#like she comes off as obnoxious and self-centered

[moonlayl]

For the sake of humour, they made Jennifer Walters ridiculously incompetent, even though she’s supposed to be a good lawyer both in the MCU and in the comics.  

[facefullofsadness]

Could you do a giselle dom pervy step sister(female reader) smut where they don’t like each other at first but ig giselle found a way to turn that hatred into them fucking in secret while their parents are in the house

ANONNNN!!! YOUR MIND!!!! I've been thinking ab this ask for WEEKS and I finally have time to write about it omg obsessed

content - stepcest, blackmail, smut (pervy!giselle, cunnilingus, fingering, face sitting, squirt, voyeurism/public(?) sex)

wc - 2739

a/n - catching up slowly but surely on asks, I have no school this week so imma try my best!

you never really warmed up to giselle.

you never really WANTED to ever warm up to her. she was mean, annoying, obnoxious, and greedy. I mean, how fucking self-centered do you have to be to make your baby stepsis call you by another name because she "doesn't deserve to call me by my real name" as giselle had said. what infuriated you was how pretty she was too. someone who was such a bitch shouldn't get the benefit of being attractive, especially since aeri knew and definitely used it to her advantage. whether it be to the people around her like friends, classmates, teachers, or even your parents, she finessed them like no one's business.

but she could never trick or fool you. you were a challenge to her, and it pissed her off not getting what she wanted. giselle HATED your guts. you were smart, sweet, cute, and generous, traits she simply was not. she hated how your guys' parents eyes' would light up in excitement when you came to them with an academic achievement, looking at you with admiration and love, eyes that would look at aeri with annoyance and disappointment.

aeri's not stupid, she knows why she's disliked, but she doesn't really care. it only really started to affect her seeing YOU be soooo liked by them. she simply hated you because you weren't easy, and you hated her because she saw everyone as easy. though, however much it upset you, it upset her to a degree you couldn't even imagine. she had to win the invisible game, and she was going to get her way with you, one way or another. so she devised a plan, which was to put simply, blackmail.

one day when you were gone at school, she set up a secret camera in your room facing your bed. she laid back on the living room couch in content, watching you come home from school, shooting each other a painfully fake greeting, before you ascended upstairs to your room. during nightfall, you would of course, fulfill your physical desires while everyone was asleep in the house, unaware of the recording device from across the room. and in the morning when you left, your wicked stepsis would sneak back in to retrieve the footage, playing it back and giggling to herself, knowing this would ruin you.

giselle's sweet baby stepsis, a sexual deviant during the after hours, shoving a huge dildo into her pussy to force multiple orgasms from her own body.

aeri was giddy with joy, now owning what single-handedly would win her the upper hand. the day continued as normal, but as you were about to go to sleep, there was a knock at your door. you rolled your eyes when you opened it to find a smug aeri, her phone in her hand with a play button over a still image of you in your room. your eyes shift between her and her phone confused before she pushes you inside and shutting the door behind her.

"what the fuck is that aeri?"

she huffs and sits comfortably at the end of your bed, "first of all, it's giselle to you, don't forget. second, how 'bout I show you?"

playing the video on max volume, your muffled moaning erupting from the small screen, watching a video of yourself masturbating. your ears ring and your cheeks flush, pouncing onto the older girl and trying to tear the phone away from her. your older stepsis is far stronger than you and easily you get overpowered, her hands pinning your wrists together and against the bed, her legs straddling either side of your lap.

with one large hand gripping your wrists together and the other hand hovering the still playing video against your face, she smirks, "what? shy? you weren't so shy last night when you were shamelessly fucking yourself, now were you? hm, y/n-ie? my sweet little sister?"

you grit your teeth and shake your head back and forth to deny the accusation, as if it weren't true. her dark chuckle fills your ears and the room, joined with the loud squelching of your pussy coming from the video. you feel tears start to well in your eyes and you plead with her.

"unnie, please... delete that!"

she coos at you, "awww sweetie, you think I'm that easy? not without a price, I won't."

you continue to plea in a desperate voice, "unnie please! I'll do anything! just please, delete it, or don't share it! anything you want!"

her lips curl into a sinister smirk that you can see even in the dark. you feel your heart drop to your stomach at the thought of what she must've suddenly imagined, immediately regretting your choice of words. before you could even consider opening your mouth to take back what you said, aeri drops the phone and covers your mouth.

"anything huh? will you behave for unnie and do anything I want?"

you debate shaking your head no, but when you hear a particularly loud moan come from the video playing next to your ear, you nod your head yes.

"good girl, you may be stubborn but you're not stupid. a little bit dumb for your choice of words though," she hums above you and trails the hand over your mouth downwards, dragging her long slim fingers across your sensitive body, jerking with every inch of contact she makes.

you whine as her fingers circle your hardening nipples and pinch them between her fingertips, giggling at how your body reacts to her touch.

"sensitive little baby, aren't you y/n-ie? fuck you're so cute, you shouldn't be so fucking cute."

aeri hated how much she was enjoying this almost as much as you did. she hated how cute her little sis was, writhing under her, eyes welling with tears in fear, body reacting to every subtle brush, thighs rubbing themselves together to suppress the ache at her core. and you hated it too, you hated that your older sister made you feel so fucking good, how her touch ignited flames in your stomach, how you panted into the air the more intimate her touch became, how you anticipated and needed more when you realized how disgusting this all was.

you both hated it, but you both couldn't get enough.

looking up into giselle's eyes at the same time she looked into yours, locking onto one another and gazing into lustfilled stares, the tension filling the air. the hatred boiled over and morphed into a new emotion, desire. a compromise emerged, and mentally, you both knew what it was. it all felt too good to want to stop, so you gave in.

leaning up and smashing your lips against aeri's, her immediately pushing back into you, pressing you down into your mattress. sloppy wet kisses loud and echoing through the room, both your moaning filling your ears and drowning out any possibility for moral dilemmas to pierce your mind. the hand pinning your wrists down, traveling up to hold your hand, interlacing her fingers through one and letting the other one go.

you let your free hand shoot into her hair, pulling her closer into you and shoving your tongue into her mouth, eliciting a whine to escape giselle's throat, accepting the intrusion. her other hand finds your thigh and brings it up, wrapping your leg around her waist and grinding her hips against your clothed core, making you both groan out into each other's mouths.

"fuck, you're good. why are you good?" she moans into your mouth.

"I'm not- a fucking- amateur." you pant out between kisses.

"yeah? then tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?"

she questions, almost as a challenge, and you're scared to answer knowing it's just another piece of blackmail to hang over your head. you both already know the truth, obvious by your hips rutting back against her, your sweat dripping down your forehead, neck, and chest, your core aching with need, and your eyes blown to oblivion.

"fuck you," you answer instead.

she chuckles lowly again, the tone and vibration in your mouth when she does it making your pussy throb between your legs.

"not before I fuck you."

flipping you over and onto your hands and knees, tearing your shorts and panties off, throwing them to the ground. she wastes no time shoving your legs apart and licking along your leaking slit, making you moan out and bury your head into your pillows.

"you're so fucking sick, do you know that? being so wet and horny for your unnie like this, you disgusting little whore."

giselle says as if she's not soaked in her own clothes, nipples hard and hole clenching around air. she feels so powerful, so in control, and it feels so good to have you whining under her. sticking her tongue out and getting to work immediately, dragging her wet muscle greedily and swiftly against your pussy, drinking in all of your slick. muffling your moans into your pillows and clawing at your sheets hard enough to rip them.

her strong grip on both of your legs forcing you to keep them apart, slapping your ass every so often and making you scream out into the pillow. her tongue moves around your core so fucking good, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit to thrusting and licking inside of your cunt, the sounds unbearably sinful and delightful to especially aeri's ears. she's drunk, on the taste and feel of your pussy, the way your body reacts, and the muffled cries being torn from your mouth.

she closes her eyes and relishes in your delicious juice swishing around her mouth, moaning into your pussy at how fucking good it feels to have you like this. her core aches and throbs so painfully, she clenches her thighs to hold it in. she lands another slap on your ass before shoving three fingers into you, already starting with an unforgivable pace, curling them and finding that spot in you easily. you scream and claw at the sheets, almost assuredly knowing your pillow wasn't muffling your cries anymore, not like either of you cared. aeri was going insane and felt herself becoming more and more addicted to you. addicted to ruining you, addicted to having power over you, addicted to owning you.

with the arch of your back and body stilling, you gush cum all over your stepsister's face, thighs trembling and chest heaving, moans slipping out of your mouth like a waterfall, your pussy mimicking the motions of one too. giselle drank all of it, everything, licking all over your leaking cunt and wiping her face of it too, sucking her fingers dry to not leave a single drop wasted.

she didn't even let you rest as she flipped you over onto your back, quickly stripping of her pajamas and lingerie, before climbing up to your face, her thighs resting on both sides of your head.

"use your tongue for something useful, pervy slut."

pfft, hypocrite.

she gives you no time to respond or think before shoving her fat pussy into your mouth which you immediately start to drag your tongue all over, coating it in her slick. your hands grip her juicy thighs and you dig your nails into them, her wincing above you and gripping the headboard with one hand, the other hand in her mouth to muffle her sounds.

you never rip your eyes away from her face for even a second, obsessed with how much sheer pleasure rests on giselle's face, her mouth biting down on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and eyes clamped shut. your nose hits her clit repeatedly with your tongue buried deep inside her cunt, flicking it to stimulate inside her tight walls. she tastes so fucking divine, cum directly entering your mouth and your spit drooling out the sides of your lips.

her hips quicken and she fully rests her weight on your face which makes you delighted, drinking her up and pulling her in, suffocating between her thighs. not that it mattered, you loved it. you couldn't breathe but you pushed through, thrusting your tongue in her and maneuvering her hips as her clit hit the tip of your nose.

"drink my squirt you little bitch, take it! don't waste a drop! fuck!"

she demands you as she cums in your mouth, her pussy squirting onto your tongue. her thighs shake in your hands and you close your eyes to avoid squirt getting in them. you feel like your drowning in the sheer amount of liquid coming from aeri's pussy, but you obey your sister, drinking everything that slides down your throat. she finally calms down and you tap on her thighs in a panic, literally not able to breathe. she laughs above you and stays there, watching color drain from your face before she lifts herself up, watching you cough and gasp for air.

"sick fuck," she says before smashing her lips against yours' and digging her tongue into your mouth again.

suddenly, she pulls away and gets dressed, picking up her phone and waving at you with that infuriating smirk on her face as she opens the door and leaves, "see you again, baby sis!"

and from then on that's when it started, fucking your step sister in secret. at first it was only at night, every night since the first time. then it progressed to whenever your parents were out of the house, fucking on the couch in the living room, on the kitchen island, in the shower, in each other's rooms. at some point, she started to get more flirty with you, her touches lingering for too long when she held your hips in the kitchen to move past you or sliding her hands up your shirt when she'd greet you with a hug when you came home from school, whispering an "I missed you" into your ear, her breath against it making a shiver go down your spine, which always drove you insane.

at some point though, giselle couldn't give less of a fuck if your parents were home or not, she just wanted to fuck you. your family would be having a movie night in the living room and you'd go to the kitchen to get more snacks, the older girl following you to "help." then she'd pin you to the kitchen counter and slip her fingers down your underwear, dipping them into your already wet pussy.

"really y/n-ie? you're fucking wet? were you eye fucking me all night that you couldn't help yourself get horny? let me help you with that baby."

she would whisper breathily into your ear before fingering you right then and there, you clutching the popcorn bag in your fingers and biting down on your lip, trying so hard not to moan and get caught, thankful the movie was loud enough.

or during a dinner party WITH YOUR RELATIVES, she would "accidentally" drop a spoon on the ground and go to retrieve it, only to separate your thighs and trail a long tortuous lick across your exposed pussy, aeri having demanded you to wear nothing under. you're suddenly gripping your utensils and coughing on the food in your mouth, acting like it went down your throat wrong. your sister climbing back up from under the table with a lost spoon and a smile.

and of course, she fingered you under the dining table that night too, your face red and physically incapable of eating for about twenty minutes, clutching her forearm as you came around her fingers in front of everyone. you had bit down on your lip so hard, blood had started dripping down your chin and onto your dress, excusing yourself to clean up. panting out of breath in your room and ripping the dress off of you, your sister following behind you and pinning you to your bed with a smirk.

"that was impressive baby, you were able to keep in all those delicious moans huh? well, don't you dare fucking keep them in now, they can't hear you from here, and we're not even close to finished."

smashing her lips against your blood stained ones, the taste of metal filling her mouth.

and while you're not sure if you're starting to like your sister or not, you definitely start getting used to it (maybe obsessed).

a/n - the other night when I was looking at this ask, I suddenly had the urge to write a "rich girl aeri x reader fic where they both fucking despise each other and are just rich bitches until one night they both break from all the sexual tension and fuck in the back of aeri's car" fic... I'll get to work-

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

fair warning, future chapters will include discussions of abuse and other heavy topics. each part will contain its own warnings please read them! eventual smut

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

cw: small interaction with a scary man, smoking weed

fluff fluff and more fluff, a little angst. protective ellie makes an appearance

inhale, exhale. grunts and bodies slamming against gym mats could be heard outside the big double doors of ‘miller’s defense studio.’ news of women being attacked at night had been circulating quite loudly in your sleepy town. dad says you should attend the free session, be able to defend yourself if anything happens. only problem was half the town was in here and you fucking hated being around large groups of people. you had your pepper spray keychain on you at all times, did you really need to learn how to fight? yeah, probably.

one of the many annoying things about being in such a small town is knowing everyone. at least your best friend dina and her boyfriend jesse were here to soften the blow of all of this chaos.

sat on the sidelines, you observe everyone attempting to show off sloppy, embarrassing ‘defense’ moves. jesse spots you and obnoxiously yells your name across the gym. rolling your eyes, you make your way over to him and dina.

“hey, ___ you’re late and you’re not gonna like what I have to tell you,” he smiles nervously. darting your eyes from him to dina, you eye them warily, regretting coming here even more now. “well? spit it out jesse.”

“jesus ok. well since you’re so late, there’s no one else for you to pair up with-“ you cut him off, “oh? that’s fine I’ll just watch then.” him and dina look at each other before she looks at you cautiously. “well, the only other person who doesn’t have a partner is the instructor for today.” you squint your eyes towards the front of the room trying to make out who it is, and oh fuck no, it’s ellie. the girl you’ve had a crush on for quite some time.

“ha, no fucking way. you guys can just teach me later. I am not making a fool of myself in front of her and the whole fucking town. you know I hate being the center of attention and she’s gonna demonstrate on me to teach everyone!” you turn your body attempting to walk away.

dina grabs your forearms softly trying to chill you out with her witchy, calming demeanor. because seriously how is she able to do that with just her touch? “you’re gonna be fine, ___. just breathe. no one else knows what they’re doing either, that’s why we’re here. you’re not gonna look like a fool,” she nods at you slowly, “plus, jesse already told her you’d be her partner.” she gives you an apologetic smile.

“ugh. why can’t you be her partner jesse? she’s your best friend.” dina grabs jesse’s arm and nuzzles into his side with a gross, love drunk smile. “because, I wanna be with my man. sorry, babe but you can do this. you can shamelessly use this as an excuse to be close to her anyway” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“oh my god,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “you guys seriously suck.”

an ear piercing whistle startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, and the room goes quiet. “good morning everyone, I’m ellie. welcome to miller’s defense studio. today, I’m going to be teaching you guys basic self defense techniques. learning self defense is more than how to prevent an attacker from overpowering you, but also about keeping a clear and calm head in the face of danger and how to gain the upper hand..”

her introduction speech fades from your ears as you observe her confident demeanor. dressed only in a simple white wife-beater tank and sweatpants, she still stands tall with a commanding presence. her hair sits in a low bun at the back of her neck, tattoo on full display while her toned arms move animatedly as she speaks.

you blink a few times snapping out of it as dina taps your shoulder and looks at you. “what?” she nods her head at ellie who is looking at you, waiting for you to join her at the front. your eyes widen briefly, “oh fuck.” you mutter under your breath.

you quickly walk up to her in embarrassment and she smirks at you as if she knows something that you don’t. she puts her hand on your hip and leans to turn on the bluetooth speaker behind you. “hey ___” she whispers in your ear. goosebumps travel down your body. fuck, this is gonna be a long day.

after some basic blocking and hitting techniques, ellie decides to teach everyone how to throw an attacker over your shoulder. many cry of “what if they’re taller or heavier?” blah blah, doesn’t matter. next thing you know, ellie turns and steps away from you, grabs your arm, squatting and lifts your hips against her ass before pulling your arm forward, rolling you off her hips onto the floor, wind knocked out of you, hand now around your throat. you lay there stunned, out of breath as ellie’s face hovers close to yours. you take a small glance at her lips before looking up into her eyes and she smirks, also out of breath. fuck, you were caught.

with everyone now practicing the technique, she grabs your hand and pulls you up. “you okay? didn’t go too rough on you?” she places her hands on her hips and looks you up and down so quickly that you could’ve easily missed it if you weren’t paying close attention.

you laugh “no, no, I’m fine. that was pretty crazy. when did you learn how to do all of this shit? I mean, I knew joel had this place obviously but I didn’t know you were involved in it.”

“hm.. well, when joel adopted me I had some.. anger issues, getting into fights all the time. he eventually gave up on trying to ‘change my ways’ and decided to train me how to fight properly so I wouldn’t hurt myself.. tricked me into taking out my aggression elsewhere, so I guess he ended up changing me anyway..” she chuckles “but, yeah I don’t teach or join in on the classes, I do it on my own time. joel’s been booked up so he convinced me to do this for him.” she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly and blushes. you wonder if it’s because she told you something personal or it’s because it’s her first time teaching.

“well.. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your first time. you really know how to command a room. you’re a natural,” you smile at her shyly. “dunno know if I really feel prepared to come up against an attacker though, maybe you could teach me some more.” you mentally pat yourself on the back for your brave attempt at flirting.

she laughs, “oh yeah?” moving closer to you. you look at her briefly before looking away. “mhm!” is what you come up with. jesus christ. she laughs again and nods. “alright, I guess I can make an exception for you and give you some free lessons. I’m gonna go do the closing speech or whatever the fuck joel wanted me to do..” she looks somewhere behind you and her eyes widen. you follow her line of sight and see dina and jesse look away abruptly. okay, suspicious.

as everyone is packing up their belongings, you make your way over to jesse and dina. dina smirks at you, “so?”

“so what..?” you furrow your brows. “how’d it go up there?” before you can respond, ellie comes over and greets you guys. “ellie! ___ and jesse are coming over tonight, you wanna come smoke and chill?” she looks at you as she answers “yeah, sure” she shrugs and then looks over at dina and jesse, “just text me and let me know.”

as you walk to dina’s house, the cold bitter air of winter sends a chill down your spine. all of a sudden you hear a car pulling up next to you and a window rolling down. the sound of a man’s voice has your adrenaline pumping. walking away quickly, you put your phone to your ear and pretend that you’re talking to someone “hey! you think you can help me with some directions? my phone is dead and I’m lost.” your heart is racing and you click off the safety on your pepper spray. another car comes to a screeching halt behind you. a slam of a car door and quick footsteps has you looking back in fear.

ellie comes into your line of sight and puts you behind her, looking at the man with a challenging gaze “is there a fucking problem here?” you hear a flicking sound and look down, eyes widening when you see a switchblade in her hand. he skids off and she manages to take a picture of his plates, putting the switchblade in her back pocket before turning to you. she gently grabs your shoulders and looks at you in concern. “you okay? what happened?” she looks down at your hands and you hadn’t realized until now that you’re shaking. “c’mon.” she grabs your hand and leads you to her car, opening the passenger door for you.

“why are you walking around by yourself? jesus, ___ you could’ve been..” she looks away from you, cutting herself off and shakes her head, clenching her jaw. “I would’ve picked you up.” she starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

“I know! fuck. dina lives so close I thought- yeah it wasn’t smart knowing what’s been happening.” she turns her head to look at you briefly, her gaze softening. “just text me or something next time okay? I don’t want you walking around by yourself, I’ll pick you up.” you nod and take a deep breath. “thanks for the save,” you laugh, trying to soften the mood. she, however does not laugh which makes you even more nervous. great, you think, I pissed her off. she glances at you, noticing your nervous fidgeting. she briefly squeezes your hand “it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe” she gives you a small smile. you feel butterflies in your stomach. the rollercoaster of emotions from fear to anxiety and now to the feelings ellie is giving you are a lot.

“I’m gonna stop back home to show joel the pics of the plates and tell him what happened so he can take it to the authorities or whatever. I don’t really wanna be the one talking to the cops. you want me to drop you off at dina’s first?” she glances at you. “no, it’s cool I’ll come with you.”

ellie’s house can be described as old and rustic. outdated wood paneling lining the walls, decor and photos that give it a country feel, the cozy smell and crackling sound of the lit fireplace flooding your senses.

joel greets you warmly. small town means he’s seen you grow up, being friendly with your parents. his demeanor is rough around the edges with a don’t fuck with me attitude, but also very polite and caring. you now realize how similar ellie is to him.

as ellie explains the fucked up situation which occurred minutes ago, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

dina🤍: dont kill me pls but I have to cancel tonight. my mom found out im failing stats and she’s on the fuckin warpath. ill make it up to u promise xx

me: fuccck i’m at ellies rn she saved me from some shit i’ll tell u ab it later but now i’m nervous help🥲 sorry ab ur mom i’ll pray for ur soul

you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. the internal panic of now having to be alone with ellie settles deep in your gut.

ellie walks over to you “alright, joel said he’s gonna deal with it. you all set to go?”

“did dina text you? check your phone.”

you watch ellie’s eyes glide across her screen and it gives you a moment to ogle over how fucking attractive she is. her long lashes, sharp jawline and freckles more pronounced due to the soft glow from her phone emitting against the low lighting of the room. she looks up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “uhh fuck, well, do you want me to take you home?.. or we can hang out here if you want.” she looks away from you.

“yeah, I’m down to hang” you smile at her. she gives a small smile back and blushes. alright, maybe she feels the same way I do. “okay cool, you wanna smoke and watch a movie?”

smoke hazes around ellie’s dim lit room and the movie in the background is long forgotten. you’re laughing so fucking hard with tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re so high or if ellie is really that funny. “you really decked your foster sibling in the face because he borrowed your savage starlight comic ellie?” she scoffs and throws a pillow at you. “he did not borrow it.. he stole that shit and thought he could get away with it. can’t let people fuck around with you like that in the system. makes you an easy target” she takes another drag of the joint.

“uh-huh,” you grab the joint and take a hit “well, clearly these kids learned not to fuck with the big, bad aggressive ellie huh?” she laughs and rolls her eyes “oh my god, shut up, ___.”

ellie thinks about how she likes that you’re not taking pity on her for her fucked up childhood, and how it’s so easy to talk to you. it feels natural opening up to you, not being able to do that with other people, not even jesse. it makes her like you even more.

you groan as you try to peel your heavy, post high eyes open feeling warmth around you, inhaling a scent filled with clean laundry and a hint of woodsy cologne. you open your eyes and see a sleeping ellie, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. your eyes widen, realizing your head is on her chest and her arm is wrapped around you. you glance over at her clock that reads 3:54am. fuck, you don’t even remember falling asleep. you move slightly trying not to wake ellie to text your mom saying that you fell asleep at dina’s. ellie stirs and groans, pulling you closer to her. fuck it. you don’t know if this will ever happen again. you close your eyes and drift back to sleep.

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! Athlete ‎⚽ೃ⋆˚✿˖°

Hello everyone, I hope wherever you guys are, you're having a wonderful day and night, and if not, good times are to come as you deserve. Thank you all so much for 200 supporters ৎ୭ many more writings are being worked on by me for all of you! Never hesitate to talk to me or request in my ask box.

Oskar was an incredibly well-renowned professional soccer player, his position as the striker for his team. He's mainly known for the amount of goals he can make in such a short amount of time, he's extremely resilient as well. Always attempting to get back into the game even when their coach says he is far too injured to do so.

As every team does after a major win, him and his friends went to a houseparty that always lasted until midnight. Of course, tons of women influencers and even celebrities were invited. Several of his mates shoved cups of Aquavit into his hands, which he'd pretend to drink but just ended up pouring it down the sink. He wasn't into the whole hardcore partying scene as it overstimulated him a bit and being surrounded by intoxicated adults acting as children wasn't his idea of fun. It even disgusted him a bit to see his friends mindlessly making out with several women, one after the other, some even all at once. Despite all of his friends' drunken pleas for him to stay longer, he left early.

When it comes to being a celebrity in a competitive field, many expect for him to enjoy one-night stands and having sex with random people he'd never remember the next morning, but it just overwhelms him. The feeling of hanging out with people that only wanted a mention on his social media, no real connection, made him contort an expression of displeasure.

But, then, there was you.

Admittedly, you weren't that involved in the fandom of sports. The aggression that came with it was incredibly off-putting and even humorous to you at times. However, your friend took the trophy of the biggest soccer fan you've ever met. That's exactly how you ended up in the front row of the most anticipated match of the year, trying to ignore your irrational fear of the soccer ball flying off course and hitting you jn the face.

You didn't notice at first but as you were speaking to your friend about something completely unrelated, they showed the two of you on the Jumbotron. After a few seconds, she turned to look ahead and quickly shook your shoulder as a signal for you to do the same, when you did, you saw yourself on the obnoxiously large screen. You awkwardly smiled while chuckling to yourself, making sure to wave before they moved the camera on to someone else.

What you didn't know was that a specific team member couldn't stop staring at you as they showed you on the screen. Even after, his eyes quickly found your figure and he was done for after that. He kept his eyes on you whenever you could even as the match progressed, you noticed this but didn't mention it as you didn't want to seem self-centered.

After the game was finally over, Oskar did everything in his power to find you in the crowd of people exiting the stadium. It took far too long that he'd liked it to, but, he eventually found you. He snuck through the crowd as carefully as he could in order to not be noticed by buzzing fans and paparazzi. You turned around in surprise after you felt a strong hand on your shoulder, not expecting it to be one of the players you were previously suspicious of.

"Hi, um I just wanted to ask if I could please get your number?" Did you know a lot about sports? No. Did this random soccer player seem nice? Yes. Was he incredibly handsome? YES.

"Oh, yes, of course." You said before typing your phone number into a blank contact profile.

Your friend kept on shaking you by your shoulders and squealing about how THE Oskar Andersen basically just asked you out.

Oskar and you talked everyday from then on, he'd always ask you the most attentive questions, telling you about how his practice went, sending you voice memos throughout the day. When the two of you decided to meet up and go on a date, he wanted to make sure the first official impression of his was perfect. Oskar had taken into consideration the stuff you'd mentioned of enjoying and listed places you talked to him about wanting to see and visit.

This man looks at you as if you're the reason his day is brightened by the sun, as if you're the answer to all of his callings and questions, because to him? You are.

When the two of you are having a day out at a restaurant, he'll look at you and gently rub his index finger and thumb onto your bottom lip, then chin. Looking at you with his heavily lashed doe eyes as you try and hide yourself away as a reaction to his strong gaze of pure admiration.

Oskar is the type of guy to practically cuddle with you on a couch even when at a house party. Draping his hand over your thigh, kneading the soft and supple skin, a smile growing onto his face as he listens to you ramble on about things he knows nothing about. He absolutely loves showing you around his snow ridden hometown and introducing you to food from his culture. Walking into a warm cafe that's lit by white bullish candlesticks, serving + brewing coffee and Nordic pastries with welcoming paintings nailed to the wooden walls.

When it comes to intimacy, Oskar is quite timid about the subject. He has a pretty sturdy and strong build so he takes an extra effort to be as gentle as he can whilst the two of you are being confidential with each other. Shaky hands floating above your hips, spreading soft kisses on your anticipating body and making sure you know just how much he admires you for so much more than your body.

As I'm sure you've all seen, several soccer fans tend to be really hard on the spouses of their favorite players. Claiming their girlfriends as, "gold diggers" and "attention seekers", half of the time, their boyfriends never defend them. Oskar, on the other hand, doesn't hold back when it comes to backing you up. He'll bring up all of your accomplishments, the fact you never needed him to support you financially and he will leave the original poster absolutely humiliated with his response.

Being called out by your favorite soccer player? Surprisingly, not so fun!

He wishes so badly that someone would talk badly about you in front of him just so he could take them into a private area and make sure they're never seen by the public again. His father taught him to always respect the women around him, even if he wasn't particularly interested in them romantically.

Maybe he took his father's advice a little too far when it came to you but he really couldn't care less. He loves you so why not show it in all the ways he can?

He genuinely believes that anyone who says they wouldn't kill for those they love, don't actually love those people. Because, why do you have limits on your love?

If any of his teammates complain about him spending too much time with you, he'll quite literally corner them in a barren area of the locker room and threaten them to the point where they fear even saying your name.

"I've always known you were a jealous guy. Just because I have something you'll never be able to get doesn't mean you have to be such a sulking baby about it."

He can be a bit cruel but never towards you.

Spectators will notice the extra aggression he's showing the opposing team and that specific team member of his. He's shoving people and punching their shoulders, this could've earned him a red card but he's a bit favored due to his constant stellar performance.

[backwardsbread]

Your “Hazbin Hotel Characters Forgetting an Anniversary” has become a comfort post of mine. You did such a good job with it and did amazing in capturing their personalities as well!

I was wondering if I could request an Adam fic? Like one where he realizes that he actually cares about reader, but he goes about showing that in the strangest ways? He may be a massive obnoxious jerk in the show, but he somehow made his way to being a favorite of mine in the show.

My heart- opening my inbox and seeing this made my day-

I’ve also been obsessing over Adam fics lately so seeing something with Adam get requested made me SO happy! I am happy to oblige~!

Adam x Gn!Angel!Reader

~Feelings are Fucked~

Warnings‼️: Adam being Adam, mutual pining, swearing, maybe OOC?

~Not proofread~

Listen. I don’t gotta tell you that Adam is always up his own ass.

Dude is OBSESSED with himself.

He would be the type of guy to be like;

“Oh yeah, have you heard of the BIBLE?? I’m kinda in it, no big deal.”

He’s on his own mind 99.9% of the time. His needs, wants, desires.

He’s so Self centered it’s not even funny-

So IMAGINE how he feels when you start to pick your way into his thoughts. And he has no idea why.

(Obviously Adam was the superior being, why should you have all people be on his mind??)

It’s easy for him to brush away these random thoughts of you. He could easily distract himself with material things to get his mind off the topic.

Eventually when distractions stop working, he feels like he’s going crazy.

He’s got a lot of things to do in Heaven, yet you feel like the most important ones to him.

I can see Adam being a huge flirt in the beginning. If he can get you to fall for him as hard as he has for you, he’ll consider it a win.

But he doesn’t really realize how much of a dick he comes off as. He absolutely makes a fool of himself majority of the time.

Gives the vibe of him saying something lowkey offensive while laughing and you just staring at him blankly and asked ‘What’s so funny?’

It’s frustrating for him how he can’t seem to get to you.

He doesn’t ask for advice from anybody, but I can definitely see Lute giving her 2 cents while Adam is ranting about how ‘annoying’ you are.

Her biggest piece of advice being for him to just stfu sometimes and actually listen to you.

Adam will never admit how much that actually helped him, it seemed like such a simple solution that he just hadn’t been doing.

So instead of being this overbearing flirt, he’ll just listen to you talk, occasionally chiming in with his own banter. Through this he learns a lot more about you.

And he makes an effort to show you he’s been listening.

You mention your favorite candy? He grabs some for you whenever he’s out getting snacks.

You mention a favorite scent of yours? Suddenly his whole house smells like it whenever you come over.

Got a favorite flower? He just so happened to see some at the garden and brings you one.

Of course he makes sure to follow up his kind gestures with a flirty or snarky remark. Trying to be this big tough guy despite how sweet he’s being to you.

He doesn’t realize how much of a total sap he’s being and how obvious his feelings are for you.

I can totally see Adam’s love language being gift giving and physical touch.

He’s not good with words. Never has been, never will be.

So he often shows his care for you by poking your side or cheek, resting his head or chin on your shoulder, ruffling your hair, or keeping one of his wings behind your back to make sure your close to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adam was walking along the streets of heaven with you, ranting about how his superior Sera, was supposedly being a Karen.

In his words she ‘wouldn’t get off his dick’ about his behavior and language. You listened to Adam’s ranting, letting him express his frustrations despite how petty the situation might’ve been. You occasionally let out hums of acknowledgment and nod towards him to show you were listening.

While you’re paying attention to him, a few angels who seemed to be in a rush, nearly bump into you from behind. Adam catches a glimpse of the angels coming your guys’ way, and extends his wing out to shield you from the other angels.

He grabs your hand, bringing you closer to him while his wing wraps around your torso. He waits for the angels to pass by, giving them an extremely fake smile as they flew by. Once they were out of sight, Adam’s smile falls and he grumbles to himself, pulling his wing back to his side.

“Stupid, fucking… can’t watch where they’re going?”

He keeps your hand in his own, continuing to grumble how some angels needed to mind their business and watch where they were going. The two of you continue to walk, but Adam’s voice seems to drown out, and you can only really focus on your hand in his own.

Sure Adam had been affectionate to you many times, but never in public. It wasn’t something that bothered you either. You just felt anxious butterflies fly around your stomach, a sense of pride welling up in your chest that Adam was holding your hand. As the two of you are about to reach your destination, you finally speak up to Adam before you would have to depart from him.

“Hey, are you.. doing anything.. tomorrow evening?”

You ask, scratching the back of your neck a bit with your free hand. Warmth spreads across your face as Adam just kind of stares at you for a moment, pondering.

“Uhh, got a few boring ass meetings after noon, but otherwise, I’m chilling for the rest of the night.”

“Would you.. want to go out to dinner tomorrow? If you’re up for it.”

Your question seemed to go over Adam’s head of what your intentions were. Free food was free food, (and time spent with you was a plus)

He lets his ego take over for a bit, putting a proud hand over his chest. His grin shines across his mask, spreading from ear to ear.

“I suppose I can make some time for you. As long as I get to pick the place.”

You can’t help but chuckle, face flushing hues of pink when Adam agreed. You smile brightly, finally letting go of Adam’s hand.

“Sounds good! Let’s say around 5 or 6?”

“Don’t rush me babes, I’ll text ya when I’m headed over.”

Adam says nonchalantly, crossing his arms. Despite his attitude, you watch his eyes shift away from you, avoiding your gaze. He’s embarrassed and you can tell by how his guard started to come back up. You had learned these little telltale signs Adam had. You chuckle, simply waving to Adam, wishing him good luck on his meeting and telling him you’ll see him tomorrow.

Adam smiles genuinely, giving a small wave back, before turning towards the large angelic building to head inside. Lute was waiting by the door for him and she just so happened to hear your guys’ little exchange. Adam’s whistling to himself, his heart beating fast in his chest but he can’t put his finger on the exact reason as to why.

Lute looks towards him, raising a suspicious brow. She sighs seeing how Adam was oblivious to what he had just agreed to. While holding the door open for Adam to enter the building, she speaks.

“You know they just asked you on a date, right?”

Adam’s whistling comes to a complete stop, his body freezing where he stood. Lute glances up at him, pressing her lips together so she doesn’t laugh at Adam’s look of shock.

“They fuckin’ what??”

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 1

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader, minor Colin Shea x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,873

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking, sex mention, exhibitionism (from unhappy observer's POV), explicit language, bad boyfriend, self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. The reader's having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Alright you guys, prepare yourselves for a lot of angst and a sloooow burn. The focus and goal of this story is definitely Curtis x Reader, but as it starts, Colin x Reader is the actual couple. This first part is in Curtis’s pov, but the plan is to alternate povs by chapter.

I hope you love this Curtis as much as I do. If you could let me know what you think with a comment or reblog, I'd appreciate it so much. Thank you for reading, lovelies! 💜

Curtis hated this job. 

The sounds of lewd moans and the repeated banging of a headboard hitting the wall filtered through the bedroom door into the common area of the large hotel suite. The new guy, Jensen, shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the small bar off the kitchenette, his eyes frequently cutting to the bedroom door.

“Just ignore it. It’s none of our business.” Curtis growled from his place at the island.

“Right. Sure,” Jensen nodded and just kept looking towards the room. Curtis rolled his eyes. He’d get used to it. 

The stylist and hair and makeup people were already set up in the 2nd bedroom. They’d been due to start 20 minutes ago. Michelle, your assistant, came careening out of that room and stopped dead in the center of the living room, locking eyes with Curtis. “We don’t have time for this!” she pleaded with him.

Curtis sighed and nodded and walked over to the bedroom. He banged on the door three times with the side of his fist bellowing, “Time to get going!” He really hated this job. 

“What the fuck???” cried a masculine voice from inside, quickly followed by your own uncontrollable giggles. 

Five minutes later, you finally came out dressed in a robe from the hotel, your hair all over the place. A man followed you, dressed only in his boxers. Colin. He’d been around for a few months. He was a rockstar, but in Curtis’s opinion, everyone was using that term loosely. He was in a band that was working on its sophomore album. Curtis only knew this because the guy wouldn't shut up about it. He wasn’t any worse than the other fuck boys you usually dated, but he certainly wasn’t the best of them either. Colin collapsed onto one of the loveseats, legs spread wide, and helped himself to the fresh fruit that was laid out on the coffee table.

“Ok!” you said when you got to the center of the room, hands on your hips, megawatt smile fully on display. It was always so blinding, even when he was annoyed with you, like now. “Where am I needed?”

“Go in there, please!” Michelle pointed. “We’re running so late!”

You just laughed. “Which is why you always build extra time into the schedule. Calm down, we’re fine.”

Curtis walked over to Colin and nudged one of his shoes with his own foot to get his attention. “Get dressed,” he growled. “It’s time for you to go.”

“Oh! He’s coming with us,” you said, just as you disappeared into the room, Michelle right on your heels.

Colin smirked obnoxiously up at him and wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Fine,” Curtis gritted out. “I assume you’ll be wearing clothes when we leave?”

Colin stood up and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Curty boy, I’ll get myself all pretty for you” and then went back into the main bedroom.

Curtis ran his hands down his face and stared up at the ceiling as he tried to calm himself. He hated this job. Maybe it was time to get into corporate security. Anything had to be better than this.

As he was thinking, Jensen cleared his throat behind him. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes,” he growled out without turning around, and then went to get an updated ETA from Michelle.

Curtis had been with you for almost two years now. Your team had brought him on during the stalking incident at the MTV Movie Awards. That situation had luckily been resolved quickly, but he'd stayed on after. 

On paper, the job was simple. Keep the house secure. Make sure strangers don't get close enough to touch you. Keep your parents as far away from you as possible. Always know the exits. Easy enough.

And he’d been surprised to find that he actually liked you. Outside of the clubs and parties, the VIP sections and private rooms. When you were easier to imagine as just a normal person. You weren’t as entitled as he’d expected. You worked hard and seemed to want to do a good job, even if you couldn’t keep to a schedule to save your life. Sometimes he felt like the wild streak was just something you put on, an obligation. But that was a ridiculous observation. He just worked for you. He didn’t actually know you.  

So it’d been a good job for a while, but at some point the balance between wild child and committed actress started to shift. And with that, the hours got longer, the entourage got bigger, the parties got wilder. The fuck boys got worse. It was taking its toll on him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do it.

Curtis was standing in the green room of the talk show, watching your interview on the large TV mounted on one wall. Tanya, your publicist, stood near him, her arms crossed and brow furrowed as she watched, while Michelle sat on the couch, going through emails, and Colin parked himself in front of the food that had been laid out, now on his third beer. 

“She’s stiff,” Tanya remarked to no one in particular.

“Yeah, cause you wouldn’t let her have any of that,” Colin said, gesturing with a piece of meat in his hand to the ice bucket full of alcoholic drinks on the coffee table. Tanya had instituted a strict ‘no substances before interviews’ policy after the last time you’d done Kimmel and the interview had gotten a little too loose.

“She’s doing fine,” Michelle said, without looking up from her computer, but Curtis had to agree with Tanya. You did seem stiff. Uncomfortable. But he knew it had more to do with the current topic than any external factors. They’d dedicated an entire segment to the show you were on as a kid. It’s what made you famous. You never really talked about it. Didn’t seem to like to, but it almost always came up in interviews. Sometimes you laughed through it and it was fine, but other times it was more like what was happening now. He wouldn’t say that he knew or understood you, but he could read you and right now he could see, under your smiles and giggles that would fool anyone who didn’t spend their days watching you, that you were coming apart at the seams. He prepped a text to Jensen, telling him to pull the car around and saved it so all he’d have to do was hit send. Then he just waited for the interminable interview to end, clenching and unclenching his fists as he watched you put all your energy into just getting through it. 

Finally the conversation wrapped up and the host threw to a commercial after announcing the next guest. Curtis sent the text, grabbed a bottle of water from the ice bucket, and was already almost through the door and into the hallway when Colin exclaimed, “What the fuck?! She was supposed to mention my tour!”

Curtis was sure there was some sort of reaction to that, but he wasn’t around to see it because you were already coming around the corner, being led by a PA. You locked eyes with him and as soon as you were close enough for him to hear, you whispered, “Get me the fuck out of here.” He nodded and herded you down the hall, around several corners, until you got to a little enclave under a set of stairs with several plush armchairs. 

“Jensen’s bringing the car around,” he said gently, handing you the water bottle he’d been holding. “We can go out the back way. But I figured you might want a few minutes by yourself first.” You nodded absently, clutching the bottle of water in both hands. “I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll be just over there if–”

“Can you stay?” you interrupted, gazing up at him with pleading eyes.

Surprised, he asked, “You want me to?”

You nodded again and said softly, “Please.”

“Ok. Of course I’ll stay.” 

You just stood there for a moment, gazing down the dark hallway in front of you before you finally said, “I don’t get why they always have to ask about it. It ended over ten years ago. Like, who fucking cares? And the show was shit anyway.”

Curtis just stood and watched you, not sure what you wanted him to say, if anything at all.

“Like, I was a kid. I wasn’t even any good, you know? I’m just so fucking tired of talking about it. I don’t know why anyone wants to talk about it. It’s not like I have any good stories. Nothing good happened.” You seemed to catch yourself there and cut a wary glance to Curtis then shook your head. “I told Tanya that I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. That I wouldn’t answer any more questions. And she said that was ‘unrealistic,’ so here we are.”

 Curtis let the silence carry for a moment, making sure you had nothing else to say, then, softly, "I'm really sorry you have to do that. That isn’t fair to you."

You looked up at him at that, something akin to shock on your face and you shook your head at him. “What? No. No, It’s fine. I’m– I’m being dumb. It’s not that big a deal. I’m just being ridiculous. Like always.”

He really hated it when you did that, wormed your way in and made him feel deep, unrelenting empathy for you. It’d been happening more and more often lately. He needed to get out. “I don’t think you’re being ridiculous.”

You just stared at him for several moments and for the first time in ages, he couldn’t read what was on your face. Finally, you shook yourself out of whatever had been happening and said, “We should really get going, shouldn’t we? Can we go? I’m just making everyone wait, like usual."

His hands itched to reach out to you, touch you, but you didn't need that right now. Maybe not ever. Not from him. So instead he nodded and said, "Yeah, we can go," letting Jensen and Michelle know you were on your way. 

"You're such a fucking asshole!" you yelled in the alley behind a club in West Hollywood, hours later. You were drunk. Very drunk. Curtis really hated this job.

"I didn't do anything!" Colin threw his arms up in exasperation. 

"She was in your fucking lap!"

Curtis was standing by the door for now, hoping he wouldn't have to hold you back. Or, he thought, as he watched you sway dangerously, hold you up. 

“She just sat down. What was I supposed to do? Push her off?”

“You certainly weren’t supposed to put your arms around her!” You were getting really worked up now and Curtis readied himself to intervene. Jensen was supposed to be bringing the car. Where the fuck was he?

“I was being nice to a fan!” Colin shouted when Curtis saw a light out of the corner of his eye at the mouth of the alley. When he turned to look, there was a man standing there with his phone out. Shit.

He walked along the wall of the building, trying not to draw attention to himself. Luckily you and Colin were providing plenty of distraction so he was able to get close and snatch the phone away before the man noticed him there.

“Hey!” he shouted. “That’s my personal property! You can’t do that.”

“Uh huh,” Curtis said as he stopped and permanently deleted the current video and went back into the man’s photos to check for anything else. There were two more videos and a smattering of pictures. He’d gotten the whole fight. You did not need that all over the internet tomorrow. He deleted it all and then handed the phone back to the man who’d been yelling and swearing the whole time. Curtis pulled himself up to his full height and loomed over him, then said, “I better not see you again. You have a good night.” He glared and waited for the man to back down and walk away then headed back to you. You and Colin were still screaming at each other, but the topic seemed to have shifted.

“You’re so fucking selfish, you know that?” Colin yelled at you. “I ask for one thing and you can’t even do that.”

“It was my job! I was there to promote my movie, not your failing tour!”

“You’re a fucking bitch,” Colin said, as Jensen finally pulled up in the SUV. Thank god, because every muscle in Curtis’s body wanted to lay the asshole out flat, and if he’d had to wait one more moment for the car, he might have. 

“Hey!” Curtis yelled. “That’s enough!” he said to Colin and then turned to you. “Are you ok?” You nodded, but brushed a tear away. Fucking asshole. Keeping his eyes on you he asked, “We’re going now. Is he coming with us?”

“No!” you snarled. “Definitely not.” He nodded and opened the back door of the car.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” Colin pouted. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t care!” You yelled over your shoulder as you got in the car. “Get a goddamn Uber!”

Curtis was about to check in with you one more time, but you’d already slid to the other side of the car and were now staring out the window, so he shut the door and got into the front seat with Jensen. 

You were quiet on the hour long drive back to your house. Curtis looked back frequently to make sure you hadn’t passed out, but you were just staring out the window as the city zoomed by. He let you be while he conversed softly with Jensen about the rest of the night and the agenda for tomorrow.

When they got to your house and Curtis opened the car door for you, you looked up at him, surprised. “Hey,” he said quietly, “we’re here.” 

You didn’t really respond, just kept looking at him for a few minutes. Then your gaze shifted to your back door and your lip quivered. “You’re coming in, right?”

He stifled a sigh. He was really hoping he’d be able to get away with just dropping you off tonight, maybe doing a quick walk-through to convince you all was well and then finally taking off. It’d been such a long day. But instead, he nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming in.”

Jensen poked his head out the driver’s side window as Curtis helped you out. “Do you want me to wait?” he asked.

Curtis shook his head. “No, it’s late. You go ahead and put the car away and take off. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jensen nodded and gave him a quick wave. 

Curtis guided you inside and turned on the lights. He checked your security panel to make sure everything was as it should be and then guided you to the kitchen. “You want something to eat?” he asked and you nodded. He wasn’t used to you being this quiet and it was throwing him off.

He went to the fridge and pulled out one of the dinners your housekeeper had left for you. He threw it in your microwave and then grabbed you a glass of water.

“I’m so tired,” you said.

“I know,” he said, “you can eat this and then go right to bed.”

“No,” you shook your head, “that’s not–” You frowned but didn’t say anything else, just placidly looked around yourself.

The microwave beeped and he took your food out, putting the dish and a fork in front of you.

Staring into your living room, you said, “I kind of hate this house.”

He had no idea what to say to that. He looked through your open plan first floor. Everything was gray and glass. Fresh flowers on multiple surfaces made it seem slightly less empty, but he’d always thought it felt cold. Cavernous. “You could move.”

You just hummed and turned to your food. You ate a few bites and drank some water. Just as he was gearing up to tell you goodnight and get out of there, you looked him dead in the eye and said “I think you might be the only person who actually cares what I want.”

The shock that flooded his system must have registered on his face, because you immediately started backpedaling. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so out of it. Just ignore me. I’m fine. Just ignore me.” He whispered your name and you shook your head. “No, you’re right. I should go to bed. I’m sorry. Goodnight Curtis.” And with that you got up and went upstairs to your bedroom, leaving him dumbfounded, standing alone in the middle of your kitchen. 

After a few minutes he pulled himself together, put your leftovers in the fridge and your glass in the dishwasher. He turned off all the lights and let himself out.   

He paused on your step and leaned his head against your door.

He really fucking hated this job.

But he knew he’d never be able to quit.

Part Two

[velvetvexations]

can I be honest I feel like people in the fandoms (and to an extent the IH) treatment of KLCK compared to Fabian is a clear case of misogyny

our rich privileged soft boy vs their rich privileged annoying bitch

our boy who makes race insensitive remarks sometimes but it's not his fault vs their bitch whose mental issues make her make bad remarks in private

our self centered but adorable cute boy vs their self centered narcissistic bitch

idk if I'm onto anything honestly I'm very tired and have my brain on npd mode and if I posted anything about KLCK's mental issues on the subreddit I'd be ridiculed so I need to scream at someone who gets it. hope you've been doing okay! fbdnfnds

Brennan really honeypotted all the NPD members of the D20 fandom with her, huh?

But I think you're half-right. The immediate and insane reaction to KLCK having an annoying tone of voice and going hogwild on her to the extent that the fandom did, especially the infinite repetition of calling her bitch and cunt, definitely smacks of misogyny. There are other factors, though, chiefly the parasocial relationship making the fandom not only reflect but greatly amplify the opinions of the Intrepid Heroes. Like, if Brennan said he didn't like mustard this fandom would riot in the streets until mustard was removed from store shelves. With Siobhan and Ally going as hard as they did on despising KLCK, the urge to partake in the activity with your fake internet celebrity best friends did what it does.

The fact that Kipperlilly's parents were in the housing market in particular did not do her any favors. Like, the fans call Brennan a decolonial philosopher. Like I've said a few times before because it's the perfect metaphor, the fandom loves to LARP the Cultural Revolution - and that's barely even a metaphor as opposed to just literally what they're actually doing. The political aspect combines with the parasocial one, too, because now you're saving the world with your fake internet celebrity best friends. The moment, I mean the exact moment I started getting into KLCK, because up until then I was right there with everyone else going wHaT aRe YoU FoUr DiFfErEnT DoGs, was when I noticed fans on Reddit calling her a nepo baby. I started a thread about it trying to just, like, educate these children on what that term actually means and the replies drove me completely out of my mind.

So it's like, Fabian mainly gets a pass because he's a PC, because the fandom is wrapped around the cock of every PC and stubbornly refuses to accept them as anything less than perfect baby angels. Like I said, though, you are for sure correct in identifying that misogynistic element of how fans pounced on KLCK and identified her as a bitchy cunt bitch whore because her energy is very slightly grating. Or really, not even grating, honestly? Like she's clearly supposed to come off as obnoxious, but she's nothing but polite and mildly cheerful all the way up until "I want you to go fuck yourself", and even THAT was in response to the Bad Kids picking a fight.

[crymeariveronceagain]

Angsty Biana Aesthetic because i dont want to move to a brand new city

Think my brain is rotting in places. I think my heart is ready to die. I think my body is falling in pieces. I think my blood is passing me by.

But if I gave up on being pretty, I wouldn't know how to be alive;

I should move to a brand new city and teach myself how to die.

But you need your rotten heart, Your dazzling pain like diamond rings, You need to go to war to find material to sing.

What strange claws are these scratching at my skin? I never knew my killer would be coming from within.

It's so boring to not be yanking muscle off of a woman's bone. Everybody hates the, everyone hates the un-relatable, And I love to place two of 'em in the arena of the public's eye And try and get 'em to fight about something dumb and we pick sides 'Cause staring at her too long made our life look like muted pastels--- We'll love you if you just make us feel better about ourselves!

Everybody supports women until a woman's doing better than you; Everybody wants you to love yourself until you actually do.

It was something about her hair--- So perfectly fallen. She was nice and smart and funny and got everything she wanted.

And she does charity! Isn't that the most obnoxious thing you've heard? Her popularity--- She's too pretty for her own good. She's probably self-centered; We hate her and she's nothing---

If everybody leaves her, Then she had it coming.

// "Brand New City" by Mitski // "King" by Florence + The Machine // "Everybody Supports Women" by Sofia Isella //

[coquelicoq]

hmmm for the shipping meme! matonato and hankim or yoohankim?

[ID: A graph with the x-axis labeled "makes sense" on the left and "doesn't make sense" on the right and the y-axis labeled "compels me" at the top and "doesn't compel me" at the bottom. points labeled MN for matonato, HK for hankim, and YHK for yoohankim have been situated on the grid: MN in the top left (makes sense, compels me), HK at the top and to the right of MN (makes some sense, compels me), and two points labeled YHK, one slightly above and to the left of the center (makes some sense, compels me some) and one in the bottom right (doesn't make sense, doesn't compel me). /end ID]

wow this threw me off because for some reason i assumed that makes sense would be on the right instead of the left! so hopefully i made all the necessary corrections to what i originally wrote lol.

matonato: makes sense, compels me. probably obnoxiously obvious to everyone at this point. do they get a happy ending? i mean it's very fun to think about and i love me a good actually-together-matonato concept, but probably the most compelling thing about them is the star-crossed aspect. it's not will they won't they, it's why they why not they. why do they want this and why can they never have it? it's, how can i make this about natori's self-hatred? it's, who is matoba if he quits the exorcist business? (EXTREMELY JUICY AND COMPELLING QUESTION 2 B ASKING.) it's, what changes in their individual priorities and self-conception would be necessary before they could get together? asking myself these questions and understanding why they in their current forms can't be in a relationship helps me to better articulate who exactly they are and what motivates them and gives me avenues for thinking about possible character development. but like i said i do really love thinking about matonato endgame, and even though i know it's never going to be canon (which it doesn't need to be, obviously! we are in our sandbox making our own dreams come true), i'm reading the homura arc like girl why did you do that. where are you going with this??? fellas is it gay to stalk your homoerotic rival's enemies and the answer is a resounding YES. they are a good ship because thinking about each of them in the context of the other expands my understanding and appreciation of their individual characters, but also because it would be sexy for them to mash their mouths together. both are very important elements of shipping 2 me.

hankim: i want to say this is one of the most compelling relationships in orv but they are all compelling, it's actually insane. however hankim is definitely tied for first (with twenty other relationships). her love for him is the beating heart of the story. like the entire plot hinges around her loving him so much she would [redacted], but also the central themes are exemplified by how she feels about him and what she does about it. and he trusts her in a way he can't really trust anyone else, because she knows enough about the world that he can be open with her about things he can't tell others, and because he trusts her to be competent and able to achieve his objectives. mostly to me though their relationship Is About her love for him because of how badly he needs it and how little he can understand it, and how central it is to his entire character that he needs but cannot understand receiving that kind of love. i have not yet succeeded in imagining any kind of compelling sexual relationship for them, except the somewhat indirect one where he gives her permission to make a kim-dokja-looking avatar with which to fuck yoo joonghyuk while kim dokja is elsewhere minding his own business, but that's fine, they don't need to be having sex to have a compelling relationship, obviously. so yeah it's compelling af and it does make sense, but i'm taking some sense points off because the kdj-to-hsy direction is pretty standard shipping material while the opposite direction is like the entire point of the book. it's a lil unbalanced.

yoohankim: this ship fascinates me because i definitely never would have come up with it myself. hankim? see above. yookim? see below. but yoohan - DESPITE THE WHOLE DEAL AROUND WHO YOO JOONGHYUK IS AND HOW HE GOT THAT WAY - are just like. Only Here For Kim Dokja. any relationship they have with each other is a proxy for a relationship with kim dokja, mediated by their feelings for kim dokja, and put through the sieve of who the other person is to kim dokja. i think they have a very psychosexual thing going on where they're having a lot of sex with each other but mostly in order to feel close to kim dokja, who is not involved lol. which is its own kind of compelling, certainly. i guess you could say yoohankim is the ONLY way that yoohan makes any sort of sense to me whatsoever, so in that regard yoohankim is squarely in the northwest quadrant. but at the same time i feel like if kim dokja is actually present, their relationship with each other is more like in-laws than anything else. it's indirect. they don't have divorced energy…they don't even have metamour energy. i don't know. they're like this is my sister's mailman and i have no idea what he's doing at my nephew's piano recital, which is insane to me because they should have (nonsexual) parent-child energy if nothing else. so i also have to put yoohankim in the southeast quadrant. so far this is where most yoohankim fic i have read falls, but probably i just haven't yet found the one that would unlock it for me.

to close the loop i gotta talk about yookim (joongdok). the most enjoyable thing about it to me personally is that yoo joonghyuk so clearly wants kim dokja to hold him down and it's very fun to see kim dokja have to shift his entire paradigm to make that make sense. i mean, i think all of kimcom wants to hold kim dokja down (most of them nonsexually imo), but yoo joonghyuk is the one guy who's like "if you would just stop trying to kill yourself for two seconds then i could let you out of these handcuffs so you could have your way with me. you bastard." they make me crazy because they work together SO well and trust each other SO implicitly while also being like, wow this idiot has terrible priorities and so i have to manipulate him into furthering my agenda (keeping him safe) instead of his agenda (keeping me safe). they're also that evergreen combo of guy with low self-worth who's oblivious to other people's love for him/guy who loves so hard but never uses his words about it that makes me wanna read about them getting together 100 different times. in a slightly different sense than with matonato, thinking about them as a twosome better elucidates aspects of their own individual personalities and worldviews, which makes for a compelling shipping experience.

[serpentinespider]

Earth-6198 Flash ref!! Yippee!!

His appearance and personality are based almost entirely off of MCU Flash (with some of my own personal touches obviously), though the reasons he acts the way he acts are different. I also took several aspects from the comics, story-wise. He’s probably the character I’ve put the most thought into for this AU. I love him dearly :]

Abbreviated info under the cut! (It’s still pretty long, though.) Content warning for ableism.

I wouldn’t call Flash a bully exactly, because that would imply aggression; he’s just, well, a teenage boy. He also comes from a pretty wealthy family, which makes him entitled, plus his parents don’t really give him any positive attention. He makes insensitive jokes and generally tries to keep himself as the center of attention because he’s insecure and seeks approval from his peers. Will do pretty much anything to be liked, and if that fails he’ll act out for attention. He’s very resentful of anyone he considers to be smarter or “better” than him. Flash has a running rivalry with Harry Osborn. Harry is somewhat GNC, has stereotypically “cringe” interests, and is disabled (t1d) so he’s an easy target for Flash’s mean jokes. (Flash thinks that he’s “allowed” to make ableist jokes at others’ expense because he himself is disabled.) 

Flash has cerebral palsy which affects his fine motor skills and ability to walk. His parents got him into physical therapy as early as possible, and he responded well to it— but not well enough for their liking. In Harrison Thompson’s mind, the goal wasn’t to improve Flash’s quality of life, but to “fix” him. Flash grew up with his parents constantly looking down on him, insinuating that his disabilities were his own fault. Sentiments like “you just have to work harder to compensate; if you fall behind, it’s because you’re not trying hard enough” were common. He’s taken that mentality to heart, and has very little self-worth + large amounts of pent-up stress and anger that he takes out at anyone else who is also “abnormal” (hence his meanness towards Harry). 

He has also latched onto Spider-Man as a more… positive(?) reflection of these feelings— his father, who’s a police chief, hates Spidey, so liking him is like Flash’s small way of going against the stuff his parents say (even if it’s subconscious/he doesn’t fully know that’s why). 

In sophomore year, Flash dated Felecia Hardy. They were the world’s most obnoxious couple, always getting in very public fights, breaking up but then getting back together dramatically a week later, etc. Felecia and Flash both have huge crushes on Spider-man, leading Flash to have a sexuality crisis and Felecia to break up with him for good after a few months of dating.

Black Cat was commissioned by an anonymous benefactor to steal an “alien clone” from Alchemax… she’d never done anything NEARLY on that level, but she was being offered a lot of money so she agreed. She did manage to steal the thing, but the deal fell through, and suddenly she had one lab-grown alien and no money to show for it.  At a loss for anything else to do, panicking a little, Felicia dumped the alien onto the only person she could think of: her ex-boyfriend Flash. 

Now, despite what his parents might tell him, Flash is very smart, and figured out what the thing was. Flash is, at first, very hyped about this. His first thought is, of course, to become a vigilante like his idol Spider-Man. Flash has a strong desire to be useful— not in the “I want to help other people” sense but in the “I need to prove to others that I have worth” sense. So, he crafted the Anti-Venom identity for himself!

Around this time, Spider-Man was in the process of fighting his first big villain, Hobgoblin, so the two ended up teaming up to try and take her down (in the least violent way possible). This caused some internal conflict for both Flash and Spidey… 

Flash centered his whole identity around "fitting in" to the point that he actually has no identity of his own. He doesn’t know what he likes, he has no concept af his own style outside of mimicking others that he sees as influential, obviously the most prominent of these being Spider-Man. Which obviously comes with its own twisted irony since Spidey himself is so insecure in his own masculinity (mainly because he’s trans). The two of them were sort of trapped in this feedback loop of insecurity and validation when they first teamed up... Spidey longs for connection, but was unable feel comfortable around Flash as he felt like he has to perform to live up to Flash’s expectations. Meanwhile Flash had based his whole personality off of liking Spider-Man and put on this macho facade to try and impress him. But that just made Spidey feel more inferior, afraid he isn’t passing well enough, etcetera… their dynamic made even more complex by Flash’s very obvious (and unrequited) crush on Spidey.  They’re awful, I love them :3

[bewareblaire]

Green: Yan. Monoma Neito x Reader

a/n: i love my blond bitch /affectionate

cw: toxic behaviours, self harm, jealousy, possessiveness, manipulation.

It infuriated him. Knowing his darling, his possession, was with someone else. It ate him up inside, destroying what little patience he had left. He couldn't stand it. Monoma watched with a clenched fist around his fork. They were with her again- they always were! He couldn't get a single drop of attention these days. Left on read, ignored to hang out with that damned whore.

They were acting as though they were blissfully unaware of his feelings! Were they even thinking of him?? Ignoring him to sit a few tables down with her. They smiled, they laughed- He was the only one who should be able to do that! He missed her so much- it hurt. The sight of them together made his blood boil.

He wanted- no needed, them to come back. Monoma couldn't stand this- it was so wrong, so twistedly disgusting. The blond felt sick, desperate for their attention. He would kill himself if it meant his corpse could spend time with them- like good old times.

Monoma was stuck on the outside, a wedge driven between him and his darling. He had to do something. Anything to get them to choose him over her. His thoughts quickly spiraled out of control, a fleeting thought of killing that whore. That'd solve the problem. Tying them down and dumping bug after bug down their throat- pouring water into their mouth to force them to swallow the live insects. It'd show her how much he was suffering without his love- how angry he was.

Monoma had the urge to wrap his hands around the neck of his beloved and squeeze. He wanted to hold that pressure until they didn't pay attention to anyone anymore. Until they were limp and lifeless. But he quickly shook those thoughts away- no. No, his darling was much too precious. He loved them. He couldn't kill them.

It's too risky to kill anyone. The voice of reason came back. Monoma would get caught. It dwindled down- all rationale leaving. A flare of jealousy and possessiveness spiked upwards. That damned whore placed her filthy hands on his property. She laughed obnoxiously, trying to be cute. He wanted to vomit.

The rest of the day went by too slowly for Monoma. Most of it was spent much too quiet for his classmates' standards, although he couldn't help but be in a horrid mood. He plotted, thinking of ways to lure his darling back to him. And at the end of the day, he finally figured out what he had to do.

The pictures of his once pristine and milky thighs- now lined with superficial cuts- got his darling running back quickly. Monoma almost forgot to put up the distraught act, latching onto them. The crocodile tears were just that- insincere. Although, he could cry from joy. Monoma was finally the center of their attention again!

He had felt so utterly alone, so angry and tortured without their presence. And now they were reunited! The tears in their eyes, the concern and worry- he almost got drunk off of it. Monoma spilled all of his artificial reasons, letting it slip that he had felt so alone and abandoned. 

Monoma didn't have to convince his darling to stay with him that night. He cuddled right up to them with a grin. That whore wasn't a problem anymore.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Seventeen

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Reader Woke Up Chooses Danger and Ignores Morpheus, Vomiting.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.2k

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“You are going to do what!?” You hissed at Morpheus as Matthew looked between the two of you. “Are you mad?”

“Do I appear to be angry with you?” Morpheus questioned and out of the corner of your eye, you literally saw Matthew wing palm himself.

“That’s— no, Morpheus, you do not appear to be angry with me. I, however, am.” You corrected your previous statement, pinching your forehead with a deep sigh. “You barely have any of your power back and your idea is to march into hell and demand that your helm be returned to you? Have you forgotten what is in hell?”

“Of course not, which is precisely why you must remain here.” He rebutted, his eyebrow arching. “Your necklace protects you from being found, but it does not protect you from their physical attacks should you find them.”

You snorted in disgust and rolled your eyes hard, nearly seeing your own brain if you might add…

“Morpheus, have you ever had the mind that maybe people other than your self-centered idiocy may actually care for you?” You questioned him, you voice near a hiss. You actually managed to take him off guard for a moment. Good. Someone needed to remind him that people other than himself cared about him. Self centered git.

“Your words change nothing, Y/N,” Morpheus spoke, stepping up into your space and towering over you as if to establish dominance or at the very least, make a point. You were growing accustomed to smacking him the face with words of reminder, but Morpheus had eons to prefect his self centered ways. Morpheus right, mortal wrong. Ex-mortal, actually, but that hardly mattered to him.

“Clearly, your ears stop working after a period of argument.” You spoke under your breath, turning back to the table and dropping your body into one of the chairs. “Fine, go and get yourself killed for all I care.” You grabbed the book and opened it to the place you had left off. “See how that works for you.”

You could feel the smoldering glare in the side of your head, but it no longer bothered you. Certainly not after he went all caveman on you because Desire went and pushed one too many of his buttons… the mark he had left was obnoxiously large and was a near constant ache in reminder. Who was the emotional being in this relationship? Certainly not you.

“Matthew, come.” Morpheus finally spoke. Giving the pair a side eye, you watched as Morpheus’s sand swirled around them both in a vortex of sparking gray. Then they were gone.

“Pompous arsehole,” You muttered beneath your breath, reaching for the cup of tea you had made earlier and taking a sip. “I’m not coming to the rescue when you inevitably get yourself in trouble.”

You grew bored of reading fairly quickly, taking to the tele once more and boredly flipping through channels to find something to watch. Nothing appeased your mind and you turned the tele off. Tossing the remote to the side, you stretched out on the sofa and dropped your legs over the side of it, kicking your feet out. Did Morpheus really expect you to stay on the sidelines and twiddle your thumbs while he went out on his crazy trips? You were a human, not a servant. You didn’t sit and stay like he expected…

Wait… you sat up on the sofa, your eyebrows pinching together. You were bound together, your life tied to his and no longer exactly mortal… let alone human. You got up and hurried into the bathroom, taking a position in front of the mirror. Normal human eyes stared back at you. Mundane. Perhaps a little tired. You tugged on the bond you could feel and watched as your eyes morphed into silver. Another, stronger, tug… and they were blazing. Your lips twitched.

You weren’t entirely defenseless. No, Morpheus had forgotten that in his endeavor to get his tools back. You might have zero idea on how to use them, but you liked to think you were a quick learner. Holding up your hand, you concentrated on tugging on your power source and watched in fascination as that swirling sand that you had seen Morpheus use, whirled around your hand. Watching in further fascination as it swirled in the air, you slowly learned how to manipulate and control it. You didn’t know what type of damage it could do but hopefully a show of it would be enough to chase off anyone stupid enough to go after you.

Now if you could just learn how to teleport yourself via the sand and you would be able to do anything. With or without Morpheus’s not needed approval. Releasing the swirling sand, you look a breath and held onto the bathroom counter, clearing your mind and picturing following Morpheus. Or at least finding him. Your gut churned and you felt sand start swirling around you. Wind wailed around you and for a few moments you felt like you were tumbling through open air. Then a jolt ran through your body and solid ground returned to your feet. Hunching over as your stomach rolled, you heaved for a few seconds, your meager breakfast coming up. Blinking as dust fluttered across your eyelashes and opening your eyes, you saw that you were standing on a desolate hill looking down at a line of souls slowly shuffling forwards, all carrying torches. This wasn’t Morpheus, but it was probably close enough…

“Well that’s new.” You spoke out before looking in the direction the line of souls were walking in. No doubt the line would lead you further into hell, but perhaps not to your desired destination. It was start though. Venturing forwards, you followed them through the desolate landscape until you found a cave. Bodies were embedded in the walls, occasionally moaning and writhing. Your eyebrow rose, and you moved towards the gong looking object. The gate at the end of cave was secured shut and most likely not open unless by its own will. You looked over the gong shortly before hearing rock shift and move. A gnarled hand held out mallet, there was an eyeless face mottled with rock and moss looking at you. You took the mallet. “Thank you,”

You didn’t hesitate to smash the mallet against the gong, halting all moans in the cavern, leaving the open space deathly quietly. Then the gates started creaking open. You wanted to head immediately through them with purpose and stomp your way through hell until you found your idiot and talked some sense into him. Or perhaps yelled. But there was a warning siren blaring in your mind to tread carefully, lest you step on a snake. So you stayed in your place and waited. For what, you didn’t know. But then you heard it. Howls. Your eye twinged, holding off a flinch in memory of what took place in Fawny Rig. You stood your ground as hell beasts emerged from the shadows past the open gates. Their red eyes glowed ominously and their maws opened to reveal their sharp teeth dripping with drool and blood. Your eyes blazed silver.

“Stay your teeth, hell beasts,” You snapped, your voice sharp with no hints of fear seeping into it. A fact you were very proud of. “I am not here to challenge you or seek retribution, I merely seek out my bonded.”

More growls, but several of them backed down as a larger one prowled forwards, it’s claws clicking on the rock cavern floor. You recognized that one. It’s eye was far from behind healed, but it looked better than when you had seen it last. The hell beast snarled and growled, showing it’s vicious teeth.

“Least of all with you, hell beast, I have no quarrel with you unless you wish to pick a fight with me once more.” It snarled at you, an even deeper growl emerging from its open maw. Then it’s red glowing eyes burst into hell fire, showing how angry it was. Your own eyes flared to life, silver shining brightly in the dim and undertone of hell. Even more, the ruby resting between your clavicles glowed brightly, emitting a bright scarlet light that lit your face up. The hell beast’s ears flattened against it’s shadowy head and a hiss emerged from it’s throat. Remaining in place, you stared it down. “Put your teeth away, I’m not here for you. I’ve come for another and I believe you know who I seek.” It’s ears slackened slightly and it’s vicious bare melted into a snarl, it’s smoky figure shifting into one less tense.

Claws still clicking on the stone, it turned in place and looked into the mottled darkness ahead. A clear signal to follow. You stepped forwards, walking up to it with purpose. It started moving forward and you found yourself falling in step with it as the rest of the hell beasts fell in step behind you. Moving forwards, you passed through a thick wall of grey smoke and emerged in a forest of soul trees, bodies writing and moaning within the trunks. It was hard not to look around with wide eyes and gawk at everything. This was hell. But you noticed that upon passing that veil, the hell beasts smoky mirage had faded to reveal a pitch black dog with collars of sparkling onyx. It had three heads.

“Cerberus?” You questioned softly with a frown. It had been Cerberus that was sent after you? But it was your understanding that the dog guarded the gates of hell. Why would Lucifer have their hound stray from it’s post. The head closest to you swirled to look at you. It was the head that had the injured eye. Looking into the dogs good eye. You frowned, knowing that it had only been following orders like a loyal hound. “Apologies for the eye, but you scared the hell out of me and I didn’t want to die.”

Cerberus’s good eye on that head blinked at you and the hound then let out a small whimper. One of the other heads snapped at that one, obviously not likely the moment of weakness. You were rounding on that one instantly.

“Enough!” You scolded the one that had snapped. It’s ears drooped at your scolding and the remaining head let out a soft growl. Clearly not amused by the other two’s actions. “Let’s just get along, shall we? Neither of us have full autonomy over our actions. I’d rather put it in the past.”

All three heads let out a huff in agreement as you broke through the withering forests to a stretch of arches decorated by spikes and skulls. What amused you was the many crosses planted in the ground. You thought demons feared the cross? Clearly not down in hell if they had them decorating the entrance to Lucifer’s castle. You traveled beneath the many arches to arrive at another veil of smoke, this one even thicker than the last and more obscure. You couldn’t see what lay beyond it. But Cerberus didn’t seem to be interested in stopping so you continued forwards, entering the veil.

The smoke filled your lungs like a heavy weight, dragging your mood down to despair and pain. You almost wanted to stop right there and curl up in a dismal ball of repression. Was this an effect of hell? It must be but you weren’t going to let it push you down and back from your wants. So you pushed forwards and stepped free of that oppressive wall of smoke. Blinking rapidly, your eyes widened at the looming castle stretched out in front of you. Dry lightning cracked behind it, ominous and threatening. Cerberus turned his three heads to you and you met the dog’s three sets of gaze.

“I’m not stopping here,” You spoke. “But I feel that I should first greet your realm’s sovereign. It would be rude of me not to and I have a feeling that we’ve already gotten off to a more than rocky start. It would also be nice to know why Lucifer wants me dead.”

One of the heads, the stern one, dipped and he started walking up the narrow path that wound and curved its way up to the forbidding black castle. Once again following, you glanced over your shoulder and saw that the hell beasts that had been following quietly behind you, had all shifted and morphed into various looking hound like creatures, some more vicious looking than others. Their true forms were far from as frightening as the ones you were used to seeing in your dreams and nightmares. Returning your eyes to the path in front of you, you did your best to ignore the crunching of skulls and flesh beneath your feet, thankful that you weren’t walking through this domain barefoot. Making it to the large gate which had a glowing red pentagram inscribed on it, you looked down at Cerberus, wondering what to do now.

The dog kept its heads facing forward and only moments later the large doors echoed and boomed, slowly creeping open just enough to allow your passage into the castle. Stepping forwards, you heard a new squelch and glanced down. Red liquid was seeping from the ground, staining your leather boots as you walked. It was even splashing against Cerberus’s fur. Blood most likely. Your eyes focused forwards, Lucifer was not going to scare you off. Not now and not ever. You pushed forwards, bound and determined to seek out Morpheus.

Date Published: 10/10/22

Last Edit: 7/8/23

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[ms-hells-bells]

"Everybody Supports Women"

Everybody supports women until a woman's doing better than you Everybody wants you to love yourself until you actually do It was something about her hair So perfectly fallen She was nice and smart and funny and got everything she wanted And she does charity Isn't that the most obnoxious thing you've heard Her popularity She's too pretty for her own good She's probably self-centered We hate her and she's nothing If everybody leaves her Then she had it coming

Is there anything you'd like to put on the record? You know While everyone is listening?

I would like it to be known that I'm not like her I'm mocking her 'cause I'm not like her I'm not like those girls who are not like those girls I love doing makeup, I don't mock women like her I'm not like her

As soon as she hits it, I'm kicking her out She's had enough of the love and I'm bringing her down Everyone together on the count of three One, two You're mundane, we agree

Your ambition is swallowable if you tell the story right Say that you hate yourself and self criticize But if we smell desperation on your neck and face We'll drag you across your own public stage

We burn her name in the back Anything with her name attached Her newspaper's in the trash I just keep thinking man

What a waste What a shame I was starting to like her But now she got great We'd never hate her to her face But I hope she knows She knows she knows she knows Hmm

I don't like your tone I don't like how much you've grown It's so boring to not be yanking muscle off of a woman's bone Everybody hates the, everyone hates the un-relatable And I love to place two of 'em in the arena of the public's eye And try and get 'em to fight about something dumb and we pick sides 'Cause staring at her too long made our life look like muted pastels We'll love you if you just make us feel better about ourselves

And what a waste What a shame I was starting to like her But now she got great We'd never hate her to her face But I hope she knows She knows she knows she knows

And what a pain I watch us spit her name while she's turned the other side We never told it to her face But I think she knows, she knows she knows she knows

Everybody supports women til a woman's doing better than you Everybody wants you to love yourself until you actually do It was something about her hair So perfectly fallen She was nice and smart and funny and got everything she wanted And she does charity Isn't that the most obnoxious thing you've heard Her popularity She's too pretty for her own good She's probably self-centered We hate her and she's nothing If everybody leaves her Then she had it coming

Everybody supports women until a woman's doing better than you Everybody wants you to love yourself until you actually do It was something about her hair

[twisting-roads]

I AM VERY NORMAL AND SANE ABOUT JELLY AIB. HERE'S AN ESSAY ABOUT HIM.

I’d like to preface this by saying I’ve already added like 3 paragraphs of text to Jelly’s personality page on the wiki, but I’m not quite done yet with him either. Please hear me out on this.

Jelly as a character may seem very self centered at the surface. Some might even say he’s using Popsicle Stick’s affection for him as an ego booster, but I doubt he ever had any malicious intentions. Only a few times did he act self centered, and I believe there's more a reason behind this than just him wanting attention. In this very long character analysis, I hope to explain Jelly’s motivations, what's wrong with him, and his relationship with PStick and the rest of team 2.

In the 2nd episode during the team 2 icebreakers, Jelly starts introducing himself as Can becomes upset with how this is all going. He brags about being a social butterfly, and drops the iconic line “And before anyone asks… Yes.” This is usually just interpreted as Jelly wanting attention on him, but I think he’s just doing an elaborate bit (he does enjoy attention though I will not lie about that). He notices how poorly this all has been going for Can, and wants to add something silly to lighten the mood a bit, even if that means being a little obnoxious about it. He knows he has the charisma to pull it off. He might’ve dragged on the bit too far though if Bouncy Ball didn’t fly in the last second.

Later on in ep 2 after Sock kicks Jelly in the head, possibly being the reason Jelly went stupid mode instead of it being BB’s fault. During this, I believe he's showing a bit of his “true side”. of course that's debatable, since he’s just received major brain damage, but either way, he becomes less filtered and sillier, just hanging out on the sidelines up until ep 3. PStick seems to be his self-employed caretaker for the time being.

Speaking of PStick, we should address the elephant in the room here. Jelly does seem to genuinely care for her, even if it's hard to tell in his tone in ep 1, he does show many other instances where he likes spending time with her. Unlike her, he’s able to exist alone and work alongside other people, and knows he can still be friends with her and hang out during off hours. When she joined Team 2 and Hailstone pestered her and Jelly about this, he wasn’t hesitant to ask Oodle if it was ok to switch teams. He clearly likes PStick being there, but doesn’t want to upset Hailstone or break the rules either, meaning he’s not completely biased.

Later on, esp in ep 5, Jelly seems a bit startled or worried about PStick being on the team or so attached to him. He’s starting to become uncomfortable, but instead of saying this to her, he hides that fact. He doesn’t want to hurt her, and is especially afraid of conflict. When Hailstone is upset at the fact PStick is on team 2 now, Jelly tries to console her, and understands where she's coming from, but he doesn’t want to directly tell PStick to just leave. At the start of ep 5, Jelly tries to ask Hailstone if she can go ask Oodle to do something about the heat, calling her a “good negotiator” in reference to the conversation they had in ep 4, and also not wanting to confront Oodle himself. He’s possibly afraid of confrontation or upsetting others, always being the guy who gets caught up in conflicts and tries to reach a compromise where both parties are the least unhappy. Him also trusting Hailstone shows he still respects her as his teammate, even if she isn’t a fan of PStick.

I haven’t talked much about his character in ep 3, but there's still some important things to note. He still remains silly in this ep (bababooey). When team 5 ends up disqualifying themselves and Safe is pulled out of the machine, he’s the one to go up to her and tell her it wasn’t her fault they almost lost. TBH the whole team thinks this too, with Can blaming Oodle’s oversights for why they were unable to get Safe out, but that’s not the point here. He does somewhat motivate her to go join them in their little victory party as well.

Point is, Jelly is a charismatic guy who wants to be a bit silly. He understands and respects others and just wants everyone to get along and be happy, typically being the one to comfort others. He dislikes confrontation, however, even to the point where he starts getting uncomfortable but doesn’t say anything about it in fear of hurting his closest friend.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Secret Santa (Vincent/Apollo)

An early christmas present to @bellafarallones2, set after the events of The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight

“We’re so glad you’ll be with us again!” Mrs. Williams tucks Vincent’s volunteer contract away in her desk, “you’re always very popular with the kids.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His watch chimes 8:00 am, “I have to go to work. I’ll keep an eye out for your email come October?”

“Exactly.” She walks him to the office door with a wink “and as always, your secret is safe with us.”

The Tilden Shopping center is on the other side of town from The Bureau of Hero Oversight, and as he feared the late summer heat means some of the local villains are even more irritable. That means a traffic jam just on the edge of downtown as several members of the Pine Guard zoom past in pursuit of Baron Thorne. Vincent hopes for the villain’s sake that Indrid isn’t among them; even since he dropped a building on Duck, The Moth considers Baron Thorne his sworn enemy. 

He’s just glad that Indrid’s self-appointed sworn enemy isn’t getting out any time soon. 

 “I’m surprised you want me for this.” Vincent stares at the security screens and the one way glass that has him looking down on the cell of Apollo Cold, AKA The Flame. 

“We’re learning the hard way that we need an agent with the right temperament to deal with him. And it has to be one, so he can’t play us off each other.” Director Stern sighs, running a hand over his hair. Vincent swears that grey in it only appeared after he was promoted, which happens to be the same time Apollo was brought in. 

“Can I ask what you mean by that?”

“Even-tempered. Hard to rattle. Used to dealing with obnoxious men who think they know everything. All things that training-in starter agents prepared you for. After all, you dealt with my know-it-all self just fine.” Director Stern rests a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, “more than that, call it…call it a hunch. We’ve worked together all these, and I know the kind of man you are, Agent Capra. That’s why I trust you with this.”

“That means a lot.” Vincent smiles at him, “anything else I should know?”

“He’s got half the staff convinced he’s psychic.”

“How?” Vincent manages to not sound too alarmed

“My suspicion is a combination of prior research, cold reading, educated guesses, and luck. Indrid confirmed he’s lying, though of course he insists he developed powers after Indrid ‘deserted’ them.”  Joseph’s phone buzzes and he sighs as he takes it out, “treat him like a T.V psychic and you should be safe.”

“Understood.” 

Vincent spends an hour reading over all the information Stern left him, then decides it’s time to introduce himself. 

It’s a short staircase down, then a reinforced door–the only way in or out–to an empty, well lit room. Apollo’s cell is made of the kind of glass they use to keep tigers from eating toddlers at zoos, with no privacy save for a small bathroom, and furnished with a bed, a tablet with limited permissions, and nothing else. It’s grim, but from the notes it’s also the last resort since Apollo kept turning anything else they gave him into a weapon. 

Currently, the villain is sitting on the bed, watching Vincent approach with malevolent disinterest. 

He stands calmly in front of the cell, “Hello, Apollo. I’m Agent Vincent Capra. Director Stern has assigned me to be the agent in charge of your care.”

“And why should I care about that?”

He shrugs, “You don’t have to care. It just felt polite to introduce myself face to face.”

“That makes you braver than the rest; they all hide up in their little cave” He tilts his head towards the control room, “Not that it will help them. They’re dead men regardless of whether I know their faces.”

Two months of being imprisoned hasn’t made him any less dramatic it seems.

“Tell me” Apollo studies his nails, “does it bother you? That a ‘know-it-all’ former pupil has surpassed you?”

The usage of the exact wording unnerves him, but all he says is, “Not at all. Director Stern was a co-agent for years and we know each other well. I’m very glad for his promotion.”

“I suppose you all feel it’s better him than you, as his death for his role in this will be far worse than if he were some disposable agent.” A smile, “I’m going to turn his boyfriend into a rug while they are both still alive.”

Vincent waits for him to finish. 

A frown, “Nothing? Usually that at least earns me a wince. Maybe the old goat has something metal under all that fat after all.”

“You’re not my first villain, Apollo.” 

The younger man rises, walks to the glass as he says, “You know, you remind me of my father.”

“You killed your father.” Vincent replies calmly.

Petulance breaks the surface of Apollo’s features, “I was going to say that.”

“I’m sorry to have stepped on your toes.” Vincent turns, “if you need anything, you where I’ll be.”

Apollo certainly did, and proceeded to hurl all manner of insults at him without warning, when he wasn’t busy detailing exactly how he’d murder Vincent and everyone he loved. 

It’s been like that for a month and a half now, and they’re still no closer to working out how Apollo knows certain things. Indrid, in spite of tearing the control room apart, could not find a device or any other proof that his twin had managed to install some means of spying on them. 

But his errand this morning gave Vincent an idea. 

As he trades off with the night shift, he casually stands near a certain vent in the control room, that he was picking out a certain necklace for his niece’s birthday at a store that closed before he got off work, so he had to go ahead of time. 

Then he reads over the notes from the night (“Cold sat on bed with back to camera for two solid hours, talking to himself”), covers up the vent, and then goes down to say good morning. 

Apollo is laying on the bed, eyes closed, and Vincent is nearly turned around to let him sleep when a cool, self-satisfied voice says, “A necklace? How dull.”

“A funny thing about the necklace, Apollo” he leans closer to the glass, voice quieter, “I never bought it. I wasn’t anywhere near that store this morning.”

The villain’s eyes snap open and he turns his head toward him, “Liar.”

“Not at all. I was doing something much more secret than that. Something no one at the agency knows about”

“What kind of secrets could a ridiculous old goat like you have?” Curiosity lurks beneath dismissiveness. 

“Surely you can tell me, since you claim you can know anything about us you choose.”

A pause, then, “You were paying off a parking ticket.”

“No.”

“Seeing a mistress.”

“Not even close.”

“You’re a hitman?”

“Goodness, no.” He doesn’t hide the laugh in time. 

“Do not mock me!” Apollo is off the bed and snarling in his face in an instant, “I demand you tell me, this instant.”

“I don’t think I will. A man has to have his harmless little secrets.”

He returns to the booth, Apollo yelling curses after him. Then he clicks on the intercom and says, “I’m going to say it aloud in a moment. Then I’ll give you a last guess.”

Once he’s certain the mic is off, he stands by the vent and says, “I play Santa Clause at a mall.”

When he hits the intercom back on, Apollo pipes up, “You were shoplifting. I knew it all along.”

He shakes his head, pleased to have solved the mystery, “Not quite. But a good guess all the same.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apollo can suffer the indignity of imprisonment. 

He can deal with the sinking feeling that his brother has, in fact, beaten him.

He can tolerate the endless sameness of his days, even laugh to himself and how pathetic that the agency thinks of this as a punishment. 

But he will not tolerate Vincent Capra keeping a secret from him. 

He’s been trying since last week to work it out, even went so far as to search “what do ordinary men keep secrets about” on his tablet, yet he’s no closer to an answer.

This morning he’s waiting, wrists cuffed through the electrified, hand-sized openings in his cell while some sniveling orderly speedily checks through his room for contraband. Vincent comes in just as the man finishes, wishing him a good morning before turning his attention on Apollo. 

He must have been running late today; he still has a travel mug of coffee in hand. 

“Gambling.”

A slight laugh, “Good morning to you too, Apollo. And no.” The cuffs buzz open and the holes in the cell close the instant he pulls his hands away, “I’ll be working on some reports today, but yell if you need me. Not that you have any trouble with doing that.”

He’s already turning towards the control room. Apollo does not want to lose his attention so soon; not because he cares about him–quite the contrary–but he’s not ready to go back to having his conversation options be someone who isn’t really there. 

“Bird watching?”

Vincent pauses, “No, not that either. Though I suppose it’s one of your more reasonable guesses; birders usually go places early. Though I’m not sure if there are many exciting ones in the city.”

“You could go to the waterfront. It is on a flyway.”

He should really just cut out his tongue at this point. 

“I didn’t take you for an amateur ornithologist.”

“I am not.”

Vincent sips his coffee, “What kind of bird would you be?”

“Eagle owl.” Forget his previous thought; ripping his tongue out would be more fitting. Right after he slices Vincent’s vocal cords one by one to stop him asking questions in that way that makes it so easy to answer honestly. 

“That seems fitting. I’m not sure what I might be.”

Apollo studies him, then smirks, “A grouse. Plump and grey.”

The older man touches his hair, “I’m not all grey yet. And I think I wear it well.”

“The same cannot be said for your physique. Did you just stop trying once you were surrounded by heroes and saw how pathetic you looked?”

A sigh; not upset, just disappointed, “Some day, Apollo, I hope you can find joy  in things other than insulting everyone you meet.”

He snorts, “Joy? Joy comes with triumph, with victory, with making your enemies crawl on bloodied palms for mercy you do not intend to grant. All things that are outside my reach. For now.”

“Was there really nothing else in your life that made you happy?” Confusingly, Vincent has stepped closer to the glass. 

“No. Unlike my brother, I did not need pointless amusements or people. The work was enough.”

Silence, then Vincent’s brown eyes look at him with unnerving clarity, “Apollo, have you considered that you’re so desperate to know my secret because you’re bored and unhappy without the life you had?”

His traitor of a tongue says, quietly, “I would rather rip my own fingernails out than go another day without a goal.”

In another life, such a statement would have been met with someone handing him pliers and telling him to get to it. Instead, Vincent says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

The Christmas trees are already encroaching on Halloween decorations as Vincent makes his way through the store. It feels a little odd to be using the company credit card to buy toys, but Stern agreed that anything that kept Apollo occupied and calm was worth spending Bureau money on. Apparently he’d been refusing books on principle–what principle, Vincent cannot say–but Vincent downloaded some onto the tablet just to tide him over. When he left last night, Apollo was wholly engrossed in Guns, Germs, and Steel.

He’d kept interrupting Vincent’s work that day, which was not unusual. But this time, it was to read him passages, rather than insult him. 

When he returns to work the next morning, Apollo moves toward him excitedly before catching himself and returning to his usual disdainful expression. 

“What is in that package? Is it mine?”

“Ho, ho, ho” Vincent smiles as he slides the box into the cell. 

Apollo blinks at him. 

“Do…did you never learn about Santa Claus?” That would explain how he still hasn’t guessed Vincent’s secret.

“I know what he is. I simply do not understand why you are referencing him in September.” Apollo opens the box, removing the Gearball Brainteaser, “or why you have given me a toy.”

“It’s apparently difficult to solve.”

Apollo gives him a dismissive wave, as if shooing him away, “Child's play.”

With that, he sits on the floor and does not look up from the puzzle for several hours. When he does, it's with a triumphant smile as he shows the solved sphere to the camera.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apollo is not surprised he’s dreaming of being a bird; he fell asleep after watching the live feed from the aquarium’s aviary. It is easier to let himself watch it, knowing Vincent will not mock or punish him for it. 

The last time he dreamed of being a bird, he was ripping viscera from the belly of what was either his father or brother; the face was too destroyed to say. 

This time, he is something small, a sparrow or warbler, huddling in tall grass. Without seeing it, he knows there's something hunting him. And rain is battering his feathers, he’s so cold and afraid and surely a flock is near, but if he calls for them, whatever is stalking him will pounce. 

Warm hands scoop him up, tucking him into a breast pocket of a grey coat. He knows, in that way of knowing things in dreams, that it’s Vincent who has given him this soft, safe place to nest. 

He wakes up nauseous, surely from the saccharine nature of the dream, rolls over in his blankets, and tries to pretend he’s still nestled in a pocket. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

It turns out the nausea was not from the dream. It was from food poisoning 

Someone at the bureau had been putting expired or otherwise tainted food into his meals. According to Vincent, they were summarily fired when Stern found out. 

It was a rather devious way of harming him, and he intends to congratulate whoever came up with it right before he boils them alive. 

He’s laying on the cold floor for relief from the fever, blanket in reach for when he gets chills, when Vincent appears at the glass. 

“Do you need more water?”

“No. I am fine. This is barely discomfort.” He closes his eyes, “I am not some, some weakling who needs soup or medicine or whatever it is people with no tolerance for suffering and frail bodies require when ill.”

“My mother always insisted on ginger ale. I still crave it when I get sick” Vincent sits down in the chair he’s taken to keeping next to the cell, then chuckles, “my fathers mother was a firm believer in putting whiskey in tea for the ill, even for children.”

“That seems like a good way to murder a child accidentally.” Apollo forces himself to roll on his side so he can see him.

“I’m the baby of the family, so by the time I came along she knew not to do it to me. My eldest sister does recall being given a hot toddy at age five that put her to sleep for most of the day.” He rests his head back against the wall. He’s wearing a white and lavender tie today, and Apollo wants to rest his own head just below the knot of it. 

He must be more delirious than he thought. 

“My father would always read to us when we got sick. The Hobbit was a favorite of mine.”

“I have read that one” Apollo sits up, “my favorite part was when the dragon pours molten gold onto the dwarves who dared enter his lair.”

Vincent looks at him with surprise, “I think we read very different books.”

“Nono, I distinctly remember the cover and the title.”

“Was that a book that was read to you, by chance?”

“By father, when we were small. It is now occurring to me that he may have made the story different to impart the correct lesson. No one puts beheadings in books for children.”

“No, there are a few in there. But I think the ending is much happier than you’ve been lead to believe.” Vincent looks down at him, “would you like me to read it to you?”

“I am not a child!”

“And that’s not an answer.”

“Yes” he grumbles, “after all, you are functionally a servant. You should wait on me when I am ill.”

Vincent indicates the tablet, and Apollo grits his teeth to keep from throwing up as he stands and passes the device through. After a few taps, Vincent pulls reading glasses from his breast pocket, and begins.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why are you humming that?” Apollo looks up from his book at Vincent. He hadn’t even realized he was humming “Silver Bells” as he filled in his paperwork. 

“I suppose I’m already in a festive mood. I know it’s barely November but I can’t help it; I love Christmas. Picking out presents, spending time with family, all the lights. Cheesy, I know.”

“Exceedingly.” Apollo says, lacking his usual venom.

“I imagine it wasn’t celebrated in Abbadon.”

“Of course not. No doubt my brother has taken up the practice all the same.”

It’s a harmless truth, so he says, “I did see that he’d already put up a tree.”

“To please his brick of a hero, one assumes.”

“He may just like it” Vincent chides gently, “you aren’t carbon copies of one another.”

“Do not be ridiculous. That muscle without a brain is the reason he’s no longer even a passable shadow of his former self. But I suppose he is clever all the same; he found a loyal, durable shield to protect him while he flits about.”

Vincent takes a deep breath before replying, “Maybe he’s just found a partner he trusts.”

“He had one.” Apollo snarls. 

“I’m not certain he’d call what you two had as trust.”

The villain scoffs, then softens, “I suppose not.” He gets up from the soft chair they’ve allowed him, padding over to Vincent, “I do envy him for what he has now.”

“That’s a hard thing to admit, isn’t it” Vincent sets his work aside to stand and face him, “I’m proud of you for being able to.”

A finger traces on the glass, “We could have such an arrangement. If you freed me.”

“Apollo, you know I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?” The younger man raises his voice, “you like me, I can tell.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you loose to hurt god knows how many people.” 

“What do you care? You would be safe! You would be helping me and I, I would offer you protection. And glory.”

“Does that strike you as something I want?” 

Apollo pauses, clearly considering the question. Amber eyes flame, and Vincent knows he’s worked out the right answer and doesn’t like it. 

“Fine” He hisses, slamming a fist into the glass, “I was lying anyway, a dull old goat like you is of no use to me.”

“I’m going for the day, Apollo.” It’s a fight not to yell back, to not be upset as he wonders if any of the progress he thought he was making in connecting with the villain was all an illusion.

“Go on then! Leave! I do not care! And when I finally free myself, I won’t even bother killing you personally! You can die here with the rest of these rats like you deserve.”

With that, he stalks away, leaving Vincent to retreat to the control room.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean not here?” Apollo glares at one of the cameras feeding to the control room. 

“I mean he’s on another mission right now.” Stern says through the microphone, “and I’m not at liberty to say when he’ll return.”

“How can you send him on another mission? You know very well I am the greatest threat to the country, let alone the city.”

“Be that as it may, you’re also not the only threat here. Vincent was the right man for the assignment. There will be other agents assigned to your care in the meantime.”

“Bring Vincent back or I will-”

“Slice my face off while my family watches, yes, you’ve said as much.” The mic goes dead, and no one responds no matter how much Apollo curses at them. 

Eventually he tires of that tactic and goes to sit on the bed, back to the camera. 

“Another villain” he mutters, “if I had been an even more powerful threat, they would never send Vincent after anyone else. I would have him all to myself.”

The twin in his head replies, “And if you had never been a villain at all, you would have had the same.”

He tucks his legs to his chest. He’s not upset, he’s not, he is simply frustrated that the version of Indrid in his mind has been less cooperative of late. 

And he is not at all pleased when the real version appears the next day for his monthly visit. Still, Indrid has information and he needs it, so he steps to the glass.

“Is Vincent dead?”

“No.” Indrid replies suspiciously quickly.

“Did they have you kill him?”

“No” His twin crosses his arms, “he’s on another mission. Assuming all goes well, you will see him again.”

“Liar.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “Apollo, we are not at Abbadon anymore. That kind of thing does not happen here.”

“Of course you think that, you are a coward and a traitor and one day you will remember what you were made for and I will laugh to learn you dismembered that hero of yours while he was still alive. And you will be all to blame for it, like old times.”

Indrid returns his snarl, the tell that the barb has lodged under his skin, “This! This is why they sent Vincent away!”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Oh, really?” They’re toe to toe now, both acting as if the glass is not there, “you knew that your last conversation with him upset him, and that they decided it was wise to give him a break from you because no one deserves to be subjected to your company for as long as he has? And yet you think you value him enough for someone to see him as a prize to take away from you?”

“I do! He is, he is better than anyone else here! When he is nearby I do not-” He stops himself before he says something he regrets. 

Indrid leans back from the glass, “You do not feel like you are trapped.”

“Damn you and your powers to whatever pit of hell is coldest.” He looks away, “once I am free, I will give him one more chance.”

His brother removes his glasses, tiredly rubbing his eyes, “You truly think that is the part of you he likes?”

The “yes” fails to form on his tongue. He knows it is a lie. Indrid knows it too. And so there is no point to it.

“You are not the Flame anymore. That persona, that life, is behind you and it is going to stay there. Every hero and half the villains in this city will fight to keep you from it. I will die before I let you take up that mantle again.” He slots his glasses back on his face, “eventually, you are going to have to decide who you are without it.”

With that, he leaves, tossing his usual goodbye over his shoulder. 

“Indrid?”

His brother stops, but doesn’t turn to look his way.

“Do you promise he is still alive?”

“On whatever honor either of us still has, I promise he is.”

Apollo rests his forehead against the glass, relieved, “Thank you.”

Indrid turns, surprised, but says “you are welcome” all the same.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Technically, Vincent’s mission ended a week ago, but Stern insisted he take a week of vacation before returning to work. Which is why he’s reading up on Apollo’s doings at eleven at night on Christmas Eve. 

Cold spoke to Director Stern about possible community service. 

Well that’s certainly unexpected.

Cold has begun doing remote service identifying labels for screen readers and entering data from trail cameras for public lands. 

Vincent flips forward; Apollo kept that up even after being told that they really didn’t know when Vincent would be returning to his post here. 

Cold continues engaging with staff less than previously. Interactions are neutral rather than hostile 70% of the time.

He checks the monitor, having told the agent on the night shift that she should get some dinner and he could watch Apollo for a while. The villain is on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

When Vincent steps from the control room door, bag in hand, Apollo is to the glass with impressive speed. 

“Vincent!” He reins in his excitement, “I see you have returned.”

“I sense I was missed.”

“I…yes. It turns out your company is superior to anyone else they assigned to me.” He looks at Vincent’s face, notices the bruise under his eye, and Vincent wonders if he’ll mock him for getting it or threaten the person who did it first.

“What happened?” His hand touches the glass, as if trying to examine Vincent’s injury.

“I was undercover as a butler for a young man who was trying to fashion himself into a villain. Deeply uncreative and not nearly as formidable as some people I could mention. Still, he wasn’t thrilled when he found out who I really was and there was a scuffle. I won.”

“I am glad. And I wanted to say that I am…I am” he closes his eyes and spits out, “sorry. For what I said the last time we spoke. I will do my best not to do it again.”

“Thank you for apologizing.”

Blonde hair falls into Apollo’s face as he cocks his head, “Why are you here so late?”

“Your Christmas present.” Vincent smiles, “would you like to know my secret.”

“Yes” Apollo’s eyes widen excitedly.

Vincent opens the bag, tipping it to show the red suit inside, “I’m a mall Santa for much of December. My father did it when I was growing up and I kept up the tradition.”

Apollo snickers, “You are full of surprises. Confusing, mundane surprises.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Vincent asks teasingly, “after all, it was your gift, not anyone else’s.”

The villain meets his eyes, expression softer than fresh snow and, for the first time Vincent can remember, free of machination. 

“You have my word.” He slips his hand through the gap. Vincent doesn’t bother engaging the cuffs before taking it, intending to shake it. But clever fingers curl too closely, too awkwardly for a shake, as if Apollo is afraid he might slip away. 

Vincent cups the hand between both his own, rubs a thumb along it gently as he murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Apollo.”

The villain smiles at him, warm and small, “Merry Christmas, Vincent.”

[cynfuldelights]

Sand and Smoke

This is one of a series of short stories I wrote for various Pathfinder characters! I'm probably going to start posting them just to give them a home aside from my google drive. This first one is actually based on a really old DnD 5e character of mine who's still one of my faves, Karch Penn, a slick-talking kitsune gunslinger.

Now I'm trans and so's he, funny how that works out.

Enjoy!

(Content warnings for: Gun violence, Dissociation)

Sand and Smoke

Click-click-

The cylinder of Karch’s revolver tittered with excitement as he spun it between two digits, a third running over the rimmed metal cartridges loaded into it. He counted the rounds in it again as he stared down the shadow-filled sandstone alleyway. The moon was too low in the sky to provide any good lighting, not that it mattered. The door he was watching had a lit brass lantern hanging beside it. 

Click-click-

Any minute now. Karch justified to himself. Again. It’s been hours. But those Royalist fucks deserved the wait. And the boss insisted it had to be tonight.

Click-click-

“I should just kick the fucking door in. Maybe scaring them will make them drop dead.” He muttered to himself upon his claw meeting the 6th round in the cylinder, speaking low enough so he was only audible to himself, But he didn't budge. His spot was too good; a stairwell flush to one side of the alley that gave more cover than the rest of it did.

Just had to be patient. Karch restarted his count again.

Click-click-

Just 3 of them. The fox reassured himself, 6 bullets. Plenty.

Click-squeeeak-thunk!-

The lantern-lit door swung open with considerable force, slamming the wall it was hinged to. Hooting and hollering voices followed not a beat later, a gaggle of people who all had spent an apparent night carousing judging by their obnoxious shouts and slurred jeers at one another-

Karch’s eyes unfocused for a moment. He exhaled, letting air, self, and guilt leave him with it. 

The revolver closed-the hammer pulled back-

His breath was rote, automatic, even as he rounded the cover of the stairwell, arm reaching out, revolver reaching out with him. Karch watched the movement; it was almost delicate, smooth, like reaching out to a lover. Or six.

Six. The realization bit through the trance he was in: six people heading towards him. They hadn’t spotted him yet because of the lighting difference. But they would if he waited any longer.

Without anymore hesitation he aimed into the center of the group, at a young orange-furred kitsune grinning at a friend’s joke-

She couldn’t have been much older than 20 summers and Karch was certain he didn’t see her go in. She was dressed not much differently than him, loose slacks, a buttoned shirt with the top few buttons undone. Both were light-colored, tan and white respectively, made cheaply, coming apart here and there-

But Karch couldn’t help but admire her in that moment that seemed to last a lifetime. He couldn’t help but admire how happy she looked-

Karch pulled the trigger before he hesitated anymore.

“FUCK-” “RASHA!” “AMBUS-” Their shouts and screams were cut off by staccato roars of gunfire. Karch’s bullets ripped through two more of them, flashes of sparks showing snapshots that Karch would need a bottle each to forget. A white-furred fox fell back with a hole in his stomach, another trying to draw her own gun before she started spraying blood from her shoulder.

One after another the remaining drew and returned fire with guns of their own. Their guns screamed malice and penance, their bullets shrieked as they ricocheted off Karch’s cover. He could feel the air shift near his neck as spall missed, nearly ripping his throat out.

Karch was too far away from himself to notice. Three times more did his gun breathe fire and thunder-

Then silence. Nothing but the ringing of ears, the cries of the injured, and the silence of the dead.

There was no time wasted as Karch rounded the corner of his cover and started walking towards the grisly scene. His paws ejected useless brass and loaded fresh death. 

Six more thunderclaps explode into a cloudless desert night. To silence those who squirmed and to make sure those who didn’t never got up again. Six more lives returned to the sand.

He stared at the first kitsune he shot dead. Lucky for her, she had died before she even hit the ground. A smile was still across her face despite the bullet that had ripped her heart out before she even knew what happened. She seemed… at peace. 

Happy.

Karch was not. He stood over six bodies, each killed by his own hand, each supposedly high-ranking Royalist members. They all looked like they could be the kids of those leaders instead. Worst of all though, he couldn’t stop looking at the first girl. He noticed the luster of her fur, her ear shape, that smile-

An all too familiar and all too horrible twang of emotion rang through him at that moment. A mixture of jealousy, anger, and resignation that made his hands shake, his breath unsteady. It forced his soul out of his body more than killing all six of these poor people.

Before he even realized it he was running. He ran from the guards whose shouts echoed closer. He ran from the realization he had been lied to. He ran from a new feeling beginning to take hold in his heart-

That he’d do anything to die a woman like she did much less live even a single day as one.