#maybe she DID appease the worm gods

[annleckie]

Reading AITA sometimes is like,

AITA for refusing to cancel our family's Thanksgiving tradition?

So, we do a regular, totally traditional Thanksgiving--the family gets together, we have all the traditional Thanksgiving foods at dinner, we watch football, and of course we do the Thanksgiving Mole Hunt.

So, my daughter (27F) lost her husband about five years ago. She was understandably really upset by this, and moved away for a while and met a lovely young man (30M) who she's getting married to next year. We're all happy for her and excited to meet this new family member. But when I emailed her inviting her and her fiancé to Thanksgiving, of course I said, "don't forget to pack your gloves and your mole hammer!" and her reaction was, well. She asked if maybe we could not do the mole hunt this year. Because her fiancé wasn't used to it.

But, I mean, the mole hunt is really important to my family! And to my husband's family and honestly lots of people around here are really into it. I told her no, we're doing the mole hunt, and now she's saying she's not coming to Thanksgiving. I don't understand it.

EDIT: Look, all you people in the comments saying "just draw pictures of moles, that's what my family does" are you kidding? You're going to appease the gods of the Underworld with a picture of a mole? And if you don't dig up moles, where do you get the worms for the worm roast? And don't tell me "buy them at the bait store" because bait store worms on your pumpkin pie is just, ew.

ANOTHER EDIT: So, I didn't put this in the post originally because I didn't want it to be too long, but people are asking if there's any reason my daughter is particularly adamant about not doing the mole hunt. The thing is, her first husband drew the short straw after pie one year and nobody thought it was any big deal but it turned out he didn't have a mole. He said he "wasn't feeling it" and so he just stood around drinking beer while we all dug up our moles. My daughter offered to give him her mole but I mean, when you're appeasing the gods of the Underworld you don't want to mess around. I do a traditional Thanksgiving, that's all there is to it. Really, it's not asking much for people to just dig up a mole to sacrifice in their stead in case they get the short straw! But my daughter was really upset, and I have to admit I wanted to say Oh come on who hasn't lost a spouse in the Thanksgiving mole hunt, but I realized that wouldn't be helpful.

AND ANOTHER EDIT: Look, I don't appreciate being called a "fucking bloodthirsty loon." I don't know how you all do Thanksgiving but these are important traditions to my family! And yes, I did lose my first two husbands on Thanksgiving but if they couldn't get up and stun a damn mole on Thanksgiving that's not my fault, is it?

LAST EDIT: I'm not replying to any more comments or messages. My daughter has said she's never talking to me again and has blocked me on everything. I'm heartbroken. On the other hand, that's more moles for the rest of us.

[randomnumbers751650]

This is a sample of a fanfic I'm working , based on the best meme of May 2023, Oshi no Ko and Getter Robo mashups. And title will certainly be Perfect Ultimate Getter!

--------------

I loved them...

For the first time in her entire life, Ai Hoshino didn’t live a lie. It was an experience so sublime she didn’t dare to use the word “truth” to refer to it. It was a pity that she barely had time to enjoy it.

She could feel herself being unmade. The light becoming dimmer and dimmer. But at least she could remember the moments she had with her children.

I just wished I had told them sooner.

The darkness was much thicker than water, like being submerged in oil.

But… what’s going to happen to me?

Reincarnation? As part of her cultural duties, she met with Buddhist and Shinto priests. The Buddhist priests would say a beautiful soul like hers would be closer to nirvana. The Shinto priests said the gods would surely hear her prayers. Such beautiful lies. When she asked them what happened to the “ugly” souls, they said they’d reincarnate into insects and worms to repent from their sins. Ai, the cockroach. Ai, the shrimp. Ai, the tapeworm. How fitting that would be for her.

Hell? Once she went to a Catholic charity when she was a kid. The nuns there gave her clothes when she asked for. They also told her that God is love. If that’s true, then she knew this God would never accept her. Maybe someone as big as a God could love in a way that wasn’t a lie. If not, then God would be a liar bigger than her. Either way, that meant hell was her only destination.

Oblivion? Before she knew she was Ai Hoshino, she knew nothing. After that, she would return to know nothing. Boring, but simple.

Independent of all these things, she knew one tru-…no, she was too unworthy of using that word. The fact that wasn’t a lie was that she loved her children. And she deeply hoped that they would ever forgive her for leaving them so soon.

In a blink, she could see something green.

Did I blink?

She blinked again. She briefly saw three human figures in front of her.

I definitely blinked! What is going on?

Ai opened her eyes. She was floating in a large tube-like structure, enveloped by a thick pale green liquid. She saw a trio of men wearing lab coats in front of her. She couldn’t see their faces, but they were smiling at her.

She realized she breathed through a tube, connected to her throat, covering her mouth and nose. She could see the ends of her long, purple hair.

One of the men made a sign with his hands. Soon, the liquid started to drain. The tube detached from her mouth, after draining enough. She took a deep breath. When it drained fully, she kneeled for a moment, while getting used to that body.

Soon, she stood up. She felt a bit taller than usual. A woman wearing a gray uniform handed her a long towel. The words in her uniform: Saotome Institute.

Ah, I’m naked!

She quickly draped herself in the towel. If the paparazzi saw that, her career would certainly be over.

Wait, what am I thinking?

“Gentlemen,” one of the men wearing the lab coat raised his voice. The lights turned on. A large crowd sat down in an observation auditory above. They were all so different, but only a few of them wore lab coats. Some men wore suits, some women wore fancy dresses. “We succeeded!”

The crowd clapped their hands.

A familiar feeling emerged in Ai’s heart. They were her new audience. Her new fans whom she couldn’t disappoint. She still didn’t understand what happened to her, but, as the ultimate perfect idol, she knew she needed to appease them.

“After many attempts, with DNA samples from the greatest athletes, soldiers and scientists, we have built the perfect specimen. She will be able to harness the Getter energy and mold it as she wishes.”

That just confused her. Did that mean she was in a new body? And this body was, according to what she could understand…a lie? Made up of many different bodies? So, that meant that she was reborn into a different world. That man would have mentioned her true identity if she was being reborn in the same world.

“We are calling her Sofia, a goddess born out of our efforts and desires. She will be full of love and cruelty, like a goddess should be. With her, we will tear down the pearly gates!”

The crowd clapped again.

Sofia. What a strange name. Either way, she would need to learn the ways of that new world. Her feeling, however, was that she’d be a performer again. Her intuition knew that crowd liked to hear lies. If they wanted lies, they would be getting lies. And so, she will love and be loved.

She took a step forward and bowed to them.

“As you wish.”

[sweetdreams-andspells]

i’m actually losing my shit thinking about the ritual that jane prentiss almost pulled off in the tunnels beneath the magnus institute back in the s1 finale? like first off what the FUCK was she even going to call that?? The Worm Circle? The Great Wormening?? HOW could jonny not name it in canon we were robbed!!!! imagine being peter lukas and sinking ur money and reputation into a whole tower block of custom-designed loneliness and being defeated by a NEWSPAPER ARTICLE or being tom haan and tossing endless meat into an endless meat pit for days before it’s EXPLODED BY C4 only to hear about JANE FUCKING PRENTISS almost succeeding in manifesting the corruption because she what?? gathered a large amount of worms??? a larger than usual amount of worms?? worms numbering many worm standard deviations away from the worm mean?? and then arranging them in a circle????? almost opening a portal to the Worm Dimension?????? WHAT THE FUCK!!!! she wasn’t even doing it on purpose she just really hated the archives!!!! she just wanted that many worms for funsies!!!! for drama!!!!!!!! i’m flinging myself into the buried this is too much

[kstewdeux]

InuKag Week 2020: June 11th (Desire)

@inukag-week​

Posting a day early is a thing I’m just doing now I guess.

Born to Run

Desire is the starting point of all achievement. It’s not a hope, not a wish but a driving force that overrides all obstacles. And one little girl desired one thing above all others. 

“Where we going?” a tiny little girl in a bright green kimono asked a little too innocently as she trailed behind one of her favorite people in the world. The man in question sighed heavily as he stopped mid-stride and glanced over his shoulder with affection clear in his amber eyes. It was an expression few had witnessed and even fewer were the recipients of. Maybe, just maybe, the bitter half-demon had a favorite niece. Which was probably bad and which would probably bite him in the ass one day but it was what it was. Minato was bookish and quiet and while more than willing to go along with her sister’s rough housing would much prefer painting to play fighting. Kasumi, on the other hand, was all action and energy and go go go all the time. She had no fear and it was endlessly endearing. Terrible for her parents but fantastic for him. The little one was truly a girl after his own heart.

“What’s all this about ‘we’, huh?,” Inuyasha laughed as he arched a single brow.  It was purely rhetorical, of course. The little one had accompanied him on his daily runs for the last three months at least. It started as an attempt to calm her down and give her parents a break but now it was routine. A much appreciated routine. It had been getting harder this past year. Almost three years had now passed and the well still wouldn’t let him go through. Which meant Kagome couldn’t get through either. And with his friends’ happiness only growing while he stood still, it was nice to know that out of that happiness came a little being who thought her uncle was the best thing ever. 

And truth be told, Inuyasha hadn’t given up hope that he’d have his own happy ending quite yet and he considered his interactions with the twins as practice for...for when Kagome did come back and...and he had a little girl of his own. Or a boy but preferably a girl. Babies probably weren’t all that different when they were small but hell, they might and he would much rather stick with what he knew.

Grinning sheepishly at his question, Kasumi toddled up to him and extended her arms.

“Up.”

“Just a perimeter run, okay?” Inuyasha informed her as he plucked up the little girl, planted her firmly atop his shoulders and tilted his head slightly to loosen his hair, “You remember the drill?”

“Stay quiet. Stay still,” Kasumi whispered excitedly as she wiggled her butt and wrapped her tiny arms around his forehead, “No ears.”

“If there’s a bad guy?”

“Roly poly,” she swore softly as she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Go real fast.”

“Always do kid,” Inuyasha chuckled before launching forward at full speed. It’d probably make Sango and Miroku angry as hell but yeah, he’d fought and killed a few demons while in the custody of their child. But come on! It wasn’t like he went looking for fights and if they encountered a demon what else was he supposed to do? Run? 

It had taken a few times to figure out the best way to protect a tiny wiggle worm. Thus the ‘roly poly’ technique was born. Let go. Curl up. Get tucked inside the shirt. Stay that way until it’s safe.

Wasn’t like it bothered the kid. She was probably the toughest two almost three year old he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering. Besides her mom killed demons. Her dad killed demons. Her uncles both killed demons. She was gunna kill demons and be damn good at it. She had to learn what that entailed at some point.

“Stop. Stop,” Kasumi whispered urgently and Inuyasha instantly came to a full halt as his ears twitched madly.

“Do you sense something?” he asked barely above a whisper as amber eyes scanned the foliage. It was usually around this age spiritual powers first started appearing so Miroku had told him. The monk’s eyes had been pretty much glued on Minato for months now because he had hedged his bets that the calmer twin would have spiritual powers but Inuyasha....

Inuyasha knew that calmness had nothing to do with spiritual powers. Kagome had been feisty and strong and fearless and one of the most powerful priestesses ever born. How quickly Miroku appeared to have forgotten...

Must be nice.

“No, I have a question,” Kasumi humphed as she unhooked one leg and began awkwardly sliding down his arm, “How did you get so fast?”

“I, uh, I’m just built that way I guess,” Inuyasha laughed softly, “You know demon blood?”

“No,” Kasumi challenged as her tiny feet landed on the wooden bark, “Because Shippo would be fast then.”

Barely repressing a snort, Inuyasha adjusted himself so he was partially reclining against the tree trunk - one knee bent and one leg outstretched as he pulled the tiny girl into his lap.

“Everyone’s different,” Inuyasha reassured the upset little girl, “That doesn’t mean they’re better or worse. There’s all sorts of things that you will be able to do that I can’t do.”

Her little brown eyes widened as she breathed like the world made sense again, “Like eat curry and not turn red.”

God dammit did she have to be so fucking cute?

“Exactly,” Inuyasha snickered, “You’ll be fast one day but not as fast as me and that’s okay. You’ll do all sorts of things that’ll make you special.”

“Well I’m gunna be fast,” Kasumi huffed as she gave him a suspicious glare, “What did you do to go faster?”

“I...I, uh, actually thought I just explained that? You know...half-demon...” Inuyasha replied uneasily as he mentally played back his little speech before making a small noise of understanding, “Do you mean how I train? Guess I just run a lot. Strech and stuff.”

This seemed to appease her. 

For exactly five seconds.

“The tree thing,” she continued as she gave him an adorable once over, “How did you learned to climb trees?”

Inuyasha had to bite his lip to keep from grinning.

“That I can teach you,” he offered affectionately, “But you’ll have to start with little trees because you’re little.”

“No I mean jumping,” she huffed in cute baby exasperation, “You jump really high.”

“Well you’re human so you can’t jump like I can,” Inuyasha replied as his grin faded. He had a feeling answering this particular question wrong would have him answering later for a broken leg, “You, um....so demons are built to do that and humans aren’t.”

“So your babies would be able to jump,” Kasumi concluded bitterly and Inuyasha’s heart constricted. First of all, how had she made that connection and second, just because hope was there didn’t mean...didn’t make it as strong as it once had been. Sighing heavily, his eyes clouded over for a minute as he allowed himself to remember full force Kagome in all her glory before locking that image away where it couldn’t hurt him anymore.

“I’m not...” he tried shakily before he shook his head and forced a smile back onto his face, “Yeah, if I have babies one day, they might be able to run fast like me.”

A piece of his heart cracked at the realization that there would most likely be no babies. She hadn’t come back and she would have by now if it was possible. Inuyasha knew she would have. And it wasn’t like...like he wanted her to spend the rest of her life alone waiting for him. He wouldn’t hold it against her if she moved on to better things. He didn’t want Kagome to suffer like he was.  If Kagome didn’t come back, it would take him forever to move on and...and well frankly, he would never really be able to let go of the woman who literally traveled through time. She’d been born to meet him and he’d been born to meet her and....and that had been accomplished. Early on, he’d thought she was born to be with him but...but the longer time passed the more he believed he’d been misreading the signs. They’d met for a purpose and that purpose had been fulfilled. Anything more than that was asking too much. The delusional concoction of a lonely mind.

“Could Kagome jump?” Kasumi asked skeptically and Inuyasha’s strained, vacant smile faltered. He had thought....they’d discussed not telling the little ones about Kagome until they were older. He told them not to tell the twins until they were old enough to understand but they apparently did it anyway. But they’d promised him...

“How do you know about her?” he asked wearily as his stomach churned.

“Shippo told me who the lady in the picture was,” Kasumi replied evasively and some of the uneasiness in her uncle’s stomach faded, “Could you...”

“What picture?” Inuyasha asked with a hint of desperation and Kasumi fidgeted nervously, “Kasumi, what picture?”

“I didn’t steal it. I found it,” she mumbled miserably - obviously thinking he was upset at her and assuming the worst, “I did. I was digging and...

“No, no I’m not mad,” he reassured her, “You said you found ‘it’. What is ‘it’?”

“A necklace,” she whispered as she looked down at her hands and began wringing them, “It had pictures of you and a lady so I asked Shippo and...”

Inuyasha’s nostrils flared as he realized. The locket. Way back when, he’d lost it pretty much immediately because he’d been careless and not paying attention and it’d been raining and...and he just assumed he’d lost it during a battle or something and only noticed later on. He’d written it off when he couldn’t track the scent despite a lot of sleepless nights and then Kagome seemed to forget about the damn thing so he just....never mentioned it again for fear of upsetting her.

“Can I have it?” he asked softly and Kasumi glanced at him with a small pout, “I lost it a long time ago. I’d really like it back.

He could see her mind trying to figure out a way to keep the pretty thing she’d found.

“Just the pictures. That’s all,” he amended, “You can keep the necklace part.”

“Just the pictures?” Kasumi breathed and he nodded. Giving her Uncle an appraising look, the little girl finally countered, “You can have the picture of her.”

Inuyasha wanted to laugh at how begrudgingly she said that. And his heart warmed a little that his niece wanted to keep the picture of him. Weird but cute.

“Deal,” he promised as he fluidly got to his feet and scooped her onto his hip, “Now let’s finish the run, okay?”

“You’ll see. I’m gunna be faster than you one day,” Kasumi informed him, “I’m gunna.”

“I bet you will,” Inuyasha snickered as he placed her back into his shoulders, “Hang tight.”

It was a few months of ridiculously adorable training sessions and one new brother later that Inuyasha was stuck babysitting while Sango and Miroku did laundry. Kasumi was normally excellent at following the no ear rule but her sister never seemed to get that memo and because of that Kasumi thought if Minato was touching the ears they were fair game.

“Can you do something about the twins?” Inuyasha hissed angrily before flinching slightly when they pulled a little too hard.

“Sorry Inuyasha. Girls leave him alone,” the slayer sighed like that would actually make a difference which it didn’t! Sango probably knew it didn’t too and just thought...

Inhaling sharply, Inuyasha’s heart pounded in his chest as he deposited the slay happy twins on Shippo and took off without another word.

“Do you think...”

“Couldn’t be...”

“He wouldn’t run like if...”

As her parents continued shuffling about and discussing what Inuyasha running off meant, Kasumi slowly got to her feet as she stared off into the distance with a very deep pout. So Uncle’s lady friend had come back, huh? Which meant she’d soon have cousins. Uncle loved this Kagome lady and Kasumi knew when you love someone babies happened. Or something. The details were a little unclear but however it happened Uncle’s babies meant trouble. Her little eyes narrowed as her pout deepened into a scowl.

“They better not be faster than me.”

Moments later, Kasumi found herself plucked up and heading to size up the model for her future competition. If this woman was strong and fast like Uncle, that would be a big problem.

“I hope she’s fat.”

“Kasumi!”

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Is There Anybody Out There?

Part 3

I promise this is the last horrifically depressing part in a row. Part four will lighten up a touch (though other parts will get pretty dark again)

All warnings from previous chapters should be kept in mind. I'm not going easy on us here.

Broken Hearts Club: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @wuvpancakes @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

When Marinette came to, she didn't. 

She couldn't open her eyes or move her hand. 

She couldn't move anything.

She tried to recall the last thing before this stillness. The Joker? Yes, the Joker had been beating Jason, or rather her, in Jason's body. She remembered pain and choking and fighting for control with Jason as a steel bar repeatedly slammed into her. She remembered falling asleep with Batman's rescue in mind. She remembered warmth everywhere and then nothing. 

That must be it then. She was still Jason, as she had planned and probably couldn't move due to the recovery process.

With that in mind, she slipped away.

...

When she came to again, she still didn't.

Did she fall into a coma? That would explain the inability to even twitch. To open her (his) eyes after what surely had to be long enough. Now that she thought of it, she couldn't feel anything either. Not her(his?) eyelids, or fingers, or legs, or chest. Was this what a coma felt like? Or were the doses on the medication too high? Had she messed up so severely as to be paralyzed?

Fear and anxiety pricked at the edge of her mind, but she pushed it down. She needed more rest. Just to rest a while longer and it would all be fine. She'd wake up from this coma and recover and swap back to her original body, leaving Jason his healthy one. And so she slipped once more.

…

How long has she been out? Why won't she wake up? Nothing made sense anymore.

Her(...his?) body still remained unresponsive and unfeeling. The nerves were disconnected from her conscious and all was still.

She had read once that coma patients could hear things still. She heard nothing. That they could feel some things, even a brush through their hair. She felt nothing. That they could taste and smell the antiseptic in the air. She wasn't breathing.

She wasn't breathing and this body she was connected to but not had no pulse.

If there was a mental equivalent to hyperventilating, this would be it. Either way, as her distress rose, she found herself drifting back into the unknown.

…

Marinette was dead. Or at least Jason's old body that she was stuck in was. Of that, she was sure.

She couldn't help but wonder how long her spirit could live inside a hollowed out corpse. She hoped it wasn't forever. How long had it been, anyways? 

Hours? Days? Weeks? More?

She couldn't say.

Maybe she should just disappear again. Was the place of drifting the afterlife? Who knew. She didn't.

…

She wanted to scream, to sob, to break down into a mess of tears and snot and gasping half breaths and she couldn't and it wasn't fair!

Jason didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve this. No one should be made to suffer like this. This endless loop of depression and loneliness and inability to express anything. 

She thought she had her emotions on lock before death came for her and yet nothing would ever compare to this deep seeded, absolute need to force everything out, to express her every despair put into the open and be so utterly helpless and incapable to do so.

She wanted to rip at her own skin, to claw at her eyes, to tear into herself physically in any way she could, if just to feel again. Feel anything at all, even if it was the pain of that god forsaken crowbar in her throat again or the engulfing burn of the explosion after the fact. She'd take all the pain in the world if it meant she could feel again. Even for just a second.

Please?

Anything?

No?

Okay...

…

Was This the afterlife? When you died, did you just lay completely devoid of movement, spirit restless for the rest of time?

Maybe this was it for her. Maybe she would just stay here forever to ponder the life she lost. Forever waiting for the next slip into oblivion only to come to and stay here in this contemplative silence again. If so, she hoped Jason never died in her body. Became immortal and avoided this endless torture.

The thought hit her that she died in another's body and that the universe may lash out at her for her defiance. Jason remained living while against fate's wishes and she was to blame. So it crafted her a personal hell in the form of her soulmate's old form. The one she clung to so desperately moments before their demise.

If she was awake and alert in his dead body, what did that mean for the technically dead boy stuck in her living body? Did she condemn them both in her stubbornness?

She set her mind to determining all the possible outcomes of that possibility. She had plenty of time anyways.

…

Their funeral must have been nice. Adoptive son of billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She imagines it to be a grand affair. Everyone who's anyone, paying their respects to Bruce's kid.

Or maybe just a quiet morning; Alfred, Bruce, maybe Richard if he felt bad enough, all gathered around a grave in the family plot. Mourning together. Would the service be open or closed casket? Probably closed to hide the truth of what killed them.

Surely as Batman, Bruce had told the JL of his departure. Perhaps the heroes had given their condolences or shown up on their own to say goodbye to one of their own. Considering the encounters Jason and her had with them in the past, she doubted it, but it was a nice thought.

She imagines their coffin is beautiful. A gorgeous mahogany or cherry wood. Gold clasps and locks, the inner lining velvety soft and plush to cradle the body. She almost wants to feel the texture below their fingertips, but sends thanks to the mercy of not feeling the confinement of the enclosed space instead.

…

She was alive! She could breathe and move, if barely, but that was okay, because she's alive. Everything would be fine even if it wasn't good because she could escape this damnable hell and leave this grave finally. 

She would hunt down Jason and throw her arms around him and never let go. She'd never tell him about her time down here, it didn't matter. All he needed to know was that she was alive and okay and so was he and everything would be better now. She promised, she just needed to get out of here first. 

If she could sob in relief she would, because by some miracle she was alive.

…

She wasn't. She was delusional and dead.

...

Counting to a thousand doesn't take nearly as long as you think. Neither does counting down. Luckily she fades again before she can start a third time.

…

She's still sort of alive in here in her own way. And that was her living body out there. If she really tried, could she switch them back? Could she go back to living and return his dead body to him? Would he be delivered to a better afterlife once she appeased the universe?

No. No! What was wrong with her? She died for him for a reason. He deserved a better life. He had been through so damn much and deserved the reprieve away from Gotham. And no matter what, she would never choose to let him die. She would suffer in here for a millenia if it meant he was safe and happy. Even if it was without her. She felt betrayed by her own mind's musings. 

That wasn't necessarily a new feeling.

…

She'd never see her parents again. Never hug them, never take in the warmth and strong scent of yeast and chocolate from her father and honeyed herbs from her mother.

Never wake up to Tikki snuggled into the pillow beside her, encouraging smiles and guiding words always at the tip of her tongue.

Never hold Chloe through her tears or fight by her side again. Finish the dress she was making her or Juleka. Help the shyer one come into her modeling career or guide her as a new miraculous holder. Guide the team.

Never become a designer or own a pet or get married or have children. 

It was more than that though. She'd never train in the Batcave again or fight by his side or sit in the library window at the manor or sit in the calming aura of Alfred. Never see the one person who could always tell when they swapped. Alfred had become a second father to her. She missed helping him cook or clean up. Missed asking for his opinion and making little inside jokes about the others. 

She'd never get to meet Jason.

…

She felt different. She felt wrong and confused and unsure and-

She felt…

She felt..

She felt?

Immense pain and overwhelming stiffness, but she felt!

Now. Now just to move. Please move. Let this not be another hallucination of her mind. Please? If she could move than she was alive, right?

A hand, their hand, twitched and shuddered and eventually dragged up their side. Up to their eye, the good one if she remembers correctly. She digs at the corners until eventually it squints open a touch. Pitch black.

Okay, that's not surprising. Probably another delusion, but she might as well see it through. She pushes her hand up through the dark until she meets wood. Soft wood. Barely there and slightly bowing beneath the weight of what she assumed was the earth above her. What, did they bury her in a plywood box? 

Their chest shook almost in a jittery up/down dance and air wheezed between their teeth. She didn't dare believe it was real. She lifted the other hand and pushed with both, feeling it move beneath their fingers. The one arm was still broken and hurt immensely but she pushed anyway. The pain, real or not, felt amazing. She brought a leg up to push as well.

Lowering all their limbs, she took a false breath of stale air and made her decision. Attempt to escape until she came too again, if only for the entertainment of it. At least it was something new.

She brought their legs into her chest as best she could in the surprisingly roomy coffin and kicked up with all the strength she could manage. A splinter formed under foot and sparked a manic sort of determination.

She kicked and kicked at the splinter until dirt was raining down around her in the dark space and then she kicked some more. It felt amazing on her skin: the dirt pushing down, the ache in her chest, the throbbing in her throat of splintered bone, the wood pushing down against her feet, tearing at them. And then the world collapsed down onto her.

In the wonderful pressure and choking hold of Earth, she tore at the soil, dragging herself up further and further, feeling it shift across their skin in glorious relief. Please never let this delusion end.

And then, then! Light. Blinding, all encompassing light came into view and she was on ground. Not under it, but above it, laying on it, letting the wondrous light bathe her in its heated gaze. She choked out dirt and coughed and wanted to cry out in joy but no sound would come out of their bone dry body. No tears would spring from depleted eye sockets. 

Eventually sight came back in a blurry daze of nonsense until the abandoned graveyard came into view. Turning, she saw a barely there grave marker and couldn't help but think her imagination cruel.

Pushing for more, she stood on wobbly, tattered feet and walked. Out of the tiny, forgotten field and into even more abandoned streets. She wasn't sure where her mind took her, but she kept walking in what looked like an early morning sunrise. She walked for what could've been hours, the sting and ache and tearing in their body spurring her on in a strangely gleeful manner. 

Eventually she stopped in front of a hospital. The sun had moved and faceless people had started appearing at a distance as time moved on in her thoughts. She liked this pain but… maybe she should seek help? Maybe her brain was searching for something to make it better. Mentally shrugging and then perking at the feel of their real shoulders following suit, she wandered into the ER. 

As people suddenly swarmed her, asking questions she couldn't process and grabbing her arms to drag her onto a gurney, reality kicked in harsh and fast.

She was actually alive. Everything was real and they could see and feel her and she could feel them too! Their body was alive and here. This was real.

And as relief swept into her veins and she collapsed down into the bed they provided, she felt such amazing peace that she didn't even notice as she fell asleep and straight into a coma. 

...

When sounds filtered in around her and she smelt the antiseptic and felt the tubes running through their body but still couldn't move or see. She screamed and cried and sobbed in her mind for the loss, their body horrifically failing to follow suit once again. Why couldn't this torture ever end?

[ask-dbd-laurie-strode]

Hey laurie, what was it like when u met the Plague? Did you feel bad for her with what happened to her and what does the Obsession reveal about her?

The Plague. I know she looks like something to pity… but don’t let her diseased appearance fool you. Whatever circumstances lead to her coming to this forsaken state of existence, she is no longer a victim in the least; She carries herself with the haughty grandeur of a self-proclaimed goddess. Sauntering through the trials with her head held high, clearly proud of what once must’ve been considered a disastrous curse.When I’m in a trial with her... when I look upon her towering form in the distance, the connection is made between us. And I can feel a powerful love for the Entity. She is devoted to its cause, utterly swayed by its whim and sees its sacrificial demands as a justification for her mutilation of us survivors.She doesn’t necessarily pity us the way The Nurse does. She is filled with absolute lust for the Entity’s good graces, and will appease it whatever way she can; spreading her contagion to us, weakening us with never ending bile, stomach spasms and unbearable heat. In comparison, The Nurse simply tries to put an end to us as soon as possible.The way she kills us too… she doesn’t do it quickly. She aims to cause us severe distress. She always makes sure to force us to ingest her disgusting, vile, spew; forcing it down our throats until our lungs grow heavy and we drown in her illness. She isn’t “putting us out of our misery” nor is she simply doing the Entity’s work… she is punishing us for whatever reason. She is making sure that we are terrified, that we feel powerless in her hands.The sickness I feel from her is not just the plague she carries. She isn’t something to be pitied. She may have been a human, she may have been tricked or forced into work for the godawful black spider that rules this place, but she has fully embraced it and makes sure that we feel like worms beneath her feet.At times, when a trial is nearing close, and no one has died… I sense great fear in her heart. And I am glad. Because she torments and hurts us with no pity, no remorse, and above all, she does it with arrogance. She believes herself to be a chosen one, and us to be the heathens she must punish.The only times I sense anything more than Arrogance, and the aforementioned fear, is when she sees me.The Obsession has once again successfully wormed its way in… perverting some aspect of the Beast’s brain. She sees me and I can sense a sort of necessitous hesitation.Anytime she touches or injures me with that heavy burner, I immediately become a presence of fear, the others have said so. They say they can sense her malicious aura coming off me in waves.Her rotted heart follows me for sometime before finally returning to her… waiting to haunt me again.During that time, I feel this horrible, all-consuming heat coiling inside my chest and wrapping around my thoughts…And it’s then… that I see her intentions towards me… I can sense that she sees me as a messenger for her “God”; a voice to announce salvation and fear. But not only that… it feels like she sees me as a possible Neophyte. Like she perhaps wants to take me under her wing.I don’t know what could’ve lead her to view me in such a way, other than The Obsession forcing it in.She still kills me. Treads over me like the others and watches me squirm as I am forced to inhale her terminal kiss. But she always speaks. She always whispers or shouts in an ancient language, one that I cannot possibly understand literally, but there is a passion in her words. And when she speaks to me, I almost feel… an eager sort of expectation. Like she is just biding her time for the moment she can share the truth of her unknowable words to me.Sometimes, while I’m stuck bleeding out on the hook, waiting for the abomination to take me away to the hellish sky… she stays.She stands before me, studying my face with her one good eye.And I stare back at the two-sided face she wears; it almost seems like The Entity granted her back some of her former beauty. The way her flesh droops, balloons out and weeps with rot on one side, while the other shows what once must have been a truly beautiful young woman. A perfect representation of what the monster has done to these… these people.She will sometimes cup my head with her gigantic, rotted hands... I try to fight her away, but it’s no use when the grind of the hook’s jagged metal on my raw flesh damn near paralyzes my body.She’ll hold my face, and for a moment, she’ll speak, she’ll say something that almost sounds like a stern parent, or maybe like an authority figure telling you what’s good for you.And then she’ll kiss me. Sometimes on the cheek, sometimes on the forehead and disgustingly sometimes on my mouth.Perhaps she sees it as a blessing. As a way of showing me some form of lenience… trying to get me to acknowledge a path she foresees…I’m scared… What if there IS something inside waiting to be awoken? Just behind my eyes, waiting to see an escape? The others said it themselves… I carry her heartbeat.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Mind of Misery: Manipulation, Part 13

[ And so the journey begins.  Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously.  Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine?  Please Like, Share, and Follow us!   We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]

Cast:

[ L.K ] -  Lazarius Kashebahl, Marseille, Raelyndia Duskhollow

[ P.K ] - Kretus Dark

[ V.D ] - Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin

[ J ] - Jursol, Jimba, Mawa

[ T ] - Talisin aka The Boy

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[ P . K ]   Kretus stared down into the blondes face and inwardly grumbled. But my stew is still hot and I hadn’t even had a bite yet! He masked his irritation with himself. Serves him right. He should have just minded his own business. But then he hated himself for those thoughts. With a sigh, he merely nodded.

“You’re talking about the old Duskflame estate then. If I recall, that is your surname yes? It’s not far from here. One, maybe two hours trek due north...”

He shifted on his feet, his hands slipping into his pockets now.

“I can help you get there, sure.”

He slid his gaze around the fucked up group again. Shoulda just stayed put.

[ L. K ]   "Two. . .hours"  

He mouthed silently and turned around to move back toward Pame.  As he neared the Kaldorei he would softly motion for them to switch.

"She is much lighter, give your back a rest."  

It wasn't that he was going to ask her, more or less tell her.  She had been working herself to near death trying to take care and fight for everyone.  

Rather than force her to endure further, Lazarius would take the weight of the Shaldorei and turn back toward the others.

"You find a way to cut that time in half. . . and I will make it worth your while, how does ten thousand sound?"

Lazarius grunted as he hoisted the one arm elf over his shoulder and supported the man the best he could without injuring him further.

"We can talk on the way, move. . .now."  

He snapped inferring to Verza to get this show on the road.

[ P . K ]   “Ten thousand what? Biscuits? Daggers? Punches to the gullet?”

The tattooed red head moved forward and made a gesture to Lazarius as if to say let me carry the girl.

“Give the woman a rest. I can carry her and then I have a mount we can put two on. That should cut the time down.”

[ V . D ]   At the command of Lazarius, Pame wasted no time in heeding him. There was a selfish reason for it, too, because the thought of a break actually... Appeased the Kaldorei. It made the tension in her shoulders slacken when hoisting the red head into.her arms after Mars had been steadied and lifted by Lazarius. Though she'd bare her teeth in a glower at the suggestion of taking it too easy,

"I have her,"

She denies stubbornly, gritting her teeth after recognizing the harshness of her own tone,

"Egh... Thank you anyways..."

At the snap would the sindorei stare intently toward the Kashe'bahl, the previously tear soaked cheeks now flustered pink with shame attheir hesitation. He was a dick, but he was right. They werent safe, time was ticking.

"Gods sake," Tea groans at Kretus's cheeky remark, bending forth to scoop the little boy into her arms-- a habit she'd picked up with Brinys, and one she'd familiarize the boy with cause she'd be apoiling him henceforth...

Whether they followed or not, Tea starts walking the way Kretus had emerged from... Just to get them started! Even if it was the wrong way.

[ P . K ]   Kretus just shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk north. Right to his hut and after Tea.

“Suit yourself,” he said to Pame.

He looked at Lazarius over his shoulder as he was walking.

“Might want to have a chat with your comrades that now is not the time to be stubborn.”

[ L. K ]   "I can very easily call one of those worms down from the sky and let it pay you a visit if you think her company is so bad.  In case you aren't aware, aside from 'Teacup' you're a stranger to the rest of us, with very little value. . .aside from some stew. . .and a hut. . . You'll have to excuse our apprehension and desire to be someplace safe, secure and also trusted.  No offense."

If Kre didn't think Lazarius could hear him, he was mistaken, they were all elves here, even Jursol was keen of hearing, they all would have caught his remark. As he walked with the Shaldorei over his shoulder he grunted.

"Why don't we try this. . . since we are on the path toward doing something, You already know Verzatea. . . the troll is Jursol of the Zandalari, the Kaldorei is my personal Shade, Pame Myl'Brin and the young girl she is carrying is Raven.  This arm less fellow who is going to be just fine. . ."

Marseille opened his eye, just barely enough to peer at Laz and crack a soft smile.

"This is Marmless. . .I mean Marseille."

He would point ahead with his hand holding the arm of the elf.

"We don't know the kids name, picked him up on the way.  And I am Lazarius Kash'ebahl.  I assume you are Kretus . . she had told me a bit about your escapade during the Magister incident. . . it is a shame we never got to meet after I was returned."

[ V . D ]   Pame snorts noisily at the Marmless comment, biting harshly at her bottom lip to prevent that from bubbling over into a straight up laugh.

But it certainly was amusing, especially now that she was confident Mars stood a fighting chance of surviving. Maybe she'll laugh fully once they're completely out of the woods.

[ R ]   Raven continued to be easy to carry. Indeed, she was lighter than the Shaldorei. Her frame was slathered in drying, or dried black void tainted blood however. At least being completely out, she didn't squirm while being carried.

[ P . K ]   He continues walking, listening to Lazarius introduce them all. He had certainly not meant to keep his words from being heard. The man spoke what was on his mind when it was on his mind. Most of the time.

“You have the right of it. Kretus Dark.”

He wasn’t insulted in the least. He had merely been trying to help. He’d learned over the decades that help, whether offering it or receiving it, was a finicky thing.

“Tea,” he shouted.

“Start going right a bit. You’ll see my campfire.”

He looked at Laz again.

“We can grab a few things quickly and then lay both the comatose woman and Marmless atop Gambit.  Should cut our time if two of you aren’t weighted down with bodies.”

[ L. K ]   "Ma...rseille. . .wretch. . .even without my arm, I will knife y..."  

Laz shook the words from him as he continued to walk.

"Save your strength." he quickly corrected as he continued to limp along with the ancient elf.

"Mister Dark. . . is that your actual name?  I have never met anyone of the House of Dark.  Was that your fathers house?  The Kash'ebahls are a well known rank of nobility, In all of my time within the magistrate I don't ever recall hearing the name."

[ V . D ] With a hesitation in step the sindorei awkwardly wobbles around and starts meandering through the woods whilst wearing a bashful expression.

"I knew that,"

she murmurs beneath her breath, even though her breath was becoming equally shallow with every grueling step. She started to regret slacking in her stamina training.

Though she'd silently push herself to keep moving forward. Otherwise she'd become undeniably slow and fall to the back before slowly giving up.

[ P . K ]   He slid his eyes toward the male elf and forced a smile. A smile that oddly looked like someone Laz knew when she forced smiles.

“My mother was a poor woman. And my father was...”

his jaw clenched and he looked forward, his camp fire in sight now.

“Don’t actually know. Some nobleman who took my mother for a mistress then discarded her.”

[ L. K ]   "Sounds like a typical noble piece of shit."  

Lazarius said, knowing what he did about his own father, the man who'd sold him off for the fortune he'd gained, he wasn't exactly lacking in the department of horrible fathers.  

He would continue to walk in the middle of the back, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure Raven was alright.  Even in Pames care, he was fiercely protective over the girl.  Or was he just making sure she hadn't woken up yet.

[ P . K ]   Tea would make it to the small home first. It really wasn’t a tiny hut. It was moderate and looked cozy in the dreary Ghostlands. The fire was all but cinders now, the stew still hot.

“He was from what my mother told me of him. Help yourselves to the stew while I gather a few things.”

Kretus grabbed his own bowl that was now lukewarm and began shoveling it in while he disappeared inside. He’s re-emerge with more bowls then disappear again as he rummaged around gathering a few things. It would not take long.

[ V . D ]   With a weathered sigh of relief Tea momentarily lowers the boy to indulge Kretus's kind offer. She'd locate items which to safely carry the stew offered, as well as utensils for them all to eat from-- offering each of their group a bit of stew to fuel them for the hard journey ahead.

Pame, while she devoured it swiftly, would hiss and huff noisily from scorching the inside of her mouth from rushing the process of chewing. Though she'd offer to feed Mars, blowing on it so as to prevent him from unnecessarily hurting himself.more.

[ J ]   Jursol followed the others choosing still to listen as they moved. Her raptors purred as they nudged her now and then. She glanced around at things as they walked taking in the new sights.

When they arrived at the mans hut she took a minute to look around. The raptors needed to hunt for food and felt the same at the moment. Mars was in good hands for the time being. Breathing a sigh of relief before speaking up.

“We be needin ta hunt for der meat.”

She said pointing at the raptors. Jimba now in her arms as she pet him. Jursol looked once more to the others to be sure they would be OK for a bit while she was gone.

[ V . D ]   "Swiftly," Pame agreed with Jursol, her eyes sweeping the familiar forest with a glower before remarking secondly, stressing,

"Carefully. These woods are known for monstrosities."

-- The promise to Jursol made by Verzatea before her hunting spree was a vow to set up small hints to help guide the zandalari and her raptors to the right path, back to the traveling band of misfits after they began the journey. Something small, but something Jursol could track.

@siidaraykashebahl

@frompage112

@zandalaridruidofgonk

@thebladeitself

@whatadarkbitch

@pyravari-kashebahl

@miss-irascible

To be concluded in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Epilogue″

[desertpacificoctopi]

2, 17, 18, 20, 24, 40, 44 for the oc ask meme >:3c

some of these are doubles but it means that i will simply have to give a second answer >:3ccc 2 - do you have a personal favourite among your ocs? hhhhh eeeeeeeeee uhhh. apart from mnem it is SO hard for me to pick favorites. maybe it is kosaadi vyrayassa because, god she's also just a tall wlw i have a Type sdhkfdsf. but vyra is different bc she is very lawful and has morals that she sticks to. but those morals also involve Kicking Ass. i love my dragon wife and she loves her demon wife. honestly ask me abt her character arc sometime 17 - any oc otps? LISTEN,,, when i have a ship in mind when i am doing ocs then i will go Whole Hog on it. so yeas i have a LOT of ships. but highlights include: typh & janus, the teenage god hell polycule, tenta & inkfree, delaney & macy, siv & rose, pratima & nora, the guidance trio, ursula & thomas, mirela & shiori, milosh & onyx, and my fairy tale wlw symphony & polaris. there are so many more and i am cutting myself off here 18 - any oc crackships? i don't tend to crackship (but if you have any PLEASE tell me) but abraxas and nemos i did not expect! abraxas blindsided me with being attracted to anyone at all. okay i have a crackship for you actually. sieglinde and eva. high femme and scary butch. i don't think it would happen but like worm. maybe i will think more on what other buckwild ships i could have 20 - do any of your ocs sing? if they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)? i think a lot abt music and my ocs but like, it's often musical instruments or in the context of music videos that i play out in my head kdsjfhds. orith is more musically inclined tho, i think he sings in a soft baritone. i love him. hozier type music 100 percent. mirela absolutely sings, she has a strong alto. her only child kouki used to love her voice. all of my sonas most likely sing bc i'm like this, but most prominently my Ultimate Self, sylvan, would to keep their soup of souls appeased. sylvan's song is dream sweet in sea major and that is all i need to say there 24 - if you could meet one oc of yours, who would it be and why? i'd really like to sit down and talk to pratima, honestly. she's been through a lot and i want to either give her a hug or a stern talking-to, depending on what point in her timeline we're interacting in. and also we can vibe together about being older siblings, and poetry. 40 - any fond memories linked to your characters? feel free to share! ask me personally about the moment i came up with valhallabound. i love that one. that and all the time i have spent jamming on oc things with my friends over the years!! i deeply cherish that shit. arcane, quinn, max, lydia, annabelle, and the wholeass superverse crew. this one's about you. 44 - something you like about your ocs in general i think my names are good! i think a lot about them, trying to find something that both sounds good and means something.

thank you so much mario!!! i’m sorry i took so long getting to it sdkfjds

[livesbeneath]

like happiness.

pairing: noah x female mc (harley blanco)

summary: she assumes that’s what he’s practicing now; recipes he’s perfected a hundred times over. in this respect, good enough will never be good enough for him. he has more drive than most give him credit for, and without that drive, baby jane’s would be nothing more than a thought scribbled down on a notepad.

word count: 1.5k.

author’s note: sometimes you decide that since you’ve written TWO angsty things, you should probably try and write something a tad bit fluffier. i wrote this fic on the bus this morning after being stuck at a red light by a diner, not gonna sugarcoat that at all, but i hope you all enjoy! i apologize for any grammar / sentence structure issues, as i tried to proofread the best i could, and thank anyone who takes the time to read! feedback in any form is deeply appreciated! 

disclaimer: i do not own these characters (except harley). creative liberty has been taken to make this story unique, and i do not intend to use it for profit in any way.

She’s seated at a small two-top table by the window, her hair done up in a messy bun that practically screamed “hey, pal, take a number”. Her uniform consists of a pair of jeans, an old Pink Floyd t-shirt, and a black waist apron that will no doubt one day contain a whole gaggle of quirky pins to accompany her name tag.

“Harley Blanco, Assistant Manager”, soon to read “Harley Marshall, Assistant Manager”. That is, of course, if you ask about the ring on her finger. That’s what she assumes many of her customers will be doing mid-order. Despite the established grandeur of her title - she’s much more excited to wait tables than she is to do actual managerial duties.

Normally, she would be more than happy to talk about her engagement, but with the diner slated to open in only a week, all last minute paperwork was her first priority. The same went for her fiancé, who was no doubt elbow deep in some greasy vat in the back of the restaurant. Harley had half a mind to call on Dan for help, but Noah had insisted that this was a job for them, so she let him be. What they have to do is overwhelming, but both agree that the business-culinary school tag team system they’d developed was their smartest idea ever.

That, and the soon-to-be-implemented $5.00 burger night.

Harley chews absentmindedly at the cap on her pen, flipping through document after document, scribbling down a reminder to order an extra shipment of kids menus. Every time she sets aside a paper for Noah to sign, the impending grand opening seems realer. After everything she’s been through, it makes her head spin. She arches her back and flops back down on the table, using the mound of folders as a headrest. The lazy sunlight coaxes her into a nap.

“Shoot!” exclaims a voice amidst a clatter from the kitchen. Harley turns her head, opening a heavy eye to the direction of the noise.

“Noah?!” she calls. “What did you do?”

She waits and listens for a response. As silence hangs in the air, she shrugs and stares back down at yet another order form.

It’s the second she turns away that Noah then pokes his head out of the kitchen door, his long hair suspended by a hairnet. As usual, he speaks with the kind of suspense that only a young man of few words can. “American or cheddar?”

“What?” Harley squints in his direction.

“American or cheddar? Y’know, like the cheeses?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Which one you like more, yeah.”

Harley clicks the pen in thought. “Provolone.”

“You’re impossible.” Noah huffs, shaking his head and disappearing back behind the door. The sound of the slightly stunted open and close of a refrigerator door follows.

She can’t help but laugh at the way they are now. It’s as if they’ve been painting a picture for years and have finally discovered a revolutionary new color that has made their lives significantly more vibrant. Either that, or they’ve finally mastered the art of communication. The steady hand of telling the person you’ve loved since you were children that maybe, just maybe, they make your heart beat a little faster than it should. It makes her feel full inside.

Baby Jane’s is slated to become some sort of semi-touristy spot. Nestled in the heartseed of spooky Oregon is the workplace of the “once dead girl”, a place that just happens to be owned by the once-supposed accessory to her murder, now more affectionately known as her lover. She has cue cards ready for possible questions curious customers will ask her.

Harley can tell that Noah hates it. The situation is behind them, the world finally spinning on its axis again, and yet people still find a way to remind them.

“I don’t want this place to be famous for who we are!” he once told her. It was a particularly hard day, and Harley can remember him nearly ripping a recipe card in half at the diner counter. “I want it to be known for the stuff we serve. The things we do now!”

Her response was simple. An affectionate kiss to the cheek, a calm “Then you cook so good that they’ll have no choice but to talk about anything but what they ate.”

She assumes that’s what he’s practicing now; recipes he’s perfected a hundred times over. In this respect, good enough will never be good enough for him. He has more drive than most give him credit for, and without that drive, Baby Jane’s would be nothing more than a thought scribbled down on a notepad.

Her mind wanders to the beginning of this chapter of their adventure. It hadn’t started when she had finally convinced herself to go to business school (she had never been sure of what she wanted to do after high school), but rather back at Britney’s party when he unexpectedly pitched the idea of the diner to her. He’s the same boy, but with higher hopes and a nicer, state-of-the-art grill to mull over.

It’s all for Jane, she reminds herself as she reopens a folder for evaluation. A smile worms its way onto her face when she remembers the story Noah had told her about Jane’s first grilled cheese - the thing that made him want to cook. Despite not being there, Harley can picture the scene perfectly, right down to the kitchen she had spent so much time in as a child. She can see Noah using a chair as a stool to reach the lower left burner. She can see the heel of a loaf of bread discarded, resting off to the side with an overturned pepper shaker. She can see Jane’s cheesy smile, both literally and figuratively, as she exclaims what the gourmet sandwich tastes like. She can hear her voice as she says it.

Like happiness.

A warmth spreads through her as the sunset peeks through the large windows of the near-vacant diner, and Harley sighs as it hugs her tight. Since beginning again, she has a new appreciation for her own happiness. Being alive makes her feel as if she’s swallowed a ray of sunlight. Being in these moments make her feel like the light itself.

So lost in her own mind, Harley doesn’t even notice the hairnet-clad figure approaching her from across the room until he sets down a plate before her. The clink! of the dish against the counter garners her attention, and she turns to see Noah sitting tiredly in the chair beside her, eyeing her instead of Main Street Westchester at sundown. He gracelessly pulls the hairnet from his head, scratching behind his ear as he does so. There’s a grilled cheese and nothing else before her.

“Is this for me?” she asks sleepily, giving him a small smile as she goes to grab the sandwich.

“Maybe.” he teases.

Her eyebrows quirk up. “Provolone?”

“American and cheddar.”

“Ahhh, innovative.” she giggles as she goes to take a bite.

For a moment, the two sit in silence, Noah taking a moment to glance out the window as she eats. Mid-bite, she admires the shine of the sun on his engagement ring. After finishing one half, she looks to him brightly, licking her fingers of excess cheese. His eyes flick over in her direction for a moment.

“How is it?”

“Do you even have to ask? It took me forty-five seconds to eat one half!”

He rolls his eyes at her, a smile on his face as he leans forward, one elbow resting on the table. “You gotta go slower than that, Harley. How else are you gonna really-”

“-take the time to appreciate it.” they finish in unison.

“Yeah, that.” Noah finishes.

To appease him, Harley smiles cheekily, taking an exaggeratedly slow bite of the remaining half. He rolls his eyes again, looking back out at those lingering on the street. She takes note of the way he studies them, his face near unreadable. Even after so long, there are still moments where she can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. It’s rare that he ever gets deep first.

“Maybe some of them will be in here soon.” he muses, eyes following a woman and her two children as they walk into a cafe across the road.

“Maybe!” she chirps. “God knows we’ve done enough advertising. Maybe Andy can get us some airtime on SportsCenter.”

He snorts slightly, giving a small shrug. “I just can’t believe it’s actually happening, y’know? After… everything.”

She knows he that by “everything”, he doesn’t just mean schooling and advertisements. Harley bites the inside of her cheek and reaches over, putting a hand over his as her half-finished grilled cheese slice sits firmly in her other fist. They don’t have to speak to know that the other hopes the worst of their trials are over. She thinks that by now, they deserve some peace. They deserve some…

“How does it feel?” she asks.

He turns to her, offering her a smile. She feels him grip her hand a little tighter with his response.

“Like happiness.”

[a-baleful-howl]

thoughts on episode 8.02

Discussion about Episode 2 of season 8 below the cut

Sansa’s wearing her armor over her heart before they know the wights are coming. She’s symbolically guarding her heart and her emotions since Dany and Jon arrived. Ouch.

Dany tries to get her boyfriend to side with her or his sister-cousin, and he chooses sister-cousin lol.

Cutting to a super close up shot on Dany mid conversation for her to say “who manipulated who?” Like AHAHAHAHA come on political!jon, you don’t have to be so obvious. We get it without the editing. *cackling like a mad woman*

They’re hinting at Tormund becoming a wight way too much. Please no. Not my little red headed step child. Please no.

YES. like I said last week, Dany might only get her hackles raised when people start to show preference for Sansa over her. And Theon did JUST THAT.

That Sansa/Theon reunion was a bit too romantic for my taste. Theonsa is a ship I really dont like so...please no. It’s a sweet reunion and I don’t hate Theon, and I like Theon and Sansa’s bonding over the fact that he helped her escape Ramsay and he sacrificed himself so she could get to Castle Black, but the way their scenes are set up in this episode could, if so inclined, very well lead into a romance or coupling with little confusion from the audience. The music alone…

That said, I don’t think they ARE doing that. I still think Jonsa is going to happen. But the way those scenes were done only made me worry, because they suggest otherwise and don’t clearly label Sansa and Theon’s relationship. Either they were done intentionally like that, or they failed pretty big on communicating that Theon and Sansa only have a big bond over their shared experiences with Ramsay and escaping.

Another one of my ships has sailed straight into boner harbor - my GendryxArya shipper soul is appeased. Especially since he told her he was Robert's bastard son first.

And, now we have Dany’s true reaction to Jon’s news. We have the set up in her conversation with Sansa that her number 1 priority until recently was the Iron Throne, and then we have the pay off to her learning she’s not the rightful heir anymore. She’s NOT happy. She’s NOT saying “oh, that’s cool. We marry our siblings in the family.” She's NOT saying “I’m NOT the last Targaryen alive anymore? Thank the gods.” She immediately goes into competitive mode.  

If Dany were to follow the five stages of grief to the news, she’d have denial (“coming from your brother, and your best friend?”), anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Of course, their conversation was interrupted and now they have to go immediately into battle - which is another warning flag because Dany is now going to be ANGRY on the back of that dragon, with Jon’s family and people depending on her for survival. So, we’ll have to see how that goes.

Final thoughts

I have been waiting for Helms Deep 2.0 the battle at Winterfell just as much as I have been waiting for canon Jonsa. GIVE IT TO ME. GIVE IT TO ME NOW. The only thing that’s keeping me sane is that even though we didn’t get it in episode two, it looks like they’re dedicating an entire episode to it. So...Fine.  That’s fine. I’m fine. Its fine.

There wasn’t as much Jonsa stuff for us this episode as I was hoping. Episode 1 still is great for that, but I’m a bit disappointed that we didn’t get any Jon and Sansa moments after he now knows they’re cousins. We see his discomfort with Dany very clearly in the opening scene, but it’s not as clear later on.

Generally, with things like this, the characters we see the most/bond with the most/empathize with the most are the ones who are about to die. I’m really worried for Tormund, Brienne, Gendry, Lyanna Mormont, Grey Worm, Tyrion and Jorah right now. Maybe Sandor. Maybe.

Ugh, this wait between weeks is going to kill me. I want the next episode now. Damn this. I just want to know what happens. (Russia, if you’re listening…)

I didn’t know this episode had leaked until several hours after it had, and I read some untagged and unhidden spoilers on my dash. Just a friendly reminder to put discussion on leaked episodes behind a cut, or to at least put in bold on the top of your post that you’re talking about a leaked episode. I had no idea there even was a leak to be careful of before I ran into a pretty big spoiler. Maybe there should be a bat signal when an episode leaks or something. Even then, not everyone can or wants to watch a leaked episode before it airs, so just a reminder to be courteous.

[fire-emblem-heroes-supports]

Summoner/FH!F!Robin C-S Support

Written by @polast-u-s

Author’s note: The game doesn’t really mention it, but I assume that Breidablik has a protective contract/barrier that works by deflecting any Hero that feels malice towards the summoner, has an intention to kill them, feels blood lust etc etc. No more malice of course means no more deflecting.

C SUPPORT

[Grima punches the wall in frustration, then growls in pain.]

Grima: What is wrong with this body? Are the females of your species all this weak?

(Y/n): I think anyone’s hand would hurt if they hit the wall as hard as you did.

Grima: This soft, flimsy body has no scales, no horns, no claws. How is it that humans have continued to survive for this long? Ever since I took possession of this body I’ve received countless bruises and scrapes, because humans are too stupid to evolve harder bodies.

[(Y/n) sighs and rolls their eyes.]

(Y/n): Anyway, if you’re done trying to get around Breidablik’s contract, you can start helping me carry this bucket of food for your other self up to the roof.

Grima: Mark my words? worm, I WILL break that little toy of yours one day - and then you’ll be at my mercy.

[Grima swipes at the Summoner spitefully and is instantly deflected by Breidablik’s protective barrier, the force of which bounces her into a wall.]

(Y/n): If you’re not careful? your body’s going to be one big bruise. 

[Grima sneers at the Summoner’s food bucket.]

Grima: Are you trying to curry favour from me by bringing my other self offerings after all that big talk about joining hands and working together to make a better world? I see you’ve decided to try and take the easy way out to beg someone else to do your work for you.

(Y/n): Actually, I thought you… the other dragon you I mean… would be bored from lying on top of the roof all day. Nowi told me that manaketes enjoy playing and flying around, but you don’t do any of that. So I thought maybe you’d enjoy eating something instead. You do like to eat, don’t you?

Grima: That slop you feed to both of us is intolerable.

(Y/n): Hey, give me a break. You’ve already rejected the mutton, boar, peasant, venison and pork dishes I brought you, just to name a few. And you won’t touch vegetables at all. Human bodies need veggies, you know.

Grima: Human food is disgusting. You take something, and then dress it up to forget that it was ever a living thing to appease your guilty consciences. Hypocrites, every single one of you.

(Y/n): Well, today I made you bear stew. Let’s see if you like this better.

Grima: Hmph. It’s just wasted effort on your part.

[(Y/n) and FH!F!Robin have reached support rank C.]

B SUPPORT

(Y/n): ….and Klein, please tell Gaius it’s his turn to clean the stables, no matter what he says about his baking. We’re holding a war council later and we need to make sure the meeting room’s clean, although sometimes it feels kind of meaningless when there’s always a mess after it’s over.

Grima: Busy, are you?

(Y/n): Always. What can I do for you, Grima?

Grima: I find it curious how you humans have so many little customs and habits you’ve made up for yourselves. With all these little restrictions in place, you only seem to have made it harder for yourselves to live.

(Y/n): Oh, is this about the bath we forced you to take yesterday? You tried to use an eggplant to beat Chrom back.

Grima: That was a lapse of concentration on my part and I’ll ensure a painful death to anyone who chases me around again!

(Y/n): Why don’t you make your life here a little easier for yourself and just agree to be washed? Human skin gets dirty fairly easily, and you’ll get rashes and stuff like that if you don’t bathe. It’ll feel reaaaaaaally bad.

Grima: If this ‘bath’ of yours is so important, then why do you not all just stand out in the rain? Same logic, same difference.

(Y/n): Because the rainwater is dirty from… oh, there’s so much I wish I could tell you about but I never have any time! Look, Grima. There’s lots of reasons why we do things the way we do. It can’t hurt to try them out while you’re here, right?

Grima: Why should I do anything that you humans do?

(Y/n): Beyond the obvious reasoning of ‘you now inhabit a human body that functions like one’, I think it’d be good for you to try out new things.

Grima: You have nothing better to do with your time than pester me, do you?

(Y/n): I just worry about you, is all. Nobody deserves to be all alone, not even you.

Grima: …

Grima: I am Grima! There is nothing human about me, and I certainly don’t need your pity!

(Y/n): I frankly don’t care if you think it’s pity, but I’m not leaving you alone. I don’t think you really like being alone either.

Grima: Do not presume to comprehend the mind of a god, you insignificant insect!

(Y/n): Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I gotta go. I’m late for a meeting and I’m supposed to open the dialogue today.

Grima: Hmph. Finally, I’ll be rid of a pest. Crawl away then, little worm.

(Y/n): Catch you later. I’ll save some of that cold peasant you like for you at dinner.

Grima: I certainly will NOT let you catch me again. You can take that ‘bath’ of yours and stick it-

(Y/n) I didn’t actually mean catch you, I meant - oh never mind, bye!

[(Y/n) rushes off, and a piece of paper flutters off their clipboard. Grima picks it up and reads it.]

Grima: Hmph. What is all this? My name is all over it.

Grima: …I can’t understand half of what this says.

[(Y/n) and FH!F!Robin have reached support rank B.]

A SUPPORT

(Y/n): And there… we… go! Man, how does she DO this to her own clothing?

Grima: You. Summoner.

(Y/n): Oh, no ‘putrid worm’ or ‘puny insect’ today? I’m flattered.

Grima: Silence that useless mouth of yours for once. Explain what this is to me.

(Y/n): Hey, my to-do list! You had it with you this whole time???

Grima: ‘To-do list’? Why does it have my name all over it?

(Y/n): Well, I was planning to make your room into more of a loft, since you said you preferred it to feel like a nest, and I wanted to try making more cold meat dishes since you seem to like those, and I wanted to mend your clothes too, and…

Grima: You… Why are you doing all of this? Every day you come to me with a smile no matter how many insults or threats I throw at you, and you insist on finding out what I like so you can run up and down doing unnecessary things for me. What do you gain from this? What do you -

[(Y/n) places a newly patched and mended coat on Grima.]

(Y/n): There we go. Comfy?

Grima: …

(Y/n): To answer your question; don’t you remember how angry you were when you first arrived? You didn’t try to destroy a castle wing or anything like that, oh no. You just decided for yourself that everyone in the Order had it out for you and you responded accordingly. You were bitter, rude and impossible to get along with.

(Y/n): I thought maybe I could get through to you if I just did nice things for you every day.

[Grima laughs.]

Grima: Were you expecting me to play nice with everyone? Humans are nothing more than insects wriggling in the dirt, desperate to feel more important than they really are.

(Y/n): I know.

Grima: You know, and you continue to work to keep as many of them alive as possible?

(Y/n): I don’t want to live in a world where there’s nothing left to look forward to, or live for. Maybe you could call this an entirely selfish motive, but leaving Askr to die… it won’t make anyone happy, Grima. Not even you.

Grima: Trying to pretend that you can understand a god’s thinking again, are you?

(Y/n): I’m not pretending. I know that no matter how many worlds you try to ruin, it won’t make you any less angry or bitter. I really do believe you can try and live… well, differently.

Grima: Ha. You really are the most foolish, idiotic human I ever met. You think me so fickle that I’ll change my mind just because some idealistic idiot said a few honeyed words to me?

(Y/n): I do. Why else do you think you and I can touch now, without Breidablik throwing you a couple of feet in the air? It no longer senses any malice from you.

[Grima starts back in surprise from (Y/n) adjusting the coat around her.(Y/n) then holds out their hand to her.]

(Y/n): I’m not looking to make fun of you or slay you or anything like that. You’re curious about me now, and I feel the same way about you. You’re finally feeling something other than hatred or malice towards me and that’s honestly all I could ask for.

[(Y/n) feels a hand on their back.]

Grima: You’re not afraid I could kill you right here and now? I could throw you off that cliff.

(Y/n): You could. …but I don’t think you will.

Grima: …

Grima: That cold patridge was tolerable. But I want something warm next time.

[(Y/n) beams.]

(Y/n): Got it! How about chicken dumplings? How do you feel about pastry?

Grima: What’s pastry?

[(Y/n) and FH!F!Robin have reached support rank A.]

S SUPPORT

Grima: Summoner. SUMMONER!

(Y/n): Oh? Hey, Grima. Sorry, my head’s all up in the clouds. Work’s been a mess lately.

Grima: Impertinent. When I speak to you, (Y/n), you will give me your full attention. Where are you running off to this time?

(Y/n): Just off to battle and another close brush with death! Don’t wait up.

Grima: When will you be coming back? Who is going with you? Are they capable of slaying even one of your foes?

[(Y/n) pauses in surprise.]

(Y/n): What’s gotten into you, Grima? You’re so fidgety today and you’re usually anything but.

Grima: Just answer my question! Are they capable of even defending their miserable lives, including yours?

(Y/n): I trust them with my life. And if I were to fall in battle today, I wouldn’t blame them at all.

[Grima’s face falls, then starts pacing the room furiously.]

(Y/n): …oh my, I didn’t mean to upset you. Don’t worry, don’t worry! They’re all trained and seasoned warriors. I’m sure everything will be fine. But what’s eating you?

Grima: No matter how much I struggle in vain, my eyes are always drawn to you. You are forever on my mind, against my will.

(Y/n): Eh? I didn’t hear you.

Grima: You have to form a contract with me, here and now, to bind yourself to me for as long as you live. I’ve deemed you worthy of keeping you by my side, and… I want to make sure you don’t leave.

(Y/n): There’s no need for a contract, silly. You couldn’t be rid of me even if you tried.

Grima: But humans are so… they never stay in one place forever. And you, you make me feel all these things that I barely understand. I must have you here while I attempt to grasp these feelings. I need to make sure you don’t… go away and forget all about me…

(Y/n): I would never -

Grima: Despite years of begging for favours, humans always forget about me when it’s convenient for them. But you remember so much about me, no matter how meaningless. You bother about idiotic things like what food I prefer, or how I wear my clothes.

(Y/n): Grima…?

Grima: I WILL have you bind yourself to me. Now, come here -

[(Y/n lightly smacks the top of Grima’s head.]

(Y/n): Hold on there, miss. First rule of having a relationship with a human, you can’t go about doing things like that - even if said human has a huge crush on you.

[(Y/n) blushes and holds out their hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Grima clasps it.]

(Y/n): I guess you don’t believe in me completely right now, but I really do want to stick with you. I know it’s difficult for you to trust humans, but…

Grima: …but you want me to take that chance on you, is that it?

(Y/n): Only if you want to! I don’t want to force you into doing anything.

Grima: You are… truly one of a kind. In all my long memory I’ve never met anyone whose existence demands to be remembered like yours. You fill my every waking thought.

Grima: You say you don’t want a contract, but you seem to have bound me to one anyway.

(Y/n): Well, I guess it wouldn’t be wrong to say that I’ve made quite a catch, huh?

Grima: My, you have some nerve. I’ll make you pay for those words tonight.

(Y/n): Eh?

[Grima grips (Y/n)’s hands tightly and smirks. Then she hesitates.]

Grima: But what will I do if one day, you went somewhere out of my reach?

(Y/n): Then I’ll wait for you to find me and then fly straight to me. I know I can count on you.

[(Y/n) and FH!F!Robin have reached support rank S.]

  Confession Quote:

Grima: “I may have lost some of my memories, but I couldn’t forget you if I tried. You belong to me now, and I to you. You had the sheer audacity to ask me to gamble on you - do you even know what you’ve gotten yourself into? But it matters not. I will never let you go now, no matter how much you struggle. Now, give your hand to me and come over to my side. You need to be punished a little for your impertinence. Prepare to open those wide eyes of yours and carve my visage, my scent and my voice into your body... my dearly beloved.”

[bluboothalassophile]

I Hate Me Too

@reerrrrskillz, I know this isn’t exactly what your requested, but it fits with a mini arch of Calm in the Storm so I hope you enjoy.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Jason stood in his apartment three weeks after the incident and he stared out his window of his kitchen as his hands shook.

Fuck… Fuck!

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do. Growling he slammed his plates into the sink as a ragged breath c ame from his lips and he gripped the sink hard as he could.

She’d barely been fit to come home, he knew that, the gaping wounds she’d suffered from the attack, and everything; but both he and she had insisted that they come home. Since then she’d been… holed up, alone, in their bed, and she didn’t want comfort.

She didn’t eat, she didn’t drink, hell, she barely moved.

There was a knock on his door which had him growling as he dragged a hand through hair before walking to his door.

“What?” he yanked it open and found himself staring at the last person on the planet he thought he’d deal with. Blue eyes stared levelly back at him.

“Jason,” Bruce said evenly.

“What the fuck do you want old man?” he groaned rubbing a tired hand over his face as his father brushed passed him.

“We were worried.” Bruce’s answer was simple, and Jason glared at his father as he picked up a cigarette and walked to his nook to smoke. He couldn’t leave her alone, no, he didn’t rightly know what to do but he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her. The mere thought was not acceptable. No. So he’d smoke at the window; to appease their unspoken rules of the house, and to relax himself.

“About what exactly.”

“About you, and Raven,” Bruce answered setting down a box that Jason noticed for the first time. Bruce eyed the sink cautiously and frowned. Jason glared in defiance, daring Bruce to say something about the broken dishes.

Gods above knew there was so much broken between him and Rae right now that the dishes right now, and fuck he didn’t know where to start.

“Believe what you will Jason, but we do care about you, and Raven is a friend of Dick, Tim, and Damian. She’s also vitally important to you, so we are all concerned, especially after what happened.”

“We’re fine.”

“You’re not,” Bruce stated.

“And as Reigning King of Emotional Constipation you feel you have right to speak to me about affairs that have nothing to do with you!” he snarled.

“As your father I am here because I am worried about my son, for the psychological trauma of having to kill Arella Roth, even if that was merely an illusion. It was real to you and Raven, and I watched that,” Bruce snapped grabbing the cigarette and smashing it out. Jason snarled at his father as he shoved past B to the fridge to get a beer, or better; the whiskey. Maybe he’d bribe Artemis on a vodka run for him. Something to dull the ache of his own pain.

“She can’t even look at me B,” he laughed bitterly as he noted he was out of alcohol. The trembling of his body took him over as he slumped on his forearm against his fridge and freezer. “She…”

“It’s okay Jase,” his father whispered.

“I killed her mother,” he whispered as he felt his legs give out and he slid down the fridge until he was curled up hugging his knees. “I killed Arella,” he sobbed as his head fell back. “I can’t… she… fuck, I don’t know what to do,” he admitted as the sobs tore through him. There were hands gingerly on him as his father crouched to his level and he found himself enveloped in a rare hug. The last hug he’d gotten from his father had lead him to standing in the place of his death, but this had him collapsing against B as he sobbed. He clawed and hung onto B for dear life as he hid against his father.

It didn’t matter that that appearance of Arella was merely a demon dressed to look like her and say sweet words that Raven had wanted to always hear; what mattered was that it had been Arella. And Jason had killed that damn demon.

“It’ll be alright Jason,” Bruce whispered against his hair and Jason just sobbed.

“Jason?” a small, ragged, smoky monotone whispered, which had him pressing further into B. God, she must hate him! “Hold me,” she ordered and he didn’t get to even glance at her before she wormed her way between him and his father and pressed herself securely to his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Rae,” he whispered as he sobbed and held onto her and his dad.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Bruce watched as Raven cried and Jason did too, and suddenly the books and plates exploded from where they were, everything was struck by a storm as the pair clung tightly to each other. He held onto his son and the demon and closed his eyes as he prayed to a merciful God for a moment of reprieve for his son and a girl he was coming to think of as a daughter.

And he prayed that Trigon stayed dead this time. Neither Jason nor Raven deserved what had happened to them, they deserved a moment of peace.

But right now there was a storm raging around them, and he tried to shield them both; as he should have done the first time.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Raven cried, she hated him, she hated him so much, she hated what he’d made Jason do, she hated Jason for being the one to do it, and she hated HIM! Oh Azar did she hate him, and she hated Jason for being the one to kill her mother.

“I hate you, I hate you,” she sobbed against Jason’s chest as she clung to her human harder.

Her lover sobbed but said nothing as he held her tighter and rocked a bit.

She hated him right now.

[radiant-flutterbun]

Gods Without a Purpose

Previously (but not required reading to understand this chapter)

[Brief recap of previous events: Sepulchral, Sonder and Muerto are all gods from another world that are currently living in my clan. They didn’t have the best lives back in their world for a bunch of complicated reasons I won’t get into now]

[Content warning: brief mention of attempted suicide, alcoholism and abuse]

Sunset at the Sunbeam Ruins was a contradiction that Sonder still didn’t understand. If this was supposed to be the land of Light, and was ruled by a goddess who could control the sun, then why didn’t she just keep the sun out all during the night? Perhaps to comfort the dragons who were used to a night and day cycle from other lands? Or maybe it was to appease her neighbor, the goddess of shadows? Whatever the reason, Sonder was thankful for the gradual darkness.

She rested her scaley head against the feathered chest of her boyfriend, Sepulchral Solstice. Being a nocturne, she was much smaller than him, but she was used to being small. In her true form, her form from her homeworld, she was always teased for being barely over four feet tall. Meanwhile Sepulchral had always towered over just about everyone.

“It’s pretty,” Sepulchral said with a smile “I’ve always loved sunsets.”

“Yeah, it is nice. Just wish our sun wasn’t controlled by such a bitch.”

Sepulchral flinched and Sonder regretted her words.

“Sorry babe,” She said “Didn’t mean to bring up your… family problems.”

“No. It’s ok. My mother is a bitch.”

Sonder lifted her head to stare at Sepulchral “Wow. Never expected to hear you say that before.”

“I’m just. Finally accepting certain things. Therapy has been a big help.”

“I’m glad.” Sonder snuggled back against his chest.

“You should go sometime too. I think you’ll like my therapist. She’s really nice.”

“Yeah… I probably should but… Nah.”

“I had a feeling that’s what you’d say.”

‘It’s just… I don’t know. I’m not good at talking to people, especially not about my feelings and shit. I’d rather just deal with my shit on my own. It’s my shit, so I should handle it.”

“You saw a specialist for your drinking problem though.”

“Yeah. But that was different. First of all I made a promise to you. Second of all It wasn’t fair to you to keep finding me passed the fuck out and having to clean up after me, and third that shit was dangerous and stupid of me. My asshole of a brain? Yeah I probably have some shit going on up there that should be addressed but, it can wait. I’m done trying to throw myself off roofs. I know I still have problems, but I’m not ready to open that can of worms just yet.”

“Yeah I get it. I was hesitant to start therapy too. But I���m glad you’re at least thinking about it. I love you, and I really want you to be happy.”

“Love you too Seppy. And don’t worry, you make me happy.”

Sepulchral smiled “That’s good, because you make me happy too!”

Sonder laughed “C’mere ya doofus!” She nuzzled her forehead against his and kissed him. Sepulchral wrapped his arms around her, and then his wings.

“Goodnight, Sonder.”

“Night Seppy.”

She fell asleep, feeling safe and warm.

***

The next morning she woke feeling sunlight splash across her face. She untangled herself from Sepulchral’s arms and stretched. Sepulchral opened his eyes not long after her.

“Good morning, Sonder!”

“Morning, Sep-” the words stopped in her throat “Sep. Don’t panic but… your wings are gone.”

“My wings? Sonder don’t be s-” Sepulchral turned his head and his jaw dropped. It was just as Sonder said, his once white feathered wings were no more. His back was bare and there was no evidence of the magnificent wings that were connected to it just the night before.

“No. No this can’t be real. This CANNOT be fucking real. Wings don’t. They don’t just fall off!” Sepulchral chuckled “No, that would be… that would be absolutely ludicrous wouldn’t it?”

“Babe? You ok?” “Ahahaha yes I’m absolutely fine because obviously this must just be a dream. Wow and I thought my nightmares were getting better! I really would rather relive Match fucking stabbing me again! Alright brain I’m ready to see that dream again! Bring it on! Just stop with this fucking bullshit!”

“Sep, it’s ok-”

“HOW IS THIS OK SONDER?! MY WINGS ARE FUCKING GONE!”

“Exactly and wings don’t just fucking fall off without a trace! There has to be some reason for this, which makes me think there has to be a way to reverse this. Just stop panicking and we’ll figure something out!”

Sepulchral took a deep breath “Ok. Ok. OK. O. K. You’re right. There has to be a reason for this. Maybe… Maybe the magic here is messing with my natural magic? Maybe that’s what’s wrong? Maybe if we return home my wings will return?”

“Maybe. It’s worth a shot. I’ll go look for Inky. Just stay here, and remember, it’s going to be ok, alright?”

Sepulchral nodded.

Sonder glided down to the lobby to see if she could spot the black nocturne, Inkdrop. It wasn’t an easy feat considering Inkdrop was capable of not only shapeshifting, but also dimension hopping.

“Inky! You around here? Anyone seen Inkdrop around?”

The dragons around Sonder all shook their heads.

“Shit,” Sonder knocked on the clan leader’s door.

Nike, the clan leader soon opened it while yawning “Eh? What’s up?”

“Do you know where Inky is?”

“Hmm. No. I haven't seen her in a while actually. Why? Are you going back to your world?”

“Yeah and it’s a bit of an emergency.”

“Why?”

“Well… Sep’s wings are… Gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean they’re gone?”

“They’re just gone! It’s like they never existed at all.”

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah I know. It’s fucking weird. And he’s freaking out, but maybe they’ll be back if we go back to our world?”

“I mean it’s worth a shot. I’ll go find Hecate too. She’s good with magic and this sounds like a magic thing. Maybe she knows what’s up.”

“Good idea. Thanks Nike.”

“No prob. I’ll try to contact Inky too, but she’s been harder to find lately.”

“Yeah I get it. She’s probably in some alternate universe right now doing who knows what. Anyway, I’m going to go comfort Sep.” Sonder entered her and Sepulchral’s room again, and found her boyfriend whimpering in the corner.

“Babe?”

Sepulchral turned his head toward her “Did you find Inky?”

“No but Hecate is going to go take a look at you. Hopefully she’ll be able to do something.”

“She better!” Sepulchral snapped and then frowned “I’m sorry. I’m taking this out on you. That’s not fair.”

“It’s alright. You’re just upset. But if we really can’t get your wings back, then maybe Alaria could make you some mechanical wings? That’s always a possibility.”

“I don’t want mechanical wings. I want my wings back and I want them now! If I can’t fly then who the fuck am I? I’m the winged god. I need my wings.”

There was a knock on their door.

“May I come in?”

Sonder opened the door and in came a green tundra with Arcane eyes.

“Hello Selpulchral,” Hecate said “Mind if I take a look?”

Sepulchral moved so that she could look at his back. The scars that Match carved into him a little over a hundred years ago were more visible than ever without his wings to block them.

Hecate brushed her paws against his shoulder blades and over the area where his wings would normally connect to his back.

“This is bizarre. There’s not even any evidence of flight muscles. It’s as if you’ve never had wings at all. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“That means it has to be magical then, right?” Sonder asked “Is there anything you can do to sense that?”

“Maybe. I don’t know about your kind, but magic flows through the veins of dragons. I might be able to trace where the magic that was once stored in your wings went off to.”

Hecate closed her eyes and pink smoke rose from her nostrils. It circled Sepulchral’s back and disappeared.

“Huh. It’s telling me that your wings no longer exist. Not in this world ar least.”

“I need to find Inky. I need to go back home. That’ll have to fix things, right?” Sepulchral asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry Sepulchral,” Hecate gave him a hug and then exited the room.

Sepulchral covered his face with his paws.

“Hey, maybe some breakfast will cheer you up,” Sonder suggested “I’ll go get you something, ok?”

Sepulchral didn’t answer and Sonder sighed.

“I’ll get you some breakfast anyway.”

Sonder traveled down to the kitchen where she heard a commotion.

“Hiraeth no!”

A little black nocturne flew out of the kitchen, an entire turkey in their jaws.

“That’s for the entire clan, not just you!” Another black nocturne followed the smaller one out of the kitchen “Firespitter is going to be mad at us!”

“Inkdrop! There you are!” Sonder called to the bigger nocturne who stopped in her tracks.

“Sonder!” The younger dragon gave Sonder a hug.

“Hey Inky. Good to see you but there’s a bit of an emergency-”

“Sorry I can’t talk! I gotta stop Hireath from eating all of the clan’s food! They’re being bad today!”

Hiraeth, the smaller nocturne was happily tearing apart the raw turkey meat on the lobby floor, smearing blood everywhere. This had become a common occurrence within the clan ever since Inkdrop rescued Hiraeth from a pocket of void surrounding two different universes.

“Hiraeth can wait. Sep needs you right now.”

“Seppy? What’s wrong with Sep?”

“Well… you’ll see.”

Inkdrop didn’t wait to hear anymore. She created a portal and disappeared into it. Sonder sighed, and marched up the stairs where she found Inkdrop had teleported into her and Sep’s room.

“You really couldn’t have just used the stairs?”

“You said it was an emergency so I wanted to be quick!” Inkdrop protested. Her portal was still swirling behind her.

“Ok fine. Just close that before someone else gets trapped in some otherworldly dimension.”

“I didn’t trap Hiraeth in the void! The Lightweaver did!”

“And I believe you, but Hiraeth isn’t what we should be talking about right now, Sepulchral is.”

Sonder pointed to his wingless back.

“Oh,” Inkdrop stared wide eyed “What happened?”

“We don’t know. But we think his wings will come back if you take us back to our world.”

“Oh ok sure! I can do that!” Inkdrop wooshed away her old portal and then snapped her claws to create a new one “Tada! One portal to Selcouth!”

“Selcouth?”

“That’s what your universe is called! King Ludicrous told me!”

“Huh,” Sonder said “I never knew that.”

***

They hopped through the portal and Sepulchral and Sonder changed into their true forms. They had a humanoid appearance, with feline ears, tails and three taloned feet.

But Sepulchral’s wings did not return. His back was as barren as Sonder’s. He slumped onto his knees, crying now.

“Hey, hey, It’s ok Sep! We can still go to Alaria-”

“You don’t get it! Alaria isn’t going to be able to make my wings! Metal won’t replace my feathers, and will she be able to construct a device that can shapeshift from my skydancer form to this one? No! I don’t think so! My wings are gone and I’m never going to be able to fly ever again!”

“So then you won’t be able to fly again! Big deal! That’s how the rest of us live, when we’re not turning ourselves into dragons anyway, and we’re all just fine! You can live without your wings, Sep!”

“No I can’t! What’s the point of anything if I can’t fly? I’m nothing that’s what! My wings are who I am!”

“Dear Spirits, now you’re just sounding like a big baby. Get a grip.”

“Get a fucking grip? Get a grip? I CANNOT believe you just said that to me. How the fuck is that helping anything?”

“Well how is you being a blubbering mess helping anything? I tried to help, but I don’t know what else we can do! Maybe there isn’t anything that can be done with your wings. But At least you’re not hurt, so what’s the big deal?”

“I want my wings! That’s the big deal!”

“Uh. You guys want me to take you back to Sornieth or…?” Inkdrop asked, her eyes nervously flickering back and forth to Sepulchral and Sonder.

“Might as well. At least we have some place to stay the night there.” Sonder said.

Inkdrop nodded and created a new portal. Sepulchral immediately went back to the room to pout and Sonder sighed.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t get it. So he lost his wings. But it’s not like someone just hacked them off! He’s fine. What’s there to cry about?”

Inkdrop shrugged “I don’t know, but I should really make sure Hiraeth doesn’t get into anymore trouble.”

Inkdrop wandered off and Sonder was left alone in the lobby to think.

What could have happened to remove Sepulchral’s wings overnight? And what was she to do to comfort him? He was clearly upset, but she couldn’t understand why. Wings were only a part of him, and there were other ways to fly.

As she delved into her thoughts she almost didn’t notice Muerto approach her.

The little grey coatl had a worried expression on his face.

“Hey Sonder, you wouldn’t have happened to have seen my necklace anywhere have you? I don’t know where it could be but… I- I can’t find it.”

“Nah, sorry kid.”

“Shit. I don’t know where else it could have gone then…” He pawed at his neck where the necklace usually rested “It feels wrong without it.”

“Can’t you get a new one from Niossa? She made it for you, right?”

“But that necklace was what allowed me to bond with Bubonic!”

“Yeah and you and Bubonic already got a strong bond, so you don’t need the necklace’s magic anymore.”

“You don’t get it. I need my necklace. If it’s lost forever, I… I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“You’re right I don’t get it. I don’t get why a necklace could be so important! And I don’t get why Sep is freaking out over his wings! You don’t need those things, so why be so upset?”

“Wait what about Sep’s wings?”

“They’re gone.”

“They’re gone?!”

“Yeah. Just. Gone. No sign they were ever there.”

A purple red and gold pearlcatcher ran into the lobby so fast that she slid and dropped her pearl. The pearl rolled over toward Sonder and she picked it up and handed it back to the pearlcatcher.

“You ok Ammy?” Sonder asked.

“I’m fine! But Izzy isn’t! He’s been tearing our room apart looking for his journal but he can’t find it! I don’t know what to do with him. He’s been extremely anxious, and I can’t seem to get him to calm down.”

“Oh I’ve been going through the same thing with Sep. His wings just went poof gone. It’s weird.”

“Wait a minute,” Muerto said “My necklace, Sep’s wings, Isra’s journal. All missing. Is… is any other dragon missing anything? Something’s going on here.”

“Huh. that is rather strange,” Ammy said “Maybe someone snuck inside the tower and robbed us!”

“But Sepulchral’s wings are gone. How the fuck did that happen?” Sonder said.

“Hmm I don’t know!” Ammy said “But this has to be someone’s doing. It seems very purposeful, doesn’t it? Isra, Sepulchral, and Muerto are all upset now. Three gods, having something very precious stolen from them. It has to mean something, right?”

Sonder clicked her tongue “Hmm you might be on to something.”

“Hiraeth! Hiraeth where are you?” Inkdrop called and rushed back into the lobby looking around desperately “I don’t know where they went off to! It’s as if they just disappeared!”

“Ok that’s it,” Sonder got to her feet “Someone or something is fucking with us here. I’m getting Nike.”

[lecherouswritings]

I got asked a question on my twitter about The Pack and if they had any particular “goal” in mind, and this is extremely late answering so I’m sorry! It’s been a minute since I had proper at-my-laptop time. I got a 2nd question about Peter joining the pack as more involuntary, so I’ll talk about that too!

The pack was formed by Rat and Amy, who agreed that their group was an exclusive club of people ( namely, those two ) who could trust each other with anything and everything, and would enable each other to do whatever they wanted. As time went on, they became more and more withdrawn from society and the two temporarily went off their own ways for two years. In those two years, they made a friend named Kyle whom they both kept in contact with as a middle man but Rat went off to Hollywood to party with Jessica and Amy stayed in Miami and met Ryan. Once the two came back together, they both brought Jessica and Ryan and The Pack was formed again! By this time, Rat had discovered the Hito cult and learned that if he wanted anything out of life he would have to go on a murderous rampage. That, coupled with an insatiable lust to branch out from Florida and see the rest of the south and mid-west, he got themselves a bus and went north of Florida. It’s a very hedonistic group, all they do is take drugs, fuck, and make any place they go to theirs. Their space, their rules, no regard for anyone else. They believe that if the world isn’t worth living in, then you have to force it to be! Other people be damned. They see other people as lesser-than, on an animal level. Rat growing up ( literally ) saw humans as pigs, and though that PigView didn’t carry over to adulthood, he maintained the idea that inside, everyone was meat, and meat only had as much value as you gave it. Rat doesn’t have space for anyone but himself, so meat they are. Rat preaches to his followers and they eat it all up for the most part. The one member who remains somewhat divided is the Judas of the group, Ryan. They butt heads a lot and he wasn’t officially inducted into the Pack, Amy shoehorned him in, said she wouldn’t be part of it unless her boyfriend could tag along. It helped that her boyfriend was an unapologetic sadist. I loosely based them off of Manson’s Family, the main timelines take place in mid 50s and ends in the 80s. Kill as many people as you can to appease Rat! In return, live however you want to! Live out whatever fantasy you want! Do whatever you want!! -- For the 2nd question about Peter being forced into the pack, I gotta give some background there too: After getting his doctorate, he thought that maybe he’d make a career and retire, the usual stuff. Prior to schooling, Peter was lowkey killing people across various state lines in the name of God. God came in the form of heroin, or voices, or visions. He never got any mental assistance after fleeing the village he was raised in, and with heroin he quit cold turkey, which was when he experienced the heavy hallucinations. Once he’d sobered up was when he got schooling, but afterwards there was too much idle time and the voices came back. These stemmed from Hito, of course! Back to his southern murder spree! So much for that! Given his fragile mental state, running into Rat during one of his murders freaked him out. Peter was seeing Rat as he saw him in his hallucinations. Peter had heard of and preached of God all his life, only seeing in his head and in feverish states what might be God or the holy spirit, but never actually seeing something like that in the flesh. The wolf was the same way, but he fervently believed that one night as a child he did encounter a physical manifestation of the wolf AKA the devil, so seeing Rat fulfilling that old experience and being of flesh and blood was some sort of validation of his beliefs, except... It only really validated the Devil, not really God. Peter wants to understand where Rat fits in with it all; Was he the wolf from his childhood? Some sort of vessel? He’d say things like “I’ll eat you, just like I ate your friend in the red hood.” referring to Peter witnessing his friend Eunice ( little red riding hood ) being eaten by a wolf in her grandmother’s cabin, so to him Rat knows something, but Rat refuses to tell him unless he tags along. It gets to a point where Peter decides that if Rat doesn’t confess, he’ll leave and shoot whoever he has to to get away, and Rat exploits his mental state and calls his bluff, so Peter doesn’t feel stable enough to leave. Not to mention the guy hasn’t had any close human relationships since his village so his views on relationships are kind of skewed, something Rat also exploits. If you have a weakness, Rat will worm into it. It helps for Rat to keep everyone reliant on him, often times when pups in the pack start getting too independent, Rat will have them taken down a peg and rescue them so they can see that without Rat, they’d really be in trouble. After a few years, Peter doesn’t necessarily disagree with a lot of Rat’s teachings and finds himself wanting to help Rat. If God won’t show himself of flesh and blood, why not side with the force that’s real? This creates a huge hole of guilt for denying God in favor of following Rat, I want to portray him skirting along the edge of both sides because it’s human nature to be torn on what we think we want and what we think we need. In a way, I think that’s why a lot of people become religious, because none of us want to suffer after death, and it’s like a life insurance policy. Hope that answers the questions!! I love getting questions!!

[firsthandfirecracker-blog]

Journal [7.25-8.4]

7.25.89

I had a dream last night that I was rock climbing up the side of a massive canyon. Heather was there, too, climbing just behind me. They say that you should never look down when you’re high up like that, but I couldn’t help myself. She said something—I can’t remember what—and I looked down at her. It sent the whole world spinning, but her smile was worth it.

It’s funny, I’ve been thinking about installing a rock climbing wall in the gym for a while. The ceiling is tall enough, and we’ve got the perfect spot between the showers and the treadmills. Somehow this dream feels like a sign. I’m gonna take a look through the catalogues and see if there’s anything I like.

 7.26.89

Class with Jill today. Girl socked me square in the nose—her first time. She’s getting better. She’s always got this big smile plastered all over her face, but I’ve seen the fire in her eyes when she fights. I hope she can find a way to get it out.

 7.27.89

I told myself I wouldn’t go to the store on Fridays after last time, but I needed toilet paper, so what can you do? Everybody’s gotta wipe their ass.

There’s this couple that goes on Friday evenings. The guy is tall and broad-shouldered, and he’s always wearing a suit. Coming straight from work I guess. The woman is tall, too, but she’s got this hollow look about her, like she eats half her dinner and says she’s full even though her stomach’s still gnawing.

I was checking out when I heard him. He has this particular voice he uses with her when she says something he doesn’t like. I can never quite hear the words, but I’ve seen the look on her face after. I know what it means.

The clerk asked me if I was okay and it sounded distorted, far-away, like I was hearing it through a tunnel. I’d squeezed my loaf of bread so hard that I broke the plastic, nails digging right through the crust. She looked at me like I was some kind of nutjob but I bought the bread anyway.

I keep going back and forth on it. Maybe I am a nutjob. Or maybe she is, sitting there listening to that without doing anything, week after week.

But I didn’t do anything either, did I? I see my choices unfolding like a kaleidoscope: for instance, I could march over and sock him in the face and tell him never to touch a woman again. God, thinking about his nose bones crunching under my knuckles gives me goosebumps. Alright… I’ll admit that it would feel great in the moment, but I’d probably just get arrested for my trouble. Alternatively, I could go to the police, but if they even chose to investigate, they’d probably say there wasn’t enough evidence to convict and then I’d really lose my shit.

It just makes me feel hopeless, like everything I do is just a shout into the void. Why do I even bother?

Maybe I’ll start going on Fridays again… if I can get her alone, I’ll offer her a class. It’s better than doing nothing.

 7.28.89

I had classes back to back all day and I’m sore as hell. Jonah was the highlight of my day: I introduced a new move today and they nailed it immediately. The look on their face… I wish I could have taken a picture. Oh, who am I kidding—Balthazar would take a far better one. Bet he’s got a dozen similar shots already.

I sometimes worry about pushing Jonah too hard. I know they’d hate to get special treatment, though, so I try and ignore that feeling as much as I can. They’re the kind of person who needs to be challenged continuously, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 7.29.89

Lazy day. Set up the new free weight area this morning and it looks awesome—got the mirrors sparkling clean and moved a few more benches in from the storeroom. One of the benches wouldn’t fit together quite right and I almost threw a metal pin across the room, so I stepped outside and meditated for a little bit. A few years ago I’d have had a mess on my hands after something like that. I’m trying to be proud, but it kind of feels like I’m just doing the bare minimum.

Well, the good news is that I have weights all the way up to 50 now, which should appease the college meatheads from the next town over. Not really thrilled to have em around, but hey, that’s business, right?

 7.30.89

Sparred with Larissa tonight. There was this weird air about her, a certain blankness to her eyes. We’ve been training long enough that I can always tell when she’s off. On her best days, she’s hard even for me to keep up with, filled with this furious energy, like with each punch she’s exorcising some demon. I try not to pry—I’ve got plenty demons of my own, after all—but tonight I couldn’t resist.

After class, I pretended I wasn’t watching her as she put on her shoes. It was totally dark outside: Leo’s headlights were missing, which was unusual. I couldn’t help but feel like something was going on.

“Larissa,” I said, unable to stop myself, “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

The look she gave me is one I’ll never forget. There was surprise there, and pain, and some kind of accusation, like I’d failed somehow. But beneath it all there was something else, something cold and shivering, palms pressed to a pane of thick glass. I wanted to reach out to that girl, to take her icy, damp hands in my own, but the glass was impenetrable.

“If I have anything to say, I’ll say it with my fists,” Larissa said, and then she was gone.

I can’t get that look out of my head. I tried to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see her walking out the door. I see myself punching through, shattering the glass into a million tiny pieces. I see my arms drawing her that shivering girl, holding her close, not letting go.

But it’s been a long time since I held someone like that. I think I might have forgotten how.

7.31.89

8.1.89

8.2.89

8.3.89

8.4.89

When it all gets to be too much, I like to go out and lay in the sunshine, listening to birdcalls and cricket songs. Sometimes I imagine myself lying there forever until my skin fuses with the dirt, ‘til vines start growing over my body, reclaiming me. The grass grows so tall there that it covers up my bones, long picked clean by the mice and birds and worms. From my skull I see my thoughts melting into the earth: the good ones become fertilizer, nourishing all the little plants that have yet to bloom. The bad ones are poison for the weeds and the roaches, driving them away, keeping my little meadow safe.

Today, though, I couldn’t help but imagine Larissa laying there. I saw her smiling wide with beetles crawling through her teeth, flowers decaying on her tongue. Her eyes were covered by butterflies, but I could still feel her looking.

The cricket sound was gone. All I could hear was the sharp shattering of glass, echoing for miles and miles around.

[neoandersons]

Spiderweb || Patrick Hockstetter

Warnings: Patrick is his own warning, harassment. 

[Name] believed she was invisible, or at least she had a long-lasting illusion of being invisible. In the halls at school, she didn’t attract Greta’s attention or the Bowers Gang’s. Instead, she simply stuck to herself, staying out of trouble, and going through the motions of everyday life in Derry, Maine.

 But after awhile, walking down the desolated halls of the school, [Name] couldn’t help but to feel as if someone was watching her.  She had stayed after school, participating in academic club – the marine biology club – but it was over now. It was about almost four o’clock in the afternoon, and [Name] needed to make it home by the time curfew began.

But the infamous Patrick Hockstetter, one of Henry Bower’s more sadistic cronies, had another plan for [Name]. The lanky teen had been carefully keeping an eye on the unsuspecting girl for far too long, and he was tired of being patient. It amazed him how such a person could be so damn oblivious to his ribald stares as she sauntered down the halls everyday. But he didn’t mind the girl’s insensible nature, in fact, it just made the whole situation seem much more fun to Patrick.

 Patrick lurked, keeping himself hidden by a locker next to the supply closet, waiting for the unwary girl to pass by. Just picturing the next few moments made him feel a bit thrilled, waiting to feel the petite girl writhe in his grip.

 The moment the girl walked right by the closet is when a gangly arm reached out, pulling her by the collar of her white shirt. [Name] lets out a panicked yelp, barely processing the situation as she was roughly shoved into the supply closet.

 The thick wooden door was shut as soon as [Name] and her unknown assailant were inside, and she struggled on to release herself from the large hands holding her wrists against the wall. She felt a rush of trepidation run through her veins, and her palms began to feel clammy as she squirmed. However, the proximity and constant thrashing simply turned the tall boy on.

 “L-Let me go.” [Name] stutters out, sounding a bit like Bill Denbrough, the boy who lived three houses down from her. She tried to sound assertive and commanding, but it obviously wasn’t enough. The attacker simply let out a depraved chuckle, and [Name] could feel his warm breath against her neck.

 The supply closet felt too small, too cramped, and she was desperate for an escape. It simply made Patrick scoff at the smaller girl. Did she really think she would worm her way out of a god’s grasp? [Name] was more foolish than he expected but it was fine. She would soon learn her place, and whom she belonged to.  She had no control here, not in Patrick’s domain.

 “I don’t think so, girlie.” Patrick muttered into her ear, and [Name] felt goose bumps race across her skin as she realized whom she was trapped with. Out of all the people in Derry, out of the teenage boys who could hold her against her will, it had to be the vilest one – Patrick Hockstetter.

 [Name] had heard awful things about him. Sure, rumors were simply just rumors, but they still frightened her. She overheard Grace, a girl who sits two seats down from her desk, that Patrick had a pencil case filled with dead flies. He would show them to people, according to Grace at least.

 Either way, [Name] knew she wanted away from the lanky teen, except he wasn’t having that attitude today. His clutch on her simply constricted, and she was sure she would feel sore and tender as bruises formed on her skin later.

 He released one hand from her wrist but placed his knee in between her legs. [Name] wasn’t sure what had compelled her to stay deathly still, perhaps it was the fear paralyzing her. If this had not been Patrick, but simply another boy, she would have already ran off.

 She heard a fumbling sound, then a few flickers, before a golden glow illuminated the congested closest. Patrick held his lighter in his left hand, leering down at the girl’s terrified expression. He felt himself shudder in excitement, after all this time; he had the girl trapped like a mouse.

 “Don’t look at me like that; like you’re afraid of me.” Patrick jeered at [Name], rubbing his thumb against her wrist.

 “What do you want from me?” [Name] timidly enquired, her voice wavering at Patrick’s intense gaze.

 “Are you daft? I want you, [Name].”  Patrick causally stated, as if he was talking about the weather. But [Name] felt so forsaken as she realized where this situation was leading to, and she wasn’t sure if she had an option to get out.

 What did she do to capture his undivided attention? She kept to herself, didn’t cause any issues, and as far as she was concern, she should’ve been terribly boring to Patrick. But here she was, entrap in a closet with him.

 “I don’t understand.” [Name] replies, and Patrick rolls his eyes. What a simpleton.

 “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Patrick vaguely justifies, but it wasn’t enough for [Name], who began to feel frustrated.

 “So, that doesn’t mean anything, Patrick!” [Name] retorted, squirming once more. Patrick enjoyed the way his name rolled off her lush lips, yet he felt disdain at her attitude. That wouldn’t do. No one talks back to Patrick, especially not [Name].

 Patrick sneers at her, “It means you’re mine. It doesn’t matter if you try to run away or where you go – I’ll follow you. So, I’ll let you run. You can sprint as fast as you can, after all, I love a good chase.”

 [Name] figured at this rate it was futile to fight against Patrick, and maybe she’d get out sooner if she just appeased him. Perhaps, after awhile, he’ll realize she’s a bore and leave her alone.

 “I-I won’t run. I promise, Patrick.” [Name] says a moment later, after thinking about what options she had left, which was none. She was fucked.

 Patrick gives her another lecherous look, flicking the lighter off, before whispering darkly into her ear, “Good girl.”

 His right hand lets go of her sore wrist, but she doesn’t have the chance to run because Patrick roughly grabs her jaw, pulling her into a vicious kiss. The only light filtering into the supply closet was in between the cracks of the door.

 The moment his chapped lips met hers is when she knew she signed a contract with the devil. [Name] was a small fly, tangled in the spider’s web, waiting to be devoured. There was no going back now, not ever.