey, uh, why’re you awake right now? I mean, I guess I get it but it’s almost three in the damn morning!” Hearing what time it actually was, Ibuki’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Had she really been sitting in the music venue and moping for that long?? Instead of answering, she pulled her second leg up to her chin and continued staring into the nothingness of the music venue. Ugh, what is wrong with me? She internally scolded herself, but couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. “Ibuki? Hey, you can talk to me y’know!?” The concern in his voice was apparent as he craned his head to get her to look at him. 

“It’s stupid. Ibuki’s just overthinking… Don’t worry about it.” Ibuki finally turned to him, cracking a smile in an attempt to get him to drop it. However, this failed as his expression changed to one that clearly said ‘I don’t believe you.’

“That’s BS. I specialize in stupidity, and even I know that something that makes Ibuki Mioda this quiet isn’t nothing. So c’mon. Out with it!” He retorted, flashing his signature shark-toothed grin that always managed to make Ibuki feel at ease. She let out an involuntary chuckle and self consciously tugged at her hair. 

“Like Ibuki said: overthinking. How messed up everything is. Worrying about small stupid things when everyone’s dying. How you like Sonia when it’s obvious she’s into Gundham-” The second the words left her mouth, she wanted to stuff them back in and never speak again. Damnit!! Subtly was never the rocker’s strong suit and it really showed. She watched Kazuichi let out a sharp breath, leaning back on both hands. Ibuki was ready to run off, praying he’d forget everything and remember it as some weird dream when she heard his soft voice finally begin speaking. 

“Y’know...at this point, I’m not even sure. Yeah, she’s a hot blonde princess, someone my pop would’ve seen as acceptable to bring home or whatever. I dunno…” He ended up trailing off with a faraway look in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry…” Ibuki wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing for, probably opening her big mouth. Kazuichi shook it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Don’t be. It’s whatever. I’ll get over it.” He shrugged, looking back at Ibuki. The two locked eyes for just a moment too long before the mechanic cleared his throat. “Anyway, in the meantime, we should probably get you some sleep. C’mon, let’s go.” Kazuichi hopped off the stage, holding his hand out to her with a grin. “Gotta be well rested if you wanna make use of this place and perform for us sometime.” Ibuki let out a yawn, the exhaustion she was feeling from the day finally hitting her. She simply let out a little ‘mhm’ before taking his hand and allowing him to guide her out of the venue. “Oh hey! If you ever wanted to add some sweet modifications to your guitar I could totally do that!! Maybe if-” Kazuichi rambled on about cool things he could do to her instrument while Ibuki listened with a content smile. She could tell it was an attempt to keep her awake until they got back to their respective cottages. Thankfully, it was working, though she still needed the support of an arm around her waist to make sure she didn’t wander off or anything. As she took in the brisk incredibly early morning air, she practically felt the atmosphere between them changing, and wondered if he could too. Whatever happened next, they could face it and get off this island. She was sure of it.

[at-the-exd-of-everythixg]

1. Love || 4. Fears || 5. crying || 6. Laughter || 8. Dreams || 11. Best Friend || 13. Hair || 15. Hands || 17. Scars || 22. Family || 23. Romance || 26. Beauty || 30. Sex || 32. Birth || 35. Guilt || 36. Sacrifice || 39. secret || 41. Memory ][For Mahogany][

@blind-mutant

Love

A lot of Mahogany's view of love has always been rather religious and platonic. There was love from Old Alpha as she took care of them and taught them and Mahogany distantly knows that their mother loved them, but other than that, Mahogany has grown up on a pedestal placed by worshippers and the terrifying love of the Moder. Meeting Rhys and having a chance to make actual friends that aren't ancient worshippers means that Mahogany loves their friends deeply and will very much so do anything in order to protect and make their friends happy and feel loved.

Fears

Due to growing up coddled and kept away from most things, Mahogany doesn't exactly have a sense of what's dangerous and what isn't. After they get into the real world, Mahogany often will learn first hand why they need to be cautious over certain things, such as being hit by a car or being put into a bath of hot water (coughRhyscough). While it's useful for the fact that Mahogany isn't scared of small things like spiders or rats, Mahogany also doesn't really realise the danger that they can put themself and others into unfortunately.

Crying

Mahogany doesn't have enough water in their body to cry. Or more specifically, they don't actually have tear ducts (usually this means they just lick their eyeballs to wetten them). Instead Mahogany just makes loud nosies and copies crying, which can be more creepy than sad admittedly, or they simply curl into the corner and scratch things. Sometimes they scratch the walls and floor, but sometimes they scratch themself because at least then it feels like some sort of outlet when you can't make things pour from the eyes.

Laughter

Full anime cackle baby. Mahogany throws their head back and usually thumps their hands on the nearest surface and occasionally if it's REALLY funny they'll kick their legs out. Usually their tail forms and it starts wagging wildly and Mahogany will often keep grinning after they've laughed. They're the type of person whose favourite jokes are all about why the chicken crossed the road.

Dreams

Mahogany doesn't dream. The only time they do is if they're tapping into someone's head or if they're tired enough that they pass out. Mahogany only sleeps for a short amount of time and usually their dreams relate to the Moder still or tend to be useful memories being brought forth. Only rarely does Mahogany dream of their mother and they treasure those dreams of Robyn deeply.

Best friend

They didn't exactly have any real friends growing up since....no one was their age or at least stayed their age. But Mahogany probably would have said that Old Alpha was their best friend since she always sat with them, taught them, fed them and then Old Alpha would take them out to see the real world and play games with them. Mahogany considers Old Alpha their best friend for years until they meet Rhys or Abby and they become Mahogany's best friend.

Hair

Mahogany's hair is more connected to their nervous system than most, which is how they're able to feel things easily. Their hair grows rather slowly and it takes a few years for it to grow back once cut and it dulls some of their senses, much like how a cat struggles with some stuff once its whiskers have been cut off. Mahogany doesn't enjoy having their hair up in a bun or any tight styles as it cuts off some form of sensation and they tend to pull their hair out of it quote roughly. Also they love sniffing hair.

Hands

Rat hands. Mahogany has long nails that are jagged and more sharper so basically claws while their fingers are longer and much more thinner than a normal person's. Funny enough, Mahogany lacks the little wrinkles people have on their hands so...they've got really smoth hands to hold. Their hands have a lot of calluses and feel a bit more like cat beans from where their front hands shift into paws when in their Moder form. Likewise, their feet are harder and slightly curved in from how they shift into hooves.

Scars

Mahogany rarely takes scarring due to their powers making them denser and more detached from this reality, but when The Town burned down, it left a severe scar across their stomach up from their navel after they needed to find energy to survive their connection being snapped. Until they form another connection to build up power, Mahogany is more susceptible to being harmed and scarred, such as being shot or the other Jötun that harmed Rhys and admittedly Abby could scar them quite badly now if they were to get into a fight (especially since when meeting, Mahogany is quite deprived of physical and devine meals).

Family

Mahogany adores family. How could they not? Family has been everything for them growing up and it's the very place where power and home lies. Old Alpha was the one who started everything and Mahogany loves her more than life for years to come and still cries over her sometimes. And while they didn't know who their father was or where he went (Died immediately after Moder possessed his body to uh. Have the Build a Bear parts to make an heir), but Mahogany doesn't care. The only thing that's ever really bothered them is how little they remember their mother. All Mahogany has of Robyn is fuzzy memories of a soft voice and being kissed and heartbeats. When they're upset, Mahogany will tap surfaces at time in the same way Robyn's heart went.

Romance

Mahogany is all about romantic gestures once they get the idea of it! They go out and collect flowers, find things that they know their partner likes smelling or drinking and uh...collects the biggest kills they can get in order to seem more impressive towards their mate. Mahogany also starts grooming constantly and ensuring that their hair is nicely fluffed up and that their teeth crunch though the toughest material. They'll give a gift almost every week, especially if their partner likes it.

Beauty

Mahogany knows, that as a monster born from terror and an entire mythology dedicated to gods, they are beautiful and terrifying. Their hair is messy and long and can sense so many things, they can smell and hear much better than any other human, their devine form makes their horns regal and the many mouths and hands and eyes send people crying in joy and fear. Everyone is born with the body they are meant to have and while they don't understand why someome would want to change their body, Mahogany loves them and they love their own angular sharpness and there should be no reason for anyone to NOT want to spend all day feeding them.

Sex

Sex is a...new concept. It was had in The Town but Mahogany never really had a way of knowing it outside of Old Alpha reading them a bunch of puberty books that goes past the 18th century for boys and girls. Beyond that? Mahogany knows that they like licking themself especially well when thinking about a crush but when it comes to actual sex they're clueless for the first few times and the cues of it. Though Mahogany is very eager in sex to pleasure their partner and wants to be worshipped and to tease...although they also enjoy the idea of having a partner that can forced their head down and lift their ass by their tail to fill and rut them good?? Well, Mahogany has made their vulva swollen with those thoughts.

Birth

Ah yes. Birth. When you fill a bath of boiling blood, cut yourself open with a sacrifice and allow your Norse goddess to bless you with child. Y'know. Beats the queue at mothercare. Mahogany was born this way and um. Technically came from the body of a deer?? Robyn loved them immediately anyway and was the most insufferable mum now that she had not only the nordic antichrist, but the only child in The Town at all. It's part of the reason why Mahogany wants to make their own frozen home, so that they can ensure the same attention and effort into making their family as perfectly as posisble. Especially since the whole ritual takes a large amount of energy and effort.

Guilt

While Mahogany never really talks or thinks about it if they can help it, they feel a lot of guilt that he couldn't help their home, their worshipers. That Moder gave them so much power to do so much and all Mahogany really did was let people and a whole home die. They don't like facing their past mistakes and Mahogany will do anything posisble to try and save anyone close to them if needed. When they were younger, they used to turn their own power on themself subconsciously, which hurt even more to see someone from The Town wandering about in the woods before dispersing into ash.

Sacrifice

Mahogany is selfish. Therefore they would refuse to sacrifice anything that truly means something to them. Sure, sacrificing a meal or something to care for a mate is diffrent, but if Mahogany was forced to give up their power or the idea of a new home? Well, Mahogany has an embedded loyalty to Moder that not even a partner could break. Not unless Mahogany was willing to give up their power and to become human or something similar.

Secret

Mahogany is difficult at and with secrets. They can barely hide something they've been told, yet they can keep their own secrets for years on end. If you want to know something then you have to ask them for a while before they might finally spill. Their biggest secrets so far is that they lied when telling Old Alpha that they didn't remember their mother and when Moder told them to leave The Town for a while. That was when they came back to find everything had died.

Memory

Memories are usually when Mahogany's age starts to show. They're old as shit and the things they talk about at times show it, mostly from being with other ageless humans. But then Mahogany struggles to temper certain pathways to go or if Rhys told them to get a bigger rat or no rat at all to bring home??? Living for such a long time within a town where everything is the same means that Mahogany might struggle to remember certain events or faces, especially if they changed rapidly. Mahogany will never recognise Abby in his human form at first, probably never since it's such a stark contrast.

[darknessisafriend]

Your savior

Tag list: @help-i-am-obssessed @the-ineffable-dreamer 

Request from @sirianfromsixties

Prompt: Hi Would you do a Joker x Reader like : it was late night in Gotham and the reader was walking alone when 3 men started to harass her and punch her till,while she's on the floor all hurt and In pain,someone came and shoot the 3 men,then take her senseless to his "home" to take care of her?(it's the joker obv) Then idk,like,when she wakes up she's scared but then only thankfull and turned on by him and things happens?And this is becoming smuth  

NSFW 

Here it is ! I’m really happy to share this with you people, hope you’ll like it <3

You were tired, your day at work got longer than expected and you had to work on extra material until 9pm. To make things worse you lived around 45 min away from work, the subway was fine, a lot of people were taking this line to go out, it made you feel safe. Cities and especially Gotham were dangerous places for women, even more if you’re alone outside after 8 in the evening. Now what worried you the most was this 15 minutes’ walk from the subway to your flat; the neighborhood wasn’t bad in itself but there was couple of bars nearby and drunk people could really become annoying and creepy; you stopped counting how many times you had to speed your pace because of some guys calling you and even following you.

You exited the subway stop, it was getting quite cold, after all it was October. You tighten your coat around your body and walked to your flat; the way was pretty simple, you kept walking on the main street then at the crossing turn left, until you reach the adjacent street where was your flat. Even if the city made you nervous, you enjoyed the night, the few stars you could see mixed with the lights of the skyscrapers was beautiful. 

“Hi…” lost in your thoughts you startled at hearing someone calling you. You quickly glanced in their direction, there was 3 guys sitting on the steps of a building, a couple of bottles around them. ‘And here we go’ you thought starting to be nervous.

You decided to continue walking, hopefully they will leave it at that.

“Hey Miss! C’mon don’t be afraid, we just wanna talk to you!” another insisted. You continued to walk pretending not to hear them, your heartbeat increasing. You heard footsteps behind you ‘shit! Please stop!’ you wished, you started to increase your pace. Until you felt your arm being yanked back.

“Don’t you fuckin’ ignore me!” badgered the man holding your arm.

“Yeah he’s being nice to you and you act like a brat…” chided the third one. You tried to snatch your arm out of his grip.

“I’m not interested, just let me go.” You replied trying to hide the fear in your voice.

“What you think I’m not good enough for you?!

“I didn’t say…” a heavy slap across your cheek cut you off, you can feel your cheek burning, the shock makes your eyes wet. You struggled trying to free yourself from his claws and run away. But the 2 other men joined him gripping you by your coat, shoulders, pushing towards a dark alley.

“HELP!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs ‘please somebody hear me!’, you received another hit, this time a fist met your jaw, sending you to the ground, you tried to crawl away from them, but despite the alcohol they were faster than you, gripping your hair tightly.

“We’re gonna teach you good manners hussy!” one of them growled, kicking you in your belly, you curved into a ball trying to protect yourself, and they continued to punch you over and over again until you couldn’t feel the pain anymore, but only the pounding in your head and warm drops of blood dripping from various areas of your face.

“Hey, hold her, might as well take some good time with her” tempted one as he started to take off his belt ‘please not this’

A loud bang like a gunshot resonated around you “What the…!” screamed one the man, before another gunshot happened, then a third one. You wanted to move, get away but your body was becoming weaker and weaker, in fact your survival instinct was trying to keep you conscious but the hits you took had hurt you badly. The last thing you remember was a laugh, a hearty laugh, your eyelids closed, you vision becoming blurry, a red spot coming closer to you…

 Several hours later

 Your head was pounding, painful, your eyelids heavy. You didn’t want to move, you just felt exhausted, like any ounce of energy you had, had left your body. Whatever was surrounding you was soft…and warm. Where were you? You wondered. Suddenly everything that had happened to you surged back to your mind, their beating, your cries for help, the gunshots. Your eyes shot open. Your eyes quickly wandering around the room where you were. There was barely enough light for you to distinguish anything, there was a large window giving a view of the city, it was still the night?

There wasn’t much in the room, apart from the bed you were in; there was desk with a mirror, an ashtray, the smell of cigarette was very present and there was also tubes and pallets of paint or makeup maybe. The door was closed but you could see light peak through the cracks of the door.

As if your body was only starting to wake up, you started to feel pain, in your belly, your arms and you realized that they were full of purple bruises. You winced, which in return made your head hurt, you slowly brought your fingers to touch your face, you could feel your left eyebrow being swollen, a cut crossing it. You felt dry blood around your nostrils, and another cut at your lower lip.  You felt tears prickling in your eyes, remembering the scene once again.

But you were okay now…who had saved you? In any case, you had to thank them, who knows if you’d still be alive if this mysterious savior hadn’t pulled the trigger. Cause yeah, you weren’t stupid, you remembered the gunshots and honestly you didn’t care, these assholes only got what they deserved. You wanted to thank to person who saved you.

Still, feeling cautious, you got out of bed as slowly as you could, realizing at the same time that you were only wearing your panties and undershirt, you guessed your clothes were probably full of blood and filth from the streets.  You tip toed to the door, looking through the key hole, trying to spot somebody but nothing. Your hand slowly reached for the doorknob, twisting it as slowly as you could. You arrived in a much bigger room, with sofas, tables and many chairs, looked like a meeting room.

“You should be staying in bed…” you jumped at the masculine voice behind you. You took a deep breath ‘come on this person saved you, there’s nothing to fear!’ you told yourself as you pivoted to face your savior. You weren’t expecting to come face to face with the Joker. You were kind of frozen, at his sight, his eyes were intensely looking at you, he brought his cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag. You took a few steps back, your back meeting the sofa. So that explain the laugh you heard and the red you saw. You were confused, he’s supposed to be a crazy criminal regardless that he was right to speak out about the state of Gotham…why save you? He didn’t say a word, probably curious of what you’d do next. He didn’t look like he had bad intentions towards you. You caught yourslef wondering what he looked like without his makeup on but now that you had him right in front of you, he wasn’t as frightening as the media presented him, he looked quite elegant actually with his 3-piece suit, his green hair perfectly slicked back, his makeup neatly applied. You realized that he had beautiful eyes, their color going from green to an icy blue, quite captivating actually…then you became aware that you might have been starring at him for too long.

“Thank you…” you started embarrassed, lowering your eyes. He chuckled, you couldn’t help but be on your guard, to wake up at a criminal’s home after being assaulted by other criminals wasn’t a common thing…did he plan on keeping you here? This idea suddenly appeared, you started to be anxious again, quickly brushing a strand of hair behind you ear, this was the Joker there’s no way to escape him!

The clown must have sensed your sudden panic, so he walk to what you assumed to be the entrance door, and he opened it.

“You free to go but you should stay, you took a pretty bad beating, you’re still weak.” He advised, taking another drag of his cigarette. Shit, you were being stupid, if he wanted to hurt you, considering your outfit at the moment, he would have already done it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…be rude…” you stuttered. You heard him closing the door, but as the adrenaline came down, you started to feel dizzy, loosing your balance. Thankfully he was quickly by your side, holding you steady, his hands felt warm against your skin.

“You’re freezing cold, let’s go back to bed” he directed, holding you against his side, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other gently stroking your forearm.  You sat on the mattress, he did the same, putting a cover over your body. It was nice to have someone taking care of you after what you’ve been through, to be comforted. Another feeling rose in your chest, your eyes becoming wet, your lower lip trembling, you didn’t want to cry but it became stronger until you couldn’t hold it anymore, tears running down on your face, your breathing erratic.

“Shhshhshh come here kitten…” he took you into his embrace, your arms wrapped around his waist beneath his vest. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and cried for several minutes. He continued to hold you, one hand stroking your back and the other caressing your hair, it soothed you, and even when you had finished crying you stayed buried in his embrace enjoying the warmth, listening to his calm heartbeat, you could smell that he was wearing Cologne. You nuzzled your nose against the skin of his neck, you wanted to be closer to him, you didn’t want to feel the hands of those assholes on you anymore, you felt soiled. And you found the Joker quite handsome, charismatic, magnetic, and he has been so gentle with you…

You brushed your lips against his skin, he chuckled.

“Now, aren’t you being a tease?” he asked, you could tell he was smiling. You looked up meeting his eyes, he was intrigued, but you could also tell that he was attracted to you, his pupils were slightly dilated starring at your lips, his hand never leaving your body since he first touched you. So you leaned in, kissing his lips; his hand instantly went to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek, his tongue came teasing your lips, so you opened your mouth, your tongue meeting his, it tasted good, addictive, a soft mix of alcohol and tobacco. The kiss became more intense, needy, you slipped on of your hands in the back of his pants trying to find more skin to feel. A moan escaped his lips, as he separated from you, panting.

“You don’t want to do this kitten…” he breathed, a mischievous glow in his eyes, a grin on his lips. You slightly frowned at this “Why?” you exclaimed, your other hand cupping his cheek, he leaned into his warmth, your thumb brushed against his lips, making him close his eyes like he was restraining himself.

“Because I won’t stop, not until I take you and make you fully mine…” he growled, reopening his eyes that were now dark with desire. Your heart skipped a beat at this confession.

“Then take me.” You purred; he didn’t need to hear more and crashed his lips against yours, slightly making your open lip bleed and making you tumble on your back on the bed, he placed himself between your legs, tracing kisses along your jaw, then your neck, his tongue tickling your skin, sucking and nibbling the most sensitive spots. You buried your fingers in his green locks, closing your eyes to enjoy even more the pleasure he was giving you, you’ve always had a very sensitive neck. You could already feel him hard against your leg. Your other traveled to his collarbone under his shirt, his skin was burning hot.  He straightened, throwing his vest on the floor and unbuttoning his shirt, you watched him reveal his torso, he was thin still you could see he was muscular, he had nice biceps… You also took off your undershirt, then your bra, revealing your breast, your nipples hard. He seemed frozen.

“Damn kitten…you’re so gorgeous.” He said hungrily, pushing you back on the mattress, eagerly sucking your nipples sometimes biting them, making you gasp.  Then his kisses went lower until they reach your panties. He kisses you above the fabric, teasing, you can’t help but arch your body for more. Then, with his teeth he grabs top of your panties, slowly making it slide down, you lift your hips to make it easier, he uses his right hand to yank it away. He groans as he grabs your thighs and starts to eat you out, circling around your clit, licking your labia. You’re panting, you want to feel him inside of you, you let out a needy moan.

He chuckles against your soft spot “you like that kitten?” he asks you as he came back to your mouth with a feline grin. You hungrily kiss him while your hand slides down his lower belly, then beneath his pants and underwear, you stroke his cock, gently slowly at first making him longingly moan.

“Fuck…that’s good” he swooned against your lips. He was being so sensitive to your care that it made it difficult for him to do anything, even kiss, your smirked at this.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and unzipped his pants to let his erection out. You felt his cock at your wet entrance. Slowly he entered you, you released a shaky breath when you felt him inside of you. His thrusts quickly became more forceful, his forehead against yours, his tongue devouring your mouth. You gripped his shoulders bringing him closer to you, feeling his torso brushing against your breast. He was being so caring and passionate in this moment, making sure you liked it, that he was bringing you pleasure. His thrusts became deeper and quicker making your eyes roll back. You felt yourself coming closer and closer and Joker was too, his groan becoming louder and louder. You cried at out as you came, an electrifying pleasure spreading across your body, he quickly followed you in a long moan. He was out of breath, his whole body shaking, you kissed him one more time as he slowly lied down on your body his head buried in your neck.

“You’ll never have to be alone again…I’ll protect you…” he whispers in your ear as you fell asleep, feeling safe as ever in the arms of the greatest criminal of Gotham.    

[grifalinas]

So rewatching the Emerald and Mercury and Tyrian scenes from volume six (for... reasons, none of which any of you should be worried about >.>) and some things:

-Emerald, after the battle at Haven, is the most vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. While nobody treats her with kid gloves (which I think she’d hate), Hazel and Mercury both keep her between them. Hazel also disembarks from the ship first and then stands by while the kids disembark, then joins them up the walk. He keeps his eye on both kids, but he also seems to be watching over Emerald specifically. Giving her to him in Hallmarks seems to have been an amazing decision and I’m so glad I went with it.

-Hazel is so much bigger than either kid. Imagine how much much bigger he must be in Hallmarks, when they aren’t even full sized yet.

-Mercury and Hazel don’t stop until Emerald does when Tyrian is taunting them, and Mercury even tells her to “come on”. Mercury’s attitude aside, he makes it pretty clear in body language that he’s not moving forward without her.

-Emerald is fully prepared to swing on Tyrian right up until he comes nearer, and then Mercury steps in. Once again, attitude aside, Mercury is aligning himself with not just Emerald, but Emerald’s safety. Back off, freak. Did he ever do that in Hallmarks? Did he ever stand between Tyrian and Emerald? I’m the only one who can say that, and, uh... -descends cackling into the cellar-

-Tyrian’s interactions with the kids are so terrible and awful and fascinating.

Moving on to the debriefing with Salem. Not much to say here except that when Salem started advancing Hazel put himself firmly between her and the kids, after attempting to take full responsibility and draw blame away from them. And again, when Salem was building up to her little tantrum, Hazel made sure the kids went out before he did, and Mercury stayed in the door until Hazel had snapped Emerald out of her stupor enough to make her leave as well.

Once more aligning himself with the kids’ safety, while Mercury aligned himself with Emerald’s.

And the fight, where we get some really juicy characterization stuff and also CRWBY stole my character arc before I had a chance to get to that point of the buffer.

-Emerald’s whole “hugging her knees” pose is one I’ve had her do several times in Hallmarks. I didn’t even realize I’d lifted that from canon. Did I lift that from canon? First time she did it was when they were skating, and that was way before this episode, right? I can’t remember. Point is, either I’m subconsciously picking up character tics or I’m just that good.

-The fact that the kids are hanging out together at all warms my heart.

-When the kids are fighting, they’re not actually trying to hurt each other. They’re arguing, yes, and there’s a lot of anger fueling the fact that they’re fighting at all, but Mercury never takes any opening to actually hurt Emerald. Even when he stops her punch and pushes her away, it’s more of a shove than anything, just getting her away from him. Emerald, likewise, just dodges his blows. Visibly, physically, they’re not doing anything but sparring.

-Mercury’s fury that Tyrian heard his words is telling. He just said them, and didn’t seem to regret saying them- but those words were for Emerald. Anger aside, he trusted Emerald with his backstory and hated that Tyrian had any of it.

-He also went for Tyrian a lot harder than he did for Emerald- that wasn’t a sparring kick, that was a trying to do damage kick.

-When Tyrian has Mercury on the ground, Emerald is ready to swing on him. She’s terrified of Tyrian, but he has her best friend at his mercy, and that’s unacceptable.

-God Tyrian is so creepy. I can’t wait to write him. (Um, what? Nothing. Don’t worry about it.)

Anyway, overall, what I’m getting is that when it comes to trauma responses, Mercury is almost entirely fight, while Emerald is a combination of fight-freeze. Mercury just lashes out at everything he views as a threat, while Emerald does too, until the threat is bigger than her, and then she goes tharn.

On a related note, Mercury tends to view everyone as a threat, while Emerald wants to be loved and cherished and nurtured, and Cinder took advantage of both of those things. Mercury was trained to be a weapon, so Cinder pointed him at her enemies, and Emerald could be used oh so easily if she was treated tenderly. Which definitely fucked both of them up even worse.

Finally, Tyrian’s remark to Mercury interests me. All you ever learned was pain and violence and now you’re too afraid to leave it. Very interesting. >:3

Well, I’m analyzing anyway, might as well do the stinger too.

-Salem’s tender touch to the flying monkey grimm was weirdly sweet. Anyway!

-Emerald was on her way to apologize to Mercury, which fills my heart with glee.

-And then Hazel comes up! 

Volume six was such a boon for anyone who is deeply attached to the Mercury-Emerald-Hazel triad, because Hazel has at this point made it very clear that these are his kids now, and Mercury and Emerald have made it pretty clear that each other’s safety is their priority.

[esriteiatha]

5 Times The Public Saw Tony Give Spiderman Affection - #1 - The One With The Dogs

Tony Stark stumbled into the kitchen. FRIDAY had given him a disapproving sigh when he whined for coffee. Still, she started the machine without an actual comment. Despite the fact that it was already twelve o'clock when her boss emerged from his couch. From his workshop. After four hours of sleep. The only four hours in the last forty-eight. Please don't do the math. Just...

Bless her artificial soul.

"News! " Tony demanded as he sank down onto a stool next to the kitchen counter.

The TV came to life and it jumped onto the News Channel. It was Saturday, so Tony sipped his way too hot coffee contentedly, basking in the knowledge that finally he had no upcoming event for the rest of the weekend. Man... He had such a long week.

"Breaking News!" the too eager reporter shouted in the TV. Tony glared at her. Then his face froze as he saw the video that was running in the background while she spoke.

"This video was made by one of our drones 10 minutes ago! As it shows clearly, Spiderman is stuck on a pylon and he is surrounded by a pack of dogs. Seems like few pets prove to be too much for our self-appointed hero." she laughed.

Stark sat up straight and stared at the scene in front of him. First of all, those were german shepherds, guard dogs. Second, the kid was curled around a metal beam, right arm tucked against his side, while he made shooing movements with his left. Third, as far as he could see, there was no other high-place that the kid could use to get out of the situation. The only building that he could make out in the video seemed to be really far away. Come to think of it. How and why did the kid get up there?

"FRIDAY! Call the kid!" he was already on his feet, walking towards his balcony.

"I can't reach Karen," FRIDAY reported.

Stark sighed as he pushed the glass door open and stepped up onto the ledge.

"Need a suit!"

The ground opened up next to him and his latest creation rose on the automatic storage unit. It folded out and enveloped Tony's body. As soon as it was operational, he jumped. FRIDAY already had the kid's coordinates and he was flying towards him full speed.

"Call Pepper! I want to sue the living hell out of that channel" he ordered. He was angry after all. Rapidly approaching furious.

"On what ground?" The AI wanted to know.

" She will come up with something. ETA? "

"Two minutes, twenty-one seconds."

When he arrived he found several things that enraged him even more. There were ten so-called innocent pets surrounding the pylon and they were not just german shepherds. Even from afar, Tony could see that they were bigger, their fur was missing in patches, their jaws were bloody and there was something seriously wrong with their eyes. They were completely white.

"Hey, Spiderman!" he called out.

The kid's head snapped up and he almost lost his hold on the beam.

"Mr... Stark?" he asked with a voice that sounded even younger than usual.

"What's the story?" Tony asked as he inched forward carefully. He kept his eyes on the dogs. His presence didn't even startle them. Creepy.

"I first thought that the guys were arms dealers." the kid mumbled. He hugged his right arm closer to his body and with the other, he waved at the closest building.

"But...?" Tony prompted.

"It kinda turned out to be a bioterrorist lab? I think? Something zapped my suit inside. Nothing works." Well, this explained why FRIDAY couldn't reach Karen and why the kid hadn’t fought his way out of this situation. But that was not the full story. Far from it. Stark waited, but there was no continuation. The kid still didn't launch into a babble marathon. This deepened the bad feeling that settled inside Tony's chest and the frown on his face.

"Out with it!" he ordered.

"One of them bit me," the kid mumbled. 

Tony sighed. Of course one of them bit him. This was Peter Parker. An accident waiting to happen. The sky is blue, the grass is green, Captain America salutes when he sees a flag and Peter Parker gets bitten.

"Come on! I'm taking you to the compound!" he reached out his arm towards the kid. In the same time, he ordered FRIDAY to get one of his neurotoxic gas containing tiny grenades ready. It wouldn't kill the dogs but would paralyze them for twenty minutes. Rhodey and the authorities can take care of the rest.

However, the spiderling had other ideas. He almost fell off the pylon in his hurry the get away from him.

"What now?" Tony asked with exasperation.

"What if I turn into a zombie and cause the extinction of the human race?"

Tony didn't reply. He just couldn't. If he dared to open his mouth something would have come out that he would regret later. Much later. When this ridiculous question was an old memory.

Instead, he flew closer and grabbed the protesting spiderling by his uninjured arm. He pulled him off the pylon, quickly arranged him in his arms, tucked him close so the flight wouldn't injure him further. He dropped the tiny graned and he started towards the compound. As an afterthought, he blasted the offending drone that had been circling around them through the whole ordeal with one of his smart missiles that he could fire from under his shoulder plates.

The next day the News Channel formally apologized for their failure to provide assistance to someone who was in danger and for reputation violation.

However, despite Pepper Potts' best efforts, the picture of Iron Man carrying the wounded Spiderman in his arms reached every corner of the World through the Internet.

@tonyparkerstark 

@moonestaly

[illthdar]

11/11/11 Tag

Tagged by @silver-wields-a-pen

1. Who is your favourite oc?

To be honest, I flip-flop a lot on that one. Generally, it is the OC that is being tormented or experiencing the most growth in whatever character arc in the Illthdar series.

2. What themes do you struggle writing?

I struggle with fight scenes and romance. Fight scenes because it calls for a snappier text style that my over-wordy self has a hard time balancing. Romance because I crave a specific brand of romance that isn’t often depicted in fiction - the slow kind that builds very carefully over months/years. The sexual tension, the overdone tropes, associated with romance just kind of make my toes curl or make me want to throw books across the room and scream “you aren’t in love yet!” Writing my own version while still adding those snippets that readers crave - the glances, the fumbling, the derp - is hard for me.

3. What’s been the best thing about writing your wip?

The world exploration and the slow unfolding of events and discovery of life on in the world as a whole. I took to writing Illthdar from the perspective of an immigrant - someone who sees the new place they are living with eyes wide open and with none of the rose-tint that natives would have, as well as that naivete and innocent trust that the people around them mean well. This perspective lends itself greatly to the steady exposure to the evil that can be found under the surface of any world, but is especially compounded in the world of Illthdar.

4. What themes has your favourite story included?

The Illthdar series covers several themes: prejudice, platonic/romantic love, good vs. evil, power and corruption, survival, courage/heroism, and war

5. What time of day do you prefer writing?

I typically write in the evenings, after the kiddo has gone to sleep - which is typically around 8PM - and I normally call a quits at 10PM.

6. What’s your favourite relationship trope to write?

The comrade or friends relationship is my favourite to explore. I feel like I don’t see enough of those outside of the friends-to-lovers trope in fiction and I like to explore as many versions of it as I can.

7. What detail about your ocs has surprised you?

(Warning, these are relating largely to later books in the series) The detail about Date Toshiiro’s fingers was not something I originally thought was so important but later turned into something much bigger. Tundra’s past and his life’s mission also took me by surprise somewhat. Seth’s arc is something I don’t think anyone could have anticipated. Magnilla also takes some interesting turns. Vyxen, for me, is especially heartbreaking. Scyanatha’s progress wasn’t something I really saw coming. The same could be said for Nyima. Abaddon’s arc is hints upon hints upon hints of so much stuff that I think will be really awesome to see when it’s all laid out in the end. Zercey/Lerki/Inari have so far been largely predictable in the writing process, though there have been legitimate times where I’ve wondered about where they’re headed.

That’s just the main cast! There’s a ton of things I found interesting about the secondary characters in the series, but it would take forever to write it.

8. Thoughts on including romance in other genres?

I’m going to be real: the suspension bridge trope that’s seen in horror bothers me. Romance in horror - where X character feels forms a very quick and strong bond with Y character is creepy on so many levels, I don’t even know where to start.

9. Favourite writing snack?

There isn’t any one specific snack I’ll reach for when I write. Normally, I’ll have something before I’ve sat down so I’m not usually nibbling as I go. When I do have something, it’s usually something like a fried egg sandwich with some token bits of salad greens.

10. Favourite villain trope?

The villain in waiting. This person has been there this whole time, they’ve been bugging you forever to the point that you’ve convinced yourself they’re just there for the comedy relief but, surprise! They’re gonna cut you up and they are absolutely not sorry. This is the person who, in hindsight, you should have seen it coming, but was so long in waiting to make their move, the only emotion you have left to give is the desire to have gotten to them first.

11. Best scene you’ve written?

Without getting into spoilers for future books, the best scene is a toss up in Guardians of Las between the scene with Vyxen and Scy emerging from the forest during the battle or Tundra and Nyima’s conversation on the balcony.

Tagged by @bigmoodword

1. using one sentence summaries, can you tell me about your wips?

Illthdar: When everything defies logic and reason, nothing and no one is safe.

2. what inspired them?

A lot of things inspired the Illthdar series: common fantasy book/game tropes, classic literary works (J. R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Lewis Carroll, L. Frank Baum, H.P. Lovecraft, J. M. Barrie...), my life as an immigrant, society today on a whole.

3. which of your ocs do you most identify with?

While not specifically my OC (she was originally designed by @guardians-of-las-vyxen), I can relate very strongly to the emotions she experiences in the series. When I write, I try to put a little of my own humanity into all of my characters, in terms of qualities, people who know me personally and have read the first book see that that reflected strongest in Zercey.

4. if you’ve ever cried while reading, which book cued the waterworks?

Honestly, nothing will crush a heart more than Pamela Denise Smart’s “Who's Afraid of the Teddy Bear's Picnic?: A Story of Sexual Abuse and Recovery Through Psychotherapy” Massive trigger warnings for anyone who has experienced childhood sexual abuse, however. An added plus to it was that it’s also a coming-out book as the author happens to be a Lesbian.

5. how do you conduct research for your wips and what’s the most interesting thing you’ve discovered in said research?

I have a terrible habit of doing things to characters first, then researching the potential outcomes after the fact. Were some of the OCs real, they would not like me at all. I won’t give spoilers, however. That said, I think this is a better way to write a bit of reality into a story: the outcomes are not pre-scripted, just as anyone’s life journey is never linear. Forcing the OCs to “deal with” whatever consequence without the benefit of having an desired outcome in mind, puts character and reader on the edge of their seats, I feel, because the threat is real.

6. thus far, which scene has been the most difficult to write?

Again, without spoilers for the future books, for Guardians of Las the hardest scene would have been the mock-fight between High Elder Culvers and High Elder Trenfal.

7. which of your ocs do you like the least?

Currently, as it does depend on who is feeding my sadism, where I am at in writing the series it I can’t decide if I hate Maraxis or Lord Rhett, the most. Maraxis is every bit the villain that you have to live with in life - which makes him frustrating to an extreme degree. Lord Rhett, on the other hand, is the self-righteous, might-equals-right, stereotypical kind of evil - the cliche villain that we don’t have to look at very hard to recognise.

8. which pov and tense do you prefer to write in?

I like third person limited. It allows me to explore the minds of different characters on a deeply, keep the cards to the plot close to my chest out of open sight to the readers, and help the readers connect to the world without a million I-statements.

9. do you write poetry?

In my late teens, I tried, but ultimately saw the paper fit to use only as kindling.

10. who is your writing role model?

Gosh, I don’t even know. I don’t think I have one. I think the narrative voice of each author has its pros and cons, so it’s hard to point to just one and say “I want to be like that.”

11. if you could give your younger writer self some advice, what would it be?

Revision isn’t a dirty word, nor is the suggestion of it a blemish upon your name. It’s a compliment; the one giving the critique sees in you potential to grow and improve. And that is worth everything.

Tagging: @aslanwrites, @bigmoodword, @english-undergrad, @elizabethsyson, @garrettauthor, @haileyavril, @igotablankpage, @imaghostwriter, @jessawriter, @kobalt-ink, @mvcreates

My questions for you:

 What was the very first story you ever wrote?

What does your ideal writing space look like?

How long do you give yourself to research for your WIP?

What do you think is your greatest weakness as a writer?

What do you think is your greatest strength?

Name one of your bad habits as a writer.

Where do you find inspiration for your OCs?

What OC would like you the most?

What OC would like you the least?

Name something you do that you think no other writer does.

Have you ever done NaNoWriMo?

[syntheticmask]

Questions and Repairs (A Metallic Fate Chapter 2)

Bendy belongs to theMeatly. AU belongs to me. Please let me know what you think! Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net and Ao3.

‘No, no, no no nonononono-' My mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, recollecting memories and connecting two and two together. My most recent experience came rushing back to me, and suddenly I was back as a human.

I had just made it past the Ink Demon and through the vents, sighing in relief as I stepped out of the cramped space. The room was well lit, but I decided to keep the flashlight with me in case of any potential threats. It could use as a useful weapon if needed. To my left was a few steps leading around a fence and to a closed pair of doors, with a couch leaning against the wooden railing. To my right, a stone Bendy statue had collapsed and lay broken on the ground, revealing posters advertising the Briar Label Bacon Soup, and the Hellfire Fighter cartoon behind it. I was still confused as to why Bendy was holding a utensil in each hand for the first poster. A few barrels and chairs were scattered around the room.

In front of me lay a few flights of stairs leading upwards and into a giant Bendy mouth. It wasn't the cutest thing around, and more than a little creepy. A Little Miracle station and a Bendy cardboard cutout lay against the wall next to the base of the steps. Unfortunately it seemed that was the only way up, as entertained by the inky writing on the lopsided wooden board reading, "Come up and see me." I stepped over the large broken stones as I made my way to the stairs. Another writing greeted me on top of the first flight. "Almost there."

At the top was a decently sized room with a large round table in the center. A map of the Bendyland amusement park covered the entire surface, with small simple models sitting atop a few of the main buildings. Bulletin boards lined the walls, filled with drawings and concepts for what appeared to be an amusement park. On the table also sat a tape recording by Bertrum Piedmont. I hit play on the old device.

"For forty years, I've built attractions that stagger the imagination! Colossal wonders such as the world has never seen! I have earned my legacy with sweat.

But right in front of everyone… high level investors. Wall street tycoons, the ever-tactless Joey Drew introduces the great Bertrum Piedmont, as Bertie! Like I was his child.

You may be paying me, Mister Drew! But you don't own me! I'll build you a park bigger that anything YOU could ever possibly conceive! But before you go taking any bows, Mister Drew, know that this grand achievement will belong to me… and to me alone."

I wasn't really all too interested in the recording after a couple seconds. Not much information to obtain. Seemed like his ego was just as big as Drew's. Instead, my attention was drawn towards the lever on the other side of the room labeled with a lightning bolt above it. Seemed like that was the way to power open the door downstairs, hopefully.

I pulled the lever, and I could hear the thick metal doors opening up into the unexplored area. I circled back around the table and made my way down the stairs, briefly noticing that large pipes of ink and cages hanging from the ceiling. Before I could make it much further to the open door, inky veins suddenly lined the walls, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears. Everything pointed to only one thing. Bendy was right behind me!

I took off running, stumbling over the large blocks of stone. I was already halfway across, and there was no way I'd be able to make it to the station by the stairs. His inky aura trailed close behind me, getting closer as I struggled to get to the open door. I could just hear his deep breathy growls. I needed to find another Little Miracle Station, fast. I flew down a flight of stairs, spotting a large sign above the doorway but didn't take any chances at reading it. To my right a few lines of shelves and large bags blocked my access from the rest of the room, and what looked like theme park stalls sat against the wall to my left. An open door right before the stalls caught my attention, and I sprinted through them. A table sat before a few creepy Bendy costumes that hung on hidden hangers. That's all there was in the dead end. I quickly spun back around and bolted forward towards the other side of the room. The inky veins were closer, already past my feet. That detour had cost me some of my lead ahead of him.

The large doors set behind another wooden railing were shut tight, but an open station positioned against the end of the shelf caught my attention. I nearly shouted in glee, until I spotted the door laying detached against its side. In desperation, I took the open set of doors to my left labeled 'Research and Design.’

I was greeted with a balcony overlooking members of the Butcher Gang huddled around a flaming barrel. Two pathways split off either side of the group. Suspended from the ceiling was a giant cartoon arm. The upper floor ended on the other side next to another smaller Bendy statue.

I took my chances with the stairs, sprinting towards the closest path. The left. The disfigured toons gave their best attempts at hitting me. I ignored them, death literally seconds behind me was a much greater worry. Bendy's inky aura quickly took care of them before they even had any chance to run away.

I swung around the corner, barely registering the Lost One's quite cries before my hope vanished from existence. A dead end… and no Miracle Station. Just a lifeless, disassembled robot on the table, a broken Ink Maker, and some more stupid writing on the wall. The deep growls of the Demon were hot on my neck. I scrambled away, dropping my flashlight before my back soon connected with the Ink Maker. I tried to get as far as possible from the inky abomination, and so I dropped down under the table holding the animatronic, not caring about the puddle of ink soaking into my clothes, and curled up against the wall in a fetal position. I was trapped. This was it.

Bendy's smile seemed to vibrate a little more, his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh. He had caught his prey. I wished I could pass through the walls like he could. Instead I only curled in more on myself with tears spilling down my cheeks. The liquid created small, clear streaks down my ink-covered and bruised face, soft hiccups emanating from my throat.

"Please… please no…" It was pointless to try and reason with him. The Ink Demon took his time, seeming to enjoy my quiet plea at mercy. Closer and closer he came, until he knelt just inches away from me. He seemed to try and get a few more pleas out of me, but I remained silent as my sobbing got louder. He huffed in disappointment, instead reaching out his gloved hand of death. Struggling against it was useless, but I still tried to move away from the appendage. My attempt to doge failed. I shut my eyes tightly, and the last thing I remembered was his crushing grip around my throat, and the sickly snap that followed.

I shivered at the recollection, heart racing as I tried to calm myself down. 'Do I even have a heart..?' I held my hand over what was now my chest, feeling for anything underneath the metal… There! A slow, faint, but constant beat. A heartbeat. I sighed in relief. I don't know why I was relieved, but I suppose it was a good feeling to know I still had some part of my humanity left. Everything else was gone, except for my memories. I just held my hand over my chest, the beat calming, and I took a moment just to zone out everything else… A minute passed, and then two. Once I had almost completely calmed down, I opened up my thoughts again, focusing on my current situation with a new curiosity.

I was alive… somehow. My body, or soul at least, took refuge in this animatronic. That's what I was currently assuming. I had no clue why, or how. From my previous conversations with other ink creatures, souls who have died down here are claimed by the ink, and are often trapped in a well of voices. Most have experienced it for themselves, and some of their minds have broken because of it. I had no recollection of any such thing. Either I didn't remember it, or I was never trapped there.

The dark liquid leaking from my severed ends was ink, not oil. Well, I was certainly made of ink now, at least on the inside. I tried to answer a few of my questions about the matter. I mean, why did my soul choose this body? 'Likely because it was the closest thing around, as well as the fact that it could be used as a vessel despite being disassembled. Less work.' How did it manage to inhabit the robot? 'Probably something to do with the ink.' How did ink even get inside this thing? That I was stumped on. There was no exposed pipes around the area, at least none that I recalled that were leaking. Though I definitely could've missed something from my blind panic earlier.

I decided to take a breather from all the questions floating around in my head. I glanced back down at my partially dismembered body, which reminded of the puddle of ink under my spine. Was.. was I bleeding out? Worry started forming in the pit of my stomach again. I was tired, and weak, but it could have just been from the body transfer in general, or the ink loss... Or both. The ink seemed to have formed some sort of clot over the open wounds, or otherwise I would likely have bled to death before I even had a chance of waking up. I was extremely thankful I hadn't.

'Breath… just breath.' I told myself, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Seems that I also had lungs, that was a good sign. I wondered what other organs I still had… I mentally shook myself off that topic. I could answer those later. For now, a plan sounded like a good idea. I liked being organized. 'Let's see…'

"First step..?" Looks like I could still speak too, not that shouting out of sheer bewilderment earlier was any indication. I was very glad about it, I would have hated to be mute. My voice sounded… odd though. Still young and feminine, but there was something else I couldn't put my finger on… hold on, didn't the robot have a speaker for a mouth? It certainly looked like it earlier. But, my voice sounded just fine, like I had a regular voice box, and a normal moving mouth and jaw. I knew for a fact that my body didn't have any method of moving its mouth earlier. I reached out my hand to feel around the unmasked part of my face. My teeth felt just like those big blocky ones Bendy had, and they seamlessly split apart when I opened my mouth. Surprisingly the ends felt sharper than I would have expected. I could also feel a tongue hiding behind my teeth as well.

I felt around the side of my face next, finding a circular hinge where my jaw would have been. It rotated whenever my mouth opened and closed. My body must have generated these parts while I was out, there was no other explanation. I then felt around my masked side of my face. My teeth felt the same, but my jaw opened without creating any gaps. It was as though my mask stretched downwards to fit over my jaw, no matter what position it was in. Also, how could I pronounce words without lips? "Cartoon physics…" It was a reasonable answer to the oddities. I didn't really feel like putting much more thought process into trying to figure it out, it was already weird enough.

"Where were we again…? Right, planning." Speaking out loud helped me think. "First step…" I looked down at my legs again. "Reattach my legs. Secondly, get a good look at my surroundings once I can actually stand up…" 'If I can stand up.' I quickly moved passed my doubts. "Thirdly, find something to eat. Pretty sure I still have a stomach." On that note, I was starting to feel something along the lines of hunger. "Fourth step, find a weapon, and possibly a mirror." The last part was a hopeful thought. I really wanted to get a better look at myself. "Fifth step, see if I can talk to anyone around here. Being alone for a long period of time won't do any good for my mental state…" 'Like that Lost One over there.' I noticed the faint cries of inky being were still audible. I supposed I was too focused on myself earlier to notice. I decided that was a good enough plan for now.

Alrighty, first step. Legs. There was no denying that I wouldn't be able to do much of anything without them. One missing arm was already annoying enough. The problem was… well, I think it was pretty evident. 'How the hell am I supposed to do that?' It was a damn big problem. Well, firstly, I needed to actually align the two pieces. And so, with my right arm, I pushed myself over to my legs. After some straining and realigning my torso, I managed to line myself up decently enough.

I remembered there being a toolbox on the edge of the table, one of those small rectangular ones that were littered all over the place. I spotted it to my left. I tried to hook my left arm underneath the handle… it was too thick. If it was cut off at one of the thinner pieces, I would have been able to do it. Oh well, not that I wanted more of my arm missing. Instead, I had to hook my arm over the handle, catching it between my thinner and thicker sections. I dragged it closer, careful not to tip it over. Soon enough I got it close enough where I could open it with my right hand.

Inside lay a variety of wrenches, screwdrivers, nuts, bolts and screws. I wasn't much of a mechanic, but I was decent enough with tools to know how to repair most common devices. I propped myself up on my partial left arm to reach inside with my right. My metal hand didn't seem to interfere with my sense of touch, oddly enough. As I was rummaging through the many choices, however, an odd feeling started to form from the base of my spine. When I looked back in confusion, my eyes widened in surprise.

Tendrils of ink protruded from the end of my spine. They stretched forward, and I could feel them moving over the metal and finding holds on the other pieces. They worked around the broken wires, pulling severed ends together and wrapping around the damaged metal. Wires fused and metal mended, all while I watched in astonishment. After what seemed like a few minutes, the ink seemed to melt away, leaving behind a repaired spinal column, almost like it was never damaged. What remained was a thin ring of dark stained metal, similar to a scar, with dried lines of ink pointed towards my legs.

Feeling slowly began to return to my legs. It felt as though whatever ink was stored up inside of me was flowing down into my reattached part. Before I could continue on with my train of thought, a wave of dizziness suddenly hit me. I leaned my head back against the table, closing and covering my eyes with my arm to avoid staring directly into the bright light and to clear my foggy mind. As the ink in my body continued to work on filling and repairing my lower section, my mind decided to take a short break from consciousness. A nap sounded wonderful right about now...

[pitchtocontact]

(something akin to) The Ring

more misawa rambles. this time around i thought i’d write about falling in love. or maybe just falling down a well?

Continued practice after a scheduled practice feels nice. Kazuya consistently feels unsatisfied by dinner, so now that he has pitchers left and right requesting that he catch for them at all hours of the day, he’s finally getting his personal quota of practice in that makes him feel content and satisfied enough for him to fall asleep. He’d just be restless otherwise, and if there were no one to catch for, he’d just end up swinging his bat until his arms fell off.

Currently, he’s catching for Furuya, and his palm is stinging from the intense, full-strength pitches he’s receiving. Haruno is standing a careful distance from him, holding a speed gun in her left hand while awkwardly trying to take notes with her right, balancing her notebook on a raised knee. Both Sawamura and Furuya had a rough day of practice, both pitching an entire practice game, so being the masochist that he is, Kazuya decides to calculate pitch speed and accuracy based on decreasing stamina. They have no games for the next couple of days, so he wants to work them into the ground. They’re in the indoor practice building due to rain, and he finds this a perfect time to run the pitchers through a stamina drill. He requests 50 pitches from each of them, at an extremely high pace. They have a bucket of baseballs at their feet to grab from, and as soon as a ball has reached Kazuya’s mitt, he’s releasing it to his right where another manager is scooping it up. This way, the pitches come one right after another, without needing to toss the ball back to the pitcher. It’s a grueling pace on both pitcher and catcher, but Kazuya enjoys the burn in his thighs and the buzzing in his wrist.

They don’t do this drill very often. He’s never actually practiced it with Sawamura or Furuya, although he’s seen them rapid-pitching before, into nets. It’s one of his favorites, though. It’s like experiencing a game on fast-forward. The pitchers become exhausted so quickly, and 50 pitches is over in a matter of minutes. He keeps a trained eye on Furuya’s form and condition as he pitches, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself, while not giving him any feedback or guidance either. This is a mental game, for the pitchers. He wants them to understand that.

“Stop!” He shouts finally, after receiving a particularly tenacious throw. Kazuya assumes Furuya had been counting his pitches and put his last bit of energy into his last pitch. It makes him smile. “Nice pitching, Furuya.” Furuya nods, breathing heavily, as Kazuya stands up from his squatted position. He stretches for a moment before walking over to Haruno to check on Furuya’s stats. He sees Furuya approaching as well, and gives him a stern look.

“Oh no you don’t. You see these notes and you’ll kill yourself trying to outpitch yourself the next time you’re on the mound. Go ice your shoulder.” Furuya stands still for a moment, and Kazuya thinks he might be getting glared at, but the exhaustion on the pitcher’s face is so prevalent that it simply looks like a frown. Finally, Furuya turns around and walks to the bench at the edge of the building where his freezer pack is, sitting down heavily.

The stats are as expected. Furuya’s concept of the drill works in waves. He pitches hard and fast from the get-go, and his pitches get slightly slower after that. Once he realizes he’s slowing down, he puts more power back into his pitches, and his stats raise again. His last pitch, although powerful, was still a significant decline from his first. Getting Furuya to pace himself is an uphill battle he’s been dealing with for almost a year now, but Kazuya thinks he still has a way to go. He was keeping mental track of Furuya’s control on his own, and it was iffy at best. That’s fine, the drill wasn’t meant for control, but Kazuya’s arm is sore from all the high balls he had to catch. It was annoying, but he’d signed himself up for it, so he couldn’t complain.

Sawamura has been flitting around them, clearly restless and ready to go. He has a look of determination on his face, and he’s glaring daggers at Furuya like he has something to prove. Always right on his heels, Kazuya thinks.

“Sawamura, next!” He shouts and heads back to his spot in front of the net. Sawamura shouts an affirmative and runs to Kazuya’s side, grabbing the bucket of balls that had accumulated from his catches. He drags it unceremoniously to the pitching rubber and grabs the first ball, nodding at Kazuya to confirm he’s ready. He looks over to Haruno to make sure she’s ready as well, and she nods, speed gun pointed to a spot just in front of him.

Finally squatting, he punches his mitt and opens his arms wide. “Alright Sawamura, first pitch, go!” 

After a few demands of “faster!” to get him pitching at the correct pace, he’s settled in, silence taking over aside from the balls slamming into his mitt, and the beeps from the speed gun.

Over the past couple years of Kazuya’s life, he’s been fortunate enough to be acknowledged as an amazing catcher. His skills speak for themselves, and he’s happy that all the hard work he’s put into the game he loves has come to fruition. With this popularity, however, comes the overbearing annoyance of interviews. He’s been asked countless times what defines his style of catching, how he’s made this position his own. He’s asked himself these questions countless times as well.

He’d tried to explain it once in an interview, but the interviewer had looked at him in confusion and just moved on. Kazuya didn’t blame him, it’s not something that sounds very...understandable.

The only metaphor Kazuya can come up with that accurately describes how he feels while playing, is falling down a well, and trying to get back out. When you fall down a well, your only source of light is the top of the well, and it looks like a round, white light. For this metaphor, that light is the ball. As you fall down the well, that light gets smaller and smaller, and everywhere else is dark. This is what happens when you throw the ball. It becomes smaller the further away it goes. When you fall, you never fall slow, so when Kazuya throws, he throws fast. When you fall down that well, you’re going to reach terminal velocity, and that light is going to shrink to a pinprick in under a second. That is what Kazuya is thinking about when he throws a ball. When he catches, he’s making his escape. The light at the top of the well grows bigger and bigger the closer he gets to the top. The ball becomes bigger and bigger the closer it gets to his mitt. When he catches, it’s like reaching the lip of the well, finally reaching the top. If a batter hits the pitch, he falls right back down into that well, the light getting smaller and smaller.

It’s a weird metaphor. Kazuya’s never fallen down a well. He’s never even seen a well. He saw The Ring when he was a kid, and had nightmares about it. That’s probably why he thinks about wells so much. How do you even get out of a well? Didn’t the girl from the movie die at the bottom of one?

Kazuya squats there, catching pitch after pitch, thinking about a creepy girl crawling out of a well. His eyes refocus after the brief escape from reality, and he readies himself for Sawamura’s 31st pitch. Sawamura is sweating and breathing heavily, but his unwavering focus is alive and well on his face. Sawamura is used to pitching at a quicker pace than Furuya, so Kazuya knows their stamina will differ. If he’s being honest, he prefers Sawamura’s pitches to Furuya’s. They’re lighter on his wrist, for one thing. Mostly though, they’re just interesting. He’s never sure what he’s going to get, exactly, and because Sawamura is a contact pitcher, Kazuya finds himself falling down that well more times than he’d like. Despite all that, he just finds himself having more fun with Sawamura on the mound. He finds himself having more fun off the mound, too, if he thinks about it. When Kazuya pokes fun at Furuya, there’s next to no response, but when he pokes at Sawamura, a volcano erupts. The best part is that Sawamura isn’t afraid to poke back. He’s not afraid of much of anything, it seems.

Kazuya feels a shiver down his spine. He takes his eyes off the pitches coming at him for a moment and realizes that Sawamura isn’t staring at Kazuya’s mitt anymore. He’s staring directly at him. It’s not something you’d ever be able to tell on the mound, but indoors with the fluorescent lighting, and the fact that Sawamura isn’t wearing a hat that shades his face...it’s obvious.

Kazuya stares back, and catches the next pitch essentially blind. He’s used to this kind of catching as well, he doesn’t have to keep his eyes on the ball to catch well all the time. But with a drill like this, where he’s wearing his pitcher out deliberately over a very short span of time, losing sight of the ball could prove dangerous.

He moves his mitt to a different spot, and with their eyes still locked, Sawamura pitches, accepting the challenge. When it lands perfectly in Kazuya’s mitt, they both grin at the same time. A control challenge in the middle of a rapid-pitch drill? You’re crazy as ever.

They continue on for the next several pitches like this. Kazuya has to re-pace him, as he had slowed down to account for his controlled pitches. His eyes feel strained, staying focused on eyes so far from him, but the challenge is too fun to let up on. Their grins match, and he likes that feeling. Like looking in a mirror. He wonders if Sawamura has some weird metaphor to describe his pitching like Kazuya’s well. He thinks, maybe Sawamura is the person waiting at the top of the well to pull me out. Even though it doesn’t fit with the rest of the metaphor, Kazuya feels warm thinking about it. Climbing out of a dark well to someone bright like Sawamura, it’s a nice thought.

Faintly, as though from the bottom of a well, he hears Furuya shout, “Miyu--” and in the half a second it takes for a pitch to fly from a pitcher’s hand to a catcher’s mitt, Kazuya wishes he had put his guards on.

This staring contest, plus Sawamura’s decreased stamina, plus Kazuya’s daydreaming, equals a pitch just slightly too high, and a mitt just slightly too low. 

He always thought reaching the top of the well was a great feeling. The top of the well being his mitt, of course. The ball growing in size until it lands safely in his mitt, and the white light at the top of the well is at its fullest.

This time, he doesn’t just reach the top of the well, he flies straight out of it. Sawamura’s pitch hits the very tip of his glove, and the ball ricochets right into his face at full force. He’s blown backward, head snapping back, and he hears and extremely unpleasant crunch inside his head that he knows from experience is his nose breaking. His glasses break too, and he feels a cut slice up his forehead from the shattered plastic. The sound around him is garbled with weird noises he can’t identify, his ears are ringing, he can’t see anything but warped light, and he feels blood all over his face and in his mouth. Something dark in front of him shuts out all the light, and he panics before realizing it’s his own gloved hand reaching at his face to touch, cover, push, do something to make the pain bearable. He feels his lower body writhing, and garbled noises come up out of his mouth, painful moans coated in blood. Someone tips him onto his side and it feels like his head is being run over by a truck. Blood pours from his nose and mouth onto the dirt. Every cough, every breath coming out of his body feels like a stab to his brain.

Someone picks up his gloved hand and removes the glove. He knows it’s Sawamura after a moment, because he doesn’t let go of his hand. He’s the only person who’d hold Kazuya’s hand when something like this happens, his weird way of understanding that Kazuya’s senses are so overloaded right now, but he can still feel touch just fine. Sawamura, saying he’s sorry through touch. He squeezes his hand, letting him know, even through all this overwhelming pain, that he’s already forgiven.

What an awful moment to fall in love, Kazuya thinks, before passing out.

---

The smell of a sterile hospital room wakes him up. He scrunches his nose at the smell, and immediately gasps as pain shoots up through his sinuses and behind is eyes. He raises his eyebrows in an attempt to smooth out his features and lessen the pain, only to immediately be slammed with more pain from his forehead and up into his hairline.

“Fuck,” he manages. He hears an “Oh!” and some rustling, and a second later his left arm is being poked. And then a pause. And then another poke. And then a pause. And then another poke.

“Sawamura,” he says in a tone that clearly means cut it out.

“You remember me?!” He shouts, and jumps back as though Kazuya is about to attack.

“Hard to forget the guy who broke my whole face,” he says, deadpan.

Sawamura is silent, and Kazuya replays his words. “Sorry,” he says in a softer voice. “That was mean. I’m alright, I didn’t lose my memory or anything like that.”

Sawamura hums in acknowledgement. “I have your glasses, but the doctor says you shouldn’t put them on yet because of your nose. So if you need anything just ask me, okay?” His determined voice is back, speaking as though he were trying to convince Kazuya how reliable he is. I don’t need convincing, is all he ends up thinking.

“Okay. Why are you here, Sawamura?” He closes his eyes to the fluorescent lights, leaning back into his pillow. There’s no point having them open if all he can see are blurs.

He hears a long sigh come out of Sawamura’s nose, a sound Kazuya knows means he’s thinking of the right response. After a moment, he says, “Because I broke your whole face.”

Startled, Kazuya laughs, and it really hurts. His laughter immediately turns into an anguished moan, and he reaches his hands up to his face to try and grab at the pain in some way.

“Ah, no, no, don’t do--,” Sawamura rambles as he grabs Kazuya’s wrists to restrain him. “Don’t touch your face. Here,” he says, and lets go of his wrists only to return with a cool wet towel. “Put this on your eyes instead. Sorry, I’ll try not to make you laugh.”

“That’s all you ever make me do,” he replies with a grin. It must look weird, what with the towel covering the rest of his face. “So. What’s the damage?”

“Well, you broke your nose, but they put it back in place. There was, um, a lot of...blood,” he says, breaking off.

“Not a fan? Did you faint? Doesn’t sound very Ace-like to me~” he teases.

“I didn’t faint!! I just meant it was scary, I thought maybe...I don’t know. There was just a lot of blood,” Sawamura mumbles. Kazuya thinks about that for a moment. Sawamura must have really worried about him, and felt a hell of a lot of guilt. He fears this may bring back his yips in full force.

He blindly reaches out his hand until he feels Sawamura grasp it with his own. Once he has a hold, he grips tightly. “Don’t you go thinking any of this was your fault. I wasn’t wearing my guards like an idiot. It’s my faul--”

“You weren’t wearing your guards because you trusted me!” Sawamura shouts suddenly, gripping his hand tighter. “You trusted me enough to know I wouldn’t hit you, and I did! I didn’t say anything about it because I was so happy to have that trust...and I wanted to prove to you that I was trustworthy. And then I...”

Kazuya’s mouth tilts down in a frown. “Broke my whole face. Gotcha.” 

“Yeah,” Sawamura says, defeated.

“You know,” Kazuya starts, removing the towel with his not-currently-being-crushed-by-a-pitcher hand, “I trust you even with my guards on. You might even say...I let my guard down around you?”

He grins as he says it, and he hears the grin in Sawamura’s voice as he replies, “That one doesn’t even get a passing grade. You’re a dork.”

“Mm,” is all Kazuya replies, still grinning, stuck in the thought of wanting to kiss Sawamura’s mouth while he’s smiling. He pulls the towel over his face again.

“Anyway. You had to have stitches on your forehead, too. Your glasses cut a gash straight up. You kind of look like Frankenstein!”

“Oh? Was Frankenstein as handsome as I am?” Kazuya asks, smirking.

“No! I mean, yes? Uhh, what’s the right answer...” Sawamura sounds like he’s trying to solve a really complex math problem, murmuring under his breath trying to connect the dots.

“I probably look like a disaster. Worse than Frankenstein,” he says, interrupting the murmurs. He winces internally, realizing he may just be fishing for compliments to see if Sawamura will say pretty things to him.

“Well, you pretty much looked like a disaster before I hit you with a baseball. You just look like a disaster that got hit with a baseball, now,” Sawamura immediately replies.

Kazuya lets out a long “Haaah,” with a defeated grin. “Harsh.” Why do I like this guy, again? But he feels the steady heartbeat of his pitcher in his hand that he’s still holding, feels his hand being squeezed, Sawamura saying without words that he’s just poking fun. He squeezes back.

“Okay, now it’s time for you to go back to sleep, Miyu...Miyuk--enstein. Miyukenstein! Hahaha!” Sawamura sounds very much like he’s just discovered the world’s greatest joke. Kazuya feels himself being tugged out of a well by a strong, sturdy hand.

“Ha ha,” is all he deigns to reply. “Okay. Yes. Sleep.”

He imagines that on the other side of the towel, Sawamura is nodding emphatically at him, as though saying “Good choice.” He feels Sawamura moving away, or rather, he hears rolly wheels moving away. He’d probably sat on one of those rolling doctor stools because it looked like fun. Because he’s 5 years old.

Kazuya immediately grips at Sawamura’s hand before he can tug it out of his grip, and hears Sawamura yelp as he rolls right back to Kazuya’s side, bumping awkwardly into the bed. Without giving himself the time to think about what he’s doing, Kazuya laces their fingers together, laying their joined hands at his side.

“I like that you’re here, Sawamura,” he says simply, settling into his pillow.

After a heavy pause, Sawamura replies softly, “I think you’re going to have a really cool scar on your head, Miyukenstein,” and Kazuya really really wants to kiss that dumb grin once he can properly see it.

“You won’t be alive long enough to see my really cool scar if you call me that name one more time~”

“Go to sleeeep, Miiii-yuuu-kiiii,” Sawamura warbles, sounding like what Kazuya can only describe as a ghost that’s being killed again. He feels Sawamura lay his head down on the bed hear his hip so their hands stay linked where Kazuya had left them, and feels him squeeze his hand again.

He squeezes back and his heart feels full.

---

ive been waiting years for one of these nerds to get beaned in the head by a baseball in canon but it hasn’t happened yet so i had to do it my goddamn SELF

[rottenwoodandwiltedsunflowers]

Waffle Recapish (Turned Into A Full-On Recap) Show #86 5/19/18 Late

*Alright folks! You all wanted more recaps so here goes. This is long but that is how I do recaps. I had a terrific run of shows but I am headed back to the real world so who knows if I will get any more done. -Waffle

Today I was sitting in my hotel room thinking about the last few shows this past weekend when I realized it was absolutely beautiful in New York today and so I decided to take advantage of the spring weather and head to the Highline to work on a recap. Let’s see how successful I am!

Our weekend started Saturday with the Lost Supper at The Attic. It exceeded expectations and I didn’t feel cheated out of my $175 ticket price which was my main concern going in. Huge Kudos to Lily Ockwell- if that is what kind of shenanigans her mind comes up with to share, I would love to see what else is lurking in there. Beyond that, I am not going to say much because it is still running for several more weeks and I don’t want to spoil any of the fabulous surprises for anyone going in the upcoming weeks. I do have some photos that I will share when the experience closes.

After that, it was on to the late Friday show. THE CAST DID NOT DISAPPOINT! 

We attended a quick show last weekend but other than that, this was my first return to the hotel since January. There has been a cast changeover which always brings interesting, new residents in and often showcases old residents in new roles. While I am intrigued by the prospect of discovering new residents, my bucket list was admittedly filled with some new roles for old residents. Two things on the top of my bucket list, Evelyn’s Lady Macbeth and Colin’s Matron were in the cast Friday. I spent significant time watching both. 

I arrived in the ballroom to excitedly find Evelyn’s Lady M. I was intent on following it until I saw several fellow friends follow her out. They were actually all people who I would ordinarily follow characters with. All respectful, fun following buddies. I just knew I was in a mood that seeing familiar faces (no pun intended) would take me out of the performances so I made the decision to catch her later knowing the crowds would be a bit bigger but hoping to disappear into anonymity in my distracted mind at least. So I went to my go-to follow, Sexy Witch. Marissa was on and she is always a solid performance with flirty and fun vibes. As I made my way over to exit to the lobby with Boy and Sexy, so did about 15 other white masks. Nope nope nope. Nope nope nope. I got to the bottom of the staircase, saw the mob, and backed up into the corner to let them get by me. The best-laid plans. Am I right? Back down to the ballroom where I found Jenna’s sexy with one other audience member (that I knew but hey, you can’t win them all). Jenna is a FUCKING powerhouse! If I have to take 3rd fiddle in my original plans, it’s great to take a 3rd fiddle that is really the 1st fiddle any other night. 

Jenna’s ballroom solo was stunning! The way she seizes Macduff and stops him dead in his tracks, manipulating his every move while effortlessly avoiding his advances is a beautiful tribute to the character of Bald witch. She does the Bald witch reveal as well as anyone even with the hair. I’m so glad I was forced back to the ballroom. Her attitude while taking Boy witch out of the box is clearly, “Let’s have some fun...but not too much fun because we have work to do. She is expecting us. LET’S GO!” The rave was high energy. I tried to watch but Tori’s Hecate always siphons off my attention. When I did turn back, I got the absolute best visual of Tyler Phillips boy witch launching (for lack of a better word) himself over the bar. Air for days! He just used the top as a glorious springboard using one hand. It was awesome. 

Post-rave, I followed Jenna back to the apothecary where she singled me out to dry her back in the most gloriously Bald witch way possible. A look full of leering and uncomfortable smirking on her part. I think when you become as accustomed to the show as I am, you become very desensitized to the nudity. While it is very jarring and uncomfortable at first, it becomes more commonplace and less shocking. A great Bald witch will make you feel super uncomfortable about the fact that you are in her space and she is topless and staring you down. Mission accomplished. I was sufficiently uncomfortable. I think it is something about the way they pose themselves, crouched over, legs spread, slowly drying their chest while simultaneously maintaining creepy eye contact. She finished her routine and before exiting, grabbed me by the back of the neck, pulling me in and hissing out an ominous warning to “Beware the Thane of Fife!” She left to head to the banquet and I headed up.

I arrived at the Matron’s hut to find Colin drawing on the window jam. Bucket list happiness! He drew crosses then connected the dots to form what looked like the hut window or door or perhaps hut itself. He has a bit of Fulton to his Matron at one point climbing on a chair to place a horseshoe over the window. Clearly, he is disturbed and frightened by the possibilities that lay outside the forest. I have to be honest with the fact that I was highly skeptical going into this performance. Usually, I am very open to new interpretations and am not the type of person who is picky about how my favorite roles are played. I like my Matron a certain way though, mainly female. I’m sexist, sue me. I was very pleasantly surprised. His pairing with Andrea was solid. I believed his trepidation about what was going on outside his world was felt. His 1:1 was surprisingly terrifying. I was genuinely caught off guard when the moment came. I’m glad I gave him a shot.

Then there was the star of the show for me, Evelyn Chen’s Lady Macbeth. it is a new thing and a rare thing (as of now) so I headed back to find her. I found her in her room post ballroom. I braved the Macbeth crowds and she didn’t disappoint. Her dancing was bold and beautiful and passionate. It has been quite awhile since I have done this loop so it was full of little surprises for me. She was engaging beyond belief and I found myself being thankful that I knew the building so well because I ended up needing to use alternative routes for much of the moving between scenes due to the sea of people following her. 

Her Out Spot dance was particularly moving. The way her pain played out in her ferocious dancing. Throwing herself from corner to corner. Flipping over the bed from one end to the other. The mental anguish and struggle to remain grounded and her ultimate slipping sanity portrayed perfectly through her physical movements. Upon winding down physically, she slinked back into the corner pulling the sheet over her head and hiding in a ball in the corner for several moments. When she emerged, she looked much calmer. A peaceful demeanor set in for just a moment. Just enough time for the audience to digest the total breakdown and think the storm was over. Then you saw it. It was perfectly executed. I didn’t see any signs that something was amiss or that there was cause for concern until there was. Her face portrayed tiered, calm, and thoughtful but her nose started to bleed. It was a very unsettling sight, Lady Macbeth’s quiet face and still mind while the blood slowly trickled down her lip. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. She reached up and hesitantly touched it setting off an instantaneous second violent storm. She raced to the bathtub absolutely panicked. Frantically trying to rid her self and the tub of any remnants of her part in the plan.

There was no turning back though. What is done cannot be undone. Her walk down High Street was full of audience interactions. She fell to the floor upon entering the space before looking up at me and extending her hand. I helped her up, she handed me her necklace and bowed her head. After placing the necklace on her we were headed down the street together. She was broken and mumbling the whole way. Macbeth showed up and the relief on her face was immediate. They were off to the banquet. 

I love the banquet. It is one of the most beautifully executed pieces of choreography I have ever seen hands down. No matter who I follow, one moment in particular that almost always holds my attention is when Lady Macbeth is seated and begins to turn in her chair in slow motion. I am a sucker for silhouettes in that building and the picturesque moment created when she extends her arm straight out pointing behind her with her head resting on her shoulder seemingly frozen in time is everything. 

I followed as she exited the ballroom but found myself overwhelmed by the swell of audience members trying to jam themselves into the stairwells. Cue my gratitude for knowledge of the building. I hightailed it over to the opposite stairwell and up to 5. Apparently, I was feeling especially athletically inclined that evening. More than likely I was just excited to play out the rest of the loop. Thank you congestion on the stairs! I beat Lady M up to 5 and watched her come down the hall into the room with the beds. After all the horror stories we all hear and witness with audience behavior, I am always genuinely surprised when the residents put themselves out there in extra vulnerable scenes. I watched Evelyn extend her hand and have an audience member help her out of the tub. She then had me lay her robe over her shoulders. On a side note, am I the only one who gets extremely nervous when instructed to do things like this. I always feel like I am doing a horrible job. I’m sorry I put it on slightly askew. I think my nervousness about being extra respectful often results in me performing the task awfully. Sorry. We headed back down and it was like the last hour never happened. All the memories of nightmares were wiped clean and the story was back at page 1. She went back to manipulating Danvers and Macbeth with blissful ignorance of what awaited her.

I took a little break in the bar and was back down to the ballroom early to get a good spot for the finale. I realized I had never had a Lady Macbeth walkout before. I am never watching from the front of the stage but tonight I wanted Evelyn’s walkout. I had such a great night with her character and I will confess that I was hoping to thank her for the experience. Turns out it wasn’t even a problem as it seemed the audience was a bit frightened of the stage. I wasn’t even that close but I felt like I was practically standing on it because as the ballroom filled in, the audience flicked to the back. It was one of those weird situations where I thought I would be in the front but I ended up being aways in front of the audience. I actually took a step back because I felt a bit like an island. Lady Macbeth exited the stage and immediately came to my side. She grabbed my hand and watched her husband's fate play out while clinging to my arm. We proceeded to the Manderley and I got the opportunity to thank her for a brilliant performance!

It was Tyler Phillips last show and I didn’t follow him because like someone else has said, I didn’t have a strong connection to him or the character of Boy witch in general. One thing I will mention (that I didn’t see but KaeLyn and every other Boy witch fan did) is that Tyler wins the award for most dramatic exit of a resident. HANDS DOWN! Apparently while performing his last cabaret in the hotel lobby, He pulled out a pair of scissors, mid-song, and cut off his hair! Who does that?!?! Brilliance! I can actually imagine him standing on stage with scissors in one hand, a fist full of hair in the other, crying and lip-syncing to “Is that All There Is?” I do wish I has seen it. Bravo and you sir will be missed!

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 44 - Calls and Calms

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/28938954

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Daenerys' next few days in Sri Lanka were some of the best she'd ever had in her life (even if someone wasn't there to appreciate it with her). She'd met some incredible wildlife preservationists, some wonderful elephants and had enjoyed getting to know them all. One elephant in particular, a baby elephant named Rai, had been so smitten with Daenerys she'd genuinely considered taking it home. Although an elephant in an apartment building was not a good idea, a bit like a bull in a china shop.

She had eaten with the videographer crew for two nights, enjoying the weather more as it cooled slightly and the breeze increased. Even Jorah had found the weather manageable and had loved the hotel staff and efficiency of how it ran. Daenerys had also enjoyed trying foods she'd never had before, drinks she'd never thought of combining and singing by a campfire on the beach in front of the hotel (not that she could hold a tune). All in all, she was so happy the WWF had suggested she'd come out here and meet the people behind the hard work they were doing. And it gave her more happiness with things to come, particularly the limited edition magazine she was doing with them.

It was on her last night in Sri Lanka in which they go back from the reserve, both Jorah and Daenerys had decided to just have dinner between the two of them that evening. It had been a long week and both were exhausted, wanting nothing more than some food, wine and rest. They'd be flying back home tomorrow, not long until she could possibly see Jon, if everything went okay. She'd seen pictures on his instagram and twitter of the Stark clan on holiday in Greece and had also seen that Arya, the youngest daughter, was pregnant. It filled her with glee that his family was so happy. She just wanted to be a part of it. Even Margaery had a nice photo with their mother, meaning all was accepted in terms of their daughter being gay.

Daenerys looked at Jon in these photos and found a sense of longing she'd been building up coming to a head in her body. She really was stupidly in love with him, his love of animals had inspired her to really push this collaboration with the WWF in the first place. Enough moping, Daenerys, she thought bitterly, you'll see him soon enough, when everything is sorted.

But unfortunately, not everything was sorted. When she and Jorah pulled up to the hotel coming back from the reservation, she saw the video crew had arrived back safely too. Nodding in a small hello, they made their way into the hotel lobby where there was a few people crowded around the front desk. One spotted her and quickly jogged over too her. "Miss. Targaryen?"

"Yes?" Daenerys asked confused.

"We've received a phone call from America. We've kept the number for you to ring back, I believe it was a man called..." She pulled a notepad out and showed her. She saw Qhono's name written down. She was instantly filled with dread. What had happened? Was he okay? Is her family okay? Did this mystery person try to attack them? Jorah saw her panicked look on her face and instantly went over to the phone booth to ring the number back. It was going to be an expensive phone call, but they needed to understand what was happening.

"Go to your room and get ready for Dinner, Daenerys" She was about to protest but Jorah shut her off. "There's nothing we can do, we'll go to dinner like normal and I'll fill you in on what's happened when I come up to the rooms, go get cleaned up"

Daenerys stood rooted for a few seconds before sighing and giving in. She stormed over to the lift and got in with the two video guys who were coming up to their room on the floor above them. There was silence as the lift closed. Daenerys was seething but Jorah was right, there was nothing she could do until he got more information. The Australian videographer spoke to her. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No" She said in monotone.

"Sounds like it, old curly mop finally leave you?" He asked snickering. Daenerys turned with eyes like fire, her hot-headed temperament filling the lift. She glared him down, he meekly took a step back in the lift. He tutted at her attitude but she didn't care, her family could be in trouble and she was powerless to do anything. They opened on her floor and she got out, storming to her door leaving the guys behind her. Now she definitely couldn't function. He was in Greece! She couldn't contact him, even if she or he wanted too. Oh why is everything such a shit show? She sighed.

She needed to calm down and so she ran a shower, hoping the falling water on her head would soothe her tense muscles. Why couldn't anything go as planned? Perhaps it all goes down to Karma, the fact she did not help that poor girl and her mother, and now the girl was dead and her mother soon to be.

No, you can't keep blaming yourself, you did not know. She did not tell you until it was to late. Daenerys tried to stop the shaking in her body as she locked the bathroom door and stripped her moist and sticky clothes off of her skin, peeling them as her sweat dripped from the days excursions. She threw them into a pile to go into her black bin bag to take home to wash her stuff. Checking the temperature of the water she climbed into the shower and took a deep breath. Her body instantly calmed down, the water running over her shoulders and back, as if caressing her body with cleanliness.

It was in this moment she thought of Jon again, not intentionally, but the caressing of the water made her think of his arms and the way they used to hold her. The way his strength used to make her strong, not scared like in... other times. The way his eyes fell onto her body, not in a creepy way, but in a way of showing her how much he adored her. The way his hair fell in front of his face when he was on top of her.

She felt the build of tension inside her once again, the tension she'd been ignoring all week.

Now is not the time, she tried to steady herself, now is not the time for this.

Her body had other ideas, without her really committing, her hands had wandered to her own breasts and had began squeezing and massaging them. Her hips bucked slightly as she leaned on the wall of the shower, her bottom pressed against the glass as the shower steamed the room up. If this had been an more like something from a movie Daenerys would've laughed, but her orgasm was building in her lower abdomen so much she was struggling to think properly.

And so her hands began to travel down herself, Jon in her mind all the while as her breathing became erratic. As soon as her hand glided over her sex she jumped slightly, the touch while wanted, caused a spark of electricity through her small frame. She was inwardly cursing Jon the whole time, why had he come into her brain now? When her family could be in danger?

She blamed the distance apart, looking for any excuse not to admit she missed him being inside her. Not wanting to admit to herself that she became so dependent on him that now in their absence apart she's practically crying out for him to take her. But he was thousands of miles away, and didn't her body know it. As she touched herself, she whispered her name. "Jon"

It sounded like she was in pain, but of course she was, not seeing him. Again his name fell from her lips as she slipped a finger inside herself. And as she became more and more out of breathe and her finger sped up inside her, she cursed not being able to hear how loud she was being. No one was on the floor besides her and Jorah, btu if she didn't keep it down everyone in the hotel would her. But it was over, just like that, a final muttering of his name as she came all on herself. The want gone.

"You will be the death of me, Jon Snow"

Cursing the stupid wolf, she climbed out of the shower and began to dry herself off. She grabbed the bathrobe and the hairdryer the hotel provided and began drying her hair. Satisfied with the hair being mostly dry she left the bathroom and went about picking an outfit to put on. It was a little while later until she head any movements outside her door. in fact she was fully dressed for dinner by the time Jorah asked to enter. Being thankful that she was not still masturbating in the shower she opened the door.

"Your family is fine" He said assertively. "Daario was at their house watching them in case of anything. It was at the apartment"

"What happened?" She demanded to know.

"Someone tried to break in, a man. Qhono didn't see his face, it was covered. But he was big apparently, bigger than Daario. I asked. It seems like Jon is incorrect on this occasion" Jorah smirked. Daenerys still didn't find any of this funny. "Nothing was taken, nothing. The man packed a mean punch, knocked Qhono out within minutes of them fighting"

"Whoever it was wanted me then, if nothing was taken" Daenerys wasn't stupid, and Jorah didn't treat her so. He just nodded. "Did he ring the police?"

"Yes, after he woke up from the attack. Your neighbour several floors below also called noticing a strange man walking into the building when he shouldn't have access" Jorah confirmed. Daenerys sighed as she processed all the information. "The police checked your panic room to make sure it was working, they recommended that if when you get home it happens again you got straight there and wait until they arrive. Qhono didn't tell them about the messages Jon received. He just said that an unwanted someone had been trying to get into contact with you"

"Good" Daenerys nodded. Sighing at feeling so helpless she grabbed her bag, noting Jorah had also changed before coming her. "There's nothing we can do now, like you said. Lets go enjoy our last night her, tomorrow is going to be a long flight"

And so they eat good food, and drank good wine while the heat subsided and the cool sea breeze took over. But all the while they did, she couldn't help feel something worse was coming. Something needed to be done, she couldn't keep looking over her shoulder in fear. She sighed once more, hoping Jon was having a simpler holiday than she was.