#its like what if maniac was worse (affectionate)

[whatkindofnameisella]

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME SEVERANCE WAS SO?????????????

[dilfhos]

*busts down your door* OKAY LISTEN HERE. I DONT SIMP FOR TOJI BUT I WANT YOU TO HAVE FUN AND CREATE CHAOS SO THIRSTY ASK: TOJI HUMILIATING READER CAUSE SHE WANTS TO RIDE THAT DICK SO BAD BUT HE WONT LET HER 😭😭😭😭

for meeeeeee? :O

WHO: TOJI FUSHIGURO x FEM!READER

+degradation, dacryphilia, dirty talk, overstim, use of bitch (half affectionate or not idc >:)), brat-taming.

MINORS + ageless blogs DNI.

You think it’s over. He’s finally given you what you want and you’re grinning…

“No,” Toji suppresses the urge to grin at the sight of your reactions, his hands only coming up to brush away the ones gripped on his shirt. “Not in the mood t’night.”

You sit back, palms spread across the expanse of his chest as you peer up at him. He offers a scowl in return before his hips are bucking, a signal for you to get off. Flopping beside him in defeat, you glare at the magazine he deemed more important than what you were offering. Baiting. And needing.

“Why’re you being like this?” He sighs emphatically as if your very presence in the shared bedroom was a complete hindrance to the mundane task of reading at ten in the evening.

“Why’re you actin’ like you call the shots? It’s a turn-off y’know?” He sneers.

“You’re a turn-off,” You mumble half-heartedly. He’s intentionally silent.

Toji’s left you unsatisfied for weeks, his grumbles of work becoming redundantly annoying. It only drives the desperation and lowers your dignity as you find yourself overwhelmed with need for just an inkling of his attention.

To him, it was one of many games he enjoyed playing in way of fucking with your head. Oh, how you looked with dumbstruck eyes as he brushed you off as any other woman and not his lover, The gears in your head turning as you tried desperately to force your way back into his arms. His curt responses and blatant rejection only fueled you to push harder. He enjoyed shoving you to the brink of crumbling, only for him to grip all your pieces back together.

Your brazen shows were adorably tempting but not enough for him to loosen his resolve. (Not yet.)

Like now, as you’ve deliberately flexed your body toward your nightstand to retrieve your water. The shirt—his shirt—rises up over your hips to expose the cheeky thong embedded between your ass and Toji’s eyes move to the back of your head until you turn around, an incredulous expression on his face.

“Desperate huh,”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You shrug, eyes darting away. “‘M not gonna force you to be intimate, I’ll just find someone else to occupy my time. Maybe G-”

“Look at you, fuckin’ slut.” He places his reading material on the nightstand as he stands. “You’re pouting and baiting after I said no to touching your little cunt. Why don’t you go fuck yourself, hm?” There’s an amused lilt to his words as his brow twitches implicitly.

You frown, thighs flexing at his cruel, harsh tone, completely unfazed. Why would you waste time with your toys when you could have the real thing in all its thick, heavy glory?

Toji was absolute in his decisions up until now, never looking your way all week in your skimp sets and not bothering to say anything to your advances. But when you tried to act innocent or even worse, play on his emotions, it made him wanna see you cry.

Literally.

It’s why his grip is so bruising and his body is hard stone as he looms over your trembling body, ecstatic at the fat tears rolling down your swollen cheeks.

“It’s t’much!”

“Too much she says,” He chuckles, a maniacal grin on his face. He merely shoves your punily fumbling hands aside, attacking your swollen clit with his calloused thumb. “No, I think this is exactly enough. For needy little bitches like you?”

Your hips rear off the bed electrified, tears falling as you slap at his wrists in desperation.

“Won’t do it again! T’much….TOJI!”

“Mhm, lemme hear you again slut,” His hand strikes firmly against your tits, the sting sending your body squirming. His fingers are merciless as they pinch and pull at your taut nipples, his grin only widening when he feels you coming undone.

Your essence flows like a flood, drenching his arm and sheets in downpour. He’s still going, arm flexing with finesse as his fingers rub against your ridges, that abused spot inside you making more tears fall.

“Please, no more! N’more!” Your cunt squelches as it weeps around his digits, your frantic whines falling on uncaring ears. Your legs splay instinctively in an attempt to kick him off but he’s shoving them away, crawling over you with his weight.

“Stop moving. You asked for this,” He grumbles, pinning your wrist under his large palm. His others is shoving your sticky thighs apart again, exposing your sloppy cunt to the cool air. You’re too stunned to realize the fat head of his cock slickening your folds until he’s shoving himself in, grip tightening on your wrists when you buck off the bed. His hand smushes your damp cheeks together, drinking in your disheveled state as his stroke begin, punishable.

“Oh baby, look at me now. Talk for me like you were doing earlier,” he cooed wickedly, your blubbering incoherent.

“‘M sorry, please!” You’re not sure whether you’re begging him to stop or ravage you more, you’re only stuck on the overbearing pressure building in your tummy again. His cock is fat and heavy as it drags through your slobbering cunt, the paps of skin deafening over your whines.

“Keep crying, just gonna make me fuck ya’ harder, heh.” He releases you, hands palming your thighs flush against the mattress as he thrusts into you. The bed rattles on its legs as you cry his name, the noises around him synonymous to his own growls.

“Take it. Take daddy’s fat dick baby, I wanna see you cryin’” You’re clinging to his wrists, your whining incoherent as your vision doubles with tears. There’s a blurry Toji above you, grinning down like a fucked god at its prize, watching as you cry and squirm in his grip. It isn’t until his hand comes up to snake around your jaw when you’re mumbling promises that you’ll be good from now on. That you’ll love him forever no matter how mean he is! That no one ever compares to Toji! Not even him!

“‘M cumming! T-Toji!” It isn’t until his hand delivers a quick succession of pats against your wet cheek does your cunt clamp him in like a vice. He grunts as you grab him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck, your heels digging into the small of his back as you tug him close. His nut jets into you, Toji’s hips shallowly grinding against your ass. He stills momentarily, face nuzzling the side of your damp neck before he rises.

You think its over. He’s finally given you what you want and you’re grinning. A fucked-out mess, sighing blissfully as you prepare to move. In one lithe motion however, he has you by your ankle as you’re now on your stomach, face smushed into the mattress by his palm.

“Now tell me again about Gojo.”

DILFOS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

[hesitantvampirealien]

i know i talk a lot about brazil but it's affectionate lol, when i was a very young teen i felt bad for being here due to all the difficulty i faced due to being disabled and queer and envied people from other countries because i'd always see how much better they did. And as i grew, i realized that other countries aren't that much better. Not that they're worse or inferior, but that they're just.. not brazil lol. It's my beloved country and i want it to be well. I want my people happy and healthy and having gone through 4 years in misery at the hands of a genocidal maniac for a president, at the same time it was horrible, helped me grow thicker skin and see that leaving is the easy way out when you have that privilege to go to another country legally, specially a rich country. It helped me see that i shouldn't envy other countries and that's exactly what they want me to do, they want me to be jealous. But i'm not leaving my country, no matter what. We went from having a genocidal as a president to now officially having a trans woman being part of the government, and that's amazing to me. We're resilient, and i couldn't be happier to be brazilian, even when i face difficulties for being brazilian. Fun fact, we're also known as one of the happiest people ever, and i think i really can agree even having a severe depression and debilitating issues, i am so happy to be brazilian and seeing another brazilian or a brazil mention in a place like tumblr for example, that has a lot of english speakers makes me unbelievably happy, makes me feel seen. My culture is part of my identity and i can't untangle my culture from myself. We also have public universities and public healthcare and they saved me so many times, seriously, i am so grateful to the public health service here. I know it has its problems but even then, it has saved me so many times when i had no other option

so if you're not brazilian and you see a lot of people speaking brazilian portuguese, i promise it's affection. We're not hating or insulting you or making fun of you, this is our way to show affection, we make jokes, we laugh together because it's better to laugh together than to cry individually, right?

[sugarylawliet]

no good for me (light yagami x reader)

i’m back lol

> warnings: smut, degradation, spit kink, inappropriate use of the death note, VERY toxic relationship, song fic kinda, lyrics are in bold and italics, based off of diet mountain dew by lana del ray

> tag list: @ygm1slt @cradiot28

❛ you’re no good for me, baby you’re no good for me ❜

Nothing on this earth scared you more than the man you were about to see; the pretty boy brunette flaunting good grades and a picturesque family life whose facade of ambitious, respectful young man was a mask almost no one could see through. Some people felt dread at the thought of spiders or snakes, felt fear in their stomach imagining the paranormal, shadow ghosts or criminal stalkers invading their comfort zones. None of these perfectly rational fears scared you the way Light Yagami scared you. There was no fear to be had at the thought of something undesirable creeping its way into your privacy or comfort zone, because Light had manipulated his way into your comfort and trust long ago. He was scarier than a murderer ready to kill at an urge’s call, his blood lust hid in shadows behind his golden boy facade, his words were tools and his touches were negotiations. You couldn’t trust a single thing that came from his mouth, you often questioned your own sanity. Light Yagami had a terrifying grip on you, and it was exactly what he wanted.

Your eyes scan over the text Light had sent you for the millionth time, the words almost ingrained in your head at this point.

Come to my house. We need to talk. 

You were sure he kept his words vague on purpose, yet another tactic to keep you at his disposal out of pure fear. You weren’t exactly sure if you loved Light anymore; what was your definition of love at this point? You loved him, yes, but was it out of obligation? Was it survival instinct?

It was true, in the beginning you had loved Light purely and truly. You believed his ambition was justice, to make the world a better and safer place for you. But as time went on, “Kira doesn’t kill innocents” began racking up more and more exceptions, and as the twisted justifications spilled from his mouth, so did the gaslighting. Over and over, his sweet words convinced you to keep coming back. His empty promises were a drug and you were addicted. 

His text, you were sure, was a reference to this fizzling out of your love for him. He could sense it, and surely he must have found out you were planning on leaving. You weren’t planning on revealing that he’s Kira- that would cause more commotion you were not interested in being a part of- no, you simply wanted to move states, get away and forget about Light Yagami, forget about Kira and Ryuzaki and Ryuk and everything that has overtaken your life. However, if he did find out your plans to skip town, you may just have to reveal that he’s Kira for safety measures.

❛ you’re no good for me, but baby i want you ❜

Hestiently, you opened the door you had been staring at blankly for what felt like hours. Light had been staying in an upscale hotel during the investigation, so maybe the other tenants could hear you if you screamed for help; the overdramatic thought brought you comfort. 

You walk in the room, closing the door behind you. You’re met with the sight of Light’s back as he sits in the rolling chair across the room. In the absence of any words, without even seeing his face, you know he’s mad. Every slight change of Light’s emotions could strangle a whole room by tension alone; his aura manipulated the feeling in the air, which served as a helpful alarm to know when he is upset. And man, is he upset.

You open your mouth to greet him, but he cuts you off, spinning around in his chair to face you, “Don’t talk.” You nod and close your mouth. Why do you even listen to what he says?

“I knew I couldn’t trust you. From the very beginning I knew you would run that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you’re planning on leaving. And then what? Telling the first news outlet you see that I’m Kira?”

“No Light,”

“I said don’t talk.” He stands up from his chair, “If you tell everyone, you’ll also have to tell on yourself. Imagine what everyone would think of you if they knew...You knew I was Kira and you still dated me, you defended me, you kept my secret, you even got on your knees for me. Are you gonna tell that to the media? That you let Kira fuck you?”

You purse your lips, restraining yourself from talking back. You knew it would only make things worse, but you couldn’t stand the way he talked down on you and expected you to take it. 

“Come here.” He motioned to his desk and you followed, sitting on his lap per his instruction. He placed the death note open on the desk, handing you the pen. With one hand gripping yours and the other on your hip, he began to guide your hand, the pen spilling out the first letter of your name on the pages.

❛ do you think we’ll be in love forever? ❜

“N-No, Light, you can’t do this, please.” You begged, your heart rate quickening as you realize what he was doing. It can’t end like this, it just can’t.

“Shhh, just write. That’s it, baby. This is what bad girls get, you see?” His death grip tightened on your hand as he spelled out your name, the last letters leering closer and closer before you could register the implications of what he was doing. This was it, this was really it.

Light lets his free hand wander up to your jawline, pulling your face closer to yours and enveloping you in a kiss as he wrote the last letter of your name. You shake your head with a whine, however he disregards your concerns and runs his hand on your upper thigh. 

“What’s the matter, Y/n? Don’t wanna spend your last moments with me?~” His nose kisses your neck, and the soft, sensual gestures almost make you forget your life was quite literally slipping away at every second that ticked by. 40 seconds. You had 40 seconds to do something.

You jump off of Light’s lap, reality rushing to your lungs as you felt your world closing in. Your pants become heavier, harsh air ripping through your throat as if they were the last breaths you would ever take because, well- they were.

Your head felt buzzing and dizzy as you fell to your knees, crawling towards Light who had spun around in his chair so his back was facing you; completely apathetic. After all you’ve been through together, after all you’ve done for him, nothing. Nothing at all. 

You crawl closer, grasping towards the notebook Light held in his hands, your weakness limiting your reach as anxiety stole your clearness of mind. He only  chuckles at your meek attempts to save your own life. Your head was racing as your nervousness blacked out everything in the room except for the little black notebook your boyfriend had a death grip on; ‘I’m running out of time, I’m going to die, I need the death note, I need to cross my name out, I need it I need it I need it I-’

“Goodbye, Y/N. You were fun to play with for a while.” Light kisses your nose with an arrogant smirk, peeling your hands off from his lap and wrists before checking his watch, signaling your last few seconds. 

You quit your pitiful attempts to grab the notebook and instead push yourself further and further away from Light until your back hit the wall, lacing your fingers tightly in your hair as you cried your last moments away. 

“5, 4, 3 2...” Light spoke.

“No no no no no, please god,” You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation for the pangs you would soon feel in your chest.

“1...”

And

Nothing.

You breathe. You let the air flood your lungs; it shouldn’t be possible. You dare to open your eyes, revealing the same scene. You, pathetically on the floor with tears down your face, Light before you in his chair with his head thrown back in a maniacal laugh. 

He tossed the death note down to you, like a dog being thrown a bone. You frantically grab it and flip to the newest page, your name scratched out with two thick lines. 

You were alive- no, he let you live.

❛ hit me my darling tonight, i don’t know why but i like it

“Well?” Light asks expectingly, standing up from his chair and kicking it to the side of the room. You look up at him questioningly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as tears still brimmed your eyes from the just-curved anxiety attack.

“No ‘thank you’? I spared your life even after you betrayed me- lied to me. You’re so ungrateful.”

“I, I-” You found it difficult to shape your words with your hitching breath. You inhale deeply, eyes closed, calming down, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Light.”

Why were you even apologizing?

“I’m so sorry, please, just take me back. I’m sorry.” The words spilled from your mouth so quickly simply because they felt right. You needed to apologize, you did wrong, you need to be good. You wanted him back more than anything so you can be good.

❛ scary, my god, you’re divine ❜

“That’s right,” Light smiled, his voice softening unnaturally, “Now, how about you come over here and show me just how sorry you are.”

You hesitate for a second before crawling over to him. You sit obediently with your legs beneath your thighs on the floor in front of him.

“Mm, that’s my babygirl.” He pets your head affectionately, coherencing a smile from you. Despite everything he’s done, he always knew how to reel you back in. You needed the approval. You needed his approval.

You look up at him with puppydog eyes, to which he cocks his head to the side. “You know what I want.”

Nodding, you slowly unzipper his khaki pants and pull out his cock. You run your hand up and down, pumping it slowly. 

“Don’t be a fucking tease” Light scoffs, raking his fingers through your hair and forcing your mouth down onto him. That sweet, caring demeanor was gone in barley a second- of course it was. What were you expecting? It was a thinly veiled facade and you fell for it everytime without exception. 

Light groans, pushing your head further onto him as you try not to gag. You feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat as he thrusts into your mouth faster. “God, Y/N, you take my cock so well. Hah, if only the media could see you now. Poor little Y/N wants to run away from big bad Kira, meanwhile here she is on her knees for him, sucking him off like the dirty slut she is.”

He lets out a deep sigh before pulling out of your mouth. “Be useful for once and get on the bed.” He commands, bringing you to your feet with his strong grip on your hair and pushing you in the direction of the bed. You obey, sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for his next instruction.

Light slinks over to you, standing over your figure as his delicate fingers dance up your inner thigh. He takes off your skirt and slowly rubs your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“Mmm, Light, more...” You buck your hips up to meet his touch, his movements were agonizingly slow and you needed more friction.

“More?” At once he removes his hand from between your legs and grabs your face, your jaw in between the tight hold of his thumb and forefingers. “You want more, huh? You don’t get to make demands of me. You really think i’m gonna give you what you want after that stunt you pulled? Hah, I’m not letting you off that easy.”

You let out a whine, bucking your hips again asking to be touched.

“Aww, poor baby...” Light cooed, “Open up.” You obeyed, opening your mouth before Light brought your face closer to his, spitting in your mouth. “Now swallow.”

You do, earning a smirk from Light. “Mm, good girl. Good girls get rewarded.”

He pulls your panties aside before dipping two slender fingers inside you; wasting no time, he pumps them in and out frantically.

“Oh god Light, fuck,”

“You’re so wet for me Y/N, you like this, don’t you? I knew you would, such a dirty whore. You like when I treat you like this? You like being treated for the slut you are? God, you probably got wet when I almost killed you. It makes me hard, having you under my thumb like this, under my control...”

“Fuck Light, it feels so good, I’m close...”

Quickly, he removes his fingers from you once again, earning a cry from you at the loss of heat. “Please Light, I need you so bad,” You beg.

“What did I say? You’re still not forgiven for that stunt you pulled. Don’t whine.” He wraps his hand around your throat, pushing you down onto your back.

He fully pulls his boxers down, aligning himself with your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, please light, god, I need it so badly. I want you.”

“Hmm, yeah? You’re so desperate for my cock? I’m not convinced.”

“Please, Light, I’ll never be bad again, I’ll never mess up again. I need your cock so badly, I need you to use me. Do anything you want.”

“Mm, that’s more like it,” Light remarks before pushing into you, earning a loud moan. HIs thrusts were slow, no doubt teasing you.

“Oh, Light, please, faster...”

“More demands? God, you’re such a needy slut. Fine.” His grip on your throat tightens, pushing you further into the bed as he snaps his hips into you without mercy. His pace is relentless, quickly finding your g-spot.

“Fuck, Light. It... it feels- fuck,”

“Hah, stupid slut, what’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue? Or is it me fucking you so hard you can’t even think straight, can’t form sentences?”

His words only egg on your approaching orgasam, “Hmmph, it- it feels so good. I’m gonna...”

With that, Light pulls you up slightly by your neck before slamming you roughly back into the bed, thrusting into you with speed. “Cum, show me how sorry you are.”

You obey, releasing with a loud moan of his name. He finishes soon after, roughly letting go of your throat. “Clean yourself up. You look like a fucking mess.”

You slip your panties and skirt back on as Light sits apathetically at his desk, his focus buried in paperwork. You heart skinks to your stomach. 

Once you finish dressing, Light allows you to leave, informing you of the Kira case work he had to finish and opening the door for you. 

“And Y/N,” He catches your attention before you step into the hallway of the hotel, “Let this be a lesson. Don’t ever try to leave me again. You’re mine.” He grabs your jaw and kisses you tenderly- but you weren’t stupid. You knew the motivation behind it, and let you still kissed his soft lips back and let yourself melt into him. 

“Goodbye,” He remarks after pulling away, “Behave yourself.”. The door slams in your face. 

You can still feel his cum dripping from your heat daring to spill out of your panties. The hallway was empty, allowing reality to rush to you at once. Your senses only seem clear when you were alone- with Light, you didn’t see with your own eyes or hear with your own ears.

You let your back touch the door of Light’s hotel room, slowly sliding down until you were sitting on the carpeted floor. Your life was broken pieces and you cut yourself picking up the glass shards, relishing in the fact that your boyfriend liked the way the blood looked on your pricked fingers.

❛  hurt me and tell me you’re mine, i don’t know why but i like it. ❜

[yandere-sins]

Idk If you have rules cuz I can't seem to find it but Osamu(Haikyuu) as mafia(if ur not comfy then you can ignore this part) who Kidnapped u and is obsessed(the "I'd rip out my heart for you" type of obsessed) who would literally do anything for you😋and puts you always first before anyone else🗿a soft yandere but will k!ll anyone who gets near you type so Osamu being possesive of you🤩

Nope! No rules, there aren’t enough people who care for them and I don’t want to stress about it anymore. If I don’t like a request, I just delete it. I prefer Yakuza over Mafia, hope you don’t mind! Thanks for requesting, enjoy ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

Even the careful Osamu couldn’t keep you from stirring in your sleep as he opened the door to the apartment. This was probably the first night ever you had been able to fall asleep in peace, and yet, you sat up while he tiptoed through the hallway towards the only room you two shared. Rubbing your eyes, you heard a soft gasp, making you look up.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya...” Osamu grumbled before stepping into the room fully, walking over to the mini-fridge he kept stocked with basic food like rice balls and ice cream in the freezer compartment. The light briefly illuminated his body, showing you a sight you didn’t want to see while he restocked some food in the fridge, either unaware or indifferent about his looks.

You looked away, biting your lips. It had all started out innocently enough, your father paying a Yakuza to keep you safe while there were some even worse guys after him. Even if the arrangement had been strange, especially after he - Osamu - moved into a small, one-room apartment with you, basically just sticking around and rarely leaving, by now, it was more than just a nightmare.

How long had it been since you last left the apartment? Almost a month now? Osamu took you for a walk once or twice, returning after mere ten minutes and stating it was too dangerous. However, whenever he did leave, he returned bloody and dirty. Frankly, you were too afraid to ask what happened, but the secrecy between you two wasn’t helping in soothing your mind.

In the beginning, you still had been hopeful that the matter would resolve quickly and you could go back to your normal life. But apparently, it just kept dragging on, Osamu only ever stating that it wasn’t over yet. Even your dad stopped responding to your messages, asking if he was okay, by now, and you were nothing but worried about him. Now, you just wondered how many more days you’d have to spend with this guy that you still considered to be a total stranger.

Gripping your blanket tightly, it took you a lot of courage to speak up, but the situation was awkward as it is, there was nothing you could do to mess it up more. “Are you okay?” you asked carefully, hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries. His hand stopped, and he glanced back over his shoulder at you, simply staring for a moment before turning back to finish his task.

“Yeah, just a rough night.”

“Then... are you hurt?” you continued, feeling relieved after hearing his casual answer.

“Why? Ya worried about me?” Only being able to see his side profile over his shoulder, you noticed him smile - presumably for the first time ever that you knew him. “I-I mean!” you stuttered, twiddling your thumbs as you felt flustered. It wasn’t actually that bad talking to him; he actually had a hint of a joke in his voice as he spoke with you, even if you only ever perceived him as a mean-looking fellow with a bad career choice.

“It would be bad if something happened and you were injured...”

A soft chuckle fell off his lips, and you presumed he must have been tired if you actually managed to make him laugh. Either that, or you had to admit he wasn’t half as bad as you thought him to be. Closing the fridge - and with it, the only light in the room - you heard him groan as he stood up. However, even if he tried, his footsteps were audible because of his muscular build, especially as they drew closer.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assured you, plopping down on your bed. “I got it all under control, promise.”

“If you say so...” Pulling in your legs, you made some space, prompting him to lean back, and the smell of blood and dirt made its way to your nose. “So... not your blood?”

There was a certain risk in asking this, but you were awake now and, for the first time, had a conversation with him. “Nope,” he casually admitted, and it brought back some of the fears you first had when he was introduced to you. Mainly that he had already become numb towards violence. “Hey...” Osamu tore you out of your thoughts quickly as he spoke up first, noticing your silence.

“Has anyone been bothering you lately? Talked to some bad eggs on your phone?”

Blinking a few times, you delayed your response, nervously glancing at your phone. It was true that after you had to go undercover, you had quite a few arguments with your boyfriend and friends. They wouldn’t understand why you’d ghost them and avoid their questions about your whereabouts. “Not really?” you mumbled, unsure if he’d be interested in that kind of complaint from you. After all, they were more or less just relationship problems, and you two weren’t close in any way.

“I see,” he curtly replied, silence falling between you two until he sighed, sitting up straight again. “After you fell asleep, there was a guy outside to room. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the knocks, but I guess you were tired for a change.”

Immediately, you tensed up. Worried about the sudden revelation about a visitor, you didn’t even mind his last comment, revealing he had been aware and watching you as you had struggled to sleep the last few weeks in his presence. “W-Who was it?” you questioned, scared of hearing that you had been found out and you’d have to leave soon and hide somewhere else.

“Don’t know him. He got very agitated when he saw me and tried to get into the apartment, but I couldn’t let him, of course.”

Ears peeking up, you almost jumped out of bed as you leaned forward, intrigued by what Osamu was telling you. “And? What happened?” you pushed for a continuation.

“Nothing special. Told him he can’t get in and to leave. But he was one persistent bastard, yelling weird stuff like he was your boyfriend and he loved you and should be able to see you. These things.”

“W-Wait! What do you mean it was my boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me! I could have confirmed it! I’d really have liked... to see him...”

Shoulders slumping in disappointment, any fear of being found out was now turned into sadness, knowing you had been asleep while a vital piece of your life and of ‘normality’ had been so close. “Ridiculous, as if I could just let anyone come and claim he knew ya,” Osamu grumbled, and the heaviness of your situation returned back to you. Of course, he couldn’t allow the risk of someone hurting you after everything you two went through already.

“He did ask me to give you something, though,” Osamu seemed to suddenly remember, contemplatively. “What is it?” you inquired, hoping that maybe it really had been your boyfriend after all, and perhaps he brought you something to help you through these challenging times.

But instead, you were met with two fingers around your chin, pulling you in closely until you felt Osamu’s breath against your mouth. Much too late did you understand the intention, his lips kissing yours gently yet longingly. You felt an immediate gut-wrenching response, tearing away repulsed by the actions of your guard. Pushing him away, you rubbed off the feeling of his lips on yours with the back of your hand, spluttering, “What are you doing?!” while you tried not to feel sicker as the smell of iron reached your nose.

“Ya know,” Osamu continued, his tone indifferent, but you could hear the smile on his lips. “I’m just repaying my debt to him. There’s no ‘being too safe’, but I guess you really did matter a lot to him. He kept crying and telling me he loved ya.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up to confirm it then?” By now, you felt the pain of your boyfriend, worried sick about you, and then faced with someone like Osamu as his only clue. “Are you kidding?” was all that the Yakuza responded. Getting up, he stretched audibly.

“I beat him to a pulp and took care of him and his phone with the tracking app.”

What?

“H-How could you...?!” was the only thing you could stutter.

“Yeah, he won’t bother you anymore. I know you two have been fighting lately.”

“Excuse me?”

Walking over to the entrance to the bath, Osamu flipped on the light before looking back at you. Dreadful splatters of blood were all over his face, even more than you had seen before. His knuckles seemed to be straight out of a horror movie, and the black clothes he wore had dark, firm spots on them.

And yet, he smiled at you affectionately.

“As if I’d let anyone put a frown on ya cute face, Babe. Doesn’t matter who, I’ll protect you from anyone trying to get close and hurt you. I told ya, didn’t I? I’ve got everything under control.”

With that, he entered the bath, and you heard the familiar sound of the shower. Confused but mostly worried, you threw back the blanket and hopped out of bed with unsteady feet, racing to the front door. Sliding off the door chain, you pushed the handle, expecting it to open, but it wouldn’t budge.

The faint sound of a chuckle echoed from the bathroom, the walls thin as paper, much to your dismay. You didn’t want to believe it; even more, you wanted to see it. See that what Osamu described didn’t happen to someone so dear to you. You wanted to know that everything was okay. Know that the man you shared this locked apartment with wasn’t some kind of maniac going around killing people on ‘your behalf’.

But when you looked at your phone, you saw a message from your boyfriend, saying he tracked you down and would be coming to get you now. It had been read before you, even replied to, but you didn’t remember ever seeing it or replying to it at all. Especially not when the last message eerily read:

<< Waiting for you (:

[curiouschild]

Twin Butterflies

|| Jean Kirstein x fem! reader one shot ||

Summary: You’re taking a private moment on the morning of your wedding day with butterflies in your stomach when it’s interrupted.

Warnings: f l u f f <3

____________________________

No one else stirred in the cabin you were renting for yourself and your bridesmaids. It must have been a little after 6 in the morning as you could see the promise of dawn on the edge of the horizon. The wood was cold beneath your bare feet as you headed down the hall. In the haze of the morning fog that misted your brain, an invisible string seemed to be tugging you towards a large oak door. As you approached it, your nerves crackled beneath your skin as you gripped the metal handle, pushing the door open.

In the middle of the room with several large gaping windows was an elegant draping of white tulle and lace giving off a faint luminous glow in the early morning light. Wandering over to your wedding dress, your hand dips into the fabric of the skirt as if you could find the promises you would be making with Jean Kirstein could be found in its depths to calm you on one of the biggest days of your life.

Basking in the elegance of the most beautiful dress you will most likely ever own, you began to think of your soon to be husband who was sleeping in another cabin with his groomsmen. The two of you thought it would be lovely to get married in a wonderful little clearing in the woods that was owned by the family of your friend and bridesmaid, Sasha Braus. There were a few cabins as well that she offered to let you and your fiancee stay in before the big day. It was all so incredibly generous of her to accommodate yourself and your fiancee.

Your lips tug upwards as you thought about Jean. Was he peacefully sleeping? Was he about to get up for his usual morning jog? Or maybe he was starting a breakfast for his friends since he always loves to cook for people he cared about.

These thoughts made your heart flutter as you realized the mornings to come would be spent experiencing any of these scenarios with him. The serenity of those thoughts were clouded by the increasing amount of butterflies humming in your stomach. Even though you knew that no matter what, today was going to be special.

A quiet *tap tap tap* on glass had you reeling from your thoughts. Your eyes flicked towards one of the large windows where the noise came from. Your face pinked when you found warm hazel eyes watching you. Jean smiled softly, waving at you from outside. You returned his smile, loosening the fabric from your hands as you made your way to open the window.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted. Up close you saw that he was wearing a simple workout tank and loose sweatpants hung low at his hips.

 With no screen in the way, he propped his long arms on the ledge and leaned his head through the window. His considerable height made his eyes remain almost at the same level as yours even as he slouched.

“Hi there. This is a surprise,” you said.

“A pleasant one I hope,” he chuckled. He opened his palm up to you and you slipped your hand into his, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “I woke up before any of the guys and felt like going for a walk. I couldn’t help passing by your cabin. What a lucky thing for me to see my beautiful bride before anyone else on our wedding day,” he murmured as his eyes studied your face in awe. He seemed to love drinking in the sight of you despite your clearly just-woke-up appearance.

“It’s certainly lovely to see you before everyone’s buzzing around getting ready,” you agree, your free hand reaching up to softly trace his jaw. The pads of your fingers grazed stubble. “I can’t even believe I was able to sleep. I’m so nervous about today- I think the worrying woke me up.”

His brow crinkled at your comment. “Why are you nervous, love?” He cupped his hands around yours and his fingers began to massage the back of your hand in soothing circles. You pause for a moment as he continued to knead into your skin carefully as you considered the question. 

“There’s two things that come to mind,” you start. “Firstly, that I’m going to trip down the aisle. I wonder if that’s every bride’s fear, honestly. It seems like such a long walk and even if we laughed it off what if I ruined the dress? Or worse, stumble and trip into someone like your mom?”

You thought for a moment Jean would laugh at you for coming up with silly what-if’s, but he only continued to press his fingers into your palm. His hazel eyes were slightly amused, but he only said, “And what is the second thing my bride is worried about?”

You inhaled slowly before saying, “Well.. secondly, I’m nervous everything will pass by in such a blur that I won’t take in the moment.”

At this, you could see his handsome face become sympathetic. When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It feels like I haven’t seen you much this past month and all of the last minute planning has felt like such an onslaught of emotional and mental energy to the point where I don’t remember much of anything. We went sent out invitations and suddenly we’re here. I don’t want today to flash by like our engagement has.”

Jean brought your hand to his lips and softly pressed them across your knuckles before he asked quietly, “Come with me?”

You glanced down at your small silken robe that barely hit the edge of your short pajama shorts. “In this? I don’t even have shoes on.”

Jean smiled. “We won’t go far, I promise.” He tugged his hand and you laughed a little and muttered a small “oh fine.”

He stepped back, keeping your hand in his as you began to slide yourself through the window sill. The grass was still dewey as the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder and hands intertwined.

The jitteriness you had been experiencing on and off were left behind as you let Jean lead you towards a hidden path behind the cabin. There was a calming stillness, and neither of you felt the need to say anything. Your eyes glanced over every now and again to Jean’s face. He was keeping his eyes up, watching the tops of the trees. When you two were younger, he was often chatty and talked about himself until he was blue in the face. When he joined the regiment, he changed from being self centered, to a man who would do whatever it takes to protect those he loves. It made him more reflective. Humble. And one of the most passionate people you had ever known.

It wasn’t long before you two arrived at the clearing where your ceremony would be held. This was the first time you had a chance to see the seats set up along the trail of stepping stones that marked the path you would be taking to Jean later in the day.

You almost forgot to breathe as you took it all in. Jean squeezed your hand softly. “I can’t believe I get to marry you here,” he said softly before he moved into the last aisle to take a seat. You joined beside him in the innermost chair.

The blush returned to your face and you couldn’t help pressing your cheek against him. “It feels wrong to be here before the ceremony starts.”

You felt his laugh in his shoulder. “That’s what makes coming out here fun. Besides, if I can take your worries about our wedding away, then it can’t be that bad.” His eyes wandered up to the alter ahead and the two of you basked in the silence for a few moments.

“I sure do love you,” he finally said, tightening his hand around yours. “I loved you for the last several years. And I’ll love you if we’re saying our vows in front of everyone, or if we say them right here  in our pajamas and skip the entire ceremony.” 

Your eyes widened and your laughter rang in the clearing. “We aren’t skipping out on the wedding!”

The corner of his eyes crinkled at your laughter. “I know, I’m just being reassuring. You know what I mean though.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you teased him, lifting your head to press your lips against his cheek

“And yet, you’re still here with me,” he mused.

You bit your lip a little bit. His endearing charm always made you feel a bit like a school girl. “I couldn’t see myself here with anyone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the cheesy one?” He bumped his shoulder against your playfully. His hand left yours so he could wrap his arm around you.

“You told me earlier you’re nervous about walking up the aisle.”

You nodded shyly.

“Well, let me tell you that if you trip, I’ll just come to you.”

“No!” You quickly exclaimed. “That would emphasize the embarrassment.”

He smirked a little. “Then I’ll just have to trip on my way to helping my future wife. Then all of the attention will fall on me. And as far as you tripping into someone like my mom, it would be okay.”

You groaned at the thought. “If I trip into anyone I will die on the spot.”

His lips pressed into your temple affectionately. “I can’t let that happen. If you trip and fall into anyone, I’ll run to you in the aisle. I can just grab your hand and we’ll run away together. If your dress is ripped, I’ll carry you as we book it out of here.”

You shook your head, unable to stop grinning picturing him doing everything he can to help you in these imaginative situations.

“As for fearing about today going by in a blur,” he went on, his head turning to gaze into your eyes lovingly. “I think starting the day with just you is keeping me rooted in the moment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He pressed his nose sweetly against yours and you felt any last of your butterflies quiet. It was quite something to remember the glow of your love for each other.

“I’m jealous that you haven’t had anxiety like I have. You’ve been so comforting.”

Pulling back, you were surprised to see a gentle flush in his face.

“Oh I’ve got my own butterflies, but for you I can ignore them.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his shoulder once more and you felt his head rest over yours.

“Well let me comfort you this time. What is my sweet Jean afraid will happen on our special day?”

“That our friendly neighborhood suicidal maniac is gonna do something stupid at our wedding,” he grumbled.

Through your giggling, you managed to say, “That’s what you get for making Eren a groomsmen.”

You heard Jean let out a scoff. “I knew you couldn’t sympathize,” he said in an exaggeratedly hurt voice.

The two of you talked and laughed together a little longer as sunlight danced over the tops of the trees. And in the moment, there was only the bond between you and Jean with the rest of your lives ahead of you.

[cursedwriter]

Cursed! Part 3 - Gojo Satoru

Part One // Part Two // Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Synopsis: After running some errands you’re caught off guard by a curse user. Unbeknownst to you, he has something up his sleeve that would mean a fate worse than death to you. How will you get out of this? And what role does your boyfriend - the Satoru Gojo - play in all of this?

Words: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading! 

Gojo was already running in the direction where the maniac had disappeared to. Upon hearing you scream he had been momentarily distracted which had given the culprit the opportunity to slip out of his sight. No matter, though. He was no match for him anyway. When Gojo reached the end of the park, though, the veil you had cast sent a jolt of energy through his body, pushing him back and not letting him through. Ugh, not that again! Looked like he was trapped here. That bastard! I swear to God if I ever come across you again, you won’t be laughing anymore, Satoru thought. A sick grin spread across his face as he thought of all the ways he could make that pathetic excuse of a man cry and beg him to show mercy. He wouldn’t though. That thought made him smile even more until…

Something shattered against his limitless technique. Well, not just something. It was a surge of pure cursed energy perfectly aimed and concentrated. The sheer force of the blast had his feet slipping slightly and any normal opponent would’ve been swept off their feet completely. Gojo turned around to see where the hit had come from, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach already told him everything he didn’t want to know.  The flowing cursed energy in the air, that perfectly aimed hit… it all led to one person and person only. You.

Another hit. This time he saw the bright flash of a glowing arrow connecting and disrupting on the outside of his protective infinity shield.

What the hell were you doing?

Another hit. The force of the blasts was increasing and Gojo sucked in air through his gritted teeth.

“Y/N, what the hell?! Stop hitting me!” Gojo complained, though, dread was spreading throughout his whole body. He could only hope that his suspicion was false. No, he forced himself to think it was false.

No way in hell, no way, no way. No. Fucking. Way.

“You should’ve run when you still could.” Your voice echoed off the trees in the confined space. Gojo had his back turned to the veil, trapping him like a mouse. He had yet to see your face. Your cursed energy was concentrated in a tree to his right. You must’ve climbed up there when you last hit him with one of your arrows made out of light and cursed energy. As if to prove him right – though, of course he was right – multiple arrows flew out of the tree crown, hitting and exploding upon impact. “I can’t stop, Gojo. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop.” Your quiet sobs reached his ears and he could feel his heart dropping to his stomach, slowly and painfully being digested by his stomach acid.

Finally, you jumped off the tree branch you’d been sitting on, landing on your feet gracefully and even in a situation like this, Gojo couldn’t help but admire you. Your eyes were bloodshot, red from crying so much. Your whole body shook with the force of you weeping and sobbing as a glowing sword materialized out of thin air, perfectly fitting in your hand.

Gojo didn’t say anything, he already knew what was going on. A bitter laugh escaped his parted lips. That fucking bastard. He had to hand it to him, though. It was one hell of a plan. Having you kill him or forcing him to kill you. Either way, it was a fight without victory.

“Satoru,” Your voice was earnest, pleading. “You have to do it! Please, you have to!” Your mouth was telling him one thing, but your body was acting on its own accord, swinging the sword with murderous precision at your sides. “It’s okay, I promise. Please! It has to be you!”

Were you seriously asking him to kill you?

“It’s fine, as long as I have my shield, you can’t touch me anyways. The veil won’t hold forever, that’s impossible. We just have to wait until someone from the college notices and helps with backup, then we’ll kill that sleazy bastard and the curse will be lifted. Simple, right? So don’t panic, it’s going to be alright,” Gojo tried to reason, voice calm and collected despite him being more anxious than he cared to admit.  Even to himself.

But it wasn’t going to be alright. Of course not. The curse user had planned it all out to the latter. He anticipated his own death already, but not before one of you would die as well.

“No, no, no,” you shook your head as if you could shake the impending words out of your mind. “I – I won’t. No. No!” Your eyes met Gojo’s which were blown wide in horror upon seeing you like this. The sight hurt more than any physical attack ever could.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, though, he doubted he wanted to know.  

“The… The trump card. Do you remember my trump card? The one I was never able to master?”

Of course he did. He was the one who egged you on to perfect the technique after all. Gojo nodded slowly. A big lump already forming in his throat, while his mind raced a thousand miles per minute, already planning out different scenarios.

“Well, he wants me to use it.” For a brief moment your eyes seemed to lose their murderous intent. “Please, Gojo, you have to do it. Now! I don’t know how much longer I can fight it!”

You lifted your sword in the air, pure cursed energy surging through your body, concentrating at the very tip of your sword. Though, everything within you willed you to strike him in the heart or cut his head off, you forced your arm to aim for his leg instead. It wouldn’t make contact with him anyway… or so you thought.

“Gojo! Gojo, what the hell?!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Did he really just release his cursed technique? Why?! Why would he do that?! “You idiot! You idiot!” The sword in your hand shrunk down to a small but deathly dagger as you watched the blood spilling from the wound in his leg. Gojo stumbled and fell to the ground, grunting in pain, but he tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. For your sake, you knew that. He must’ve been in tremendous pain right now. Your body moved on its own, hovering above him, dagger slightly raised above his heart. Tears spilled from your waterline, blurring your vision as you saw the adoring smile on his face. “You idiot! Put it back on! Put it back on!” You screamed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. No. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to die.

It should be me. It should be me! Dammit!

Your body shook with your sobs, hand with the dagger inching closer to where it wanted to connect. You forced ever fiber of your being, ever cell in your body to stop, but nothing worked. Your body didn’t listen to any of your commands. All you could do was watch as the dagger inched closer and closer. “Gojo, please!” You begged. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he doing anything?! “Do something!!!”

Unexpectedly he reached forward, thumb brushing over your cheek affectionately and wiping away the tears from under your eyes. “I promised to protect you, didn’t I? This way I’m dying willingly. You don’t have to feel bad about it. I won’t force you to use your trump card and feel guilty for it for the rest of your life.” His hand still lingered on your cheek, the warmth of it flowing through your freezing body. “It’s okay, Y/N, I promise!”

“No, please don’t!” But you couldn’t keep your hand from moving forward…

[accidental-spice]

Solo Command re-read part one.

Spoilers, naturally.

1. 'Naval Lieutenant Jart Eyan looked rested and cheerful. The fact that he had only twelve minutes to live would have changed his disposition, but he dud not possess that knowledge.' What an entrance, Allston.

2. And Piggy thwarts an assassination. And he does it really awesomely, too. Reminds me a bit of one of the half dozen Sherlock episodes I've ever seen.

3. So, one of the best parts about this book is the fact that one of my favorite platonic relationships, and one of my favorite romantic relationships, both come to fruition. Firstly, the platonic one: Face and Lara. I'll probably elaborate later, but they're cool. I'll definitely elaborate later on the romantic one, Myn and Lara.

4. Oh. Great. A replacement medic. Just great.

5."Elassar Targon, master of the universe, reporting for duty!" Wedge: oh, great, another maniac.

6. Face becomes the leader of the squad. When I started this series for the first time, I had no idea that Face was gonna end up Wraith One. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

7. Wedge is analyzing the other lieutenants to see how they feel about their new squad leader, and all seems well thus far.' That left Myn Donos, a lieutenant with more years and more experience than Face. He looked serious and contemplative. But then, serious was merely a step up from his usual expression, that of dour intensity.' Yep, Myn's facial expressions are pretty much limited to intense and...... More intense.

8. Wedge is going on a da-ate. According to Hobbie, "He smells like a fresh spring breeze ". Bet it's with Iella. Speaking of OTPs...

9. 'Dia Passik, the female Twi'lek, said, "He (Face) insisted that he wasn't feeling well." Lara Notsil smiled over her shoulder at them. "He lied. He lies all the time, you know." "I know. But he seemed so genuine." "He does that all the time, too. This is the right thing to do. Myn, Elassar, back me up. " For context, they're going convincing him to go for a night out with the four of them. See? BROTHER.

10. "I've often suspected that you sometimes put on disguises just to go to the refresher. "

11. Oh, look, someone mistook Lara for their old student, Edalia Monotheer. Bet that won't come back to bite us...................................................

12. And Zsinj calls up the ship Han's on, and Chewie answers. "It's, ah, Chewbacca, isn't it? Please put your owner on." Zsinj, Han doesn't own Chewie. It's actually probably the other way around.

13. Tyria just called Face "chief". Hallelujah.

14. It's amusing to realize that Wraith and Rogue Squadron are assisting Wedge in his 'I refuse to become a general' scheme. Because they are.

15. So apparently, Corran and Han have never been in the same room together during this trip, so there's a baseless conspiracy theory that they're the same person. Hilarious.

16. Piggy's fresh out of the bacta tank, and the Wraiths are here to greet him. And troll him, naturally. 'Shalla said, "Kell and I worked up an instructional manual for you. It's called, *How to Dodge*." Piggy mopped away at his damp skin and allowed himself a slight smile. It was good to be home.' *gets bowled over by found family feels*

17. *mentions Phanan* Me: AGONY! PAIN! MISERY! VARYING LEVELS OF AMUSEMENT!

18. Donos will now commence to initiate a conversation with a young woman he likes. *eyebrow wiggle* Hopefully, he asks her to do an activity together. That'll sell..

19. He does not ask her to do an activity together.

20. Which is probably why its doesn't go THAT well.

21. "I'm going to be a tremendous embarrassment to the Wraiths." Lara, honey, Wraith Squadron can't afford to get embarrassed. They're already an embarrassment. (Affectionate)

22. Tyria is getting better at the Force. Knew you could do it, Tyria.

23. 'Shalla said, "You're getting weird, Tyria." This is good. When things start to get weird like this, that's a good thing.

24. Elassar is eating candy mid-mission. Okay, he's growing on me. I do have a slight prejudice against him because he's the new medic. And I really really miss the old one....

25. I retract my weird-means-good statement, they are in an incinerator.

26. Well, that could have been worse.

27. "By the way, I'm putting in a commendation for Kell for his initiative, and one for Lieutenant Janson for bravery." "Like he needs another one." "Maybe he can build a little fort out of them."

28. "Get the Wraiths together," Wedge said. "We're going to conduct one of their insane speculation and planning sessions. " Yeah, this line just amuses me.

29. So, they're having a dance, and Donos and Lara are flirting, and Dia and Face are flirting by watching them flirting and basically competing over who can read their body language better. It's weird and adorable.

30. Well, Facebis gonna do some research on Lara and Edalia Monotheer. Bet we won't live to regret that............................................

31. Okay, Solo's gone off the deep end. "Without her (Leia), I don't have a place. I'm just a drifter with an irresistible dose of roguish charm. And someday she'll get tired of the charm and there won't be anything else for me to offer her." "You know," Wedge said, "I can't do it myself, because you're my superior officer. But I could call Chewie down here, and tell him what you've just said, and then he'd beat you nearly to death with a hydrospanner." Stars, Han. Anyone knows that Leia needs you. It's so obvious, even a blind man could see it.

32. So, Wedge is giving everyone the night off, unofficially. Including the astromech droids. Also, he's not Wedge. After all, Commander Wedge Antilles would be wearing proper rank insignia.

33. The book calls it 'Wedge's mutiny of anonymity,' and I really can't do it justice. It's hilarious.

Pretty much sure that's half the book done, then. Later!

[zodiactalks]

Love Life with Leo Woman & 5 Brutal Truths

Leo women are known for their charm, their animal magnetism, their ability to stand-out no matter what, and their goal-oriented personalities.

They're also known for being stubborn to the point of stupidity, for thinking very highly of themselves and for needing heaps and heaps of personal space, followed by lots of time for themselves.

They're enigmatic, they're self-assured, they're a force to be reckoned and, above else, they're incredibly easy to fall in love with.

After all, who can resist a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid of doing what she needs to do to get it?

If you're in love with a Leo woman, you're in for a treat, but to survive the experience, you need to know the following brutal truths.

#1. They're stupidly stubborn.

While they might call it determined, the truth is that Leo women are simply stubborn.

What's the difference, you ask? It's actually quite simple.

A determined woman will do anything she needs to do to achieve her goals, while a stubborn woman will try her best to prove you wrong, even if you're in the right, and she ends up looking like a fool.

Leo women are both.

They're determined when it comes to their professional life, their family life, and their goals. They're hard workers, they're patient, they're go-getters, and they're capable of achieving truly amazing things, but they're also stubborn.

Leo women can choose absurdly petty hills to die on out of sheer stubbornness. They're capable of undoing hours of hard work because it didn't go as they wanted it to, and they're capable of acting against their own best interests just to prove a point.

Do you know that phrase that goes "Cut the nose to spite the face"? That's Leo women at their worse.

The best way to deal with this?

Just let them be.

We don't mean roll over and accept you're wrong even if you're right. That's not going to help anyone; no, we mean 'recognize that she'll be on the defensive and act accordingly.'

When arguing with her, avoid calling her names or making argument about her. Simply state your point as impersonally and calmly as possible.

Once they calm down, they'll listen, but the more you push them, the more they'll push back.

#2. They're ego-maniacs

There's no nice way of putting it. Leo women think way too highly of themselves.

To be fair, there's plenty to admire about them. Leos are naturally charming, have impeccable taste, and are incredibly committed to their goals, which means they're often successful at what they want to achieve.

However, they're prone to obsessing over their good traits and overlooking the bad, resulting in the kind of woman who thinks she can do no wrong.

Leos can, and do, react poorly to criticism, which they often interpret as personal attacks rather than the advice it sometimes is.

Their desire to be admired and praised can also lead them to be unnecessarily competitive and showy, always on the look-out for opportunities to show off their skills and their smarts.

Leo women's ego can also lead them to believe their own hype, resulting in an individual that isn't aware of their failures or misjudges their skills and abilities. Not a crime by any stretch of the imagination, but a trait that will rear its head over and over again in a relationship with a Leo.

Suffice it to say, if a Leo claims to be an expert at anything, take it with a grain of salt. The reality, and their perception, aren't always the same.

#3. They love to annoy.

We mean this in the most loving way possible.

Leos love to mess with people, teasing, pranking, and joking around as a way to show they care. Though not their most well-known trait, Leos are huge jokers, and they're often looking for ways to make other people laugh.

It's not hard to believe, really. Leos love to be liked and desire being the center of attention, and what better way to charm people than by making them laugh?

The thing about Leo women, though, is that their humor often derives from making fun of others. We don't mean that they like to mock others or bully people to get their kicks.

No, Leo prefers joking around their friends and families, but they often choose to do it by teasing them or making small, personal jabs in the name of good fun.

If you have a thick skin and enjoy sarcastic, even black humor, chances are you'll get along with them wonderfully. If you don't, then you'll want to talk about that with your Leo lover. Otherwise, she'll probably make fun of you in a way you won't like.

#4. They have no time for nonsense.

Some women are perfectly fine with tenderly helping others when they're having trouble; some women are more than okay with people who put their feelings first; some women believe that participation alone is enough of a reason to feel proud and happy.

Leo women believe precisely none of that.

Leo women are strong, sharp, stubborn, self-assured, and both willing and capable of eating the world whole. They have no time or patience for people who second-guess themselves, for those who aren't willing to go after what they want or for those who give up easily.

What's more, Leo women aren't care-takers.

Oh, they'll try to help you, and they'll always be pushing you to excel yourself and your own expectations, but sooner rather than later, they'll pull away and expect you to do things yourself, regardless if you're ready or not.

Because of this, Leo women can't tolerate clingy, insecure partners. They don't want to be with someone who needs to be continuously reassured, nor they want to share their life with someone who will expect them to take every big choice in the relationship.

Leo women want to date an equal, and if you want to be their equal, you have pretty big shoes to fill.

#5. They're super affectionate.

Leo women may be independent and may need their space. They may pursue their goals relentlessly and may sometimes appear distant and aloof.

However, Leo women care profoundly and love intensely, and that applies to family, friends, and lovers alike.

They're protective, playful, loyal, fun, and, more than anything else, motivating. They'll continuously try to improve the lives of their loved ones, either by pushing them to improve themselves or by taking things into their own hands.

Though they may appear self-centered, Leos are always aware of the people they love and those who have helped them. They give back, happily and generously, whenever they can, and though they may not check on their loved ones daily, they sure as hell think about them.

It may not be evident at first, but one of the biggest motivators for Leo's thirst for success is to provide for their family and their loved ones. Success for success's sake is rarely something that appeals to Leos; No, they want to be the best, so that they can ensure the people they care about are happy and well cared for.

Acts of services may not be every Leo woman's love language, but they tend to be up there amongst the most popular.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Lick Your Wounds (part three)

[Breakaway]

Part 1 Part 2

TW: Vomiting, blood

——————

These Shark-Infested Waters

Joan’s sick of being injured.

She’s currently laying on her cabin bed, looking out the window at the sparkling ocean stretched all around the ship. She’s hot and clammy, despite it being rather cool in the room. She takes her drugs on time, or at least she thinks she does. She can't really remember what she does anymore. Her mind is so fuzzy and disjointed that she can't even seem to remember her own name at times.

She peers at the vibrant sea, blinking her eyes into a squint as the light from the setting sun bounces off the glistening water, blinding her temporarily. It’s the evening of the third day out of seven and she already feels the effects of isolation setting in deep. It didn’t help that the day before was spend completely alone, since there was a double show, which meant Maggie or anyone else was too busy to visit her. It’s the first time since she got on the ship that she didn’t see Maggie in twenty-four hours.

And it did not feel good.

“Dammit,” Joan muttered under her breath as she feels her mouth go dry.

She hated this feeling. She felt hopeless and insecure and forgotten and useless. She’s always had issues with her confidence, but right now she’s at an all time low. She can’t sleep alone. She can’t write or work or perform or lift anything too heavy. She can barely go to the bathroom without smashing herself into the wall! Hell, she doesn’t even know what she’s going to do when she has to start bathing herself! She’s been wearing the same thing for three days- the clothes are probably now permanently saturated with sweat.

Oh how she ached to get back out to the world, to explore the boat and try all the things it offered. She has music director work to go through, still. Being cooped up in a cabin was not something that she had on her to-do list.

Joan let out a low, pained groan as she slung her good arm over her eyes. Isolation was digging in deep, now. Not even the pretty houses on all the house hunting shows she’s watched could distract her from the gnawing sense of loneliness that ate away at her.

She misses Maggie.

Joan rolled over suddenly, sending pins and needles up her left arm. She ignored it and grabbed her phone.

[Mag-Dog]

Joey: I miss you

Joan waits thirty seconds after the message is read.

Nothing.

She tries again.

[Mag-Dog]

Joey: I miss you

This one isn’t read this time.

Maybe she’s coming off too strong? Or maybe Maggie just doesn’t care...

[Mag-Dog]

Joey: When are you gonna come over again? I wanna see you

Joey: Please

Joey: I’m so bored

Joey: And I miss you :(

Nothing.

Joan whimpered softly and put her phone back down, then buried herself in her blankets. She clutched her stuffed tamarin, Sunny, close to her chest, feeling like it was her only friend.

“At least I have you, Sunny...” Joan whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “You’ll never leave me, right?”

God, how pathetic could she be? She’s talking to a stuffed animal.

Sudden rage bubbled up in Joan’s chest. Maggie probably forgot about her. She was probably just waiting for something like this to happen so she could get away from her.

Maggie didn’t care about her.

Maggie never cared.

In a fit of anger, Joan threw Sunny at the wall and then slammed herself back into her blankets, crying. And she hates that she does this because- because she can’t- because it all-

It just-

It didn’t start like this.

Like her lungs are full of water and her chest is thick and heavy with sludge and mud. Like each breath is razor sharp and threatens to drown her with the muck bubbling up in her throat. Like everything and everyone is against her.

It started out slow. First the whispers, then the doubt, and then the nausea. Slowly, she feels more like a corpse and less like a human, and she wishes things could go back to being good again.

Things are just changing so fast and Joan can’t keep up. The queens told her to dive, but every time she tries to swim forward, she’s battered by the waves and slammed back against the jagged rocks along the shoreline, where her cries are muffled by salty green water and her skin is torn. She barley gets time to breathe before she’s dragged back in by the undertow, whipping her around in the current until she’s a broken carcass lying upon the sand.

The only thing that keeps her up is the violent spray of the sea was Maggie. Maggie keeps her sane when she’s tormented by her insecurity, keeps her waking up in the morning instead of wallowing in bed, keeps her functioning even when mockery degrades her, keeps her from throwing herself over the edge of the ship when everything feels like it’s too much, keeps her from completely shattering when the deaths of Anne and Jane and Katherine flash back to her because THAT’S still a thing to break her down.

But not anymore. Because Maggie doesn’t care.

And then the cabin door’s locking mechanism clicks and the door pushes open.

Joan froze.

“So...you miss me?”

Maggie is standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Joan snaps up instantly- well, after she scrubs her face in her blankets to rid it of tear stains.

“Maggie!” She cried in relief.

“That’s my name, yes.” Maggie replied. She looked down the stuffed tamarin lying tail-up near her feet. She picks it up and dusts it off. She might have even straightened out some of its stupid fur. “What’d your tambourine do to get banished to the floor? Say something mean to you?”

Joan blushes and looks down at her lap, which is quickly situated by Sunny, who Maggie sets there.

“Nothing.” Joan mumbled, hunching she shoulders in. This action makes her left arm ache, but she really didn’t care.

“Hm.” Maggie isn’t convinced, but she doesn’t press. “Alright.” She moves on. “So...wanna watch a movie?”

“Actually,” Joan fidgets slightly. “I was wondering if I could go out.”

“Out of the cabin?”

Joan nodded

“I don’t know...”

“Please, Maggie?” Joan is giving the guitarist her best puppy dog eyes. “I won’t do anything! I’m just getting cabin fever. Literally. This is a cabin! Can we just walk around?”

Maggie tries to avoid the pianist’s big, soft, glistening eyes, but it’s impossible. She sighed.

“Fine.”

“Yay!!”

“But if I see you try to do anything with that hand I WILL drag you back to this room by the ear.”

Joan giggled. “I won’t do anything, I promise!”

And that’s how Joan and Maggie ended up on the front of the ship during the middle of one of its routinely evening dance parties, which were mainly for kids, but they both knew Bessie and Maria were guilty of jamming out during a few (and ultimately being the best dancers there- Maggie had no idea how they managed to control their long limbs so well). Strobe lights were flashing maniacally, the speakers were pounding with the volume of the music, a mass of dancing people were writhe on the deck, and Joan’s left hand was throbbing with the beat blaring through the air. At first, it brought her a sense of thrill to be out of her cabin, but then the pulsation in her hand grew stronger and felt like it was going to rip in two, or maybe just explode, with each intense hum of the bass. What makes it worse is that Maggie keeps glancing at her, her form of worry glinting in her eyes, and she knows that this fun evening is just going to be a chaperoning experience.

Her first time out of the cabin since the incident is going great, really. Yes, Joan loved being spotted by the boy with the scraped knee from the medical wing and then getting pointed at- or, rather, her bandaged hand getting pointed at. She could already hear the stupid rumors the children would start- would they ding dong ditch her cabin door and if they didn’t run away fast enough she would drag them inside and cut off their left hand to use as her new replacement? Would they dare each other to break inside the room and take a piece of her “cursed bloody bandages” to prove their courage? Would they try to unwrap it completely to see what horrors lied beneath? Would they say she hunts down people to peel the skin off their hand to use to cover her own? Would they call her the “One-Handed Siren” or “Juana the Degloved” or “Ripskin”?

She didn’t know.

But then it just got worse. Some jerkoff thought that Joan, despite her, and he quotes, “fucked up hand”, was cute (which she is) and that she was a vulnerable target (which she most certainly is not). He’s currently twelve feet away, nursing his wounded ego and muttering to his other jackass friends. Props to Maggie for that one.

Maggie is sharing a side table with Joan, now. It may seem like she’s shielding Joan from the other cruise patrons, but honestly, she’s shielding the rest of the cruise patrons from Joan. The girl in question is slumped against the railing, listlessly watching the black waves below roll by.

“God,” Maggie eventually sighed. “It’s gonna be a miserable fucking night tonight with all this noise.”

Joan snorted. “You can say that again.”

“God,” Maggie got out before Joan slapped a hand over her mouth. After a moment of contemplation, she sticks out her tongue to lick it.

“Maggie, gross!” Joan exclaimed, jerking her hand back and wiping it on her sweat pants (the same sweat pants she’s been wearing for the past three days...she had refused to change, just put on a grey hoody over her wrinkled bumblebee shirt). She’s smiling, though, which Maggie takes as a victory. “What are you, five?”

“Yes,” Maggie told her flatly. “But I’m very mature for my age.”

Joan snorted and affectionately bumped the guitarist’s shoulder with hers. Instead of returning to the ocean, she allows herself to slump against Maggie’s shoulder. She bumps her cheek against the top of her head in return.

Maggie never saw Joan interacting with her queens or anyone else in a normal context before the ship, since they had only really saw each other at rehearsals, so she doesn’t know if she had always been so touch-starved. She’s certainly never liked touching people very much, in her past life the only exception to that had been Anne and her brother (even her husband hadn’t been included in that...and yet they still had so many kids), but after reincarnation and Joan’s obvious need for human contact, she’s gotten used to her friend using her as an all-purpose piece of furniture. It’s nice, she’ll admit. She wouldn’t put up with it from anyone but Joan, but if her little sister friend suddenly stopped, she’d miss it.

She wiggled out her arm from the side of the chair to drape it across Joan’s shoulders and pull her closer. She can feel the gaze of some of the other people on the deck on them, but she doesn’t give a fuck.

After Anne’s execution, she hasn’t been able to give a fuck about most things.

They spend thirty minutes on the deck playing stupid games like I Spy, and then, when those get boring, trying to guess details about the other people from their appearance or behavior. Joan has to hide a laugh in Maggie’s hair when she mutters that Jackass is likely related to lemurs (“no, really, Joey, you saw his eyes when I flipped him off”). There’s a song playing again and again by some annoying kid requesting it on repeat like a wannabe John “Salt and Pepper Diner” Mulaney and the screams and laughs of the more rowdy boys, and normally Maggie would be so irritated that she’d pick a fight just to make it all stop, but Joan is here, and that makes it all bearable.

And then Joan tugs Maggie’s sleeve.

With the deck light and multicolored flashing strobes, Maggie is able to see that Joan is significantly paler than she had been thirty minutes ago. Her eyes were glossier, too. And her breathing was definitely much more shallow.

“What’s up?” Maggie asked.

“Can we—” Joan swallowed hard. “C-can we go? I-I don’t feel so good...”

Maggie’s eyes widen slightly (not fully, but even halfway was enough to show that she was genuinely shocked) and helped Joan to her feet instantly. The girl is wobbly and unsteady, so she lets her lean on her.

“Yeah, of course. Come on.”

As they’re leaving, Jackass makes one final comment, begging Joan to stay a little longer- that he wanted to know what it felt like to get a handjob from her “gnarly, fucked up hand”, and that’s what made Maggie finally snap. She told Joan to wait one moment, snatched a cup of lemonade from an unsuspecting woman, and threw it directly into Jackass’ face. She didn’t speak a word to him and quickly marched back over to Joan, hearing the guy yowl over the sting of lemon juice in his eyes.

There were two main reason that she had done that: 1) Nobody treats her little sister best friend that way ever and 2) she was hoping the action would cheer Joan up a little. But Joan wasn’t smiling or giggling or even giving her a grateful look. In fact, she didn’t seem to be seeing at all. She looked...blind.

“Joan-”

Maggie gently touched Joan’s good shoulder and the girl blinked. She looked up at Maggie and her eyes were so glazed.

“Wh-what? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you...”

“Shit,” Maggie whispered. “Okay, come on. Let’s get you back to bed, alright?”

Joan just nodded wordlessly.

The walk back to the cabin was painstakingly slow, punctuated the entire time by Joan’s whimpers and shallow breaths. And then a sharp breath.

“M-Maggie-”

“What? What’s wrong?”

Joan is doubled over slightly, face ghost white and shimmering with sweat. Her good hand is now groping at her stomach.

“I don’t- I don’t think I can—make it.”

Maggie knew what she meant.

“Okay- Okay, come here.”

Maggie steered her over to the railing of the ship, since they had been taking the outdoor passage to avoid more people, and held her hair out of the way. It didn’t take long for Joan to start vomiting over the edge of the boat.

Maggie was never queasy around vomiting. Anne had an abundance of pregnancies as queen, which meant for lots of morning sickness and throw up, so she just got used to it. The sight, the smell, the sound- none of it bothered her. But when it was Joan violently ejecting her stomach contents, it genuinely hurt to watch.

After a minute or so, Joan pulls back, gasping for breath. Her knees are buckling, but Maggie is able to catch her before she crumbled to the ground.

“You can’t lay here, Joan.” Maggie said.

“P-please,” Joan begged weakly, and her pleading, desperate tone of voice sent cobwebs of cracks sprinting through Maggie’s usually-stoney heart. “I just— C-can I please sit down for a moment?” She’s bracing herself against the railing, teetering over it slightly, like she can’t decide if she’s going to vomit again or not.

“You can sit down when we get back to the cabin.” Maggie told her. “You can lay down, even! Doesn’t that sound so much better?”

Joan looked at her with glassy eyes and nodded.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll help you.”

It took five minutes to get back to the cabin, with odd stares from passers and murderous glares from Maggie along the way, but they eventually made it there. Joan immediately sat down on her bed, taking deep breaths. Maggie grabs a water bottle on the bedside table for her, which she takes gratefully. The ingestion of water seems to clear her up a little.

“M-Maggie?”

“Right here, Joan.” Maggie said, gently touching her right shoulder. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize. It’s alright.”

“Th-that was a stupid idea. I should have listened to you.”

“Probably.” Maggie said bluntly. “But I got to throw lemonade in that asshole’s face. So that was cool.”

“You did?”

“Yup.”

“F-for me?”

“Mhm.”

“Aww...” Joan nuzzled Maggie weakly. “Can we lay down now?”

“Let’s get you into fresh clothes first, okay?” Maggie said, standing up.

“No,” Joan whined pitifully. “Please no, Maggie. I’m too tired...”

Maggie pursed her lips, then sighed.

“Fine. But can you at least brush your teeth? To get the taste of vomit out of your mouth.”

Joan agreed to that, although Maggie was the one who ended up doing most of the work with the brushing part, while Joan just swayed and stared at her corpse-like reflection in the mirror.

When the two eventually got into the bed, Maggie noticed Joan hugging her midsection, so she tentatively reached out and rubbed her stomach gently. It got a small gasp from Joan, but no complaints or pleas for her to stop, so she continues kneading in soothing circles.

“Who knew pianist’s liked belly rubs,” Maggie mused into the dark cabin. Her answer isn’t in words, but rather a grumble. She takes it as a sign of annoyance. “Oh, that’s too bad.” She pulls her hand back. “Guess I was wrong. Goodnight, Joan.”

“Mmm..?!” Joan whined (she was far too weak to speak, so she could only make little noises like that. She would be embarrassed about it later). She found Maggie’s hand in the dark, grabbed it, set it back onto her stomach, and made it rub herself. “Mmm.”

This got the smallest chuckle out of Maggie, who resumed massaging Joan’s aching tummy.

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Mmmm...”

———

It’s just past three-fifty in the morning when Joan starts moving- digging her face into the pillow, flexing her legs, shaking so much it rattles the mattress. It’s a few more minutes later before Maggie up to a stifled whimper.

“Joan?” She whispers, propping herself up on an elbow in the darkness and rubbing her eyes. She squints when the only response she receives is the creak of the mattress, Joan curling further into herself, and another whimper. “Joan?”

No answer, but Joan is definitely still whining and keening, although it’s much softer. Weaker.

Maggie reached over and flicked on the lamp on the bedside table on her side. The sudden burst of radiance illuminates the room and the small pool of coagulated vomit Joan’s face is sitting in.

“Shit!”

Maggie is out of the bed in an instant and racing around to the other side, which has a puddle of bile below it.

“I’m sorry,” Joan just barely manages to squeak out. “I-it hurt t-too much... I-I couldn’t g-get up...”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Maggie calmed her. “But you gotta get up now, Joan. To go to the bathroom. Alright?”

It was very obvious that Joan did not want to move, but she obeyed anyway. With Maggie’s help, she managed to get up from the mess and stagger into the bathroom, where she promptly collapsed to her knees in front of the toilet. She doesn’t throw up, but she does rock over the bowl treacherously. As she does that, Maggie wets a flannel with warm water and began wiping off her face and neck.

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered. Her voice was so weak and hoarse. “I-I didn’t m-mean to, Maggie. I didn’t mean to...”

“Shh,” Maggie hushed her fearful babbling. “I know, baby. I know you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry...!” Joan whimpered out again. A few tears slip free from her eyes and Maggie wipes them away.

“Don’t speak.” Maggie said. “Just relax. Take deep breaths. Think you can do that for me?”

Joan nodded. Maggie’s eyes crinkle softly at her efforts.

“Good girl.” Maggie praised. She examined the shirt Joan was wearing, which was soaked with vomit at the collar and right shoulder. “Can you take your shirt off or do you want me to?”

“I can’t-”

“Alright. Just hold still and...”

“No, Maggie, I can’t—” Joan swallowed thickly through a wave of nausea and took a few more quick breaths. “I can’t raise my arm. I-it hurts too much.”

Maggie cussed softly under her breath. Joan must think it’s directed towards her because she cowers away.

“I’m not mad at you, Joan.” Maggie told her. “I understand. Your hand...” God, the bandages are so dark. “...it must hurt a lot.”

Joan nodded with a pitiful whimper.

“Okay, just-” Maggie got up, despite Joan’s pleas for her not to leave, and found a pair of scissors. She returned to her weeping music director and began cutting off her shirt, making a note to buy her a new one after this was all over. “There we go.”

Joan isn’t even embarrassed over Maggie seeing her without a top on, which means she was really far gone. If the thick glaze over her eyes that almost made her look blind didn’t give that away already.

“I’m going to go get the water bottle for you and try to fix the bed.” Maggie pressed a kiss to Joan’s soaked, sweaty hairline. “I’ll be right in here, darling.”

Maggie being more than a foot away was disagreeable. Her being in the room was like she was halfway across the world. Joan couldn’t handle it.

“Maggie,” Joan drawled out languidly, but it sounds more like a muffled groan.

She sunk to the ground, almost landing on her bad arm, but she manages to sprawl out on her poor stomach instead. The floor is so cold and nice beneath her heated flesh. She presses her burning forehead against it.

“Maggie,” Joan coughed out, feeling dizzy again.

She can't move as bile rises up once more. Her body shakes harder and she felt vision cut out faster. Everything is growing dark as she fidgeted and thrashed on the bathroom floor, the electrifying agony surging through her veins like liquid fire.

Joan is just barely able to kick the bathtub as hard as she could before acid curled up in the back of her mouth and she choked violently, unable to breathe as she is unable to purge it out. The acid trickles back down her throat, leaving a burning trail down her esophagus. She can hear Maggie yelling and running to her side as she spasmed weakly.

In her daze, she barely felt Maggie shove her fingers into her mouth and scoop out the liquid.

Joan coughed and barely managed to regain herself enough to drag her head up and vomit into the toilet. Her stomach aches with the force of her heaves- she’s throwing up so hard she feels bile trickle out of her nose and eyes.

“Maggie,” Joan sobbed after she finally got everything out. The nausea was gone for the moment, but the pain it caused lingered. Her eyes and nose were stinging so badly- the blood vessels in her eyes were ruptured. Her hand hurt so much, too. Like it was on fire. “Maggie, it hurts... Make it stop, please...”

She slumps sideways and ends up with her head in Maggie’s lap, the rest of her body curled around her like a kitten seeking heat. A warm cloth wipes down her messy face again.

“Oh, my poor girl...” Maggie murmured. “I’m so sorry, Joan.”

“Nng...” Joan gurgled weakly. She shivers against Maggie’s thighs, screwing her eyes shut. “Hurts... Hurts...” She mumbled again.

For the first time in her life, Maggie was genuinely stunned. She didn’t know what to do besides stroke Joan’s hair or rub her back or massage her stomach or whisper loving things to her. What could she do? It was now four in the fucking morning. She was sure the nurses weren’t awake by now. And even if they were, they’ve already proven to be completely useless.

Maggie looked down at Joan, feeling a freezing cold chunk of ice stab into her gut, and realized that they still had three more days to go.

And that Joan had gone very still in her arms. Too still, considering just a moment ago she was shaking so hard it vibrated both of them. Maggie loosened her grip, only slightly, and she sees that Joan’s form is completely limp in her grasp.

Panic like she has never experienced invades all of Maggie’s senses, filling her with searing lava. A hundred thousand butterflies flap violently in her gut, swimming into her throat, into her blood.

“Joan?” Maggie lifted her chin up to get a look at her face. Eyes closed, lips parted barely. Joan’s chest isn’t rising and falling to way it should be. “Oh shit- Joan!”

When shaking does nothing, Maggie laid Joan back on the bathroom floor and loomed over her frail body, an ear pressed to her chest.

She can’t hear anything.

Maggie is up and out of the cabin in an instant. She sprinted down the hallway, not giving a shit about how loud she was being, and began pounding on Anne’s bedroom door, screaming and yelling as she did so, and she didn’t stop until Anne pulled open the door.

“Maggie-?”

“You have to come with me. It's Joan. Something’s wrong. She’s-” Maggie’s voice falters. Anne caught it. “She’s sick. Not breathing. Just- come on! And get Jane!!”

A few people were peeking out of their rooms from the commotion, but Maggie just ran right past them, only looking behind her to check if Anne and Jane were coming (they were. Thank god their cabins were right next to each other).

Joan’s laying just as she was left when Maggie enters again. She dives down to her side instantly, quickly followed by Jane and Anne, who take turns feeling Joan’s burning forehead.

“We need to cool her down.” Jane said firmly. “Anne, fill the tub with cold water, please.”

It takes six agonizing minutes to fill the bathtub. Jane quickly lowered Joan’s shockingly lax body into the water, clothes and all, but kept her left hand out. Maggie watches with her normal blank expression, but her eyes are significantly wider than usual and she’s quite pale. Anne gently touches her shoulder, causing her to jump.

“She’ll be okay, Mags.” Anne whispered as Jane was wetting Joan’s pale face with a rag. “She’s got a heartbeat.”

Maggie perked up. “She does? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Anne nodded. “She’s breathing. It’s all okay.”

“Thank god,” Maggie whispered. Her persona was starting to crack. “I…I thought she was already…” She bit her lips together.

Don't say it. Don't jinx it.

“She's a strong girl,” Jane said. “She’ll make it through this. However...” She casts a grim look at Joan’s left hand. “We need to redress her bandages. Flush the wound out, too.”

“She said it was too painful, which is why she hadn’t done it yet.” Maggie said. She grabbed all the necessary items the nurses had given them- gauze, disinfectant, bandages, swabs, medical tape, painkillers. “But I agree.”

It was at that moment that consciousness decided to return to Joan- something they all dreaded and knew would make the process of cleaning much more difficult.

Maggie went to Joan’s side instantly as Jane pulled the drain out and began emptying the bathtub. Joan looked dazedly at the lowering water she’s reclined in.

“I’m...water?”

“Yes, darling, you’re in water.” Maggie said, brushing wet hair out of Joan’s tired eyes.

“Water...” Joan whispered to herself and then lolled her head backwards. The poor thing was completely exhausted. She could barely even think straight. “Annie...? And Jane?”

“Hey, sweet girl,” Jane cooed, brushing Joan’s flushes cheek with one of her fingers. “You’re going to feel better soon, alright?”

“Feel...better?” Joan didn’t seem to understand what was going on. She anxiously looked between all the women, then focused completely on Anne, who was preparing some bandages. “M-Maggie?”

“Let’s get this over with.” Maggie said. She climbed into the tub behind Joan so the girl was pressed against her. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, holding her securely. Joan thinks it’s some kind of hug, so she snuggles into it. She can’t see the dark expression on Maggie’s face. “I’ll hold her.”

Jane nodded, then motioned for Anne to pin Joan’s arm down to the edge of the tub. This immediately elicits a whimper from Joan, who’s squirmed slightly.

“Ow,” She squeaked. “A-Annie, that hurts...”

Anne gave her a sad look, but didn’t say anything as Jane began to unwrap the stained bandages around Joan’s hand. It immediately made Joan flinch in discomfort.

“Ow, ow...!” She whined. “J-Jane— Please don’t—”

“We have to clean your hand, darling.” Maggie told her. “Please, try to sit still. It’ll be over quick.”

Joan nodded reluctantly and held her breath as the bandages were unraveled. She did good at not moving up until the very end of the unwrapping and she flinched hard. The last of the bandages appeared to be...stuck to her palm.

“Fuck-” Jane breathed. “Anne, hand me the scissors.”

“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked as Jane is given the scissors. She looks down at the dark red mess that is Joan’s slightly uncovered palm and realizes what the dilemma was herself- skin was scabbed over and clotted in the bandages, with dried blood additionally acting as glue to plaster the mesh in place.

Or, to put it more simply: flesh had grown over damp parts of the bandages that sunk into the wound and practically fused to her hand.

Jane cuts away what she can, but there’s still patches remaining that she won’t be able to slice off without possibly jabbing the wound with the scissor blades.

“Alright,” Jane said. “Anne, Maggie. Hold her still.”

“Wh-what?” Joan squeaked.

Jane searches for a give one last time, but couldn’t find one, so she grabs the edge of the remaining bandage pieces and pulls. They come off successfully, as does a fresh layers of flesh.

Joan shrieks and began to thrash violently. She slammed herself back against Maggie and kicked her legs in the tub, screaming like she was being gutted alive.

“Stop it!!” Joan sobbed. “Stop it, stop it, please! Please! Maggie, make her stop!!”

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Maggie whispered, holding Joan tighter. “I’m so sorry. You gotta clam down.”

Joan doesn’t. She continues to spasm and writhe violently.

“Please-!! It hurts! IT HURTS!!”

Maggie has to cover her mouth at that point, but she continues to howl and cry and beg for Jane to stop and just leave her alone. She struggles more, too, absolutely terrified. Maggie’s murmurs don’t reach her ears. In fact, she doesn’t even know if she can trust Maggie at this point, so she bites down on the woman’s hand.

“Fuck-!!” Maggie hissed. She grits her teeth tightly.

“Maggie?” Jane looked at her in alarm.

“I’m fine,” Maggie grunted. Thin trails of blood are running down her hand from where it’s still in Joan’s mouth. “Keep working. She’s distracted.”

Jane nodded hesitantly, then continued...only to stop and stare at the gaping red horror that was Joan’s hand. If being able to see through her palm or watching bubbles of blood belch from the wound or just seeing the frayed, mangled flesh that was so dark it was black in such a bad state didn’t make any of their stomachs churn, then the smell of drooling discharge and dripping pus did.

Anne and Maggie had to hand it to Jane (no pun intended). Despite the smell and the sight and the sound of Joan crying and screaming, she worked diligently: flushing out the wound with water and disinfectant, cleaning the dirty edges, not flinching when blood or pus splatters onto her, plucking away the peeling medical tape and replacing it with new pieces, wrapping the hand up carefully. The entire process still took around fifteen minutes, but she did a good job. And, by then, Joan was unconscious again.

“Poor little thing,” Jane murmured after washing her hands and throwing away all the dirty remnants of the former wrapping. “I think her wound is infected.”

Maggie swallowed hard. Anne paled.

“But...she’ll be okay after you cleaned it, right?” Anne asked.

Jane pursed her lips together. “I hope so.” She steps over to Joan, who’s still being held by Maggie, feels the area just below her ears on both sides, her brow knotting slightly as she went.

“What is it?” Maggie asked.

“Her lymph nodes are swollen. Means her immune system’s getting kicked into overdrive.” Then, after a moment of hesitation, “Her hand is definitely infected. But she’s fighting it. So that’s good.” She looks back into the bedroom. “I’m going to go clean that mess up.”

She walked out, not really caring about her new mission to clean up vomit. Perhaps it was her way of repaying Joan when she had been sick after giving birth to Edward. She was sure it was just as messy, if not messier.

Anne and Maggie are left in the bathroom with an unconscious Joan. The girl is starting to shiver, so they take her out of the now-empty tub and tag team dressing her in fresh clothes. When they’re finished, Joan has come back to them slightly, now mumbling incoherently, but not awake enough to stand, so Anna carries her trembling body back to the cleaned bed.

“Do you need us to stay with you tonight?” Jane asked.

“No,” Maggie shook her head. Joan is curled up in her arms, sleeping peacefully for the first time that night. “We’re okay.”

“Alright.” Jane nodded. “We’ll be up for the rest of the morning, so call if you need anything.”

With that, she and Anne walked out and Maggie is left with her unconscious girl shivering against her. She wraps her arms tightly around Joan and pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“I love you, my darling.”

For the first time since she was reincarnated, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

[sherlollydramoine]

Soulmates

Here it is you guys and gals, I'm so grateful for your patience. I'd like to give a huge shout out two amazing people whom without this prologue would have ever been finished. Thank you both for your guidance, feedback, suggestions, and amazing edits, @ramibaby and @ramimalekpeen

Warnings: ancient curses, language, and eventual smut. 18+ only

Link to chapter one: X

Prologue 

The story of King Femi and Queen Maye's burial is a curious one, fraught with tales of lawlessness, love and loss. 

It was 2649 when King Femi's dead body was entombed beside that of his beloved Queen Maye, his death unknown and petrified hand placed in hers. Their joint burial was a monument to their eternal, undying love and an assurance that it would continue into the afterlife. Buried with them were many envy inspiring objects, their coffins laiden with jewels and gold. 

At the centre of this chaotic story is a man by the name of Nephi who, as a labourer, worked on construction of the Pyramid that housed King Femi and Queen Maye' s mummified bodies. This bestowed him with valuable knowledge of its layout, which, driven by greed, he would etch to the walls of his memory.

On the day of King Femi's burial alongside his already deceased wife, a curse was placed on their tomb - a warning inscribed on the coffins inner walls, for those who dare disturb the deceased and prevent them from being together in the after life.

"Cursed be those who disturb the rest of King Femi and Queen Maye. They who shall break the seal of this tomb shall too be cursed with eternal separation from their beloved by meeting death by a disease no doctor can diagnose."

Nephi, undeterred by such a presage set about robbing their tomb of the many treasures he desired so greatly. He did so with not a light heart, as it was with careful consideration he pondered every possible outcome. What if someone were to spy him? What if he turned the wrong corner and became lost in the labyrinth of corridors and tunnels he helped create? 

What he hadn't accounted for however, was something far worse, a horrible fate granted to him the moment he creaked open the coffin door.

Although Nephi had been successful in his pillage, he did not have much time to celebrate, as the following morning he awoke with debilitating illness. Unable to stand, he was left bed bound. His wife Maia, tended to him day and night for the following two weeks as his condition steadily deteriorated, much to the bewilderment and dismay of his doctor. This perturbingly undiagnosable and incurable disease finally took Nephi from Maia on the 14th night after he first entered the cursed tomb which, many believe to be the cause of his illness.

Poor Maia was left distraught after his passing, doomed to live her life separated from the man she held so dear, the man she deemed to be her soulmate. Her heart ached for the love of a man she would never see again but, when she showed signs of being pregnant a week later, she took solace in the knowledge that, through her new born child, Nephi's legacy would live on.

Since the opening of the cursed tomb, centuries of similar occurrences of this curse are rumoured to have plagued Nephi's  family lineage.

These rather fanciful tales may be hard to believe, but one undeniable fact is the commonplace of chaos in the love lives of Nephi's successors, even to this day.

*****************

"Jesus, " you huffed, eyeing your best friend Beatrice and her boyfriend Joe, whose disgustingly affectionate display had your stomach churning.

Bea was straddling Joe's legs as he lay back on his sun chair, his hands gliding up and down her back as they shared a deeply intimate and disturbing kiss.

Lowering your sunglasses, you frowned at them from where you lay across the other side of the pool- partially due to the harsh sunlight, but mostly because you were repulsed beyond words.

Sick of their complete and utter disregard for your presence, you proceeded to shout with all the dramatics of a Shakespearean actress,

 "Oh, what curse has befallen me, that I, Y/N, have to witness such vulgarity?" 

From Bea, you received nothing but a soft giggle against Joe's mouth in return, your words doing nothing but spurring her on. When Joe's hands moved down to squeeze her ass, you knew it was definitely time for you to make a hasty exit.

As you swung open Joe's back door, you were met with the cool breeze of the air conditioner, and the sight of a bare bronzed back, hunched over, it's muscles flexing as the man it belonged to raided the refrigerator. 

Taken aback by his presence, you stopped dead in your tracks, giving yourself a moment to muster the energy to play coy. 

"Not even gonna say hi before you raid his fridge huh Rami?" 

You broke the silence so suddenly that, upon hearing your voice Rami jumped, banging his head on the fridge's roof as he did so.

"Ah!" He exclaimed, one hand shooting up to clutch his throbbing head, his eyes screwing shut.

"Oop- sorry!" You implored, hands out in front of you.

Although you truly were, you couldn't help but giggle as you walked toward him.

"S'ok…" he began, before opening his eyes and standing up straight. 

It was then he was able to fully appreciate your scantily clad form. His doe eyes seemed transfixed on your legs, hips, and chest - all in that order and you felt embarrassingly weak under his gaze. 

"Oh Y/N." He jerked back his head, before leaning an arm 'casually' on the fridge door as he continued, "Didn't know uh, you were coming today." 

His gaze shifted to the fridge, studying its contents as he waited for your reply. It was as though he was trying to appear unfazed by your presence, which you knew he certainly was not.

"Ah, yeah." You replied, stepping closer. "Joe and Bea invited me over for a swim, kinda feel like a third wheel though, haha. Supposedly there's pizza and a movie later, so I'm holding out for that."

Rami nodded and smirked, eyes still on the rather empty fridge before him as spoke,

"Thank god, doesn't look like Joe's done any shopping since his parents went away."

" Thankfully, I brought drinks. I just popped in to grab one, did you want one?" you smiled as you reached to the counter and grabbed the tray with an abundance of drinks on it. 

" Sure gorgeous, maybe a Coke? " He quirked a brow, letting the fridge door with a bang shut.

You giggled and mock saluted, obediently retrieving his preferred beverage from your plastic bag of shopping. Setting the can down on the tray with other drinks you headed back outside toward the pool. As you set the tray of drinks down on the patio table and turned back to shut the door, you caught a glimpse of what had no doubt been going on since you'd left. Joe and Bea hadn't moved from their previous position.

"Ugh you two are so gross! You invite us over just to make us feel like we're stuck watching some soft core porn." you complained.

Rami just laughed from where he was leaning against the side of the house smoking a cigarette. 

"She has a point Joseph. How would you feel if the tables were turned and YN and I started acting like that in front of you two?" 

Your cheeks immediately warmed at the thought of you locked in a heated make out session with Rami, something you were fairly certain would never happen. 

"Well Ram I'd say it was about fucking time. You two have totally had feelings for each other since Y/N was in, like, kindergarten, so seriously, just kiss and hook up already. Maybe then we can give you two shit for being the disgustingly in love couple." 

God damn Joseph Frances Mazzello III, had to open his big Italian mouth. You couldn't do anything to stop your body from feeling too warm, and the sudden spread of heat through your whole body gave all the evidence needed to prove your embarrassment. The crush you've had on Rami had been well hidden (or so you thought) until this moment. 

"Hey Y/N are you okay? You look like you are about to die of sun stroke." Bea inquired, glancing at your flushed state.

"Haha, yeah...it's just really hot out here..." was all you managed to say before abruptly ending the conversation by cannonballing into the pool.

You resurfaced just in time to see another body hit the water, and within seconds felt yourself being pulled back under it. When you came up for air moments later, Joe was laughing. His childish chuckle was infectious, and soon you were laughing too. 

Grabbing ahold of his shoulders, you attempted to use your body weight to push him back under but sadly, he was stronger than you. He laughed at your failed attempt before wrapping his arms around you, and flinging you both back under the water. 

This time, resurfacing, you used your arms around his neck to try and pull him back under, laughing maniacally as you did. As Joe laughed and resisted your tugs, you heard a shout. 

"Cannonball!" 

You found yourselves being nearly drowned by Rami's tidal wave. 

Rami resurfaced a few feet away from you and Joe, and you can't help the heat pooling between your thighs at the vision. All you saw was his olive skin glowing as the water run rivers down it. 

You turned to look up at Bea who was still yet to join the three of you in the sanctuary of the cool water. She simply smirked at you and motioned her head toward the boys, who were now locked in some kind of heated water battle. She raised her brows suggestively and you knew then you had been caught staring at the golden God of a man. You blushed immediately before decisively shifting the attention to her, 

"You joining in bitch, or you just gonna sit there looking cute and sweaty?!" you teased with a smile before disappearing back under the water. 

Popping your head back up a few seconds later, you heard the boys shouting something at you just before a ball collided with your head. It bounced off your face with a soft thunk before it floated lazily off to the side of the pool. 

Both boys looked at you sheepishly while muttering out their apologies. Scowling at both of them you did the next best thing you could think of in that moment yelling,

"Bea, help meeee!"

Ever the loyal friend, she came through, hopping into the pool next to you and sliding over one of the pre-loaded water guns. You both took your aim and fired at the ill prepared boys, neither one of you caring who got hit. 

The boys shouted and splashed at you both in retaliation. You surrendered pretty quickly but Joe and Bea seemed to want to duke it out and what originally began as something cute and innocent, turned into another repulsive makeout session.

"Ugh!!! You two are so gross. Joe, I swear if you cum in this pool while I am in it, you'll not live to see your next birthday." You huffed while swimming over to the edge of the pool where Rami was leaning. 

"They are so gross!" you reiterated.

"Disgusting." Rami agreed. 

After a moment of silence Rami spoke up,

"Hey uh, I was wondering--"  He stopped himself mid sentence, looking as though he was debating on whether or not to continue.

"Yeah…..?" You pushed.

"It's nothing, forget it." he muttered.

"Didn't sound like nothing. Come on, you've never been one to not speak your mind…."

Rami sighed, closing his eyes before blurting,

"Okay, so ummmm, I've been wanting to ask you something for a while." he stopped himself again. 

"Rami, what is it?" you implored.

"I was wondering if maybe, I know the timing couldn't possibly be worse since I'm leaving soon for school, but, well… would you maybe want to go on a date with me sometime?" he nervously scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh," you gasped. "Why were you so nervous to ask? We've known each other for forever, it's just me. Of course I will. And uh, it's never been a big secret that I've had a big crush on you since I was in like, Kindergarten."

Rami's eyes widened, and he let out a chuckle of relief.

"Surely Sami has clued you in, or even Joe." you continued, smiling.

He smiled and reached out to cup your face, but at the last moment he faltered and ended up dropping his hand back into the water. 

"Well, great." He laughed. "How about next Friday? I can pick you up or meet you somewhere?" 

"I can meet you at our favorite all-night diner on third after I get off of work on Friday, about seven?" you offered.

"Sounds great." he smiled, seconds before splashing you with water and then gracefully gliding away. 

Friday

Your day seemed to have crawled by so slowly that it was almost driving you insane. When it was finally time for you to clock out of work, you almost screamed in excitement. 

It took no time at all for you to be out of your work clothes and into the gorgeous dress you bought specifically for this occasion.

Finally landing a date with Rami was like a dream come true. You never thought it would ever happen, and you were beyond thrilled.

Getting to the diner, you practically floated inside and headed for the table your group usually occupied. It was there you waited. And waited. And waited. For over four hours, you waited and he never showed.

You threw a handful of bills on the table to cover for the drink and to leave enough for a really nice tip. Running out of the diner to your car, hot tears of humiliation and anger fell while the cliché rain started pouring down. 

You felt like a fool, like you had just had an elaborate prank pulled on you. In your rage you screamed until your voice felt raw. 

"RAMI SAID MALEK I FUCKING HATE YOU!!" 

END OF SUMMER

"Come on YN, it will be super fun!!! Plus, it's my birthday, so you know as my best friend, you're sort of bound by best friend code to go." Bea begged. 

"I don't want to go. If Joe's there then he'll be there. All damn summer he's not once tried to get in touch with me. I've tried and now he probably thinks I'm insane."

"Okay, one that doesn't matter. Two, who fucking cares. Three, you'll be looking fantastic and all it will do is remind him of just how fucking hot you are. What his dumbass could have had all summer. You two would have been lifers!" 

"Lifers? Bea what the hell does that even  mean?" 

"You know. Together for lifers."

"That's... not a real saying….All that snogging and fucking around with Joe has certifiably made you crazy. We wouldn't have been lifers, but I guess we'll never know. You and Joe though, I can see it now. In about 5 years you'll be getting married and having little Joe's, and I'll be the single fun auntie to your whole baseball team of kids."

"Seriously YN, are you smoking crack? And also, that is definitely not happening! You know what is though...you going to my birthday party slash end of summer pool party...ey..ey."

She raised a brow and nudged your shoulder.

"Ugh whatever, fine you win! Maybe I could borrow your little red bikini? It's a little small up top but, I'll make it work."

"If that's all it takes to get you to go then, hell yes!!" 

DAY OF THE PARTY

"Wow YN, isn't that Bea's bathing suit?" Joe rasped.

"Uh- huh." You nodded, smirking at his attempts to keep his eyes away from your chest.

 "Thought so, coz uh...fuck could that top be any smaller on you?" He blurted, finally resting his eyes on the particular part of your body he'd been avoiding.

You glanced over at Rami who was standing behind him, and his reaction seemed nearly the same, except that Rami started to shift his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. While you hadn't said anything to him since he had shown up, you smirked, knowing that your plan was working. 

"Babe, just say she has amazing tits and move on." Bea sighed, smirking.

It was then you felt a small pair of hands cupping your boobs as Bea came up behind you and gave them a gentle squeeze. 

Close friends as you were, you simply laughed as Bea continued on,

 "They make amazing pillows, and they are soooo soft and squishy. Look at how bouncy...." She jested, bouncing your breasts in her hands. 

Both boys looked shocked and a little uncomfortable, and Rami audibly gulped, before turning on his heel and walking away with a tinge of red to his olive complexion. 

" Yeah YN, great uhh.. Job. I mean. Tits. Yeah. Fuck…. " a very red faced Joe stuttered out as he clapped you on the back, before wandering off in the same direction as Rami.

"Well that went well." you shrugged as Bea just laughed uncontrollably behind you. 

"That. Was. Amazing." was all Bea managed between huge guffaws of laughter. 

"You can let go of my tits now Bea." You dead panned.

"Oh…" she promptly retracted her hands. "Sorry."

As the evening progressed and more fun was had, you continually found yourself searching for a familiar face. You knew that Rami had brought his brother Sami with him, but you had never confused the two in all the years you've known them both. 

While in the middle of a conversation with some random classmate that you can't seem to remember you felt it - his eyes on you. You caught his eye and smiled only to watch a deep frown form on his beautiful face as he turned to look away.

Anger bubbling just below the surface, you run into the house, up the stairs and straight to Bea's room. As you slam the door behind you, you can't help but to let the tears you'd been holding back fall freely. Your body wracked with sobs but you decided that you are done, absolutely positively done with Rami fucking Malek.

Throwing your clothes on over Bea's bathing suit, you grab your bag and go in search of your best friend. Watching her chatting happily with some friends with Joe's arm around her tiny waist, you decide to just leave. Sure your friend is going to be mad as hell at you but she'll get over it eventually. 

Walking along the pool in your haste to get away you collide with another person. You gasp when you realize who you've just run into and the tears begin to pool in your eyes. Fuck. Of course, of all people, it would be him. 

"What is your problem?!" came your outburst. 

"I don't have one YN, unless it's a staring problem, because that's been you all night. You can't take your eyes off of me huh?" his tone was light and mildly joking. 

"Why?!" was the only other thing that you could think of to say. 

"I don't know, you've been staring at me."

"No, why, why did you not show up?" 

"Fuck that was forever ago, I didn't know you'd still be hung up on that." he laughed.

"You're an asshole Rami, you embarrassed me. I wanted you and you… you… you just left me fucking hanging."

"I never said I didn't want you, I-I- you don't understand, I couldn't go."

"Then prove to me you still want me then." 

You reached up to grab his face for a kiss,  but before you could, his hands found your hips and slowly, he walked you backwards. With a laugh, he gave you a playful shove, and into the pool you went. 

*****************

ABOUT 20 YEARS LATER

You looked up at him in complete confusion, as you desperately tried to pry your hands apart once again. It was like they had been superglued together - nothing you'd tried to do to unstick them had been successful. 

"Rami, what's going on?" You quirked a brow.

He didn't seem all that concerned about this predicament, and simply threw back his head, speaking between mocking chuckles,

"Looks like you're really stuck with me now."

"Rami,this-it-it isn't funny! What's happening? What did you do to our hands?!" You pressed, suddenly on the verge of tears. You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse on the shitty bed awaiting you in your hotel room.

It was then your attention was drawn toward Rami's hotel room door. With a loud bang, it swung open, that sound like a knife cutting through the tense, heavy air surrounding you. A rather dishevelled looking Sami peered out from behind the dark wood, his hair a mess and eyes weary.

"There you are!" He exhaled, shoulders slumping and eyes rolling. "I thought I lost you!" 

He gestured toward you and Rami as he made quick strides toward you both. It wasn't until he came to a stop before you his relieved expression vanished, replaced by one of pure shock and disbelief. With wide eyes he stared at your linked hands, his mouth agape. Why on earth such a seemingly innocent gesture caused this reaction was beyond you, and only added to your growing sense of anxiety. Suddenly, Sami's face broke out in a smirk and he reached up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

"Uhhh…" He stammered, eyes darting between you both, before resting on Rami's. " I think it's time you two had a little discussion..." He raised a brow, nodding knowingly toward Rami who seemed adamant on not meeting his brothers stare. 

With a sigh, Rami's eyes met yours and he reluctantly huffed,

"I guess so."

@xmxisxforxmaybe @itsme690 @txmel @ramimalekpan @mezzomercury @teamwolf2411 @sassystrawberryk @malek-lover

[kathyprior4200]

Hazbin Hotel: Summary of the Future

If Hazbin Hotel had a happy ending and the series continued...here’s how I idealize it...

Not too long ago, the blonde, white-faced Princess Charlie decided to propose an idea that was downright ridiculous and outlandish to everyone else. She created the Happy Hotel as a place where sinners could learn how to be better people and hopefully, complete their own unique journeys toward redemption. Though Charlie was mocked and ridiculed, she wasn’t going to give up. A gray moth-like demon named Vaggie was her girlfriend and tough with a deadly spear. Angel Dust, a white porn-loving spider demon had been involved with drugs, turf wars, and was Hell’s number one porn star. Despite his sins, he had volunteered to help Charlie with her hotel and became her first client.

 Alastor had arrived to the hotel as well, and offered to help Charlie run her hotel so he could be entertained for a while. He summoned other demons for assistance: a little hyperactive neat-freak cyclops named Niffty, and a grumpy gambling cat named Husk who always had a bottle of alcohol in his paws. Charlie was immediately enraptured with Alastor, even dancing and singing with him whenever the occasion arose. Vaggie, of course, was suspicious of him, even more so when he appeared to hinder Vaggie and Charlie’s relationship.

 Charlie’s hope was that demons would be redeemed enough to be eligible to go to Heaven. This way, there would be less demons lost to the annual slaughter by the Archangels. Soon, she had hoped, there would only be happiness and a second chance given to everyone. In her own words and in her song, “Inside of every demon is a rainbow.” Lilith was often too busy with modeling and concerts to pay much attention to Charlie, but supported her the best she could. For obvious reasons, her father had disapproved of her idea. Having been banished from Heaven for rebelling against God, Lucifer gained his position by implementing fear and using his destructive powers. The Archangels spared the royal family in return for Lucifer letting them kill off the “common scum folk.” If demons were to leave, it could lead to a war between Heaven and Hell if the circumstances did not go well.

 Indeed, things had gone from bad to worse. It started off with Alastor causing mischief barely noticed by anyone, save for Vaggie and Husk. He had changed the hotel name to the Hazbin Hotel. It was the little things he did: igniting a brawl here, encourage a bad rating there, all while keeping up appearances and encouraging the princess to work harder toward her goal.

 It was speculated by many that Alastor actually wanted Charlie to succeed. The pretty blonde demon/angel hybrid had caught his eye when he first saw her on TV. Although he wasn’t interested in sex or romance, he did enjoy fun affectionate friendships…provided they benefited him and his goals. In fact, he was friends with many individuals, particularly Charlie, Rosie, Mimzy, Husk, and Niffty.

 After many months of hard work, battles with evil overlords, parental brawls, and drama, many demons had been successfully rehabilitated, including Vaggie, Angel Dust and his twin sister, Molly. They had defeated/humiliated the maniac snake villain Sir Pentious, outsmarted the evil fish scientist Baxter, bested the evil Vs, (Valentino, Vox, and Velvet), along with saving themselves from more angels. Angel, Molly, Crymini, and Cherri Bomb had been active fighters when they weren’t hooked on meth or doing pole dancing for the lustful crowds. Husk slowly got out of his dark shell, made amends with his past and slowly started to warm up to everyone. Niffty got delusional in her fantasies of romance, men and power as she cooked, sewed, and cleaned. Whether she was redeemed and remained cute or turned psychotic…no one really knows. Charlie and the others were ready to reach the golden heavenly gates and change their afterlives…

 Unfortunately, the angels in Heaven weren’t so keen to let any sinners enter Heaven so easily. They told Molly that she could enter as she wasn’t a demon, and Vaggie could enter if she took on penance and renounced her sins. Elite and entitled, the angels shooed Charlie, Niffty, Husk, Alastor, Angel and several others away, even sending some Archangels after them. Charlie and Lucifer blasted the angels back with their powers, saving the demon group and escaping back to Hell. But her actions caused inner mental concerns for her parents, God and the angels. God suspected that Charlie and Lucifer were trying to upstage Heaven’s duties and traditions. No matter what, Hell’s population would continue to grow, and surely the angels would be outnumbered if a war were to begin.

 Charlie’s parents were not happy that Charlie had broken up with Seviathan Von Eldritch (like Leviathan the sea monster), Helsa’s brother and member of a wealthy rival family. She and Helsa were already fierce rivals, both families competing to be the most influential in Hell. In addition, they were getting tired of Charlie’s pursuit and wanted her to conform to Hell’s standards. Being a fearsome leader was, according to her father, Charlie’s destiny. After arguing with her parents and refusing to give up, Charlie had gone to Vaggie and Alastor for comfort. Vaggie comforted her and told her the harsh reality of the situation. Still, she refused to give up, despite feeling like a failure. Charlie decided to figure out a way to negotiate with her parents and the angels. Before she could proceed further however, Alastor comforted her with his velvety announcer voice and took her arm in arm for a walk.

 The two of them sang, and danced, and even shared a kiss. Charlie felt like Alastor was redeeming himself and that things would be alright in the end.

 It was at that optimal moment, that the predatory Radio Demon pounced upon his gullible prey.

 Taken by surprise by surrounding voodoo spirits and black tentacles, Charlie fought back as much as she could. But a Creole lullaby sung by Alastor soon rendered her helpless. Charlie was kidnapped and briefly held hostage in Alastor’s lair. No rape or beating was involved, just a bunch of creepy touching and mind manipulating. He didn’t possess her but did manage to get her on his side when they were face to face with the king and queen. Alastor’s evil shadow held an angel’s spear to Charlie’s throat, a weapon capable of killing any demon. Alastor knew that his powers would not be enough against Lucifer. So he did the one thing to catch him off-guard: go for his child.

 Alastor soon proposed a deal with Lucifer and Lilith: Charlie and her hotel would be spared…in exchange for the throne. Lucifer accepted…and soon found his dark powers depleted, traveling into Alastor’s microphone staff. He and the dark spirits were now free to take over Hell, cause chaos and feast on innocent demon bodies and souls.

 It was at this moment that Alastor had a choice to make…one that could determine the fate of Hell itself. His mother was currently in Heaven, and he hadn’t seen her for decades. For a brief moment, Alastor saw Charlie and her friends struggling against the Exterminators…even Lucifer and Lilith were having a hard time. He could either give into his evil carnal desires; claiming Hell and its denizens as his own. Or he could step in, save Charlie and the others (while giving back Lucifer’s power and everyone’s free will.) He could free Husk and Niffty from their servitude to him, deeply apologize and help save the day.

 If Alastor followed the good path, Charlie would be successful at last. A negotiation would be made: sinners could go to Heaven after proving themselves worthy in different ways. Some would go into rehabilitation at the hotel. Others would have to go through punishments in the other circles of Hell. Some would even be tested and “relive” their lives as humans in simulated scenarios of their former past. God also stated that all his subjects would have the choice to die a second time in the void…and that second death was still possible and unpredictable. Aside from God, and the long-living angels and deities, no one is truly immortal.

 If Charlie’s plan succeeded, then the rewards would all be worth it.

 Charlie and Vaggie would be happily married in Heaven, with their friends beside them in different forms as angels. Were they animal? Or human? Or a fusion of both? Vaggie transformed into a black-haired human women she had been before, save for her one eye and new black glistening moth wings from her back. Her human voice had returned to her and she discovered her human name: Vagatha. Husk remained a cat but with black angel wings instead of red wings with card suits on them. He found love in Heaven and discovered his human name: Hustle. If Niffty turned good, she, too would be happy and cheerful, resembling her human form more. If Baxter turned good, he would use his intelligence to make inventions and heal others with science. Alastor’s suit became light blue, white and brown, his human voice returned, and his head was now that of a red male deer. He and his dark-skinned mother embraced for a long time, bringing Charlie and the others to happy tears. Angel Dust discovered his true name; Anthony, and his face turned more human, though his hair was still white and he still had jumping/fighting abilities. He agreed to do porn/drugs outside of Heaven and only on occasion. Vaggie reunited with her family, while Angel, Molly and Aracknis spend time with their mother, Aranea (Latin for spider). (Their father Henroin was abusive).

Charlie served as a mediator between Heaven and Hell, she was half Angel and half Demon, after all. Her parents stayed and ruled Hell but the royal family could visit each other every other month. Vaggie advocated for women and Hispanic souls…and violent souls who had been wronged in life.

Angel Dust and his siblings were still very much troublemakers, but they started to mend old wounds from their times of being Italian mafia members and drug abusers. Both Husk and Angel were mentors for kids who came into Heaven, and also took care of pets and animals that died on Earth.

Alastor hosted new radio shows complete with dad jokes, New Orleans’ jazz and listings of Creole food recipes. (He still has to be reminded not to announce gruesome murders nor to perform any…he had to get used to not having dark powers anymore.) He ate pork and meat in replacement of demon/human flesh, for despite having the head and features of a deer, his new teeth were human and fairly sharp. In Heaven, his friendship with Charlie was finally genuine and they bonded deeper than ever before. Alastor not only became her close friend, but also her protector (along with Razzle and Dazzle) and even a loving father figure (Lucifer still doesn’t approve very much).

Yes, there were tons of bad people who still went to Hell, did bad things and lost their lives into the void. But for every bad action, there was a sliver of hope for good to prevail.

 For their final act, everyone would join hands together, singing in harmony, Charlie leading the chorus with a song about making it to the end of the rainbow of happiness. So one could say they lived happily ever after…but with more chaos and unpredictability thrown in.

[lovestruck-au]

Happy Valentine’s Day!

What happened next under the cut.

The Bet

Suspicious Ross

Words: 2458

Rating: T

Proofreaded by my dear @sztefa001

Ross sat down on the bed he was temporarily owning, tears streaming down his right cheek. He furiously wiped them off from his chin, where they were falling from under the mask. He couldn't understand why was he crying, because he never cries, never. Especially not because of some stupid kiss and how it stung his heart. How was it different from any other time he saw Love kissing someone else anyway? Or worse than catching Love coming back home after a long night? It wasn't in any way different or worse, but still hurt so much more. Hurted to the point it made Ross cry.

Maybe it’s because it was between Love and him?

Suddenly someone opened the door. He didn't have to look up at person who entered - without knocking, like he owned the world - to know who it was.

“Oh don't give me this shit. That's why villains don't fall in love. It's not a damn teenage movie, it's a real world!” Flug closed the door and put arms over his chest. He didn't flinch when Ross slowly stood up and straightened, glaring daggers at him. White-haired human was higher than him by the head at least.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” said Ross with shaky voice, obviously disturbed by crying. “I shouldn't give you shit? Oh please! I lived with L for too long to not notice what's going on.”

“What do you-”

“You think you’ll make puppy eyes toward your boss every time he's around and no one will notice? That you'll vanish for two hours, come back on stiff legs and I won't know what's going on? Even an idiot like me can notice your silly romance, damn teenage movie!”

“Listen-”

“No, you listen! How would you feel when it was me who kissed Black Hat?”

“Ah please, what even is a kiss?!” Flug gesticulate harshly, losing his cool.

“Shut! The fuck! Up finally!” yelled Ross, stepping in Flug's personal space. “I'm done with you and your… bossing around! I took all those implications that I'm stupid, uneducated, savage, whore, idiot and I didn't care that much, but you won't get to lay your pretty, soft hands on my boss, understand?!” Ross stabbed Flug's chest with a finger. The doctor looked at the touched place with disgust in his goggles.

“Don't do that” he said with warning tone.

“Or what?” Ross pushed his shoulders, making him hit the door. “You'll sass me to death? Kiss me? What will you do?” He did it again.

A long groan left Flug when he swung his hands, trying to push Ross back. But the higher one was faster. In one, swift move he grabbed Flug's wrists, pushed him to the side and knocked him down with his leg. It was fast move, obviously learned some time ago and used frequently. Ross didn't even break a sweat.

“I could snap your neck like a twig. With no effort” huffed Ross and went back to the bed, sitting on it, glaring at the doctor.

“Are you threatening me now?” Flug sat down on the floor, brushing his face under the bag. He looked at Ross warily.

“Maybe” the taller human said and looked at the floor. Flug only shook his head, standing up. He sat on the chair, crossing arms on his chest. “Why are you even here?” continued Ross.

“Black Hat told me to follow you. He probably wanted to get rid of me and keep you away while having a word with your boss.” Flug smirked under the bag. He knew Black Hat doesn't treat people who put hands on his doctor very nicely.

“If they were fighting the whole mansion would be shaking till now” noticed Ross blankly, still looking at the floor. “And L isn't stupid. If he courted you, knowing you're with Black Hat, there had to be a purpose.”

“Okay, stop implicating that there's something between me and Black Hat but business relationships.”

Ross looked at Flug skeptically. “L is almost literally a cupid, he knows when someone is in love.”

“Yet he doesn't know you are?” Flug snarled, getting a little annoyed.

Ross made a pause, then snorted and laughed for a moment. “Me? In love? With who? And anyway I'm not able to fall in love, I don't feel it.”

Flug blinked few times. “And it's you who live with Love Hat? You just cried over him kissing me. For me it looks like you're way more into him than you think. Well, logically speaking, if my research about you was all true, I can't blame you. He took you from the street and gave you place to live so-” Flug noticed look in Ross' goggles and went silent. Maybe he said too much.

“How much do you know about me?”

“Only few things about white haired maniac running around Prague…” He lied, obviously. He knew almost everything after Ross’ sixteen birthday, but the rest was mystery for him.

“Is it why you call me a whore? Do you think it was nice to have to get money that way?”

Oh. Oops. “No, it's-”

“But of course, what could you know, whole life in fancy villain school, under the eye of greatest villain in the world” grumbled Ross, looking away.

Flug froze for a moment, not looking at Ross. He didn’t know how to answer so decided to keep quiet. But that awkward silence was becoming too much for him. He chuckled, tugging at his collar. “Is it hot in here?” he joked then, seeing how annoyed Ross was looking, sighed and cleared his throat. “Okay, maybe I shouldn’t say that. After all, you are-” Flug groaned, gritted his teeth and quickly continued through them. “You are a scientist who have some knowledge, afterall.”

Ross blinked at him. “That’s the worst apology I ever heard.”

“That wasn’t- ah, nevermind.”

Silence came back. Apparently two scientists really weren’t the best talking buddies.

Flug looked around the room. There were few boxes under one of the walls, still unpacked even though they were in the mansion since almost two months already. Two were opened, clothes escaping one of them and the other filled with books. Oh, so little flower knew how to read after all.

Flug smiled under his nose, his eyes sliding around the room. He grimaced at the pile of clothes, probably dirty, few blueprints laying by that pile, books scattered around the nightstand and bed where Ross was actually sitting, looking like it wasn’t made for days at least. Flug moved, putting his elbow on the desk, thinking how this room was getting disturbingly similar to Demencia’s. And then he felt some cold fluid, soaking his lab coat.

The doctor yelped, jumping out of his sit and looking around the desk - dishes collected there for days probably, with leftovers on them and something spilled in the center.

“What is that?!” yelped Flug.

“Oh yeah, I spilled soda there.”

Flug shivered and without a word went to the bathroom. Every guest room had its own bathroom, which he couldn’t say about their private quarters. He came back with toilet paper and started wiping the desk off without a word. Ross observed him with bored expression.

“Why are you still here, anyway?” he spoke. “We talked for some time, I guess our bosses already stopped discussing whatever they were discussing.”

Flug put the overused paper on the pile of trash sticking out of the trash bin, took off his lab coat, hang it on the chair and went back to the bathroom, wanting to clean his hands.

“I don’t know, I may be just, you know, hiding?” he said from the other room.

“From your boss?”

“Y-yeah.” Flug came back and sat down back on the chair, wary to not touch anything again. “Well, we’re villains, loyalty isn’t exactly our thing but that’s… that’s Black Hat we’re talking about. He can be… possessive. May get a little… annoyed by what I did.”

“Wait, are you scared of him?”

“No, of course not! I’m just aware of the fact that he probably won’t be happy if... when he finds out I actually enjoyed that little kiss, which he probably did already, but won’t come here and won’t do anything about it since you’re here and he thinks you don’t know about us.”

“That’s messed up” commented Ross, but it came out a little dry. Flug didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t get me wrong! He usually yells a few threats, which I take too seriously, then we fight and then everything is okay again. Just normal couple thing.” Flug shrugged. “I kinda wanna avoid that, especially with you all here.”

“Riiiight. Normal couple thing, of course.” Ross grimaced and then squinted at Flug. “Did you just say you enjoyed that kiss?”

“Y-yeah? Maybe? A little?” Flug avoided looking at the other scientist. Kissing someone was one thing, but actually enjoying it like he did was something different.

“Why?”

The ask surprised Flug to the point he froze and after a moment looked at Ross as if he didn’t understand. “Why?”

“Yeah, you have to have a reason you liked it. Why?” Ross was sincerely curious now. He saw how Flug swoon over Black Hat, even if the doctor thought he’s sneaky enough. So what made him kiss someone else and enjoy it?

“I… I don't know why.” Flug looked down, frowning. “It's just… Black Hat isn't very… um…”

“Affectionate?”

“Y-yeah”

“Well that seems obvious.”

“Right but I just… sometimes it's nice to be touched or praised and your boss, he's very different than mine. He's tender. Caring. He's really sweet. I just… kinda fell for his charm, I guess.”

“Is he really?”

“Yeah” sighed Flug. “But it's not like I feel anything towards him, as I said it was just a kiss. Black Hat is the one I-” Flug stopped and looked to the side awkwardly. Ross chuckled.

“I thought real villains don't feel.”

“Well, it's not about feeling, not everyone is a sociopath, but showing affection” explained Flug and then, immediately, his face went blank. “Oh.”

Ross blinked at him and then, with big snort, started laughing. He bended in half, grabbing his belly.

“You just- looked so dumb!” he managed to say between giggles and gasps for the air.

“Ah shut up.” Flug blushed, a little, embarrassed of his own, sudden realization. And then few thoughts followed it as he stood up collecting his lab coat. Ross stopped laughing and looked up at him. “That was fun.” said Flug on his way out “Never thought I would spend Valentine’s Day with you, especially on talking about feelings. I guess Love’s appearance gets into me.” Flug shrugged and moved toward the door.

“Wait, it’s valentine's already?”

“Yeah, why?” Flug looked back at Ross and noticed he stood up. “I guess searching for new house isn’t going well…” he said without enthusiasm, trying to remind the other how much time they spend in the mansion.

“Yeah, it’s not that easy-”

“I don’t care. You’re still a nuisance I have to share my lab with. Quicker you’ll be gone, quicker I’ll have my peace back.” With that Flug left.

Only after a moment Ross sat down again. He didn’t care about Flug’s words, he knew the doctor was a douchebag. What he cared about was…

It was Valentine’s Day. It was actually noon and first time he saw Love Hat this day was only half hour ago, kissing Flug. No card, no flowers, any of that cheesy, annoying things Love always did on valentine’s. He didn’t even came in the morning to say hi, like he did every other day. It… it stung. In the weird way Ross didn’t feel before, even after seeing him kiss Flug.

After a moment Ross sighed and took off his mask. He wanted to get angry, disappointed or even upset, but just couldn’t. Dropping the mask on the floor he just digged under the cover, deciding that may be a good place for the rest of this day.

.

Flug left after that flower boy but Black Hat didn’t spoke. He just squinted at smiling, looking proud of himself Love Hat.

First to break the silence was Love. “I won.”

“I could see you won!” snarled Black Hat, making one step toward his brother. Love put arms over his chest, feathers of his new coat making him look even buffier.

“Will you attack me now?”

Black Hat huffed, snarled again and finally straightened, brushing his coat. “I would be stupid if I attacked you today” he growled. “And I respect your… victory, I’m not a child to get angry about losing.”

“But?” Love smiled again.

“You didn’t have to kiss Flug.”

Love Hat hummed and smiled wider. “I had to. And well, it wasn’t me who started the kiss. Otherwise you wouldn’t believe Flug got interested in me.”

“He would never-!” yelled Black Hat but stopped himself, made a pause and cleared his throat. “He knows who is his one and only.”

“Oh he for sure does!” Love Hat chuckled, waving with his hand. “After all it took me more than a month to make him do anything. I didn’t want to take him away from you, I just wanted to show you something.”

Black Hat scowled. Of course. There had to be something. “What.”

Love Hat immediately got serious, his smile vanishing again. “If you don’t do anything, he’ll get tired of you.”

Black Hat took a moment to silently glare at his brother. Then he folded his hands behind him, scowling. “I didn’t ask you for your amazing advices” he said with sarcasm obvious in his voice. “You won. I lost. I owe you. End of the topic. I hope now you will actually search for new place and leave my mansion.”

“Oh yes, of course. We already overstayed our welcome.”

“Good” nodded Black Hat and left the laboratory.

Love Hat sighed. He knew he should talk to Ross, he seemed very… upset by seeing the demon and Flug kissing. But he decided it’s better to leave his brother’s mansion first, after all everyone would use change of the environment.

.

Flug knocked on the door to his boss’ office, hoping he’s already there. Harsh “enter” ensured him he was in there. The doctor sighed and entered, closing door behind him. He didn’t dare to look at Black Hat.

“S-sir… Black Hat” he spoke, not waiting for permission. “I-I think we should talk.”

Black Hat stare his doctor down with a grimace. He was angry at Flug, for letting Love get to him like that and win that stupid bet. But his brother may have had a point.

Finally, the demon sighed. “Yes. Yes we need to talk.”

[quvsvrs]

— °❖｡× ⌜introducing...⌟

ANA SASAKI

「 MINATOZAKI SANA . CISFEMALE . SHE/HER // oh hey, ANA SASAKI, a MUTANT EXPERIMENT, has come to join the fight! they’re a TWENTY year old CIRCUS ATTRACTION who’s known for being COMPASSIONATE and ISOLATED. welcome to the frontlines! 」

H I S T O R Y

she was named hachiko. not affectionately, of course. she was the eighth child of an underground science endeavor that no science nor military board would approve. what use would spliced humans be if they can’t be weaponized ?? what use would spliced humans be for the science community ?? no matter how hard a scientist tries, spliced humans are infertile. it’s not a step for humanity, it’s an indulgence. 

reina sasaki was hellbent, despite her peers telling her otherwise. she was obsessed with creating what nature couldn’t. she gathered a following, hypnotized by her charisma or those just as keen as her, and they disappeared off the grid.

ichirou was spliced with a scorpion. niko was spliced with a butterfly. sanrou was spliced with a bee. yonnko was spliced with a frog. gorou was spliced with a salamander. rokuko was spliced with a hawk. nanarou was spliced with a hummingbird. hachiko was spliced with a spider. 

for a long time, they lived peacefully in an abandoned school hidden away from prying people. the scientists, knowing that their work would never be acknowledged by the community but ultimately proud of what they’ve acheived, served as parents to all the children. the children called each other brother and sister, despite all of them not lookinng like each other ( each child is modelled after a different ehtnicity, purely for the scientist’s indulgence to play with different sequences of human dna ).

however, as they grew, the children realized that they were freaks of nature. they weren’t like the forest around them. but were they bastardizations or unique mosiacs ?? before they could choose for themselves, humanity chose for them.

the children were playing in the forest when they saw the smoke. immediately, they rushed back to the school, only to find it in flames. people screamed inside. their parents !! they must’ve been no more than nine... watching their home get destroyed. as if it couldn’t get worse, armed men started pouring out of the burning building.

ichirou, the self-proclaimed leader of the children, told them all to run in different directions. meet back at the building at nightfall if they manage to not get caught and if they do... be as compliant as they possibly could. it was then that their defensive or offensive instincts manifested, either fighting or flighting as their physiology dictated. 

hachiko was good at hiding, she was also good at hunting with her traps. she managed to not get caught. yet at nightfall, no one else arrived at the charred, blackened building. no one else made it, she was led to believe.

she was suddenly by herself in the world. alone. it was a scary feeling. it got worse. while she hid from the armed men, strange feelings began to take place. it only worsened as she grew. being put in a life-threatening situation heightened her predatory instincts, made her more susceptible to her appetite which was purely carnivorous, made her scared of herself. 

she gravitated towards the city. there was a circus on the outskirts of downtown. they took kindly to her strange appearance, especially as other citydwellers didn’t so much. when they asked her name, she answered ana ( with certain kanji, it spells out ❛ my name ❜ ) sasaki. they taught her tricks, they dolled her up, they put her on display. she was still a freak of nature, she was still alone, but she likes the corndogs that the circus had to offer her ( as well as occassionally taking from the animal feed meant for the big cats ). 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

she’s sweet, kind, affable, and excitable. she is really well-intentioned but also meek when faced with new situations. she’s also closed off and scared of getting close to people. she’s very obedient and compliant. she’s sad a lot, not sure if she should hope that her siblings are safe and happy. 

when she’s hungry, she is hungry. she craves raw flesh, as does any arachnid. she’s patient but also becomes desperate and frantic if she can’t find a suitable kill. her spliced mind tells her to eat those close to her, as they are easily accessible and trust her. especially since finding such a large kill like another human is so hard. she’s gleeful when she feeds, relishing in it like a glutton. she has murders under her belts and survivors of her attacks describe her as the type of maniac who takes too much pleasure in killing ( though they can never really describe what she looks like, most of them say a large spider ). she’s just excited to finally have a good meal... though, she truly feels bad when her hunger gets the better of her. 

because of her fears of being out in new situations and getting too close to people, a fellow circus performer gave her a security plush. it’s a pink robot, with a neon green heart on its belly screen and mismatching blue legs, uneven arms, and neon green antennae. she clutches to it like it’s her lifeline and is always seen with it if she’s not performing. 

she has grey skin with black hair. her eyes are solid green with no iris or pupils. she has a regular human stature, save for her six arms and elongated fanged jaw. for this reason, she also wears cute earloop masks in public. she wears specialized halter tops to accommodate her extra limbs and has incredible coordination with them. 

she has remarkable strength, reflective of a spider’s strength compared to its size. she has enhanced sensory skills, being able to see, hear, and smell great distances. she is resourceful and can inject venom with her bites, glands hidden near her throat. she has two ducts on each side of her lower back that can secrete silk webbing that’s almost indestructible ( again to reflect how strong it is compared to a spider’s size ). 

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 14: gossamer truths

Monday, October 22nd, 1990

“I swear to Christ, Cora, I’ve given haircuts to sticky, sugar-hyped children who sit still better than you do…”

“Maybe if you bribed me with sugar, I’d be a more pleasant customer. What takes so fucking long anyway?”

My brother grabs a fistful of my hair and holds it up for me to see in the tiny bathroom mirror. “You can’t be serious, Cousin Itt. When was the last time you got a trim?”

“Uhm, counting that time I cut it myself in the lab because the ends fell into the Bunsen burner?”

“I’m gonna fucking faint,” Patch steadies himself dramatically on the sink, taking several deep breaths. At the sound of a knock on the door, he bolts out of the bathroom, and I hear the typical high-pitched yell he lets out whenever he sees Lucy. I pluck at the ends of my hair and decide he got it looking healthy enough that I can put an end to my torture, so I pull off the apron and go out after him.

Patch is in the kitchen, filling up the big Erlenmeyer flask to hold the armful of purple irises Lucy's cradling.

“We don’t deserve you,” I hug her as I take the flowers off her hands and pass them to Patch to trim. “What's the occasion?”

“Irises like that don't need an occasion,” she insists, “but if you need one, isn't the show enough? I just left some across the hall.”

“The guys are at the Off Ramp already, yeah?”

She nods, letting loose one of those huge smiles of hers that make her look otherworldly, almost glowing.

“I'm so excited,” Patch chimes in from the sink, “I get to see this man of yours in action! Is he good?”

“He’s amazing, you’re gonna love... Holy shit, Pat, did you actually manage to cut her hair?” Lucy rounds on me, trying to tug on the ends of my hair before I dodge her.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, but I have to grin at my brother because he’s beaming with pride.

“You gotta admit, Cor, you were starting to look like… what’s the guy, you know, the whatchamacallit, from the thing…” Lucy snaps her fingers at us while she wrinkles up her nose in concentration.

“Thanks for narrowing it down…?”

“The monster, the one Bugs Bunny used to outsmart.... the big shaggy red one with the tennis shoes, what was his name?”

Patch chokes out through laughter, “yes, oh my god, the ginger fluffball in Converse… how have I never noticed that?”

“I resemble that remark!” I pout. “I’d forgotten all about that one… did he even have lines, let alone a name?”

“Something ironic… Tiny, or Dainty, or… GOSSAMER!” She and Patch high-five.

“We solved life’s most important question. Yay. Now we can all die happy,” I monotone.

“Not until we reenact the best part,” Patch grins maniacally, glancing at Lucy who returns the evil expression.

“You’re gonna blow me up with sticks of dynamite? Not likely. I’m the only one here who knows how to make a proper bomb…”

“No, dumbass, the makeover,” he cackles, adopting a Bugs Bunny lisp. “Myyy stars, where did you EVER get that awful hairdo??”

“I’d prefer the dynamite. Which, if I remember correctly, is how the makeover ended anyway.”

“Fuck YEAH, you’ll look like dynamite. Do you even have any makeup in the house?”

Lucy snorts. “Gossamer? You know her better than that. I’ll go downstairs and get my bag.”

She makes for the door as Patch’s smile grows increasingly menacing. Just as she disappears, he calls out, “CURLING IRON!”

“Got it!” her voice echoes down the hall.

My brother’s evil giggle drowns out my exasperated grumble. “Why in the hell are we bothering, Patch?”

“Hmm?” He bats his eyelashes innocently. The problem with siblings is you’re working from the same playbook. After all, you wrote the goddamn thing together.

“Why are we bothering to doll me up?” I flop on the couch with maximum drama. Two can play this game.

“Because it’s fun?”

“For whom? I’m pretty sure you got whatever gene I was supposed to get that makes any of this shit fun. For me, it just feels like I’m a sheep walking on its hind legs.”

“Oh, baa-haa,” he fake-cries in a sheepy bleat, gathering up my hair and evaluating his work. “Just let me have my simple joys, huh? Brush, brush, comb, comb… all girls who like to brush and comb should have a pet like this at home.”

There it is, his kill shot. Suddenly I’m 7, and he’s 3, and I’m teaching him to read in our old house. I had the smaller room between the two of us, but it had a big walk-in closet, and I’d stolen a bunch of pillows and one of Dad’s lava lamps to turn it into a reading nook. It was my safe place. Ours, when the arguing would get bad.

“Okay, fine,” I sigh, “just don’t make me look too ridiculous, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“You doubt me? Just wait until Alex sees you all scrubbed up.”

“Hmph.”

He starts gathering up his supplies, and I decide to maintain my objections via grudging silence, inspecting my fingernails, rather than explain to my kid brother why Alex’s opinions aren’t going to matter. If my relationship is dead, lipstick and a curling iron aren’t going to revive it.

I don’t know whether it is or not, I guess. I just know neither of us has been really invested in this thing for what feels like months. I can probably count on one hand the number of times we’ve slept together this year, for Christ’s sake, I can’t even remember when the last time was. Never a good sign. But the most troubling part is that it doesn’t even feel like a problem most of the time… it’s like we’re roommates. Okay, maybe more affectionate than your average roommates, but almost more out of habit than anything else, like we’re just playing house. And then there was that bullshit with the airport a few weeks ago… I should have just ended it then. Obviously we’re done here, and I should have just let him off the hook. Why didn’t I do it? I start picking at a hangnail that’s been bothering me for a few days, but of course, that just makes it worse.

I know precisely why I didn’t do it then. I’m responsible for Alex. For this whole life we have here. For him picking up and moving away from his whole life at home, and his was a lot happier than mine… what the hell kind of person am I if I don’t take this obligation seriously and try to stick it out through our problems?

And in his defense, it’s gotten better recently. Having Patch around, remembering how good Alex is with my family… it's almost been enough to make it feel like the old days. But it feels hollow somehow. Performative. Temporary. And when the shine wears off again, then what? Back to the same slow atrophy? Or do you just pull the plug?

Careful. Don’t ask a question you don’t want an answer to.

I’m saved from answering myself, if you can call it salvation, by Lucy bursting back through the door with armfuls of additional instruments of glamour and a deeply distressing amount of enthusiasm, which is mirrored if not amplified by Patch. They drag me into the bathroom, where I sit down on the toilet lid, pouting.

“Okay, let's get this over with, just don't make me look like some common trollop, yeah?”

“Only the fanciest of trollops. Got it. Here, moisturize.”

I do as I’m told while Patch heats up the curling iron and starts clipping up my hair, and Lucy rummages through her makeup bag.

“That’s a good little monster. Now, I'm not going to do any foundation, I don’t want to hide the freckles... let's just keep it simple… close?” She models closing her own eyes, and as I mimic her I can feel her brushing some sort of crap onto my eyelids. “And Pat, what's your deal, did you ever decide? Are you in Seattle permanently?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I hear my brother answer her idly as he begins to wind my hair around the iron. “Definitely not going back, though.”

“Good for you!”

“I was gonna call a buddy in Portland tomorrow, see what he says about hanging out there a while.”

“You know you can stay as long as you want, kiddo,” I interrupt as Lucy continues to jab at my eyes.

“Okay, open, Cora,” I hear her say, and she starts attacking me with a mascara wand.

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “Just, I wanna do something different, you know? Start fresh somewhere. Fuck that place. I’ve got nothing there worth going back for.”

“Yeah, fuck that place!” I echo him.

“Absolutely,” Lucy nods. “Cora, for fuck’s sake, hold still or you're gonna look like a demented raccoon.”

“And to think, I tried to talk you out of this brilliant plan,” I groan.

“Relax, C, she's a pro, your eyeliner’s so sharp you can stab your enemies with it. See?”

He holds up a hand mirror to let me survey the damage. It's actually pretty subtle, which I'm thankful for: just a little emphasis around my eyes, winged out a tiny bit, ever so slightly Priscilla Presley style.

“Not bad,” I concede.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Lucy grins. “Here, do your lips.” She holds out a little stick of dark pink lip gloss, which seems too vivid in the tube but looks better on.

Lucy finishes up her own makeup, impeccably, while Patch works my hair into some reasonable-looking waves. Alex is just getting home as we’re packing up and deciding on dinner options before the show.

My boyfriend snorts in amusement when he sees me. “You let them kidnap you, huh?”

“It was an ambush.”

“You look mahvelous, dahling,” Patch fawns. “Lucy, my love, pizza for the beautiful people?”

Lucy grabs her bag and then Patch’s arm. “I know a place. Back in a few, lovebirds!”

The two of them flounce out the door, leaving Alex with that entertained smile still fixed in place.

“Well?” I wave a finger around my face. “Ridiculous, right?”

“No, you actually look incredible.” He gives an approving nod before heading to the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Incredible, like, 'you should do this more often’ incredible?” I hate that I actually sound hopeful.

“I don't know, babe, you look fine. Just don’t kiss me, okay, I don’t want your lipstick shit all over my face.”

So much for hopeful.

“Yeah. So, uh, you’re sure you don’t wanna come with us tonight?”

He glances at the clock before flopping down on the couch. “Ugh… didn't we just go to a show?”

“Well, yeah, but see, there are different bands, and they play all different songs, so the shows aren't interchangeable…”

“Ha, ha. I just don't feel like it. You guys go. You’ll have more fun without me anyway.” He glances at the clock again.  

“Right.”

I watch him turn on the TV and zone out, wondering what to make of the relief I’m feeling.

***

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Why did I think this would be a good idea? Playing a show after six fucking days? Well, in my defense, I guess I never technically thought it would be a good idea, I just went along with what Stone wanted because I wanted to be cooperative, and I was excited about the music. So if this whole thing’s a disaster, which it’s sure to be, then at least I know it’s not my fault, right?

Who am I kidding, of course it’ll be my fault, that soundcheck was terrible, I fucked up so many times. The guys sound great. Of course they do. They’ve all been playing together for months, and they’ve got nothing to worry about on their own home turf.

I tap a cigarette out of the pack and lean against the wall of the club, people-watching to calm my nerves. At least I’ve got some anonymity in Seattle, for the next half hour or so, anyway. Before everyone comes to know me as that piece of shit singer who ruined Jeff and Stone’s new band. No pressure, just possibly their last shot at success after everything they’ve been through, and I’m just out here falling apart on the sidewalk. They clearly picked the wrong guy.

I don’t get a lot of time to work on my brooding, though, because some familiar faces appear one by one in the tide of people moving past me on the sidewalk. First Patrick, with his shaggy pink hair bobbing head and shoulders above everyone else, and then Lucy, and then finally Cora, who doesn’t come up past anyone’s shoulder but is still obvious anywhere.

“Hey, Ed!” Lucy gives me a massive hug, beaming. “You all set for tonight?”

“Yeah, uh, should be great. Uhm, Jeff’s inside...”

“Break a leg, Edward!” Patrick calls as he follows Lucy inside, but Cora pauses on the sidewalk, regarding me with a little crease between her eyebrows. There’s no getting away from that look, I know that by now, but I also know she’s easy enough to talk to that I don’t particularly feel like trying to escape.

“You okay, bud?”

“Truthfully?”

“Yes please.”

“Not really, no.”

She purses her lips, nods, and leans against the wall next to me. I hold out the pack of cigarettes, and I don’t even have a fucking clue if she smokes, but she takes one so I light it for her and watch as she takes a long drag.

“Well, our island’s still an option, if you wanna bail,” she says thoughtfully. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The thought of the island makes me smile in spite of myself. “You’re bailing too? How come?”

“Uh uh, you first. What are you hiding from out here?”

“Certain annihilation.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, you’ll wanna stay a few rows back to avoid becoming a casualty as I go down in flames. This is gonna be a trainwreck.”

“Is not!” Her childlike indignation actually gets me to laugh through the gloom.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can you say something nice at my funeral?”

“Sure, bud… something really nice, something with imagery,” she chuckles. “You’ll be fine, you know that? The guys are so lucky they found you when they did.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

She frowns at me but doesn’t say anything.  

“I just… this whole crowd, this whole scene --” I wave my hands vaguely at the street “-- it’s theirs, and I’m so afraid I’m going to fuck it up for them. It’s got me scared shitless up there, and it never used to bother me before, but here… and the kind of thing they used to have… I’m just not that guy. In that soundcheck just now, it hit me, this feeling that at any moment, someone’s gonna figure it out.”

“Figure out what?”

“That I don’t belong here. Like someone’s going to point me out --” I scowl at her and stab my finger in her face “-- j’accuse!”

“Imposter syndrome,” she nods, unfazed.

“Syndrome? Is it actually a real thing?”

“It’s kind of my thing. But I’ll let you have it for tonight.”

“Gee, thanks?”

“No, I just know what you mean. Grad school’s a breeding ground for imposter syndrome. I always feel like I’m on borrowed time, and one stupid question at a seminar or one failed experiment is enough to expose me as a fraud and get me kicked out. Sound familiar?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, it’s bullshit.”

“Maybe for you, you’re actually a genius, or so Chris tells everyone.”

She shakes her head with a little smile. “Bless his heart. It doesn’t matter, though. Science, music, art, whatever. It’s human to feel this way. You’re in this… I don’t know, this rarefied air with all these other talented people, and it’s natural to think you’re shit by comparison. But everyone else is thinking the same thing about themselves all the time.”

“That’s pretty bleak. So what’s the solution, just taking comfort in our collective misery?”

“Better than sitting out here waiting for an anvil to fall on your head as a plan B.”

“No, in a weird way, that does help. I’m still gonna fuck it up, though.”

“Maybe.” This wide, slightly crazy grin spreads across her face, and suddenly she reminds me of someone or something, but I can’t figure out who or what… oh fuck it, it’s just nice to talk to someone who can relate.

“Thanks,” I laugh, giving her a small shove.

“You’ll be great, Eddie.”

“Thanks,” I say again. “So, no Alex tonight?”

Her smile fades and for a split second, she scrunches her mouth over to one side, just barely, fleetingly, not a smile, almost a wince. “No, he wasn’t feeling all that great, he decided to stay home and rest.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, I hope he’s feeling better.”

There it is again, that strange little scrunch. She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. And what about you? Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think. The island’s still there if we need it, right?”

She nods. “Although I’ve been lying to you this whole time.”

“Oh?”

“I'm really more of a forest person.”

“What? No water?? What the hell am I supposed to do in a forest?”

“Can I interest you in a glacial lake?”

“Well, Cora, it’s been real nice knowing ya…” I fake pushing off the wall to walk away but someone a lot stronger than Cora collars me.

“Smokey, you can't run him off now, he’s got a show to do!”

Cornell, who’s just materialized outside, drapes an arm over my shoulder and gives me an easy smile. “You ready?”

Before I can answer, she cuts in, “I was just trying to sell him on our mountain, Chris, but he's not having it.”

“What mountain?” I look between the two of them as they share a knowing grin.

“You like hiking, Eddie? We should go, I know this great place…” he steers me inside, talking calmly about this idyllic trail he and Cora know, and I allow myself to be led as I listen, hoping some of that peacefulness he’s describing can rub off on me just for tonight.

***

Chris gets poor Eddie deposited up on the stage with his bandmates, where he sheds his jacket and has a nervous-looking word with Jeff, while I track down my brother and Lucy, who are right up in front of the packed crowd. It’s kind of nice being tiny sometimes because no one gives a shit if you squish in front of them.

Just as I make it up front, Stone, Dave, and Jeff start playing this incredibly calm melody that I haven’t heard before, almost like a lullaby, and Eddie lets out a low, steady drone over the top of it. The crowd is still talking, Mike pulls a random Hendrix-y riff out of nowhere just for fun, and it’s like no one’s even sure whether the set’s started, but Eddie begins to add more and more words, and people start to pay closer attention to try and figure out what he’s singing. What a weird fucking way to open a show. And Eddie… poor guy. I wish I could go give him a hug. He’s wrapped himself up so tightly, and he looks so fragile and small that I’m almost afraid he’ll break if they do actually play something more up-tempo, like the vibrations from a harder bass drum kick will just shatter him.

Oh, dear dad…

All my misgivings blow away, and all I can think to do is take my little brother’s hand. He gives mine a squeeze back, but I can’t take my eyes off the stage as the song builds and builds, sending shivers somewhere down in my bones when Eddie’s voice starts to soar up over it all.

The guys start up the next song, and the crowd starts to wake up more after the sedate opener. Even Eddie loosens up a tiny bit, and I have to try not to laugh too hard when his hair overwhelms his hat and makes its escape. After that song comes the familiar sound of Alive, and the guys sound great, although Eddie’s having a hard time finding the groove, which is sort of funny on a song like this one with a groove a mile wide. He sounds really good, though. I need to remember to tell him that later. He sheds his flannel layer, and counterintuitively, it seems like the more layers he loses, the less diminutive he seems up there. Or maybe it’s just that he’s settling into the show more and more. Stone, on the other hand, looks like he’s having a great time. I don’t even try to stop myself from laughing when I notice him mouthing along to his own riffs. Christ, what a dork. I make a mental note to give him shit later for yet another choice scrunchy from the collection, but if I’m being honest with myself, I might actually like the way he looks with his hair back like that… it does something good for the angles of his face…

We edge over to the right just slightly to get away from a lunatic who’s slam dancing all by himself in the very front, which puts us a little closer to where Stone’s standing. As they launch into Even Flow, it occurs to me again just how much I like to watch him play. It’s sort of hypnotizing, the way he seems to wear the rhythm mostly up around his shoulders, and how it moves through the rest of his body from there in waves… and his comically huge hands… normally he reminds me of a puppy who hasn’t finished growing into his paws yet, but they don’t look comical when he plays, they just look… uhm...

...why is it a million degrees in here?

***

“Thank you guys very much for comin’ out,” I say to the crowd before we all head off the stage. Jesus, that actually felt pretty good. Little bit of a rocky start, maybe, but it seems like it came together toward the end! I wonder what Cora thought of it, I should go see if I can find her…

Ugh, knock it off, just because she was right up front doesn’t mean shit. I hate this, I do this every time I see her. I get all turned around. She’s not available, she’s not interested, I need to stop letting myself get so invested. Why is it so hard to figure out how to keep the right amount of distance? She certainly doesn’t struggle to keep me at arm’s length. If I could just figure out how to be her friend, just her friend, this would all be so much easier…

“Hey, Stoner,” her voice floats over my shoulder. It’s uncanny, did she know I was just thinking about her? Honestly, when am I not?

“Hey…” I turn around and give her what is probably a ridiculous face, given that she’s laughing at me.

“What’s your damage?”

“Sorry, sorry, just… since when do you do stuff like curl your hair?”

She scowls, which is always impossibly hot but tonight is even more so because she’s got lipstick on. Fantastic. So much for the friend thing getting easier.

“Patch did it, blame him,” she shakes her head in irritation, and the loose curls fall around her shoulders. It looks even softer than usual. It's taking all the willpower I have not to tangle my fingers in it. I'm done pulling pigtails, right?

“Well, the man does good work. You don't like it?”

“You do?”

She's watching me with wary brown eyes, and I'm probably giving her a similar stare back. It's a weird question coming from her. I was expecting some typical Cora tirade about how any of this glamour crap is impractical and sexist, but here she is asking me if I like her hair?

“Yeah, I mean… of course, you… you look really good… you always do,” I mumble, sensing that I’ve blundered onto thin ice, as usual. Shut up, idiot, she doesn't want her friend hitting on her. That's what got me frozen out in the first place. But I can't lie to her either. So all I can do is hope that I sound sufficiently nonchalant about how painfully fucking gorgeous she looks.

“Stoner, you're getting all diplomatic on me, I don't know what to think anymore.” Her scowl dissipates into a warm smile. “You guys sounded great tonight, you know.”

“Oh, while we're on the subject of diplomacy, huh? That segue was about as subtle as a flying brick.” I roll my eyes, but I’m thankful for the change of subject. And the big bearded guy who just shoved himself between us unceremoniously on his way backstage, creating some space after we’d drifted a little too close.

“A brick, a brick, my kingdom for a brick,” she mimes hitting me in the head with something heavy. “I mean it, I liked it. A lot of it's new, or, I guess it’s new to me.”

“Yeah, well, busy few days,” I mumble to the ground.

“I’ve been a little absentee, huh?” she says softly.

“It’s cool, you’ve had a lot on your plate,” I look back at her again, frowning. “How's your brother?”

“Pestiferous.” Another person elbows by us, so I take her by the arm and we edge our way over to lean against a wall with a little less traffic.

“Yeah, I hear brothers can be like that. How long's he staying?”

“I don't know, that's the thing. I just know I'm not sending him back there,” she says fiercely.  

“Hey, what’s the matter, did he get into some kind of trouble?”

“No, nothing specific…”

“Well, what then?” I know I’m probably pushing my luck, but I honestly want to know. And I don't think I’ve ever asked her before. She scowls again.

“...Patch doesn't exactly fit in back home…”

“... because he's gay…” I finish her sentence for her cautiously, and the frown deepens, making me worry I’ve overstepped. I thought it was common knowledge, but maybe not.

“No. I mean, yeah, that's part of it…,” whew, okay, I didn’t fuck it up that time. She continues, “maybe it’d be more fulfilling if it was just your typical tale of a homophobic redneck backwater, but it's actually a more enlightened part of the world than you’d ever believe, Stone.”

No Cletus jokes. No Cletus jokes. No. Bad. I nod for her to go on, chewing my tongue.

“I mean, it's no great secret that he is, everyone back home knows. And yeah maybe there are some people with shitty attitudes occasionally, but that kind of mentality doesn't exactly have a zip code, right?”

“No, that’s true. So then what's the issue?”

She sighs. “Stepdad. I mean, I fled home screaming too, didn't you ever wonder why?”

“Sure I have. Just… didn’t want to pry.”

“Well, if it helps you understand Patch any, my stepdad thinks I’m a total fuckup.”

“What??” Shrieking at your crush is generally undignified, I realize, but I couldn't care less right now. “Mad scientist genius?”

“Yep. Graduated magna cum laude, double major, on a full ride. And I’m a fuckup because 'there’s no money in dirt science, kiddo,’” she puts on a fake voice dripping with disdain. “So what does that make my kid brother who does hair for a living and barely finished high school on time and has the audacity to still live at home, five whole months after graduating? He even pays rent but they still call him a deadbeat and give him shit constantly for being a failure.”

“Who’s your stepdad to be so hard on you guys, Albert Einstein?”

“John Sullivan, regional bank manager in the district of Bumfuck Egypt. Paterfamilias.” She lays her accent on a little thicker. I try not to think about how hot it is.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. So Patch is not going back,” she shrugs. “We’ve been talking about it, he wants a new start. I don't think he’s gonna want to stay around here, but he doesn’t have much of a plan yet, so… I don’t know, we’ll figure it out, I’m just glad he left.”

“He’s lucky he has you.”

“Too bad he’s not within earshot, he’d tell you he'd be luckier to have a cancerous mole.”

“I mean it. You're a good sister. A good person.” She grimaces.

“You're melting, Marshmallow, careful. Speaking of which, what's with that show opener? The mellow one?”

Oh, shit, that’s what I was afraid of. I told Eddie it was a terrible fucking idea, and that we should have come out with something stronger. “Yeah, I know, it’s a weird one,” I say, trying to keep the defensive edge out of my voice.

“No! Well, I mean, yeah, it is weird,” she fumbles, “but I liked it.”

“You did?”

“I like the weird ones, remember?” She offers me the smallest smile, but it’s enough to make my heart start pounding. Damn it, girl… yeah, I remember. Understatement of the year.

“Anyway, yeah, I liked it. I mean, I know this whole new thing is supposed to be harder-edged or whatever, I know you and Jeff wanted something a little darker, and that stuff all sounds fantastic too, but I have to say, I think you guys sound really good when you play slower songs as well. More range, or something, I don’t know. It’d be cool to hear you develop more stuff like that.”

I could listen to her talk about our music all night long. I can’t find any words to say back, although I’m aware that she’s looking at me and probably waiting for me to respond. All I’ve got is a lame little “Yeah?” that comes out much quieter and higher than it was supposed to.

“Yeah,” she grins, looking anywhere but right at me. “You know I have a thing for you playing an acoustic.”

I want to pause the whole universe right now. I know I’m just one small person, and there are wars, and elections, and natural disasters, and things that are so much more consequential than anything that will ever happen to me in my small life. But it can all go to hell. I just want those words in my ears forever.

“You have a thing for me?”

“Playing an acoustic,” she fires back in an exaggerated voice, but holy shit, she’s blushing! Like, a lot! She does, doesn't she?? She does want me, I wasn't imagining it, no fucking wonder she's been pushing me away, it makes perfect sense…

“Uh huh,” I say quietly. “Well, anytime…”

I watch her face for clues, but all I get is that persistent flush in her cheeks and her inability to look me in the eye all of a sudden. It's enough, though. It's there. Why are we dancing around this thing if we both feel it? Why can't we just say it directly, instead of playing songs and cracking jokes and taking anything but the straightest path between two points? Why don't I get to just kiss the hell out of her, smear that pretty lipstick, pin her against this wall, or better yet, let her pin me, and just work out once and for all that we’re fucking perfect for each other?

“STONE!”

I turn around and see Jeff about twenty feet down the hallway, looking at me impatiently.

“I’ve been yelling at you for ages, what the hell -- oh, hi Cora -- you gonna help us pack this shit up or not, man?”

I roll my eyes as I turn back to her, and she’s laughing but still not willing to look at me.

“I should let you go,” she says quietly, still blushing.

“Yeah… uhm, see you later?”

She finally hits me with her gaze and nods before turning around to disappear into the crowd without another word. Yeah, this turned out to be a pretty okay night.

***

When Patch and I get home, it’s well after midnight and the apartment’s dark. I say goodnight to my brother and get ready for bed as quietly as possible, sneaking into my own bedroom and crawling under the covers carefully so as not to wake Alex, but he rolls over anyway.

“You have fun?” his drowsy voice mutters.

“Mmhmm,” I inch a little closer. He sighs grudgingly and lets me climb into his arms. I can’t explain why I want to be so close to him tonight. I can’t even remember the last time we actually cuddled. But he lets one hand drag down to my lower back, where he begins trailing his fingertips in circular patterns, and for the first time in weeks, I feel it. That unmistakable hum, vibrating up and down all my nerves. Without a word, I slip into his lap and we fit our bodies together, finding a rhythm to match the urgency, wasting no time building toward our peak. I’m not very interested in kissing him tonight, though, for whatever reason… I focus my attention on his neck and jaw instead, until he hungrily pulls my mouth back to his. I shut my eyes tight and to my surprise, I see a different pair of eyes swimming before me, unbidden. Not Alex's icy pale blue ones but another pair, warm and olive green. That's all it takes. The shattering release sends me careening into nothingness, biting my lip hard to keep from crying the wrong name.

[paisleywraith]

Curses, Curses. Chapter 5

Junior year is often considered the most difficult year of high school. Kyle would agree with that on a regular day, he didn’t need some magical bullshit wriggling its fingers at him and turning him into an ass-old Bill Murray movie reboot.

“Scrooge did not have repeating days, thanks though, Kenneth.” Kyle wished Kenny would give him his hat back. He wasn’t dressed for the city, he didn’t even bother to tame his hair. But Kenny, towering over him and smirking, wore his hat on his stupid, smug head.

“It’s a joke, Kyleth.” Kenny tsked his tongue. “Relax. Enjoy…whatever the fuck this is. Fancy shit.”

“Fancy shit” was some sort of sculptures made out of metal in a room with mirrors. Kyle could vaguely make out the shapes of a couple. Out of the….twenty or so?

“It’s just so highbrow.” Kyle could see his reflection from about 500 different angles. “Metal and mirrors. So complex.”

“Shiny.” Kenny grinned into a statue’s bizarrely long fingers. “I look cute in this hat.”

“Give it back.”

“Nope.”

Kyle could see himself in the mirror behind Kenny, looking tense and pale. He looked awful, almost sick. He ran a hand through his hair out of habit, not that it helped his complexion any.

It was interesting, the museum, but the thought that this was just temporary was eating away at him. He had a countdown. Just a handful of hours, and he’d wake back up in his bed like nothing happened.

He wasn’t sure why Kenny was acting like everything was fine, like this was some dumb excursion the two were going on for kicks. It was- he needed the distraction, sure, that was nice, but he felt like he was wasting time. Which maybe was illogical considering he was in a loop, but it was still grating on him and wouldn’t go away.

Kyle was promptly hip-checked into a mirror.

He immediately turned around to smack Kenny in the stomach with his forearm, causing the blond to buckle, groaning his laughter.

“What t-the fffff-” Kyle was trying to be angry, but Kenny was giggling like an idiot now and his shoulders were shaking.

“What was that for?” Kyle couldn’t help but grin, which probably lessened the ferocity of his question. He lowered his voice, in case the security walking around went to check why a teenager was being thrown into mirrors. “We’re going to get kicked out, you ass.”

“You looked too solemn, man.” Kenny insisted, in the same quiet tone. He rubbed his midsection, grinning broadly. “Thought I’d wipe the look off your face.”

“By shoving me into a mirror.”

“If need be.” Kenny’s grin softened, and he stood back up straight.

The blond then trotted over, cheerfully throwing an arm around his shoulder and dragging a cross-armed Kyle into a half-hug. Kenny tilted his head, blue eyes becoming serious.

“All right. You doing okay?” Kenny looked like he was hunchbacked, he was trying so hard to look Kyle in the eyes. “If we’re getting real, let’s get real.”

Kyle pressed his lips together, looking away. Not that it helped, given they were literally surrounded by reflective surfaces. He could still see Kenny looking at him, could actually feel him breathing. He wasn’t going to offer to talk about this.

“Ky-le.” Kenny drew out the name as long as he could. Singsongy. “Silence is not an answer. Doc needs to be paid at the end of the day.”

“I’m gonna fire you, how about that?” Kyle grumbled, tempted to shrug off the arm. Or elbow him.

“You’ll find yourself pushed into something worse next time, how about that?” Kenny replied with a happy lilt to his voice.

Kyle made a sound between a scoff and a snort and Kenny did not remove his arm.

It was easier to relax like that, truthfully. Kenny’s worn grey hoodie seemed to radiate warmth and his arm rested heavily around his shoulders. Kyle wouldn’t say Kenny smelled great- the scent of cigarettes and a slight unwashed smell tended to drift around the taller high schooler- but there was something familiar in it. A memory of being stupid and young, or at least stupider and younger, running around their little town like they owned the place. Kenny giggling over dumb shit and his strong hugs through a ratty parka.

They skirted through the museum like that, Kyle tucked into his side like an accessory or something. Kenny stopped at one room to take a good moment or two to admire some modern photographs of…well. Nudes. Kyle, red-faced and irritated, grabbed him by the waist and used to weight to pull him towards the exit. Kenny, though far skinnier than the redhead, was able to anchor him so Kyle more or less was struggling to take a single staggering step while Kenny didn’t break a sweat.

“Would you stop?” Kyle asked, trying to drag Kenny and getting nowhere.  

“Don’t you like art, Kyle?” Kenny was dragging him back, making the two more or less look like they were wrestling in the museum. “Look at the art. So beautiful. Look at it.” Kyle changed tactics to try and squirm away, but Kenny had a solid grip. He was also laughing like a maniac. “What mastery. Why are you trying to run, Kyle? Don’t you appreciate the work that goes into things like this?”

Kyle’s sneakers skittered on the ground as he tried scrambling out of the bear hug. “Fuck you!” He tried to say, but with his face shoved into Kenny’s sweatshirt it wasn’t likely it could be distinguished.

“Look at the art, Kyle!”

“Fuck off!”

“LOOK AT IT.”

“LET ME GO!”

“LOOK AT THE BOOBS, KYLE.”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to ask you two to stop roughhousing.”

Kenny’s grip slackened enough for Kyle to squirm around in his arms and look over his shoulder. An official-looking person was watching with disapproval.

“Sorry,” Kenny said, sending her a charming smile.

The official didn’t look amused.

“You’re making people uncomfortable.” There was a beat where the two boys stared, one in mixed horror and the other in delighted amusement. “You can move to the next room now.”

Kenny sounded like he was choking. “Yep, sorry. Here we go, behaving ourselves.” He steered a red-faced, sputtering Kyle out of the room, actually tearing up with the effort to not bust out laughing.

They more or less fled through the other few rooms, both quiet as they were watched carefully by staff. Once outside, Kenny threw his arm back around Kyle as the other covered his face and laughed.

“Oh my god, really?”

Kenny gave Kyle a squeeze, nuzzling into his hair. “We make people uncomfortable together. What a bonding moment. First skipping school and now nearly being thrown out of museums. You’re becoming a rebel, Broflovski.”

“Right. Because that totally wasn’t about you shouting about breasts across the damn museum.”

“It never is.”

“What?” Kyle laughed, slumping against Kenny’s lanky form. “You think you’re funny, doesn’t you, loser?”

“You’re the one laughing,” Kenny pointed out with twinkling eyes.

Kyle elbowed him lovingly.

“Fine, fine.” Kenny took his arm back with a grin, leaving Kyle feeling a little colder. “How about lunch, then?”

   Well, this was a snapshot. Kyle was more or less snuggled by Kenny. The two sat on a park bench, in the freezing Colorado cold, eating burgers at night.

“We’re going to get mugged,” Kyle said solemnly, unwrapping his sandwich.

“We’ll be fine,” Kenny promised through a mouthful of burger. “I’ll protect you.”

“My hero.” Kyle grumbled.

Quiet fell on them both as they scarfed down the food, watching a gaggle of tipsy young adults giggle through the park. Kenny looked thoughtful, eyes tracking the group, and Kyle ‘accidentally’ nudged him with his elbow.

Kenny redirected his attention, beaming, lights catching his lank hair like a halo.

“Get me tomorrow morning.” Kenny said lightly, crumpling up the foil in his hand. “Let’s meet and make a plan. You and me. Okay?”

Kyle swallowed thickly, nodding. He was going to take him up on that. Kenny believed him the second he told him what was happening, he could- he’d need someone who didn’t think he was crazy.

“I don’t know how we’re going to make it stop,” Kyle pointed out. “Kenny, I have no fucking idea what’s going on.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kenny tossed the foil-ball at the trash can across the pathway and threw his hands up when it didn’t hit the rim. Face impassive in its celebration, he put his hands back down. “You’re dealing with it, I’ll help you. We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

Kyle exhaled.

“You worry too much, Ky.” Kenny said affectionately. “There’ll be time for that. Relax.”

“I don’t know where the cutoff is.” Kyle started talking before Kenny even finished his sentence. “I don’t know where the day resets. If it’s midnight, or after, or before…the nights start to blur.”

Kenny tilted his head, looking for all the word like a puppy dog with the wide blue eyes. He watched Kyle, brows furrowing before his expression lightened again.

Kenny reached. Confused, Kyle gave him the foil wrap from his own sandwich.

Snorting, Kenny tossed it towards the bin and reached for his hand again, this time wrapping Kyle’s fingers in between his own.

Kenny squeezed his hand.

Another drift of memories…the chatter of elementary school cafeterias. Kyle embarrassing himself or fussing over something obsessively or getting the short end of every stick he was handed. Small moments of comfort from a smaller hand- Kenny had been smaller than him- wrapped around his own, or a pat on the shoulder, a nudge, a bear hug. Being closer to Stan, being some sort of frenemies with Cartman. None of this drifting. None of this too-quiet nights and too-routine mornings.

Kyle squeezed back.

He felt Kenny shift, and then his old hat was settled on his head again. Kenny gently pulled it down over Kyle’s ears with his free hand.

“Relax,” Kenny said again, voice far quieter. Soft. “I know what you’re thinking about. You’re waking up again in a couple hours, back in your own bed. Nothing changed, no matter what you did that day. And no one is going to remember what you went through. So it’s fucking scary, because you’re totally powerless. But you’re going to be fine, Kyle.” He bumped his shoulder against the curly-haired boy’s. “I’m going to listen to you. I’m going to help. You are not by yourself, not by a longshot, dude. So don’t you worry. However many days we need to go through, I’m with you.” He leaned down, forehead pressing against Kyle’s hat. “Got it?”

Kyle didn’t answer. But he did keep his grip on Kenny’s hand. That seemed to be answer enough for the blond, he at least didn’t press.

Kyle watched his breath crystalize in front of him. It was so cold in this stupid park. Kenny must be freezing in this weather, wearing a thin hoodie and no other layers. It was like him, honestly. So fucking aware of other people and not taking enough consideration for himself. The quality Kyle hated in Kenny and admired over almost all else.

“I’m bringing you a coat tomorrow.” He said abruptly, with no further explanation.

Kenny squeezed his hand gently. “Cool. Can I wear your hat again?”

“No.”