#no time for floor emotions. there are bugs to draw

[salthien]

bugs in a bath. what will they do (tenderly soothe each other's hurts)

you know the drill by now. go go go read that makes two of us, then by @queruloustea. i am very gently and politely but very firmly steering you towards ao3.

[adickaboutspoons]

Honestly, I don't think we as a fandom talk enough about how this:

is a moment of HUGE character growth.

I think people tend to miss that, because Stede is bitchy, that he doesn't really draw boundaries for himself, and ESPECIALLY not with Ed. Ed puts him on the spot and keeps pressing him for a solution to the Spanish persuit (knowing damn well the whole time that he's got a solution already)? Stede just marvels at the brilliance of the plan Ed didn't bother to share with anyone, and never calls him out on what a dick move that was. Ed tells him that exchanging books on the raid is stupid (it's not. Stede only has a limited amount of shelf-space in the library) and knocks his books to the floor? Stede again says nothing. Ed joins the French in humiliating "Thornrose" and accuses Stede of being jealous of the attention he's getting when Stede has tried multiple times to warn him about how fickle the adulation of these people can be? Stede sulks on the deck about "not being any good at these things" and when Ed shows up, humiliated, doesn't utter a single "I told you so" and, indeed, immediately goes on Ed's defense. Ed is a dick the entire treasure hike? Stede keeps trying to cheer him up by showing him cool bugs and complimenting the tenderness of the snake, and playing (flirting) with him. Ed confesses to intending to kill Stede? Stede not only agrees to forgive and forget, he focuses exclusively on helping his friend through his obvious emotional crisis. So when Stede actually stands up for himself? Draws a line in the sand and says "These are the things you are doing that I do not agree with. You didn't do them until this jackass showed up. Ergo, I don't like the things you do when you are around HIM." That's a big fucking deal. It's a little clumsily expressed, but give the man a break; he's new to this, and, as much as I'm sure he wishes Ed would just stop, he doesn't ask that of him. Instead, he just explains why he's upset and removes himself from the proceedings. He's FINALLY expressing his emotions clearly, explicitly and directly (the way so many people in fandom always say they want him to)! And I just think that deserves a little credit and celebration. Even if it makes Ed sad to be told he's acting like a dick, when he is, indeed, acting like a dick.

[the-kr8tor]

Out of Style

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 6k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than the reader, cw food mentions, cursing, cw spiders, tw arachnophobia, hurt/comfort, suggestive content, Fluff.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

Closing the door quietly, you press your sleep deprived head on the wood, cursing your cowardice. You saw him yet you chose to ignore him.

You sit down on your cold bed, books and bag clattering on the floor. Pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes, your mind flips back to five minutes ago. How Hobie lingers on the sideline, waiting for you. From where you stood you couldn't possibly see his face. You have a hunch on what he feels though, maybe embarrassed that you saw him like that? Confused on why you ran from him? Probably. You imagine it, but one emotion you couldn't possibly wish to see: anger. Furious that you didn't let him say his peace, or annoyed that you disturbed his time with that woman.

You sigh, eyeing the package Peter gave you. Grabbing it from the carpet, opening the small paper bag, you see the spider that bit Hobie, body trapped inside a glass square casing.

You feel like that dead spider right now, the bug that bit more than it can chew, ending up hurting itself because it took a chance.

Looking at the arachnid, you spot its silhouette, circular body with eight arms protruding from the sides. You have a lightbulb moment.

Taking the leather vest you've thrifted on your own and tailored specifically for Hobie. You flip it on its back, showing the dreaded empty space. You bite your lip, striding over to your table, grabbing fabric chalk to draw the spider's outline.

Looking at it from a distance, from the spikes on the shoulder, to the various pins and patches you've placed on the leather. Some of them show your influence on the design, scattered flowers and references from your time together. A stereo that looks exactly like the one you two always brought everywhere you went, the pink notebook, a catalyst for the start of your friendship together. Even a green puppet that looks like Terry. You think it's perfect, now to paint the spider.

Excited to get started, you suddenly realize if he still wants to help you. After your dramatic exit, doubt lingers in the back of your mind. Will he even go to the show now that he's got someone? Someone better, someone who isn't so afraid of saying how they feel. Someone who's more like him.

Your heart shudders at the thought of standing alone from now on, fingers tracing over the cherry patch that you've painstakingly embroidered, peripheral glancing over the picture Yuri took of you two on the boat, it's a bit blurry, you're smiling as he carries you in his arms, he matches your expression, eyes closed in delight.

You make the choice, not wanting to cut off ties with your best mate just because you hurt yourself. Hobie doesn't know how much you like him, he's not a telepath that can read your mind.

You bravely face the truth.

Unrequited feelings bubbling to the surface, a sob breaks through, hot tears spilling over on the leather vest. Fabric chalk dissolving in your tears.

You decide, even if it kills you to do so.

—

You ran away again, mentally beating yourself up, lamenting all the things you should've done instead of running away.

You chew your bottom lip anxiously, shifting from leg to leg, playing with the frayed edges of a loose thread on the embroidered flowers that you've painstakingly stitched on your lace cami. Your eyes dart around the backstage of the fashion show, classmates running around to fix any last minute changes on their models. You on the other hand, sit by your lonesome, the plastic chair scrapes on the floor as you stand up by the umpteenth time, pacing around in your heavy platform boots that you've customized yourself. The little red butterfly wings painted on the back of the boots make it look like you're gliding around the wooden floors, chain rattling around the laces as you pace with unease.

The outfit you're wearing is a perfect partner to what was supposed to be Hobie's outfit. You worry that he won't show up, palms sweaty at the thought. But this is Hobie, he won't let you down, right? Unless he's with that woman right now then you have to accept your fate, which is you walking down that blasted runway.

Mrs. Williams peeks behind the curtain, you can briefly see the growing crowd behind her. Fuck, you internally curse biting at your nails, nail polish bitter as your tongue touches your nail.

"Five minutes till show time" Mrs. Williams roams her eyes around her frozen students and partners, eyes stopping on your form. "And only five minutes" she addresses you, your heart stops, fellow designers look at you with pity.

Your hope is dwindling.

You gulp down, lace cami hugging your torso uncomfortably, unbuttoning the sleeves of your white frilly blouse to give you some breathing room. You now regret wearing such an elaborate outfit, it was supposed to be a surprise for Hobie, wherever said man is.

Grabbing the bright red blazer draped on the back of the chair, you hug it against your chest, hand tracing the safety pins strategically placed on the back to look like wings. You calm down a bit, but not enough.

Someone taps your shoulder, hope blossoms, turning around, your hopeful smile fades, seeing your classmate Hannah looking at you apologetically.

"Sorry," she winces, knowing your predicament, bright pink hair noticeable against her darker clothing, "but can you help me with this stitch? Please, it'll only take a second, I just need you to hold this bit." she raises her partner's arm, a loose thread that has come undone in the seams sway slightly in the wind.

"Yeah, of course" you give her a polite smile.

"Thank you, y/n" she sighs, relieved. Her partner looks unbothered around the chaos.

Better be bored than not around, you thought. Maybe you shouldn't have come that day, you might've lived in ignorant bliss to what happened that fateful morning but at least your heart would still be in one piece. You miss him, even with what he did, Hobie is still your best friend after all, before you came to love him, first and foremost he's your friend.

You ignored his calls, too heartbroken to talk to him, even more so seeing him, that's why you told your RA not to let him inside your dorm, giving her the excuse that you're sick and want to be alone. With a raised eyebrow she accepted and understood, not asking any more questions. Maybe that was wrong of you to do, maybe talking to him like an adult was better. You can't blame him for finding someone else to warm his bed, you're not together, the only thing that cements his feelings for you was a very subtle confession and an almost kiss.

Your eyes start to glaze over again, lips trembling at the thought of him lying to you or worse you read the entire thing wrong. You have no idea what to make of everything, it doesn't help that he stopped trying to call days ago. You almost picked up one time, heartache taking over, you let the phone ring to what seemed to be endless.

"And done, thanks" Hannah smiles, you nod at her friendliness. "Don't worry he'll be here, maybe he's just stuck in traffic" she gives you a comforting pat on the back. "Thanks for telling about that embroidery trick by the way, it really helped"

"You're welcome" you don't acknowledge her theory. Turning around, you sit back down. Patchwork jeans made of scrap fabric from Hobie's own outfit uncomfortably scrape against your legs, feet bouncing anxiously. You want to get the show over with and rip your outfit off you. Blinking away tears at the thought of you repeating your final year just because of one (not so small) hiccup.

Watching as your classmates slowly filter out to the audience area to watch their creations walk down the runway, their partners staying behind to line up. You bravely stand up, breathing heavily. Draping the blazer on your shoulder, you make your way towards the line of models, already feeling out of place.

You hear Mrs. Williams announcing the start of the show. Tuning her out, you watch the double doors as if Hobie will miraculously appear behind it. Sniffing, you slyly try to wipe the tears that's been escaping from your eyes. Lining up at the far end, you hear the music starting, one by one they walk down the runway, loud cheers can be heard from the audience as their friends hype them up.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion for everyone, finally finishing the final year with a bang but your frown says otherwise, waiting like you're in line for the guillotine.

Wringing your hands nervously, you jump at the loud bang behind you, metal doors swinging, threatening to fall right off its hinges.

Your teary eyes widen at Hobie in all his glory, sporting the outfit you unceremoniously left on his doorstep.

The white shirt that you've painted to look like it has spray painted graffiti, barbed wire design on the collar, embroidered with silver thread. On top of it, he has a red blazer, matching yours. Numerous safety pins pinned on the lapel, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The leather vest, the pièce de résistance sways in the gust of wind.

His leg halfway up from kicking the doors open. Ripped jeans in full display, lace peeking out from under the strategically placed rips. An asymmetrical half skirt made from red plaid fabric accentuates the outfit. To your surprise, he even added his own twist to it, wearing accessories that compliments your work. You find your own belt on his hips, belt buckle shining in the light. So that's where it went.

Hobie searches for you, chest heaving, looking like he ran a marathon just to get to the venue. His heart skips a beat when he finally spots you, lips parting in surprise at your clothes.

"Fuck me" he mumurs, glad he didn't yell the words out.

You stare at him flabbergasted, lips tugging into a smile. You don't have time to speak when Mrs. Williams announces your turn, saying Hobie's name instead of yours, like she has a sixth sense.

Hobie gives you a nod, conversing with him wordlessly, I've got this. Eyes staring intently at you as he passes through the curtains, loud roars and claps from the audience rings out. Peeking behind, you watch frozen as he walks like he owns the place, nonchalantly strutting the runway.

"Holy shit" You have no idea how someone can look a hundred times hotter than ever before. From where you're standing, you can see the giant spider you've stitched at the last minute on the back of his leather vest.

Hobie pauses for a second when he reaches the end of the runway, glaring at the photographer where everyone expected him to give a smolder. He turns around, determined to get back to your side.

You squeak when Hobie sees you peeking behind the curtains, Backing away, cherry earrings swinging wildly as you move. You stand alone in the middle of backstage, the place messy with discarded bags, scissors, threads and cloth.

Hobie ignores the cheering behind him, his eyes only on your form, face unreadable, taking long strides towards you. His heavy footfalls thump against the floor, acting like a countdown.

He moves as if a tether pulls him towards you.

Freezing in place, you have no idea what to do, whether to pull the loose thread or leave it completely. "Hobie, I–" he doesn't let you finish your sentence, crashing his lips to yours wordlessly. You hold your breath.

Teeth clashing to yours, Hobie holds your face with both hands, silver rings cold on your skin, afraid you'll disappear from his touch. His eyes tightly closed, he doesn't know whether it's adrenaline or the pressure of his affections for you, finally breaking the dam in one massive blast, pushing him to finally decide and kiss you. He lays his lips over yours, unmoving, waiting for you to reciprocate.

Your eyes are wide as saucers, hands floating right over his chest. Stomach in knots, heat rising to your cheeks. You're too surprised to kiss him back, he notices, pulling away. You see panic blooming on his face, breathing heavily against your lips.

"Fuck, I'm sorry" Hobie steps back, hurt written on his handsome face. Hands flying back to his sides.

"Shut the fuck up–" you quickly grab him by his vest's collar, pulling him with the same force he did, your lips meet his.

This time you kiss back, fervently. The thread is taut, snapping in the pressure.

His eyes widen for a second before he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer as humanly possible, his other hand holds yours that's gripping his vest tightly right above his hastening heart. He closes his eyes, savoring your lips. The idea of Unrequited love pops like a bubble in your mind, dissolving as he kisses you back.

Hobie's kisses match yours right to the beat, you pull him down by the scruff of his neck, legs tired from trying to reach him. He chuckles at your tenacity. The room filled with the sounds of your lips smacking against each other. The kiss is messy but steady, teeth gnashing, his lip piercing blocking you from feeling his entire lips, forcing you to tilt your head. The kiss was uncharted territory for the both of you but you're more than willing to explore it, you're sure Hobie feels the same, judging from how he moves with you in tandem, hand kneading at the soft skin of your nape.

Everything seems to click into place.

You don't want to pull away but your lungs are protesting against the lack of oxygen, Hobie feels like he could go on though. Reluctantly ending the kiss, you look at him breathlessly. Hobie has a growing grin on his kiss bitten lips, your lipgloss staining his.

Hobie swipes your lips with his thumb, cleaning the sheen he left on it, red staining his fingertip. "You alive in there?"

"You still have the gall to speak– after that?" You say through gulps of air.

He laughs deeply, pecking your lips once, twice, pausing for a second to admire your flustered face, he kisses again for the third time. He tries to stop again, this time you chase his lips before he could fully pull away.

Hobie chuckles deeply and full of endearment, you can feel his smile as you peck his lips.

Someone coughs loudly to get your attention, jumping away from his body, Hobie holds your hand firmly against him so that you don't fully leave his side. He glares at your professor, tapping her heeled foot impatiently.

"Whenever you're done, come outside and join the others we'll be announcing the top three" she raises a neat brow at you two, a rare smirk on her red lips.

The second she crosses the curtains, you give a knowing look at Hobie, laughing loudly. He lays his head on your shoulder, laughing with you.

"She caught us," you softly say in between laughs.

"And I'll do it again" he softly says against your soft blazer.

"Come on, let's not keep them waiting" you rub encouragingly at his arms.

He hums, leaving a quick peck on your lapel for good measure.

—

His familiar scent wafts on your right, calming your heart to a steadier beat. Hobie's arm is glued to your waist, hip to hip, holding you close. You can feel his lingering gaze on the side of your face, giving him a knowing side glance, a sly smile on your warm kiss bitten lips. For a moment you feel like you're the only two people in the crowd.

"What?" He asks coyly.

"You know what"

"Sure, Gromit" Hobie says against your hair, you playfully push him off with your hips, saving yourself from taking all the attention from your professor announcing the top three. Hobie chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around your form, playing with the flowers on your top.

You can't seem to concentrate on what Mrs Williams is talking about, mind still reeling from the kiss and his touch. His fingers fiddling with the lace of your cami doesn't help with your attention span.

People start clapping around you, copying them to look like you're listening. By how your classmates stand side by side with their models on stage, Hannah beams in second place. You give her a big thumbs up.

While everyone claps for Flash in third, another classmate jumps excitedly to first place, hugging her partner in a tight embrace.

You don't even care that you didn't win, you've got a better prize right next to you.

"You were robbed, love" He whispers in your ear, the roaring crowd makes it difficult to hear him.

"I don't care, honestly," you say giddily.

"You won in my eyes anyway" Hobie nuzzles his cheek on your hair.

"C'mon" he tugs at your belt loop, leading you towards the exit. You follow, grinning widely.

"Excuse me! You in red!" Someone yells for you, looking over your shoulder, you see a tall man in an expensive looking suit, tailored just for him. "Yeah you, hi"

"Hello," you politely smile, "what can I do for you?"

"Yes, I'm a friend of your professor, Mrs. Williams. You caught my attention with your style and we would love you at our fashion house." He hands you a business card. "It's all in there, I'm sorry I don't have time to talk right now" on cue Mrs. Williams beckons him over, "but I'll be here on campus looking for new designers, so call and let me know. Or just ask Caroline– I mean Williams"

"Thanks, I'll look into it. Mr?" You read the card, recognizing the name of the brand. "Mr. Riley" finishing your sentence.

He nods with a smile, "oh, we're also looking for models, if you're interested–" Mr. Riley gestures towards Hobie who cuts him off before he could finish his spiel.

"Not interested" Hobie grits his teeth, impatiently tugging you away.

"Alrighty! Bye!" Riley looks terrified, walking away with a slouched posture.

"I think you scared him off" You playfully shove him.

"Don't care." He rolls his eyes "Where are we off to? Yours or mine?" Hobie fixes your cherry earrings to face the right side, warm fingers staying on the shell of your ear.

"Ours" you correct him, smiling widely, eyes full of fondness for the man right in front of you.

"Right," He mirrors your smile, beaming at you, "ours"

—

Hobie watches you through his side mirror, grinning from ear to ear at how you tightly wrap your arms around his waist. Your eyes closed in content, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Hobie stops at a red light, he taps your hand curled around the other, getting your attention.

"Yeah?" You tilt your head to face him.

Hobie wishes he can rotate his head much further just to face you fully. "Checkin' to see if you're still with me. Thought you fell off"

"Bullshit, you would've noticed" you chuckle.

"You got me" he smiles, "hold on" Hobie feels a slight tug, looking up, the light turns green. His new found enhanced senses have perks.

The bike lurches forward, Hobie drives carefully, he has precious cargo after all. You notice, snuggling closer to his back as a thank you.

The wind nips at your face, Hobie makes sure to avoid potholes, slowing down before he hits speed humps. Holding your hand every time he stops at a red light.

Finally reaching home, Hobie gets off first before he helps you down. Hand reaching for yours.

"One kiss and you're suddenly a gentleman" you tease him, taking his hand in yours, palm hot against your cold one; melting the chill right off.

"Snog me more and you'll find out how much of a gentleman I can be" Hobie waits for your flustered face, instead he sees you smirk, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Oh I intend to find out" tapping his chest, you leave Hobie standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk, you step over to the houseboat. Laughing triumphantly.

"Fuckin' hell" he mumbles out, flexing his hand.

"Come on! I'm hungry!" You wave him over, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You can't believe the last time you were here you had your heart shattered, trying not to think about it, you intend to ask him without ruining the mood.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get pissy" Hobie unlocks the door, opening it for you to step inside.

There's tools and mechanical parts on what looks like a new coffee table, stopping in your tracks, you look at Hobie in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What?" He scratches at the back of his neck, looking at you through narrowed eyes, daring you to ask.

"Are you making a robot or something?" You dare ask.

"No, just tryin' to fix my answering machine" he huffs, picking up fallen tiny jagged edged pieces so you don't accidentally step on them.

Unlacing your boots, you take in your surroundings, taking note of the difference since you were last in his houseboat. The door to his bedroom is missing, the wooden floors looked like it was scrubbed till it's nothing but splinters, leaving marks on the wood, the once rickety table now a pile of mess on the corner.

"Should I even ask?" You raise a curious brow.

"Ask" Hobie gestures for you to go on.

"What the fuck happened here? It looks like a tornado wrecked the place. And where's your bloody door?!" You walk towards his room to find sheets thrown about, bed littered with the same metal parts and various sizes of screwdrivers. He's clearly obsessing over his machine.

Hobie sighs, he has no idea how to explain it to you, so he doesn't try. He decides to just lie about it, for now at least. You wouldn't even believe him, right?

"Found out why this place was so cheap" he internally apologizes to Finn for throwing him under the bus. "The door has rotten hinges, faucet's fucked, sprayed water all over the bloody place, that's why the floor looks like that. I slipped and fell to that table, almost broke my hip"

"Oh" you exhale, trying to get the words out. "When was this?" You put two and two together, yet you still ask.

Hobie notices your change in mood, taking a few steps closer to you after he drops the metal objects on the coffee table. He starts the difficult conversation for you. "When you ran" he tries not to make you feel guilty, "it was a misunderstanding, love"

"Shit," you close your eyes as if you're in pain.

"No one was here, it was the damn answering machine goin' haywire." Continuing his explanation, Hobie raises his arms to you, waiting for you to move on your accord, careful not to have a repeat scenario. "No one was here, yeah?"

"I'm a fucking Idiot" you move to embrace him, "'m sorry" sniffing, voice thick with guilt, you hold him closer. "I should've waited–"

"None of that from you. We're both bloody idiots for taking this long" he softly says near your ear, breath fanning over your skin, calming you down.

"I just thought…after the museum–"

"I know," he pulls away, cupping your face in his hand, "you should've seen me in here. It was like some looney tunes shit"

"Oh, I would pay good money to see that" you lean into his touch. After a beat you continue. "I'm sorry you had a shitty morning, then I had to add to it"

"Stop," Hobie shakes you in his arms, "let me get this straight with you, more direct, yeah?" You nod, waiting for him to continue. "You're it for me, no one else matters" your eyes get glassy, "That voice?" He points at the damned answering machine, laying open on the settee. "Absolutely do not care for her. She's just a friend of the band, nothin' more" He makes good on his own promise, committing to it.

"I saw her on you before the concert" you say in a small voice. "I was…" shaking your head, you spot Terry perched on the floor of his bedroom. It would be easy for you to grab him to help find your words but you don't. Bravely choosing to stay in his arms. "Hurt, I know I didn't have the right to be. But…I don't fucking know" frustrated, you thump your head on his chest.

"I know," he understands, embracing you tighter, trying to absorb your pain so that you don't feel it anymore, for your sake. "I'm sorry" Hobie apologizes, voice muffled by your hair. "Sorry" he says much clearer this time, exhaling a shaky breath.

Hobie apologizes for everything, from entertaining Lacey to taking this long to say how he truly feels for you and everything in between. His hand lays comfortably on your back, rubbing softly. You feel at home in his arms.

You don't know what he's apologizing for since you think it's your own fault, but you still accept, not knowing how to ask him. Instead, you savor his warmth, leather scratching your cheeks.

After a few seconds, you pull away, hands holding his face like a fine jewel. You take a few breaths, admiring his face, tracing the lines on his skin, you want to wipe all the worry off his face. Hobie closes his eyes, heartbeat syncing with yours.

He opens his eyes, staring at you like you're the moon in the night sky, out of reach but mesmerizing nonetheless.

"You hungry?" Hobie clears his throat, pulling away. He kisses your knuckles before he heads to the kitchen, no idea that he just stopped you from saying your piece.

You stand in the middle of his room, lips pouting. "I was gonna kiss you, you absolute knobhead"

Hobie stops in his tracks, he plays along, hands on his hips, acting exasperated. "That right?"

"Don't make me beg" you frown, actually serious.

He chuckles at your cute expression, "I just thought you were hungry, can't let my girl starve"

My girl, you're done for. Your breath hitches in your throat, skin on fire. "I am hungry" you sigh, surrendering, you'll get that kiss after dinner even if it kills you. Your Index finger scratches at your nail polish painted on your thumb nail, shyness creeping back again.

Hobie bites his lip, also yearning to give you what you really want. He reels himself in, opening the fridge, cold wafts onto his hot skin. His eyes leave your face for a moment.

"Fuck" he finds it empty besides some bottled water and a half eaten burger.

"Christ, you live like this?" You suddenly appear by his side, grimacing at the bare fridge. "Looks like you need a roommate to keep you in check, huh?" You take a personal mission to rile him up again just to see his rare bewildered face even if for only a split second.

"D'you know anyone available?" He takes on your challenge, standing to his full height, he faces you, closing the fridge door with his foot.

"I think I know someone" you smile prettily at him, making grabby hands over to him.

"If I give you a bloody kiss will you buy us a shawarma?" Hobie steps in your arms, you immediately wrap yourself around his waist.

"Let's just say I'll make it worth your while" looking up at him, your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

"Look how far I've fallen, the things I have to do just so I don't starve" he holds your chin, fingers warm on your already searing skin. Leaning closer to your face.

"You ass!" You laugh, pinching his abdomen, finding a wall of muscle underneath his shirt. Huh, that's new, you thought. Pulling away, you narrow your eyes at Hobie. "Feels like you are starving"

"Hmm?"

"You got leaner, we're definitely ordering extra rice for you" Hobie gives you a thankful peck on the cheek, already on his way to grab the utensils.

—

Metal scraping on ceramic, you run the dirty plates on the sink as Hobie wipes down his new coffee table. You feel eyes on your back, looking over your shoulder, he watches you, eyes full of endearment.

"I'm almost done, Hobs. Need to at least run it with water or it'll stink in the morning" you beam back, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Hobie's heart swells at the domesticity of it all, imagining the house with traces of you in it. He could put your sewing machine in the corner near the window so you could get proper light. He imagines your shampoo side by side with his bottle in the small shower, favourite Mug next to his chipped ones. Your perfume lingering in the air, staying with him wherever he goes.

"Love" he says quietly like a secret to be kept between you. You hum in acknowledgement, rinsing the cups.

He calls your name this time, not love, not Gromit or Cherry, your name. He says it with so much love laced in it you forgot that it's yours for a second.

You turn off the faucet, splashing your hands on the sink. Turning around, you give him a soft smile. "Yeah?"

Hobie pats the cushion next to him, "C'mere" you don't miss a beat, already walking towards the settee. "I can do that tomorrow" he holds his arms towards you.

You place yourself in his hold, enveloping you like warm sunlight. Sitting in comfortable silence, ignoring how the lumpy couch pokes your legs.

"I saw you by the way" you break the silence. He moves his head on top of yours, making a point that he's listening. "In the parking lot, a few days ago"

"Why didn't you say anythin'?" Hobie doesn't sound angry, just forlorn at the thought of you intentionally ignoring him.

"I didn't know what to say" you finally look at him, eyes as big as the plates you were rinsing. "Then Peter came up to me–I," you exhale, "I'm a coward, Hobie. I should've at least tried to talk to you"

"Honestly, I didn't know what I was gonna say to you that day" He rubs a stray eyelash from your cheek. "I wouldn't know what would've happened if we did talk"

"Sorry for not answering your calls and barring you from my dorm" you apologize again, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Don't be," he kisses the crown of your head, assuring you.

"If it's any consolation…" you sniff, tamping down the tears threatening to spill. "Peter found out that the spider that bit you wasn't a regular one"

"What?"

"Yeah, he's a biology major, really likes spiders for some reason. Met him through an old study group. Anyway, he said it was some kind of mix? Not sure, but he practically gushed about it" you play with the lace on his pants while you ramble.

"Did he elaborate?" Hobie's fully invested, any clues to what's rushing in his veins right now is very much appreciated.

"The thing is, he didn't know what mix it was or how that sort of thing could happen. He called it a freak of nature" you chuckle. "You're fine though, right? You didn't feel weird or anything?" Rubbing his arm in concern, brows knitting together.

"It got a bit itchy but that's it" it hurts him to lie to you, but even Hobie himself doesn't completely know what's happening to his body. Just to be safe, he won't tell you, until he can figure it out at least.

"Okay, good" You lay your head back down on his chest with the intention to finally tell him how you truly feel for him. "Hobie, I–"

"You look good by the way– shit sorry go on" he accidentally cuts you off.

"No, you were complimenting me so please go on" your lips curl into a mischievous smile. Staring at him head on.

Hobie scoffs, rolling his eyes, smiling through it all. "I said you look bloody fit" he eyes your outfit a few seconds longer than he intended.

"You look really handsome," you turn his compliment around, "like holy shit, mate. It's unfair how good you looked on the runway"

"Mate? You havin' a laugh? Who you callin' mate?" He pokes your waist. "I just confessed my undying love for you and you're out here callin' me 'mate'?" Your giggling stops when he says that word.

"You love me?" You ask, face serious. Your pulse beats rapidly, palms sweaty.

"Yeah, too much I think" Too much for you. He thinks, afraid of stifling you with his love. He tried to play it off. Hobie doesn't throw that word around loosely but he has said it in his mind to you a thousand times before, it feels routine by now.

"I don't think it's too much" your eyes are starting to get glossy again. "I think it's the right amount"

You suddenly feel anxious saying it back, yet it's Hobie, your Hobie who taught you how to tie your shoelaces properly so that other kids won't make fun of your velcro trainers. Hobie who was there for you when you had your heart broken for the first time. Hobie who you came to love more with every passing year with him. Your Hobie.

"You don't have to say it back" He says with a small smile, voice thick, "won't force you–"

"You're a fucking idiot, Hobart Brown" you say, clinging to his shirt that you've lovingly made just for him, every stitch you've poured in has love written all over it. "And I love you too"

You lean in, eyes closed, hands placed fondly on his cheeks. This time, you're the one who takes his breath away. Hobie sighs into the kiss, content, feeling your emotions through it all.

This one felt more proper, more familiar than the first one, made sweeter with the love confession. No rushing, no one finally interrupting the moment, and yet still slightly unfamiliar, good thing you have a willing partner to get familiar with. Getting used to the kiss, you swipe your tongue, encouraging him to not hold back.

He kisses back fervently, warm and slow with no ounce of urgency. Hobie's stomach is in knots, hands flying to cup your face.

You move your leg over to his lap, straddling him. Hobie lets out a sound from the back of his throat as his shoulder blade hits the armrest of the sofa.

Pulling away, "Is this okay?" You tentatively ask, waiting for any signs of apprehension from Hobie.

"Yes" He says breathlessly, you can see stars in his eyes. Smiling, leaning down to continue kissing him.

Strong hands steadying you, yet still holding you respectfully, avoiding the bare skin where your blouse rode up. Electricity tingles from Hobie's fingertips, shocking you slightly through your blouse, you take it as your nerves acting up.

You feel a tear escape, it slides down on your cheek, landing directly on Hobie's thumb that's been caressing your skin. He pulls back, worried.

"I'm okay" you say, breathless, eyes roaming his concerned face. Another tear rolls down on your soft skin, "they're happy tears," smiling, more tears flow out of your eyes that's crinkling in the corners.

Hobie looks up at you with so much love, your heart inflates tenfold. He has a lopsided smile, eyes mirroring yours.

"Stay with me tonight?" He wipes your tears for you, careful with his rings.

Your eyes narrow at him teasingly, mustering your best flirty smile, brows wiggling, you wordlessly have a conversation with Hobie.

"Fuck off" He laughs breathlessly, "I didn't mean it like that" you felt the vibration on his chest when he laughed, laying down fully on him, eyes practically shaped like hearts, you follow through with your own laugh.

"I've never thought confessing would be so tiring" you joke, yawning for effect.

it's contagious, he follows your yawn with his own. "It's because we've been doing a lot of snogging"

"Mm-hmm, it's definitely better than exercise. More fun too"

"Wanna exercise again?" He rolls his dice.

"I could burn some calories" You play along, giggling against his waiting lips. Hobie rolls a perfect twenty.

A/N: LET'S GOOOOOO 🎉

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it, reblogging encourages me to write more ❤️

[sharenadraculea]

The primarchs on a bus

So, the primarchs take a roadtrip, in a doppeldecker-travelbus because I say so:

Lion: He drives the damn thing. Doesn‘t talk to anyone, just stubbornly looking at the road. Very good driver. Either listening to a very disturbing true-crime-podcast or caliban-lovesongs Fulgrim: He and Fulgrim secured the last row on top for themself, so they have a lot of space. Laying down and using Ferrus as a pillow. Occasionally is struck by creative inspiration when looking out the window. Has all his painting supplies with him. Perturabo: pretends to be grumpy but is very excited. He sits at the bottom so he has a proper table to draw on and right next to Magnus. Drinking lot‘s of coffee Jagh: The whole polycule/lovetriangle-thing around Magnus sits at the bottom around one of the tables, so he is there too. Kind of sad that he can‘t take his bike but hanging out with his brothers is fun too. Tries to do some throatsinging to impress Magnus but get‘s glared at by Lion. Leman: Sits opposite of Magnus and tries to do his best to not start a fight. Rob has taken away his Mjod and stops him from taking more from the minibar. His wolves are under the table and he pets them the whole time. Started a fight with Jagh about who get‘s to sit at the window. They switch every few minutes now. Rogal: He sits in the trunk/luggage storage to give emotional support to Konrad. Has built a pillowfort, it‘s very comfy. Appears a few times to sternly talk to people who aren‘t using their seatbelts. Konrad: He‘s a very happy bat right now. He sits in the luggage area, it‘s dark and comfy, Rogal has snacks for days there and gives lot‘s of hugs and headpats. Was very sceptical about going at all, he had some visions. Sang: With his wings it‘s quite klaustrophobic. Also on the bottom floor so he can be next to Lion and Rob. Might be stresseating. Very glad Lemans wolves are there for emotional support. Ends up falling asleep, a lot of cute pictures were made. Ferrus: Currently beeing used as a pillow by Fulgrim. Is prepared and has some books and snacks with him. The two regularly get yelled at to stop making out. Angron: He is watching a movie with a lot of gore and cuddeling with Lorgar. Falls asleep eventually. Everyone is surprised at how calm he is. Turns out he is like some toddlers/babies and sitting in a car/bus calms him down very fast. This knowledge will be used in the future. Roboute: Lion has entrusted him with the minibar. He is vigilantly guarding it, making sure no one get‘s drunk. Drinks a lot of coffee and tries to get some work done. This is made harder by everyone (but especially Sang) Morty: Sits on top, kind of in the middle. Was very nervous but then Vulkan sits a row behind him and just starts talking? And it‘s nice? And he is listening to Morty talking about bugs? He bluescreens. Magnus: Sitting at the bottom, with the rest of the polycule-lovetriangle-thing. He has a lot of fun. A lot of drama happening. Makes out with Leman, Perty and Jagh at least once, Rob threatens to leave him behind on a rest stop. Horus: Can‘t decide where to sit. Switches places every few minutes. Wants to sit next to all his brothers. This was his idea and he is very happy how well it‘s going. Constantly on call with Emps of Malcador to tell them that everything is okay and everyone still alive. Lorgar: Cuddeling with Angron, doesn‘t really want to watch the movie so he listens to a audiobook. Once Angron falls asleep he starts writing on his own book. Vulkan: Sitting behind Morty. He has brought a ton of food and drinks with him and shares with everyone. Very, very happy. One of the few to properlly wear his seatbelt. Corvus: Sits in the overhead bag-storage-space. Probally sleeping, has plenty of birb-food for snacking with them. Alpharius Omegon: everyone feels like they forgot something, but they aren‘t sure what. Don‘t worry tough, the two sit under the chairs and have fun watching the drama. At some point just appear in the seats at the very front on top so they have the best view.

[yridenergyridenergy]

2024/02/17 sukekiyo - Tsumetai Chinmoku live report (Day 2)

SETLIST

Houmonsha X

Gloss

The Hole

Mosaic Shoujo

Candis

Valentina

MOAN

Kuchi ni ringo

aftermath

Rongai na ikimono toshite

Kawattekuremasen deshou ka?

Scarlet

Tada, mada, watashi.

Hakudaku

Uso

Kokyuu

Margaret

I'll try to focus on the differences and what I had forgotten to include in yesterday's report.

The band's outfit were generally not only completely different from yesterday, but also from different references entirely, at least from what I could see. Takumi had his clothes from the MOAN music video, but Yuchi appeared to have bare shoulders with the partial long sleeves, so no trace of the puffy material that hid his skin in the previous photoshoots. No drooping pane of fabric behind his shoulders like yesterday, I think. UtA was definitely wearing something more square and formal. It reminded me of some of Japan's student uniforms, and he looked especially like a "bad boy" while wearing his guitar upside down during aftermath to focus on playing the violin-like instrument. His long hair was also styled completely toward his right in a vast mane. Mika may have been wearing the same black suit. As for Kyo, his outfit seemed like it was two pieces linked at the front of the abdomen, but there was definitely a large band of fabric missing which exposed his skin above his waist. He also had a long skirt with many vertical folds, and his hair and makeup were the same as yesterday. But what was most striking about his look was the sheer amount of pearl necklaces he had aroumd his neck and resting on his shoulders. It looked heavy as hell. Maybe it was literally the accessory he wore for Dir en grey's Ochita koto no aru sora PV? And hint for ranuunculus: it looked most badass overall when Kyo was bathed in red on his head and over his shoulders while white illuminated most of the lower portion of the necklaces.

Right away, it was clear that the mood for today's concert was different: Houmonsha X started and once again, very epic. I noted that Kyo dances tip-toeing widely left and right near the end of the song, while the music sounds like crawling and buzzing bugs, and he does this on a floor illuminated by collapsing diamonds, so it really gives the impression that he purposely plays along at trying to avoid stepping on the lights. Oh and at the very beggining of that song, Kyo crouched and swished his hips side to side, literally dusting off the floor. This time, Kyo sang the "Are those eyes scary? How are they scary?" in the demented way.

I don't know if I just didn't remember or if it changed, which will be a recurring theme in this report, but Gloss had not only the blinking alternating hanging lights, but big flashes of purple were projected from around Takumi's distance from the edge of the stage. Overall, it was a very emotional, but powerful and beautiful song that followed Houmonsha X's vibe well.

The Hole started next and my prayers for a different setlist were answered! It was so cool. The song starts with a video on screen with opaque red everywhere except one large hole left untouched, where Kyo stands. The hole grows progressively larger, in a corrupted way. It's so cool later when Kyo swiftly rotates from his left side to his right side, vice versa, along with the music, drawing a wide circle each time, and I think he gestured considering those options at some point.

Mosaic Shoujo! Another change from yesterday. Kyo waved his arm up and down wildly at us during "Ano hito janakyaya", only to retrieve his arm toward himself when wondering "How many more times?" Quite sure it was during this song that I noticed what move Kyo does to drop his knees repeatedly like in that Candis prologue that I gifed from the footage on Erosio. While keeping his toes on the same spot, he rotates his heels outward, like a lot of women do in Japan, which causes a drop and the motion has to be repeated to maintain balance anyway. Anyway, overall a very feminine demeanor.

Candis followed and I had at least thought of bringing my penlights this time. I noticed that on screen, dots of light made up a huge fake disco ball, at the beginning, but maybe I just missed that detail yesterday.

The medley of pop songs continued but it was a lot more seamless, less foreboding than that sequence had been yesterday. There was hope for less sorrow later, somehow.

Valentina was still just as perfect~

MOAN, why do you not have a penlight yet? Anyway, it seemed even cooler to watch Kyo make the song's gestures (pump up the ceiling, circle a finger around to come back to you; rinse and repeat but you never get bored of it!) while wearing that excessive layer of pearl necklaces.

Kuchi ni ringo, I forgot to mention yesterday that he kind of screeches the janai in: "Sono makka na iro janai" instead of singing it more with despair like in the studio recording. Confirmed that this is the song where the first floor is covered by an opaque layer of blue light. At the end, it's odd because while the lyrics say: "Ah I want a womb", Kyo moves the diamond shape formed by his fingers ouward in different directions along with the repetition of "hoshii, hoshii, hoshii", as though he in fact wanted to know who wanted it.

aftermath came and I definitely focused on UtA's badass pose with his right leg extended backward while he leans forwarf to play the violin-like instrument, allowing the guitar that he rolled to his back to resr on his leg.

The part during the session took place again today but the man appeared more assured now and was wearing a plain black long-sleeved shirt. Kyo also looked less stiff. He rested his left leg on his right one and I can't remember how his hands were positioned, maybe just on his lap, but that too was more casual than yesterday. Also, either I didn't notice because I was looking through binoculars then, but a zoomed-in projection of that scene plus Kyo's following improv for the instrumental session was played on screen. Maybe the video experienced trouble yesterday and only began working later?

For some reason, Rongai na ikimono toshite seemed to have a whole lot more projections than I remember it having yesterday. Not sure if they could whip up a new video in less than 24 hours. It involved not just fractals, but like an evolving kaleidoscope of structures like what you'd find in complex metallic beam structures on bridges. It helped to enhance the song's menacing and mysterious aura. And big, bright white lights get flashed toward us in time with the intense moments throughout the song.

Kawattekuremasen deshou ka? was the song that appeased my growing concern that I had misremembered or totally forgotten stuff from yesterday hah. The video played during this song was totally different. It features only large bubbles, like soap bubbles, of various colours. Each bubble was so large that it encompassed the entire band. In the first "Naze watashi dake honto no ai o shiranai?", I don't know if something was mispronounced or if I was too distracted, but it didn't sound like "honto no ai o", more like it could have been aibito? But the second one was sang as per the lyrics, so I put that behind.

Scarlet was the same as yesterday, with its imposing "I want you to kiss me" & "I want love" being the only two lyrics projected on screen. Maybe it's during that song's "Let's make the sound of love as I think of you" that Kyo slides a hand between his legs?

Tada, mada, watashi. appeared as much as a classic as yesterday. I think it's due to the bright lights being projected on us and the screen otherwise displaying very little, mostly just small lyrics in English at the bottom and shimmering white borders there and at the top of the screen, which may have been done with the intention of giving us the impression that the PV is being recorded live, that we're witnessing this historic moment.

There's a word shown vertically in red in the couple of seconds of suspense before the chorus. It's just hiragana but somehow I haven't been able to catch it yet! It might be "oyasumi"?

After a short break, Hakudaku started and I knew that the end was already upon us, too soon. Uso began without a single second of interruption too. And as the tradition goes, Kokyuu was played after those. There's always a very long pause before it begins, as though someone needs to regain their composure or something.

Yesterday, I must have used the binoculars at this point too much, but I noticed that way above his head, the video projected involved scenes of isolation. For example, a lone strawberry shortcake, clearly to celebrate something, first left unattended on a table. Then the chair and the table are empty. A woman appears, followed by an older version of herself. She's beautiful, but nobody else shows up around her. The cake is cut and consumed, in part.

Kyo sang the ending, and I was expecting him to leave like yesterday, a wet kind of dry after uttering the softest: "Kanashimi wa owaranai dare no tame?", but he surprisingly held onto his mic stand, although stepping out of the pink LED line to the side a bit. Seconds of silence until... Margaret started! Some mercy. That song, although its lyrics are sad, counted as an "un deux" in this context thanks to its uplifting melody.

The credits were rolled on screen while the band performed.

Kyo left before the song's last few notes were played, essentially immediately after the last lyrics. We were less shy to start clapping after Margaret was properly finished, compared to yesterday at the end of Kokyuu. It was the instrumental of Zephyr that was played tonight as the other members left the stage. Mika peeked at us from atop his drums but I don't think he waved like he did yesterday, so it might have been a prompt to wake us up and start clapping, yesterday hah.

Three times during the concert, there was a weird, faint sound like "woaaan" at the end of songs, which was super obvious because we were all quiet. I didn't hear that at all yesterday. Maybe it seemed to coincide witn Takumi dragging his chair toward his keyboard to adjust his distance from it?

So far: man, I've rarely heard bass and drums hammer at our very molecules this much. Every single one of Yuchi's notes is a tidal wave crushing straight through us.

Now, which of the two setlists, or a secret third one, will the 20th have?

[angstylittleguy]

Dalton's Drawings

An important bonding opportunity for Bennett and Dalton, though neither leave feeling any better.

tw: mentions of suicide

character context: Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions. Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day.

word count: 2.5k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Bennett stalked down the hallway, humming lightly to himself as he pulled his Air Pods from his ears and shoved them in his hoodie pocket, the music ceasing suddenly. He knocked on Dalton's closed door. "Yo, Dalton. You ready to go, man?"

When no response came, Bennett creaked open the door, peeking his head in. "Hey man, are you in here?"

The silence lingered as Bennett scanned the room. Dalton's bed was unmade, something that he never allowed to happen. The guy was a neat freak, never wanting anything in his space to be out of place. It made Bennett quirk a brow for sure. The second red flag was that Dalton's phone was laying on the floor, screen faced up and still playing music from the earbuds that were attached by a thin white cord. Next to it, a fancy crayon that had been snapped in half from the impact of it hitting the hardwood floor.

Bennett stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Dalton?" He called, his voice much lower now. He picked up the phone and paused the music, placing it on Dalton's desk. 

"Are you...?" Bennett got on his knees and peered under the bed. "Ah."

In the far corner of the room, pressed against the wall and almost totally concealed by the shadows of the bed, was Dalton, about the size of Bennett's hand. 

Dalton glanced up miserably at Bennett, his heart pounding in his chest because of the massive eyes watching his pitiful form. He buried his head in his knees. 

"Hey," Bennett murmured, trying to keep his voice low because he knew how much loud sounds affected him at this size. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, you know." The brunette dryly laughed, his voice betraying the humor he was attempting. "The usual."

Dalton tried to make a joke to lighten the mood, to make the fact that his friend found him sulking under his bed the size of a bug less pathetic, but it didn't help any. 

"You're pretty small, did something happen?"

Bennett was aware of Dalton's abilities, they all were. But they didn't see it often— not the extremes, anyway— Dalton would always hide away in his room until the size-changing spell ended. They all knew he hated his abilities, just as much as Bennett hated his. Dalton found it humiliating, and they all agreed to give him privacy when things like this happened. It always felt wrong to Bennett to leave him be when he was going through one of his spells, however. They occurred because of how he was feeling, and to leave him alone felt like Bennett was abandoning him. Maybe when he needed them most.

When Dalton was this small, it meant he had a lot on his mind. 

"Just thinking," Dalton said, his voice so small that Bennett had to strain to hear him. 

Bennett laid down on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms as to not tower over Dalton as much as he could. It had to be frightening to just see a giant head watching him from a crack under the bed. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

He already knew the answer, but he figured he might as well ask anyway. 

Dalton shook his head. "Not really."

Bennett extended a careful hand, outstretching his arm across the length of the bed so that it almost brushed against Dalton's tiny form that seemed to shift deeper into the shadows. "Do you wanna come out? We can watch a movie or something until you're feeling better?" 

He looked at Bennett's hand, it larger than life itself and he so impossibly small. Dalton was on high alert, worried that with one twitch of Bennett’s fingers he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from scurrying down the length of the wall and disappearing into the darkness. 

"Listen, dude." Bennett interrupted his inner monologue with a frown. "It's totally okay to be scared right now. Hell, I would be freaking the fuck out if I were you. But you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can stay in here and hang out, or I can go, you just say the word."

Dalton wiped frustratingly at his eyes, tearing his gaze away from Bennett's hand to look at him. "You don't have to go," he said numbly. "Can we just... stay like this?"

"Of course, man. I don't wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable."

He pulled his hand back to rest under his chin, causing Dalton to flinch with the unexpected movement. Bennett tilted his head to the side with a sad smile, watching his tiny friend wipe at his eyes as his ears flushed red.

"Ugh, this is so embarrassing." Dalton pulled down the beanie he wore so it covered his ears and nearly his eyes. "I hate this so much."

Bennett chose not to speak, and so Dalton continued. "I'm not scared of you, for the record. Just... uneasy, is all."

"That's totally fair, bro. It would we weird if you weren't." 

Bennett tried to shift again, adjusting his position on the floor as Dalton watched him with a careful gaze. Finally, he pressed himself up into a sitting position with his hands, Dalton's vision no longer filled with Bennett's face, but rather his legs. He felt his heartbeat increase as the wooden floor creaked beneath the shift in weight. 

"Sorry," Bennett chuckled, his voice now coming from high up and out of sight. "Uncomfortable on your hard ass floor." 

He sat with his back against the bed now, his legs outstretched on the floor and facing the closed door. Dalton swallowed the lump in his throat as he forced himself to a stand, his entire body trembling as he walked out of the shadows on shaky legs. 

(It’s fine. This is Bennett. You trust Bennett. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.)

Dalton bit the inside of his cheek. 

(Not on purpose, at least.)

He paused just at the edge of Bennett's line of vision, staring up at his friend's mop of messy blond hair from his position on the floor. He was fidgeting with his hands, opening his mouth to say something but being unable to find the words. 

From Dalton's perspective, Bennett was colossal. He was a massive force that could do with him as he pleased and there would be nothing Dalton could do until he managed to shift back to his normal size. And even with this major power imbalance, Bennett was patient and trying his best to look out for Dalton, never doing something that he wouldn't want him to. 

Dalton walked out from under the bed, doing his best to mask his uneasiness. "Tell me about it," he said, voice slightly wavering. "I've been stuck down here for the past two hours." 

Bennett's eyes widened and he quickly snapped his gaze down to Dalton, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin from the movement. "You've been like this for two hours?" 

Dalton nodded sheepishly, craning his neck to meet his eyes.

"Dude, I'm so sorry. If I had known I would have come to check on you sooner."

"Ah, no it's okay." Dalton waved his hands in front of him awkwardly as if he were swatting away the idea. "It's better this way, anyway." 

Bennett's frown never shifted from his expression, but his eyes softened just enough for Dalton to notice. 

Dalton looked down at his feet.

"So," Bennett said, but his voice trailed off and he never finished his thought aloud. His gaze shifted to Dalton's desk, and he was able to see whatever he was working on from his spot on the floor. 

"May I?" He asked Dalton, finger pointed at the desk. 

Dalton shrugged, and Bennett shifted a little to grab the unfinished drawing. 

It was of Meiling, her smiling complexion colored with oil pastels that showed off her warm skin tone. Half of her shoulder-length black hair was colored as well, but the color abruptly ends and a single black line trails to the edge of the paper, even staining the desk as it was dragged towards the floor. 

"This is really good, dude," Bennett told Dalton, looking down at his small form that watched him examine the drawing with cautious eyes.

"But," Bennett said, "I don't think she's into guys."

Dalton flushed red. "Ah! No! That's not why I was drawing her!"

"Dude, it's okay. I'm not judging. I just wanted to tell you you probably don't have a chance with her before you get your hopes up."

Dalton buried his face in his hands and threw his head back. "Noooooo, it's not like that! I just— inspiration struck, okay?"

"Yeah, man. I get it, she's pretty—"

"Oh my god, Bennett. No. Okay, look in my sketchbook at one of the last few pages."

Bennett stood, his height making Dalton dizzy. He stepped closer to the desk, running a finger along the rows of sketchbooks that lined the shelf. "Which one is it?" 

"The black one."

"Like, ninety percent of them are black."

Dalton groaned. "Just— put me on the desk."

Bennett's head whipped downwards to stare at Dalton who stood uncomfortably close to his socked feet. "What?"

"Put me on the desk."

"You want me to put you...?"

"On the desk, yes."

"You want me to pick you up and—?"

"And put me on the desk."

"You want me to—?"

"OhmygodBennettjustdoitalready."

Bennett awkwardly squatted, laying his hand flat on the floor next to where Dalton stood. The brunette stared at it for a moment, before glancing up at Bennett's lingering gaze, and climbing on. 

The moment Bennett's hand was in motion, Dalton fell to his knees, the uncomfortable feeling of skin surrounding him. He held on to Bennett's thumb for balance, knowing that a fall from this height would surely kill him. 

Dalton was deposited on the desk in a matter of seconds, but his legs were weak as he struggled to force himself to a stand. 

He trekked across the wooden surface, stopping when he reached the markings from the oil pastel that he was using when he shrunk. He rubbed at it, staining his hands black as he tried to wipe away the marking. Dalton pointed up at the shelf with a newly black finger. "It's that one." 

Bennett grabbed the sketchbook, laying it down next to Dalton as he wiped his hands on his pants. 

He flipped through the pages, finally landing on a self-portrait in the same oil pastels. 

"What do you notice about mine compared to hers?"

Bennett hummed as he stared at the two drawings. "Well, one is obviously of you…" 

"Yes, that's true. But what about our faces?"

"You have pale, pasty skin?"

Dalton pressed a hand to his cheek. "No, dumbass. She's smiling."

Bennett looked back to the drawings, seeing the one of Dalton expressing a deep frown, with the most defeated eyes Bennett had ever seen on a person. His face was somewhat red, especially around the eyes and the tip of his nose as if he had been crying just moments before. Compared to the drawing of Meiling, whose eyes were bright and full of life, her smile brighter than lightning, Dalton's self-portrait was depressing. 

"Why... why did you draw them like this?"

The brunette blew air out of his nose, glancing down at his feet before looking back up at Bennett's massive form. "I'm sure you've noticed it too," he said, peeking over his shoulder to the drawing of Meiling that laid idly on the desk. Her smile seemed just as big as he was right now. "She's always so... happy."

Bennett cocked his head sideways. "And you're not?"

"How can I be?" 

Dalton threw his hands up miserably, gesturing to himself. "I mean, just look at me. I am four inches tall right now. And for what? Because I'm a little sad? I'm a little sad all the time, so this is just my life now! And Meiling? She didn't get stuck with some shitty superpower that affects her everyday life. She's never been happier, and I'm—"

"Jealous?" Bennett finished for him. 

"Yeah. I'm jealous."

Dalton sat down on the desk, propping his chin up in his hand. "I used to draw as a way to express how I'm feeling. It normally helps— or it used to— didn't matter if I was sad or angry or happy or whatever. But I can't do that anymore, because, well..." 

He gestured half-heartedly to himself again, frown coating his lips. "I guess you wouldn't get it, though. You got pretty lucky—”

"Lucky?" Bennett almost laughed, shifting his position so he stood on his knees and rested his folded arms on top of the desk next to Dalton. "I would not describe my situation as lucky."

Dalton's expression seemed to say, 'then what?' so Bennett continued. "I would describe it as 'The Fucking Worst.' Do you understand how many times I've died? Like, actually, physically died? More than I would have wanted, which means more than once."

Bennett talked with his hands, and with each wild gesture thrown in Dalton's direction, he flinched, debating standing up and moving back further on the desk. If Bennett noticed, he didn't do anything to show it. 

"And yeah, it could be useful if I needed a do-over or something, but like, to get that do-over I'd literally have to die. And that's so scary, dude. Like, I can't—"

His words fell short as he wasn't sure what to say next. He glanced down at Dalton who stared at him with big eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Dalton said. "That does suck." 

"I feel like it happens to me more often than others. Like, normal people only die once." Bennett paused for a moment. "Well, yes, duh, of course people only die once. That's not what I meant. I'm saying, if a guy somehow survives a terrible accident, what are the odds he's going to get into another one a week later? And then in another one two weeks later? Probably not likely, you know?”

Dalton nodded silently. 

"But for me, it is likely. I'm like… cursed to die. I think it's the universe's way of forcing me to use my ability. I mean, Rory uses hers all the time. Josiah ends up invisible almost once a week. You use yours pretty often. When do I have a chance to use mine? Dying doesn't happen to someone that often, but the universe needs me to use my ability. So, things happen that force me to use it." 

Dalton wasn't quite sure what to say, and Bennett dryly chuckled. "Didn't mean to ramble," he said. "Can we just agree that both of our abilities suck?" 

"Yeah," Dalton nodded. "Our abilities suck."

[soo0mi]

🫂 ｡ﾟ⊹ you’ve built a home in my heart — 04. a pretty stranger ..

:: u got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street. for your inconvenience, you quietly opened the door to meet a peculiar sight, someone trying to sleep on the floor across the hallway because their roommate has their gf over .. ?

warnings ⚠️ mentions of suicide (purely sarcastic)

word count : 537 / 0.5k words !!

cypress uni — 12:47 pm

swim practice started at 1:30 pm so you had some time to watch yunjin practice. you walked over to the tennis courts, your eyes scanned l each of the eight courts to search for the one face u’ve been longing to see this past week. without hesitation, yunjin dropped her white racket and made her way to you

“yunjinnieieeekeiee!.” you were so happy to see her again, “i miss u so bad pookie dooks”

“i missed u more mamii” her smile was so contagious, you couldnt help but grin

she wrapped you in a tight embrace and shook you side to side, the warmth of your friendship enveloping you both

“im so sweaty under this sweater help” you whispered to her

“girl go to practice, the pools r like across the campus” she exclaimed as she walked you to the locker rooms

although, to get to the girls locker room, you HAD to walk past the boys locker room. you heard a bunch of chatter outside their locker room but didnt think much of it until you passed it.

that voice sounds like riki..

your eyes met his soft gaze and time seemed to stand still, were his eyes always been this .. pretty?

in that singular moment, a whirlwind of emotions coursed through riki’s veins. his breath caught in his chest as he locked eyes with you, as if there was an invisible thread that connected your souls, drawing them closer together

you waved at him while displaying a soft smile, your eyes grinned along with your lips

‘hi!!’ you mouthed to him

‘hi’ he exchanged your gesture

your shared gaze spoke volumes—words left unspoken but understood..

but will you both gain the same message?

will you take it in as romantic or platonic?

his heart pounded in his chest as the realization settled within him — riki had developed feelings for you, feelings that went beyond platonic but less romantic..? the depth of his emotions was intensified by that single glance, igniting a flame of desire within him

‘this is purely platonic riki, stop being so full of yourself’ his mind muttered ‘why’d i have to meet such a pretty stranger…’

cypress uni pools — 3:30 pm

you made your way towards the poolside benches with taerae, your bodies still energized from practice. drops of water trickled down your skin, it felt like a crawling bug

“no way coach actually made us do 500 by 5 for warmup..”

“RIGHT, i was like ‘ is he serious rn.. ’ ” he agreed with your statement

“good job today team, our first prelim match will be exactly a week from now so train hard and be ready. that concludes todays practice, you can now go back to the locker rooms”

you got up and made your way towards your coach, “by any chance, do u know who we’re playing against, coach?”

“yeah, we’re playing against seaside” his voice wasnt laced with concern, “u really dont need to worry about any of the prelim matches yn, youre our best swimmer in this team so far. keep up the good work!” he commends you

“really? thank you coach!” you left and made your way back to the locker rooms

i miss junhyeon guys 😣😣 + more ynki progress tmrw im lazy rn 🤞

prev || m.list || next

taglist !! (open) @aernx @alicesolengg @namelesssuser @woon2u

[with-love-from-hell]

Melancholia

{part eleven}

Fandom: Obey me!

Genre: Angst

Written for F!Mc

WC: 5.1k

CW: Torture!, physical and emotional abuse!, kidnapping!,  mild sexual harassment/violence and allusion to arousal from said violence on the perpetrators end, whipping, Michael is very gross and predatory and abusive, slut shaming/victim blaming, mention of suicide vaguely, fear-based content and lots of tension, religious trauma/detailed depiction of purity culture in christianity, blood mention, violence, angst, depression, mentions to past sexual violence in Vermillion Skies,  anxiety, panic attacks, descriptions of deceit,  season 2 spoilers

A/n: be cautious with this chapter! As said in my Q&A, I got inspiration for Michael’s personality from Frollo from Hunchback of Notre Dame, so he’s very predatory.

Music accompaniment (Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums thru Lydia)

Tag list: @urmomondeez

>> Though I have a Masters Degree in Psychology and clinical training in treatment for mental health, I am not your therapist. If you have experienced any form of depression or suicidal thoughts, and are in need of help, please utilize the Suicide Prevention Lifeline, NIMH helpline, or the SAMHSA helpline. <<

Series Masterlist

Q&A for parts 1-10

You can find more of this series by searching the tag #Vermillion Skies or #Melancholia on my blog!

A slamming sound in the distance snaps your attention toward the small window on the door to your cell. Your senses were on high alert, eyes wide with fear of whose footsteps were clacking down the hall toward you. After experiencing numerous panic attacks and nearly losing your voice screaming for Lucifer to come help you, you had finally calmed down enough to try to think of a plan to escape your situation logically. An attempt at snapping the chains with magic was futile, and yelling through the thin barred window that lined the top of the west wall didn’t seem to do much either. You had accepted that the only way out was for someone to let you out, and for a moment you felt hopeful that maybe it was someone coming to your rescue. Though, now that the steps continue to draw nearer, you’re feeling the prickling anxiety come back, causing your limbs to tremble with anticipation of what is to come. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed in your small cage. It was enough for the sun to come up and give you a teensy bit of illumation to the place you found yourself trapped in, though part of you wished it had stayed dark. The stains of blood on the concrete walls and floors, plus the plethora of bugs, made your terror spike much higher. The odd sounds you had heard when you first awoke continued, along with occasionally yells or sobs from who you assumed to be other prisoners. You still weren't sure where you were, but the small bit of the spires you could see in the window reminded you of the Celestial Palace, which you had seen on your brief visit to the Celestial Realm many months ago.

A face finally appears in the window, startling you. The individual is one you don’t recognize. It’s hard to make out her features given the window is so small, and she has a helmet covering most of her head. She locks her bright red eyes with you for a moment, before twisting a key into the lock and activating the tumbler on the door. After numerous clacks, the door unlatches, and she holds it open. At first, you think perhaps she is letting you go, but the thought is squashed when a familiar blonde-haired man steps through the door. He stares directly at you, and you feel your body immediately tense under his stare.

You begin to feel way too hot, and beads of sweat begin to form on your clammy  skin as the man saunters over to you, his dark brown eyes flaring with intensity in the dim sun light that now shown from the thin glimpse your cell had to the outside. Following quickly behind him was the red-eyed angel who was dressed in silver and blue armor, and two other angels dressed similarly.  

“So...we finally meet.” Michael smiled at you, but behind it was a terse hatred that showed plainly on his face. His eyes scour your body, taking in the state of dress you were in and trying to ignore his surprise at how attractive he found you to be. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Michael, revered leader of the Celestial Council and second in command underneath the Heavenly Father.”

You nod once, not knowing what to say in response. He raises his eyebrow expectantly, and it’s now that you realize he is wanting you to introduce yourself to him. 

“Uh...I-I’m Mc...” You mutter out. “I’m the Human Ambassador to the Devildom.” 

“Within Diavolo’s Royal Court, I presume?” He raises a brow, not realizing that you held an actual title within the Devildom political system. He curses himself internally, now realizing that kidnapping someone from under Diavolo’s royal protection would potentially result in the House of Lords declaring War on the Celestial realm. 

You nod hesitantly, trying to place an emotion to the scrunched look on his face.

“Hmm. I see...” he paused, now beginning to pace the floor in front of you. “Well, I wish I could have been acquainted with you earlier, under different circumstances, but the trouble you have caused has required me to resort to extreme measures.” 

You swallow hard, not liking the vagueness in his words. “T-trouble?” 

He hummed in confirmation, pacing toward the window. “Tell me- for how long did you think you could keep getting away with your sinful actions?” 

“w--what?” You stutter out the words breathlessly, unsure of what to make of such an accusation. You had no idea what he was even talking about, and the language he used gave you no insight into why he had you chained up in this dank, smelly room. When he doesn’t reply right away, you gulp back your fear, deciding to prod further, but your voice was meek and timid. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand-” 

Michael’s tense and nefarious-sounding laugh, followed by the clear tightening of his fists sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. You clamped your mouth shut as he turned to look at you, the intensity of his eyes now twice that of when he had entered the room. You scoot back an inch, pressing your body into the wall as he approaches, squatting down so that he was eye-level with you.

“Your manipulative tricks won’t work on me, harlot.” He hissed searching your fear-stricken expression for some clues into your weaknesses. He glanced down from your face, noticing the way your arms and legs were tightly bound to your body, trying to hide as much as you could from him. He made note of the scars that littered your collar and parts of your exposed chest that he could see, trying to soak in as much detail as he could get from just observing you. 

You feel your body begin to tense even more than it already was under his judgmental stare and critical words, not liking how uncomfortable you felt under his prying gaze. The almost transparent half buttoned sleep shirt that hung low on your chest, along with the thin lacey underwear that was barely hidden by the hem of the shirt left you feeling very exposed. Your intention was to show off the set gifted to you by Lucifer for your engagement, since he was very smitten with how you looked in it. Had you known that you would be swiftly snatched up from your bed in the cover of night- presumably under the order of this strange man- you would have worn something more modest. The lingerie was never meant for the eyes of anyone but your lover, yet here you were, seemingly being undressed in the mind of the angel who squatted before you. 

Michael shook his head standing back up to pace after feeling his brain start to stir with delinquent thoughts related to the curvature of your body. “Tch. It’s no wonder Simeon had difficulty controlling his purity around you. Such a teasing display you give, hm? Like a piece of fresh meat dangled in front of a tiger.” 

Your eyes widen as you sit with his disgusting words, closing yourself off tighter from view. You try to speak to him, to tell him he’s misjudging you- but your voice merely comes out in a squeak. 

“Come now, enough with this demure charade.” He hisses, staring down upon you with frustration. “I want you to try to justify to me why you have turned one of our own to the life of sin. Does it simply run in your blood, given your blood association to that other traitorous wretch? Or are you simply a Sadist- desiring to ruin the purity of those around you? Even having enough skill to seduce Demons back to instinctual depravity after sophistication has become their norm truly is impressive.” 

“I...I haven’t done anything...” You whisper, feeling tears begin to well behind your eyes. “I didn’t seduce anyone...I-”

A swift backhand from Michael cuts you off. You shriek as his hand connects with your cheek, the stinging from the large ring on his fourth finger causes tears to escape from your eyes. How sudden his demeanor changed from calm to irate scared the hell out of you. 

Michael scowls at the sight of you crying from what he believes is such a simple form of discipline. His voice is raised and wavered in frustration. “The question was rhetorical, Human. You speak when I ask for a direct answer, and you will address me as “sir.”  I am owed that much respect. Is that clear?” 

You hesitate before giving a quick nod, now refusing to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, but I believe I asked for a direct answer this time, wench.” He hisses, clenching and unclenching his fist as if to loosen his knuckles for another strike. 

A shudder runs down your spine and you nod more rapidly this time, trying to make your voice louder than a mere whisper. “Y-yes...s-sir.” 

He smirks evilly at you. “Good girl.” 

You could nearly gag at the way he had just referred to you, the events of your previous trauma bubbling to the surface as you wondered what he was going to do to you. You watched his unmoving feet from your peripherals, silently shifting between calling to someone to save you from this place and convincing yourself that it was all a horrible dream. 

“Now then...” Michael stands, clasping his hands behind his back and returning to his pacing movements. “I expect you to answer my questions truthfully, and in full. First, Why is it that you’ve chosen to stay in the Devildom rather than return to your home- that of the human world?” 

“U-uh...” You pause taking a shaky breath. “The human world wasn’t very good for me...and I found a family that I love and care about in the Devildom.” 

“Why- pray tell- would you place trust in some random demons enough to refer to them as family?” He questions, gazing at you over the rim of his glasses. 

“They showed me kindness, and genuine compassion.” You state matter of factly, not liking that he was questioning the structure of your relationships with the brothers. “I had limited experiences of that with other humans.” 

“Had you even attempted to seek it out?” 

“What?” you blink back your confusion. 

“Are you deaf?” He hisses, pausing his pacing in front of you, now crossing his arms over his chest. “I asked if you had even attempted to seek such relationships elsewhere.” 

You pause, thinking back to your early family and friends during childhood. “A couple times, yes...uh, sir...” 

“So, If I may summarize.” He clears his throat, waving his hand as he spoke. “You had become entangled with demons beyond that of mere acquaintanceship, going so far as to undress before and betroth yourself to one, because your few attempts at connecting with other humans proved fruitless. So, instead of persevering through hardship, like God intended you to to, you gave up, betrayed and abandoned your people, and sought comfort in those who live lives filled to the brim with sin and stripped yourself of a morally pure path, one that would lead your bloodline to forgiveness and mercy. Is that correct?” 

“What??” You shake your head in frustration, the amount of assumptions he was making on how you had come to find the demon brothers as part of your family, and how demons actually are in real life. “T-that’s not it at all! You think you can just assume these things about me!?” 

Michael snapped his attention down as your voice came out in an annoyed retort to what he had said. He quickly snapped his fingers, and the two male guards yank you to your feet by your arms. Your heart pounds in your chest and your breathing begins to turn ragged as their grips tighten against you, holding you firmly in place as Michael leans in. His shallow breath is hot against your already too-warm face, the intoxicatingly-sweet scent of it overwhelming your olfactory senses. You try to turn your head away, but he grips your chin tightly in his gloved hand, forcing your eyes back to meet his. 

“I thought I told you to address me with respect.” He hisses, pressing his thumb and index finger tighter into your jaw. He was infuriated by your response, but he couldn't fight the nagging thought in his head that your boldness in challenging him was endearing. Something about you was striking his emotions in a way he didn't expect. His heart pounded and he felt his loins stir with excitement. It was a confusing feeling, and he was enraged by the fact that it was happening.

He shakes his thoughts away and continues, the grip on your jaw never wavering. “I believe your insolent denial is proof enough of your wrong doing. Association amongst humans and demons is bad enough, as is becoming chummy with one. That sinful sorcerer has clearly also been an influence on your attitude toward them, and clearly has lead you further to depravity by spreading your legs for them. May I remind you, that coitus outside of your species is forbidden? But no. You did not stop there. You also have set to cross established peace sanctions, and marry one. Absolutely Deplorable. You have the audacity to say that I don’t know what I’m talking about? You may have me mistaken for a fool, Mc. And I assure you, that is a grave error in judgement.” 

He finally drops your chin, shaking his head and tutting. He turns from you for a moment, clasping his hands behind his back as he mulls over his plans. He cursed himself for not being able to treat you more harshly. He anticipated you being easy to torture, but the more he was exposed to you, the more he was curious to know more about you. Perhaps it was the same power you had used on Simeon and the others...or perhaps it wasn't. Regardless of the reasoning, something about you made him want to make you his.

He pauses for a moment, deciding to change tactics. He sticks his hand in his jacket pocket, fishing around for something. You watch with baited breath, terrified for what was to come.

Finally, Michael turns. In his hand, he hold a small vial. It glows a bright, shimmering gold as he displays it between his thumb and forefinger for you. Your look at him in confusion, but your anxiety rises higher as you hear the soft gasps from the guards who held you still in their grasp. 

“Sir Michael,” The woman who stands by the door sounds uneasy as she takes a step forward. “Are...are you sure about this?” 

Michael snaps his attention toward her, his eyelid twitching in annoyance. His voice was hoarse through labored breaths and deep anger. “Are you questioning a superior officer, Dina?” 

She pauses, glancing between you and the vial. A sympathetic look passes her eyes as she finally sighs. “N-no sir. My apologies for speaking out of turn.” 

“Very good, then.” Michael turns back to you, a wicked smile appearing on his lips. He approaches slowly, and the reactions of the guards have you even more worried than before. You squirm in their hold, trying to desperately maneuver out of their arms. 

"Now, Mc." His voice returns to a casual soft tone, though there is coldness behind it. "We could have forgiven your sinful actions if it weren't for two things. One of which is Simeon's corruption, which you are solely responsible for."

You flinch as he reaches for a strand of your hair, turning it over in his fingers. His eyes never leave your face, as if studying your every reaction to his touch.

"Second to that though, is your power." He smirks, dropping your hair and now running his hand down your neck. He continues down your collarbone, stopping just above your breast, where the dull scar-like outline of Lucifer's pact sits. "Initially, my plan was to just kill you- rid the world of the problem that had been unintentionally created by offering Lilith mercy."

You swallow hard, but remain silent. He leans into to your neck, his breath tickling your earlobe. You squeeze your eyes shut, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He takes a breath in, inhaling your scent slowly. A shudder snaked its way down his back as he moves his hand up to cup your opposite cheek. He stroked the skin gently with his thumb, his breathing shaky on the outbreath. "However...It appears that I have changed my mind after finally being able to... observe you."

You stifle a gag as he presses his forehead to the side of your temple, giving a small laugh as he muttered the words in your ear. Finally, he leans back, dropping his hand from your cheek. He returns to pacing, now facing away from you.

"So...in my infinite mercy, as that is the type of angel I am...I will allow you to make a choice." He stops his movements, looking out the window wistfully. "I suggest you think over your next move carefully."

The guards holding you share an uneasy glance as Michael flicks his wrist, waving toward the door. They drop you to your knees, and promptly leave the room. You scoot as far away from him as the chain on your ankle will allow, still repeating the silent prayer that Lucifer would come for you, and reduce Michael to a bloody pulp.

Michael holds the vial up to the light, observing it as it refracts rainbow shapes onto the walls of the cell. "Your choice will be this, Mc. Either I end your life- giving you a very slow and painful death. You will never again be reincarnated as another being, and your soul will be kept in the deepest tomb of the Celestial Palace, never to see the light of day again." He turns to you, but his expression was difficult to read. It was crossed somewhere between pity and jubilation. "Lilith's bloodline will end with you. You won't even have a spirit to roam the earth with. You will simply cease to be."

Michael's face then contorts into a wicked smile as he drops his arms down to his side, now walking briskly toward you. He squats down as you try to shift away, the chain pulling tightly on your ankle as he reaches out to strok your calf.

"Or..." His smile widens as his fingers dust along your leg. His other hand holds the vial up to you. "...You can choose the path of grace by drinking this."

You hadn't realized how heavy your breath was until it suddenly catches in your throat. You stare at the intimidating angel before you, both terrified and confused. "Wh...what is that..?"

Michael chuckles darkly, twisting the vial between his fingers. "Curious, hmm? This is nectar from a very rare plant that we farm beneath the palace. It's called the Five-Winged Corpse flower. It's nectar is what we use to allow deserving humans into the Celestial realm as angels after their death."

You stare at the vial, watching the liquid ooze in different directions as he twists it for you to observe. You furrowed your brow in confusion, trying to figure out his intentions. "To...make me an angel..? You just got done telling me how horrible I am. Why don't you just kill me?"

Michael tutted at you. "Its rude to demand so many answers at once, little dove."

You grimace at the pet name, not liking the fondness he seemed to have for you now. In all accounts, you preferred him hating you.

"You see, I've decided to give you a second chance..." Michael beamed, searching your face for a reaction. "One that would still require your death, of course... but would also allow you the opportunity to renounce your life of sin. You will still need punishment for your actions, but I would allow you to be reincarnated as an angel. You would be held under my strict supervision as you unlearn all of the sinful things you had allowed yourself to indulge in, and i would truly look forward to the opportunity to make you into the heavenly being you could be."

You swallow hard, trying to decode why he was offerring you this choice. You were confused and terrified of his proposal, neither option sounding appealing at all. And the idea that you would be at his mercy should you chose this option, though, made you feel sick. Your mind raced with all of the things you feared Michael would do to you as "punishment." Tears threaten to well behind you eyes, trying desperately to manifest a call to the brothers to come help you, but you couldn't get up the strength to send out a call. You knew the anxiety and the physical weakness you felt from when they had struck you over the head had weakened your ability, but you felt something else getting In the way. It was as if something was siphoning out your energy. Each attempt at calling Lucifer, then Mammon, then Beel, Satan, Levi, Asmo, and Belphie proved fruitless.

Michael interrupts your thoughts with a laugh, somehow knowing where your thoughts were gravitating toward. "You would be forbidden from ever setting foot in the Devildom again, of course. Your pacts would disappear, as would your connections with those horrid brothers. And your engagement with Lucifer would become annulled. You will have anything you could ever want, and the ability to regain your purity. Certainly a life here would be a million times better than one amongst demons, wouldnt you say?"

You feel tears well up behind your eyes upon realizing that both choices would result in having to abandon the brothers. You shake your head aggressively, finding anger seeping through your pores at the fact that this so-called angel was seemingly trying to own you- to keep you something he could use for his own amusement. It overridded your fear, and you swallowed it down hard as he gazed at you expectantly, awaiting your answer.

You took a deep, shaking breath, deciding that your hope to live was forlorn. "I...I'd rather die a thousand deaths than live one second as your prisoner."

Michael's smile slowly fell into an intense frown. His gentle stroking of your leg ceased, now opting to squeeze it tightly, his sharp nails dug into your skin from beneath his gloves. You try to hold back your fear, now staring him down intently as his eyes shook with rage.

"You may feel that way now..." He hisses, squeezing your leg so hard that blood begins to ooze from the shallow indents he was making. "...but perhaps your tune will change when you see the fate of your lover."

Your eyes widen slightly at his words as he stands. You had no idea what he was talking about, but a pit formed in your stomach as your mind raced with all the horrible things he was probably planning on doing or had already done to Lucifer. Michael mutters something under his breath that you couldnt quite make out before again turning to leave. He pauses with his hand on the latch of the cell, glancing over his shoulder once more to look at you.

"Your death will ckme regardless of your choice-" Michael cracked another wicked smirk, the danger behind it sending a chill down your spine. "-I've already ensured that...but the right decision would preserve the life of Lucifer, and the rest of his pathetic little family. Take some time to let that soak in before hastily making a choice, Little Dove."

You fight back another gag as Michael walks through the door. He slams it hard behind him. You flinch at the sound, knowing that the violent action was an intentional warning of his capabilities.

The sound of his and the other guards' footsteps fades down the hall as you curl into yourself, hugging your legs tightly. You gently nurse the dripping wounds on your calf as tears finally force their way out of your eyes. All you wanted was to be held in Lucifers arms again; safe within the walls of the place you called home with the 7 brothers.

Michael paced the floor of the council chambers, awaiting impatiently his colleagues to come through on his urgent request to convene. If they didn't, it wouldn't be that big of a deal, really. His plan could be commenced without their silly input. Besides, he knew at least half of them would attempt to veto his plan. "Try" being the key word here. But he wanted witness to his grand scheme- one that would surely solidify a reputation of being as powerful as God himself.

The tranquilizer he had ordered Uriel and the guards to give Lucifer would wear off within the next two hours, so it was imperative that he finish what he started before that point. He did not expect Lucifer to be so strong-willed, making him ultimately question what it was about Mc that produced such a desperation. After meeting her, he was able to understand. Her aura was intoxicating, and oddly enough, he sensed a feeling of purity radiating from her that he didn't expect.

She had done so many sinful things, and caused even the most dedicated angel to become demonic. How could she still have purity?

Michael sighed, clicking his tongue as he pondered the human. The more he thought about her, the more his emotions confused him. He felt absolute hatred toward her, but also a deep longing and curiosity that he hadn't felt before. And that curiosity drove him to the brink of insanity. Was this her manipulative nature, or was she truly just so radiant that any being would fall to their knees before her?

Regardless of what it was, he needed to keep these emotions hidden.

The last thing he wanted was for the council to discover that he had changed his game plan, even fought they hadn't even really uncovered the original from the start. Each time he thought about the initial plot to wipe her from existence, he felt a strong urge to slap his past self for being so naive. Of course this woman was something special if she harbors so much power, and instead of destroying it, he could make that power his to command.

His thoughts wandered back to her state of dress, and what he perceived to be a mixture of terror and awe as she laid her eyes upon him. He paused on the image in his brain, feeling his body quiver with excitement. He wondered if she'd give up easily; if she'd give him what he wanted when he wanted it- or if she would resist. He wasn't sure which outcome would be better. Having blind adoration made his ego feel strong, but he also thrived off of a challenge- and something felt oddly gratifying in breaking someone's spirit.

Michael smiled to himself, licking his lips in eager anticipation. He couldn't wait for the opportunity to conduct a thorough punishment, and to see the fragile human quiver below his touch. He felt a shiver run through his spine as he imagined her begging to become an angel- begging to be able to repent- as Michael brought the whip down on her once more.

Regardless of what the human chose as her path, Michael would see to it that she would become his, no matter what it took.

He paused his pacing, feeling a twinge of worry manifest in the back of his mind. The small bit of his consciousness that always second guessed his motives and actions wasn't usually loud, but this time it produced a clear warning:

What if father found out about this plan? Or even the thoughts you are having about this human? Such heinous acts should not make you feel so inflamed with desire.

Michael winced, trying to think for a moment. Was this human already turning him to sin in just the brief interaction he had with her? No, preposterous. Michael was a just and righteous man, and his desires to control this human was not sinful. Serving a just punishment was not sin, it was glory. And besides, the sexual desire that underlied these emotions toward her could be nulled when the human would perish, and then be reborn as an angel.

After all, he fully intended to change her to this path, whether she consented or not.

Michael was jolted from his thoughts as irritated and anxious murmuring grew closer from beyond the council chamber doors. Within moments, the doors creaked open, and the annoyed and concerned faces of his peers appeared, uneasily taking their place in their seats.

"Michael, what is the meaning of this?!" Remiel demanded, having already been told by Uriel that Lucifer and the human were being held prisoner under his order.

Michael smirked. "All in due time, Remmy."

Remiel glowered at him, having told him over a thousand times at this point that she loathed that nickname.

"Regardless of what your intentions are, it is completely unacceptable that you did not include us in the conversation around staging a literal kidnapping." Remiel crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "So an explanation is needed for why you thought this was acceptable."

Gabriel and Raguel nodded their heads in agreement, but Uriel let out an annoyed breath.

"It's funny you all assume Michael's in the wrong here. Obviously he didn't come to us first because you all wouldn't even try to hear him out when he talked about how dangerous this human was before." They shrugged, mimicking Remiel's posture. "Besides, I think it's time Lucifer finally got to answer better for his crimes."

"Crimes? From a war that occurred thousands of years ago?!" Raguel spat, annoyed at the grudge Uriel clearly held against the eldest brother. "We have moved past that as a civilization, so why can't you?"

"It's the principle of it!" Uriel scowled, feeling his face burn in embarrassment.

Raguel rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it is. I think you're just an immature, spoiled, brat who merely wants to enact revenge, but sure. 'It's the principal'."

Uriel gritted his teeth, muttering insults under his breath.

"Now, now," Michael smirked, now turning his back to her. Walking back toward where the council had just entered, He continued: "You all may save your discussion for when i return. For now, I must go retrieve the man of the hour."

[hypertonicplague]

Obey me hcs 4 me, myself, I

Things 4 my head n also cuz im still rlly into obey me but it’s all in my noodle lol

PROBABLY GRAMMAR N SPELLING MISTAKES IDC IM EEPY 🫶

So in order from Oldest 2 youngest

Lucifer

- actually drank sm bitter coffee that it messed up his stomach completely (hell coffee, magic can’t heal everything) he has to take medicine for the pain lol

- still doesn’t care n will drink coffee n eat spicy things (45 minutes later he’s in his room either on the floor r in his bed clutching his stomach sobbing)

- hidden mole on his scalp in the bck of his head, nothing extraordinary but he’s kinda embarrassed abt it n if u touch it he’ll flinch n scowl

- bad habit of slipping forms when he sleeps (the beginning of the night starts out normal but when u wake up there’s gonna be feathers in ya mouth n a 9ft inky demon snoring cuddled completely under u)

- once he catches a chill it’s rlly hard for him to warm up, he hates the cold

Mammon

- vapes 🗿 though he used to smoke cigarettes, once MC arrives he stops (Devildom cigarettes r basically fiber glass for humans 😭 he’s quitting for u MC 🫶)

- another one w a bad habit of form slipping but it’s not just sleeping. U have him a lil kiss? Wings n horns. He can’t get the math right in his head? Wings and horns. He rlly rlly rlly likes the food he’s eating atm? Wings n Horns. Doesn’t care will slip wherever

- weird but he enjoys fishing, despite him having adhd n the tizzums it’s the one thing he can sit down n enjoy (he started fishing cuz of Barb btw)

- blends vegetables into Levi’s “gamer” fuel

Levi

- again abt the forms n slipping but if I’m being completely honest levi rarely used his human form. Even when u first came to the Devildom he stayed formed out so u wouldn’t talk to him lol

- has a secret motorcycle he’s working on n putting together (it’s sea theme n he’s die if anyone found out abt it. Though cuz he loves u 🫶 u can see it)

- doesn’t know how to ride 🗿 he’s too embarrassed to ask lmaaaoo he just likes fixing it up

- forces mammon to make his “gamer fuel” smoothies to shave off some of his debt (its just berries, a ton of sugar, veggies he doesn’t know abt, n energy drinks) don’t drink it

- when u piss him off he’ll slap his tail on U n mark u up w a stinky slime. It’s like his defense?? Rlly slimy n stupid stinky

Satan

- also has an airpod (or devildom version of air pods??) in his ear at ALL times. He will attack u if u try to take them out no matter how close y’all r, r how much he loves u. Respect his boundaries MC 😦

- doesn’t like form slipping infront of u n if he does that’s it. He’s done. He’s getting even more pissed n punching whatever’s near n going to his room to trash everything. Won’t let u go around him n will tell u to leave him alone (don’t matter how close ya are, man’s is extremely emotional) but dw it’s just for a day r two!! After that he’s touch starved n his head hurts from crying. Just pamper him

- that’s another thing, he LOVES being pampered. To the point you’d swear to god himself he was a blonde Asmo. Pet him, bathe him, feed him, give him all ur love (behind closed doors tho) love up on him

Asmo

I don’t have a lot for Asmo, he’s my fav!! But I’m drawing blanks rn 😰

- another form slipper lol but he takes it a step further n will slip to form 3 outta 5 (human, demonic, demon, 1st true form, complete true form) kinda scary when he’s like that but he’s a lil cuddle bug

- will force u to brush his form 3 wings (they look leathery but they got a ton of lil thick hairs lol, clean the dust out MC!!)

- also once y’all become closer he starts a bad habit of kicking u r chewing on ur fingers/shoulder/whatever doesn’t look awkward at the time n he can put his teeth in (also this is in a non seggual way, it’s more of a stimmy way!! He’s stimmin on ya MC 🫶)

- also don’t call him out on it, he knows, he understands it’s a lil weird, say anything abt it n he’ll stop immediately n never do it again (positive or not just don’t talk abt it 💀)

Beel

- real quick beel isn’t good at expressing emotions so he uses!! His fashion!! He has a lot of lil charms, rings, plushies, ect around him 24/7. In game Beel doesn’t exist here >:^( it helps him

- plz don’t push his boundaries, even as a joke if u try he’s gonna stop both trusting and liking u 🫶 even if y’all inlove. Tizzy beel 💪🏼 (lol throwing myself into characters loooolll)

- wuvs u mc wuvs u sm he’d give u a hairpin 🫶 (that’s a lot to him, only his family n luke have a hairpin from him)

- also does drag (this one was influenced by Melpho)

Belphie

- another form 3 slipper, n another that’ll make u comb his tail AND clip his horns lol

- does pottery, mostly to make Beel new hairpins but also sometimes to make horrible cups n guilt Lucifer to use em (Lucifer adores his ugly coffee cups 🫶)

- cuz he sleeps all day n is awake at night he loooovveeesss pranking u while u sleep. Will crawl into ur bed n hold u n change his voice to sound like Mammons, Levi’s, whoever n trick u into saying silly things. Also loves pretending to hunt ur room, knocking stuff over while ur trying to sleep, grabbing ur toes, even making death noises, man is a menace 🗿

- he wuvs u sm give him a lil kiss

[factual-fantasy]

I got’s 25 asks, with FNAF lore? 👀

An important detail that I realize I left out was how Gregory got hurt. In one of the first drafts to this comic, Freddy was going to ask how he got hurt. And Gregory was going to truthfully clarify that he got these injuries by just being on the streets. Tripping in the dark, getting his hands caught in dumpsters doors.. etc.

And then he was going to reach his arm over his shoulder and comment that the bleeding wound on his shoulder was from scraping it on the top of the vent entrance when he broke into the Pizzaplex. This would then lead to Freddy feeling really bad and apologizing for asking him to leave and yadda yadda yadda.

While re-writing the draft I sorta.. accidentally left this part out. Which was my bad, this was something that Gregory should have clarified with Freddy. Buuuut I accidentally wrote it out of the story XD

As for if Gregory was hurt at “home”? Well.. he wasn’t this time, but who’s to say? Maybe that’s why he ran away to the Pizzaplex in the first place? 👀

In my AU, Sunny and Moony are the same person. No split personalities or anything. Just one animatronic, one personality, 2 nicknames. 

And since Foxy and Bonnie have met “Sunny”. they have also met “Moony”, they just didn’t get to see his other form.

In all honesty, this is the one thing in my AU that makes no sense what so ever. Realistically the animatronics wouldn’t be able to cry, that just makes no sense.

But I gave them the ability to cry so that I could draw them more expressively, and because tears are fun to draw--

I guess I could try and make it work. Maybe when they get “emotional” or overwhelmed their wires and circuits get hot. And mayyyybe their optics get brighter and hot, and they need water to cool them down..??

Idk, realistically there is no reason for them to cry and it makes no sense. But.. the emotion,✨ the expression,👌 I gots ta have it. XD

I am not fully sure why I feel this way, but the reason is that when other artists get fanart,, they seem to like it! And they’re all like “Oh my gosh thank you!! This is so sweet! I feel so awesome!!”

But then when I get fanart I get an anxiety spike and I just think “Wow.. so uhm.. you just stole my characters and drew them without asking huh?--” Even if someone asks me first my brain just goes, “ehh.. but they’re my characters.. I don’t want you to take em and use em..”

I dunno why its like that. And I’m trying to get better about it. But for now all fanarts just physically feel bad, like its theft or something.

Yes the purple eyes were intentional XD. All the animatronics had purple eyes related to the “bug”. Although Monty wasn’t the first to get it and he didn’t spread it to the others, his eyes were originally red. :0

In this story, no, Gregory is definitely not the first victim. And he probably wont be the last.. 

Sunny actually did intentionally isolate his “murdery” side, but of course he didn’t know that it was actually a “murdery” thing he was dealing with--

Here’s the thing, from Sunny’s perspective.. He started developing a problem with his Moon mode. When ever he went into it, he would forget everything he said and did by the time he went back to his Sunny mode. At first he didn’t really think it was that big of a deal...

But then kids started getting scared of him. And he realized he was going into his moon mode for longer and longer.. without remembering anything. So he tried going to an engineer and asking for help. They gave him a check up but couldn’t find anything wrong. “Okay” he thought, “I must be fine then..”

So that night he left the daycare to go visit DJ.. But then next thing you know, he’s waking up on the brightly lit dance floor, and DJ does not look happy.

DJ wouldn’t tell him, but he knew that he must’ve done something wrong. Something that unsettled the DJ. He knew right then that he had to get this fixed.

So he goes to an employee again, telling them something is wrong with his moon form. But again.. they tell him nothing is wrong and to go back to work.

This time though, Sunny doesn’t go back to work. He doesn't know what’s wrong with him. But after the kids started getting scared, and he upset the DJ, he decided that he’s just.. going to never use his moon mode until he knows its safe to.

..Its been a few months now, and Sunny has still not left the Daycare. DJ is getting really worried about his friend, But Sunny is doing the right thing, he’s protecting innocent children by locking himself away, and he doesn’t even really know it. He thinks he’s just preventing himself from scaring people and acting super weird. When it reality he’s saving lives.

In the past the animatronics were their true, organic selves on stage. And the employees kind’a thought it was a little creepy. How.. alive they seemed. Especially Foxy,,

But now a days the animatronics act a little less “sentient” during the day. Seeming to be a lot more normal and robot like.

I mean, they still seem crazy sentient compared to the STAFF bots, but they still feel kind’a robotic because they cant look sad or unexcited on the floor, They always gotta be happy! And fun! So they kind’a fall hard into their core programing and just follow the script.

Its at night though where their true sentience can be seen. Sunny/Moony always leaving the daycare and spending time with DJ in the Arcade. Even through they weren’t programmed to be friends.. or even know each other..

Chica always going into Freddy’s room to hang out, even though she is scheduled to stay in her room. The animatronics talking to each other, moving around more organically. Showing emotions and behaviors that they aren’t programmed to express. Anger, sadness, fear..

At this time of night though, none of the employees see them like this. In present times, the only ones who have witnessed their true selves, whether in person or on camera, is Gregory.. and Vanessa.

@definitelynot7ratsinabeecostume XD I would argue except for DJ. The only thing with him is that he’s worried about the Daycare attendant, and he gets kind’a lonely in the Arcade all by himself.. :’(

@randox-talore I haven’t actually fully thought out what playthrough Gregory did. And whether or not he took the others upgrades. But if he did, then yeah the employees would just remove the upgrades and reset Freddy again, thinking that it must have been the “Bug”..

@burningmusicfunnygiant Gregory has no intentions to at the moment, he’s still scared of them.. 😅

@sw124

THNSK YOU AN UT WELCOMEEEEHHHHAHHSHSH

It depends on what new content is in the DLC. If the DLC content fills in some holes and helps my AU have a stronger structure then I will, if not? I’ll probably just pretend it doesn’t exist XD

@shadowscrossing Awe, little Bibi bow!

(In reference to this post)

XD I tried to make it look that way. I was inspired by the way characters from Sky: Children of the Light, look.

@mister-jedblack If the other animatronics meet Gregory, it will be on accident most likely. Gregory has no intentions of meeting the animatronics, and Freddy has no intention of letting them find him.

Recently I’ve been thinking about getting into Amphibia, maybe there’s stuff I could “factualize” there? XD. Or maybe not. I can see myself just making the characters more biologically closer to frogs, but I think the show already does that--

@kittysuicoffee

HHHHHTHENKED YOUSA

@smoresbythefyresyde 

FANBKS YOUG

@danman22ful (The link in ask leads to Steel Wool twitter)

XD Yeah I did, always like to see good ol’ Monty!

@blenderrrrr 

THABNKSS YOUEE

@chromchill <XD Don’t worry I’m fine. Well, I’m not doing great on eating or taking breaks very often, But! But! I can say that I have been getting plenty of water. So there’s that. :}

(In response to this)

Eh, he’ll be fine XD

@minnesotamedic186 After searching those two on YouTube, Yes! Yes it would be XD. Just add an Engineer peeking around the corners every now and again and boom there’s my AU.

@flufflytail 

[cryst4lwitch]

Even if she's technically made of flies and consumes blood, Cassandra is, unfortunately, human.

She has fears. Of course she does. She may be invincible to bullets, and blades, and will probably outlive most of the staff in the castle, even ignoring the fact that they barely last a month at the most on average. But she is afraid of things.

She has flaws. She's temperamental. She's harsh like the biting wind that weakens her. She sometimes a bit destructive intentionally or not. Sometimes she pushes too far and hurts people in the process.

And she rather be in a room with Miranda for a week or watch a movie franchise with Moreau before admitting it, but she's not perfect.

And she knows the idea of perfection is all an illusion in the eyes that judge her.

However, Cassandra is human. And she hates it.

There are some times when she doesn't give a passing thought to her appearance when she roams the halls of the castle covered in blood.

But there are other times when she stands in front of the mirror and can't stand who she sees looking back at her.

She knows she is beautiful. She knows she is attractive. And sometimes she's perfectly confident with how she looks even if it looks like she got into a wrestling match with a lycan and won.

But today is not one of those days.

Today, all she can see is her hair that she swears looks like a doll's peeking through her hood that's in desperate need of a washing.

But her focus is not on her hair, no.

They say eyes are the window to the soul. Cassandra wonders if she has one.

She loves her eyes, she does. They're beautiful like her mothers. It makes her feel more connected to the woman that adopted her and her sisters.

But today she doesn't feel beautiful. She feels awful, honestly.

She tries to cover what she has been told is a "lazy eye" with her hair, but stops when she realizes she can't leave the room looking like this.

She tries to consider wearing the eye makeup her sisters wear often but knows she would feel even more uncomfortable with it on.

She thinks of using an eyepatch, but that would be an obvious indication of her issue.

The whole point is to draw attention away from her eyes not to them.

She tries not to be self-conscious about it. She's a Dimitrescu for crying out loud.

But her and sisters tower over most of the staff, and their mother makes all of them look like toddlers in comparison.

She's going to be drawing attention to herself regardless of what she does.

And while she could death glare anyone that dares to look at her, it's only going to get her sisters to question her hostility.

And if her sisters get suspicious, then her mother gets involved. She doesn't have the emotional strength to speak of her insecurities. She already feels embarrassed enough as it is.

Cassandra feels like a trapped animal. No way out and as her insecurity circles around her ready to strike at her self-esteem more than it already has.

And she knows no one cares about it. She knows she shouldn't get so worked up over something so small.

But it bugs her knowing that anyone can see her obvious imperfection. They all will know how vulnerable she is and she feels so exposed that she has backed herself into a corner and everything is a suddenly a threat now.

Even her own reflection.

The glass shatters under the force of her fist, and she'll clean it up and come up of an excuse regarding her outburst later, but her hand burns with the shards of glass stuck in the cuts and its bleeding.

And if she wants to avoid any questions, she'll have to be fast.

However, the thought of facing the world outside her door keeps her in place. She isn't ready to face anything yet.

So she drops to the ground, feeling helpless to her own minor demons, tired of the mental battle, and sits there surrounded by broken shards of glass that if she looks at she can see herself in them as the blood begins to drip from her hand and pool on the floor.

She sighs, but makes no move to get up.

"I really need to stop making a mess of things."

CHEF KISSES

[upsidedownwanderer]

Howdy!! I don’t know how you found this account, but pretty cool that you did! Here’s my main if you’re interested

I am Astrophel—commonly known as Astro or Xurkit—and this is a side blog where I talk about The Upturned! Yeah I already do that on my main blog, but this digs into the stuff that I feel too embarrassed to share to the population! which is just. “hey what if I made my own story off an already canon one”

#wandering rambles - off topic posts

#upsidedownwanderer - story stuff. I am too lazy to put it all into separate tags

Below are character descriptions! Ocs included </33

Mr. Me Avi - The Traveler (he/they)

A lone soul who found the Upturned Inn by luck. Although their face is always unemotional, they’re easily irritable. Their mood consists of passive aggressive muttering or screaming at the nearest moving thing from fear. His anger is never sudden, instead it build ups over encounters—he’s actually quite polite at first. A few years in the apocalypse does that to you.

Ikabod Kee - The Receptionist (he/him)

A chipper snake-like soul that is stationed at the front desk of the Upturned Inn. He’s always in a good mood, and it’s hard to crack the smile on his face! A bit loud from time to time, but that’s out of excitement over seeing another face.

Shrimp - The Anomaly (it/he)

A soul locked away in one of the asylum rooms. Doesn’t show much emotion either, only reacting to toys or food. Ik occasionally calls it “Artie.”

Sobbergritch - The Inventor (he/him)

The current owner of the Upturned Inn. Hasn’t been seen or found in a long time, as it’s been told he’s in the deepest parts of the hotel. Rarely will he interrupt conversations between Avi and Ik, and the reason why is unknown. It’s hard to tell if there’s malicious intent.

The Horseman - Death (they/he/it)

A myth to many, a man to few. Guests of the inn speak of a glowing figure on horseback guiding those out of the rain, therefore out of the afterlife. They have many titles: “Death,” “The Lone Rider,” “The Morning,” but we don’t know his actual name.

OCS!! Because they’re fun and this is MY story /j

The Widow (she/her)

A soul that sulks in her own room day and night. According to guests, she still mourns over the loss of her husband, stating that “although he left me for another woman, I still love him..” When she’s not sobbing over a man, she’s very comforting to be around. A motherly figure despite having no children.

Critter (he/him)

A lil chuckler that prefers to follow the crowd. Even when showing clear excitement about something, he seems to stay quiet, as he’s afraid of bringing attention to himself. Calls Ik quite often—the two apparently see each other as family.

Flauna (they/them)

A caterpillar-like soul that’s trapped in a floor overgrown by flora. The vines of roses seem to not let anything in or out unless you’re using the elevator. A kind soul even in loneliness. If they aren’t talking about flowers, they’re probably talking about their husband. (❤️ - Sobbergritch)

Ides (any/all)

A mysterious figure that trudges through the forest outside of the Inn. Critter and Widow have found a way to leave their floors without being caught, and have met with xim before. It’s hard to fully tell what xey look like, as her body is constantly shifting into different silhouette, but you’ll always manage to find his looking eyes.

Lars (they/he/it) (belongs to @fiowersfield)

A bug like humanoid that has been lost in the afterlife for a while! they dont have a specific place where they stay at and keep wandering around, mostly following lights that they see. they are interested in the stars and usually look up at them sometimes when they get too lost in the woods. as a hobby they "draw" ( doodles in dirt ) as a way to spend some time. usually pretty nice but mostly confused because they dont think a lot. (❤️ - The Horseman)

[citrivenus]

Written Dreams and Photographed Memories

Chapter 1 — Small Town Shenanigans

song inspo: Jesus, Etc. — Wilco Mama’s Boy — Dominic Fike Chandelier — Will Paquin Harness Your Hopes – B-Side — Pavement

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

ENTRY 1 — Mar. 14 20xx

sometime around December, my friends and i decided to try making a scrapbook of sorts. polaroid photos, goofy little notes, drawings, stickers, etc. we even planned to take trips to different places to take pictures and make memories. So when January came around, we bought everything we needed. Juno bought the sketchbook, while Teagan had a short list of things we could visit. Most, if not all, were out of state. No one would blame her for the ideas; our city can only entertain for so long. She’s always been the extroverted and adventurous type. And I bought the Polaroid camera and the film.

After telling Carson about the scrapbook, she suggested I keep a journal, too. She said it would be a healthy outlet for my emotions and thoughts, so I figured I’d entertain her suggestion, at least for a while. Maybe it won’t be so bad. It helps me get out the things I can’t tell others without possibly getting locked up in a psych ward.

After having a routine down, you’d think life would be easier to manage. Sure, it’s boring, but consistency is better than unexpectancy.

Routines are easy to form most of the time. Ironically enough, they’re also easy to disassemble. A routine has kept me sane in this town. While it’s not a horrible town, you get tired of it eventually. A small town on the East Coast isn’t always excitable. It has its moments, though.

The most exciting thing you can get is from the movie theater on 12th Street or the mall down on Junesburro Lane.

There’s not much, but it's home, I guess. There’s nothing extravagant about this town, which is nice. It won’t disrupt my routine.

While i enjoy my routine, i’d like to leave this town. Maybe explore the states? Or just settle somewhere else. The only problem is that my family is here, and i’d hate to leave them behind. i know that once i go, i likely won’t come back.

— end of entry —

— — — — — —

Crunching footfalls trudged down the road with the occasional car passing by the young adult—who was flicking through his phone, looking for music to listen to through his earbuds and an army green satchel slung over his shoulder.

Cars passed, blowing his hair in front of his face, which he moved back with his hand. He’d be driving to work if his car wasn’t in a mechanic’s shop. Not only would it be faster, but it’d be safer, too. Not like this town is dangerous; the most danger anyone could get into would be from human error… Thinking about it, that can be dangerous.

Reaching the intersection, he quickly glanced at each side of the road. Cars drove down the road, and he waited for an opening before gunning it to the other side. He adjusted his satchel on his shoulder and the hood of his jacket as he walked along the paved sidewalk that soon became a dirt and dead grass trail. ‘Why are the sidewalks never consistent in this town?’ He thought, grunting as he jogged down the man-made sidewalk and through a parking lot to the convenience store. He jumps up the curb and to the store’s entrance, grasping the door handle, opening the door, and slipping inside the shitty convenience store. The little bell above the door chimed as the door opened and shut, his Docs Marten’s quietly thumping against the grubby tile floor. The cashier at the counter gave him a tired greeting.

“Hey, Mikey, how ya’ doin’? You on yer way to work?”

“Hey, Marcus. I've been doin’ okay. I figured I’d come up and grab some snacks and bug you.” 

Marcus let out a chuckle and replied something that the young adult didn’t hear. Mike walked down the aisles, grabbing snacks before going to the fridges. He looked around for Monster Energy drinks, grabbing four different flavors.

With his arms full of his goods, he awkwardly approached the counter, where Marcus stood behind it.

  The young adult on the other side of the counter—was waiting for Marcus to finish ringing up his items while his eyes wandered behind the counter. “...You think you could snag me a pack o’ Marlboro Reds?” Mike mumbled as he dug out his wallet from his hoodie pocket. Marcus snorted, causing Mike to look up at him.

“Fat chance… $28.19 is yer total, kid.”

Mike scoffs, rolling his eyes and pulling out his money—a 10, three 5s, three 1s, and some change. He sat it on the counter and slid it to the cashier. Marcus took the money off the counter. “I’m 20. ‘M no kid…” “Sure… Says the one who asked me to sell cigarettes to them illegally.” Mike huffed, pocketing his wallet and reaching for the bag’s handles. Marcus retrieved a pack of Marlboro Reds from the shelves before swiftly turning back to the register and deftly pressing the keys.

"...'Fore you go, ya need'ta pony up 'nother $13," he announced.

Michael glanced at him, silently questioning the demand. Marcus leaned closer with a smirk.

"Ya want yer cigarettes or not, kid?"

Michael grinned, retrieved his wallet, gathered the remaining cash, and handed it over to Marcus, who chuckled as he accepted the money.

Fortunately, it covered the cost of the cigarettes. Marcus tossed the pack and receipt into Michael’s bag with the rest of his snacks and drinks before he snagged the bag off the counter and let it hang by his side. “Now don’t go tellin’ nobody, ‘kay? I’on’t need the owner or bears on my ass now.” Michael nodded, mumbling an ‘okay’ and turned on his heel to leave, checking his watch. 1:45. He had fifteen minutes to get to work before getting another write-up for being late. Again.

He opens his satchel, shoving his snacks and drinks inside wherever they’d fit before closing it back up. He jumped off the curb and jogged down the street to work.

[those-other-ones]

🍋 Sex Fails

My original intent was to have three or four fics out each week. But then life hit me like a ton of bricks right at the beginning of the month, including illness, tragedy, and just stuff I don’t want to talk about. I do have a few stories to share, but nothing like what my original plan was. I hope you will enjoy my few very, very smutty Drakgo smuts throughout the next couple of weeks. This particular story I think is my favorite from the ones I’ve already written. Comments would be appreciated; smut writers like validation too.

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

Choosing here and there from this list because I like this list.

Smutember Prompt 2:  "Sex Fails"

Everything under the cut is explicit, mature, NSFW, 18+, however you want to call it.

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

Shego took a long swallow from the bottle of champagne and set it on the coffee table of the penthouse suite.  She briefly noted the two already empty bottles next to it before sinking back into the sofa with another laugh.

"That one was lame," she said, her head lolling as she squinted over at Drakken.  The medal he refused to take off seemed to be shining more brightly under the hotel room lights.  Or perhaps it was just the alcohol hitting her, if her eyes were as dilated as Drakken's appeared to be through her haze.

"Fine," Drakken said, a tiny bit of spittle flying from his mouth.  "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Drakken frowned and reached for the champagne bottle.

"You always choose dare," he pouted before taking several gulps.  Shego wiggled her fingers and reached for the bottle, which he offered with a scoff.

"Come up with better ones, then," Shego said.

Drakken's frown suddenly curled upwards into a devilish grin.

"I dare you...to finish taking that dress off."

Shego's brow rose, and she looked down to find that one strap of the green dress she'd worn to the ceremony at the UN that morning had fallen from her shoulder, revealing the lacy black of her bra beneath.

She opened her mouth to lay fury on him, but then found she had no words.  It was Drakken.  He wasn't trying to be lewd, it was simply part of the game.  And she was determined that he would never get a truth out of her.

She took another drink and set the bottle down before standing and sliding the other strap off her shoulder and peeling the garment away to her hips.  She smirked as Drakken gawped at her, and she shimmied slowly from side to side in attempt to work the tight garment the rest of the way off.  She knew Drakken was staring at her chest, and she was proud of the way her breasts fit in the designer bra cups as she bent forward to slide the skimpy dress the rest of the way to the floor.

When she straightened up, hands on her hips and a broad, confident grin on her face, it was only a moment before a booze-motivated chuckle left her lips at the look on his face.

"What'sa matter, Doc?  Never seen a woman in her skivvies before?"

Drakken shook himself of his bug-eyed stare to scowl.  "I have so!"

"Betcha haven't."

"I have!  T-Truth or dare!"

"It's my turn to ask."

"Then get on with it!" Drakken said, crossing his arms and legs and looking away, seeming to draw in on himself in whatever emotion her teasing had invoked.  Shego let another laugh escape her before she took another swig of the champagne and sat back down on the couch, putting her high-heel clad feet up on the coffee table next to the empty bottles.

"All right.  Truth or dare, Dr. D.?"

"Truth," he said as he had nearly every time.  But Shego wasn't going to be goaded into revealing anything about herself.  All the alcohol in the world couldn't make her say or do anything she didn't want to.

She turned to face him, drawing her knees up and leaning her cheek against the back of the sofa as the glint from his medal caused her to squint again.  He lunged defiantly across the space between them, giving her another once-over, and grabbed the champagne bottle.

"Were your Bebe bots actually sex bots?"

Drakken choked on the champagne, and Shego crawled across the cushions on her knees to give his back a few slaps as he tried to recover himself.

"No!  No they were--"

He stopped short when he whirled to face her and found her breasts right at his eye level.  Shego was more concerned however with saving the remaining champagne as the bottle began slipping from his fingers.

"You've gotta tell the truth, Doc," she chided with a grin before taking another swallow.

"I am!  They were never sex bots!"

Shego sat back on her heels and lifted her brow thoughtfully.

"Huh.  Never would have thought that."

"Well they weren't!  Truth or dare?"

Shego leaned nearer to him and grinned as he flushed with her proximity.

"Dare."

"Nnrgh!"

She knew he'd hoped to trip her up by asking so quickly, but she was determined never to find out what truth he was so keen on asking her.

His initial response was to pout again, but slowly, a wicked grin came over his face.  Shego felt the slightest twinge of nerves, and she knew she should have seen it coming based on his last drunken request of her.

"Take the rest off."

Shego's eyes widened.

"Except the heels," he added quickly, and then stared her down.

She swallowed slowly.  He was...really pushing his luck.  Or at least, that was what the last hint of sobriety in her mind told her.  But it was easily overshadowed by the part of her determined to win the game, no matter how he thought he could force her into asking for truth.

When she reached behind her to unhook the clasp of her bra, Drakken's breath caught.  She smirked in triumph, knowing he'd thought he'd bested her.  She deftly separated the tiny metal clips and in the next moment, her chest was bare.

"Shego..." Drakken said as she stood up, but he bit his lip as she hooked her thumbs beneath the elastic of her lacy black panties and slid them down to the floor, carefully stepping out of them and leaving her high-heels on as he'd requested.

As she sat back down on the sofa and curled up the way she had before, she vaguely wondered if he preferred women shaven or unshaven.  But it was a fleeting thought as she finished off the champagne bottle and then reached down to the coffee table to uncork yet another one.

"Truth or dare?" she asked.

Drakken's chest was heaving.  His eyes were still wide and fixed on her naked form.  Shego felt a small wave of self-consciousness, having expected him to either leer or turn away, but not sit there slack-jawed and looking almost frightened.  She sipped from the bottle, the fizzing bubbles of the beverage tickling her nose, and then she shoved it toward him.

"Truth or dare?" she repeated more harshly.

Drakken blinked himself out of his stupor and met her eyes.  He swallowed slowly.

"Truth," he said almost in a whisper.

Shego realized then she didn't have another question for him, and wished he'd have picked dare for once.  Turnabout would be plenty fair play at this point and no doubt would have secured her a victory in the game.  But he was hiding behind his own security just as she was hers.

She was certain, however, that she could shatter that.

"Why didn't you hug me?"

"Wh-What?" Drakken stuttered, his eyes darting nervously now between her body and her face.

"On the alien ship.  I thought you were going to hug me.  But then you stopped."

Drakken shakily lifted the champagne bottle to his lips and took several long swallows.  When he finished he wiped his mouth on the back of his glove and set the bottle down.

"Can I choose dare instead?" he asked quietly, his expression anxious.

Shego grinned.  She'd won.

"Get naked."

Drakken's eyes widened and he gaped at her before he scowled and rose from the sofa.  Shego blinked in surprise as he pushed his feet out of his boots and then tossed his gloves onto the coffee table.  She hadn't expected him to actually do it.

Next, and for the very first time, he took off his medal and set it reverently on the sofa cushion.  Shego traced her fingers over the engraving of the logo as she watched him shrug out of his lab coat and drape it over the back of the couch.  He was meticulous in the rest of his undressing, folding his shirt and lying it atop the coat, and doing the same with his pants.  He hesitated when the only article of clothing left were nondescript white boxers, and Shego smirked and raised a brow in challenge as he looked decidedly uncertain.

"We could just say game over," she said, setting her feet up on the coffee table again and reaching for the bottle.  After she took another drink and set it back down, she was sure she saw two of Drakken standing in front of her for a moment.

"No," Drakken said firmly, and in the next moment he was stepping awkwardly out of the shorts, black socks still on his feet as he nearly lost his balance and fell back to sit on the sofa across from her.

Shego leaned forward to take in the view, pursing her lips to stave off a laugh as Drakken blushed.

"Truth or dare?" he said urgently as she grinned at the sight of his soft dick, resting atop ample hairy balls.  She only got a glimpse before his hands were blocking the view, and she settled into place again and held herself up confidently.

"Dare," she said almost boredly, her focus waning due to the booze.  How many bottles of champagne had they consumed together?

"Wear this," Drakken said tentatively, pushing the medal closer to her on the cushion.

Shego had still been idly tracing the engravings, and she shrugged her shoulders as she picked up the heavy object and slipped the ribbon over her head, flipping her hair out from under it and fluffing it around her as the cool of the metal rested between her breasts.

"Truth or dare, Drakken?" she countered almost immediately as he stared at her wearing his medal.  She couldn't place the look in his eyes as he slowly moved his gaze back and forth between her face and the medal on her chest.

"Dare."

Her brow rose again before she frowned. ��He had clearly caught on to her winning strategy, but she was sure she would either get an answer out of him or else win.

"Hug me."

Drakken's lips parted.  A faint, desperate look entered his eyes.  As if pleading for her to take it back.  It confused her, but he surely knew the alternative was answering her prior question and that had apparently been frightening enough to cause him to disrobe.

When he began scooting nearer to close the gap between them, her heart began to pound.  He set his hands tentatively on her shoulders, and then gently pulled her close until his cheek rested against hers.

"Oh no.  You're not getting off that easy," Shego said even as his fingers gripped her shoulders tighter.  "Hug me like you were going to on the alien ship before you chickened out for some reason."

She felt Drakken sigh in seeming defeat, but he obediently moved nearer and wrapped his arms around her.  His chest pressed against hers the round, heavy piece of metal between them dug into her flesh for how tightly he had begun to hold her.

"That's better," she said after a moment.  Was her voice shaking?  She reached blindly to the side until she found the bottle of champagne and hurriedly took a drink.  She kept hold of it as she balanced it on her thigh, discovering that her other hand was playing with the hair of Drakken's ponytail.

"Truth or dare?" Drakken said quietly, his voice tense as he continued to hold her.

"...Truth," Shego said.

Everything seemed to stop in that moment, and he slowly pulled away, turning to double in her vision once more as she squinted through heavy eyelids at his worried face.  His hands remained on her shoulders, his thumbs turning on circles over them and slightly tangling her hair as he gazed at her in earnest.

"Shego...  Why did you come after me?"

Shego slowly stretched her arm out to the side until she could place the bottle back on the coffee table, the glass impacting the wood with much too loud a clink as silence fell between them.

"I... Because... Because I..."

She had no answer.  None that would fully form enough in her mind to reach her lips.  Drakken's face fell, his eyes leaving even the medal as he continued holding her shoulders tightly and looked down forlornly to where his knee now rested atop hers.

"Drakken...?"

He didn't look up.  "Yes?"

"T-...Truth or dare?"

He looked up again, the faintest of hope in his weary eyes.

"Dare," he said through a sigh.

Shego swallowed a lump in her throat, her eyes never leaving his as she answered him with a new question.

"Make love to me?"

Drakken's brow slowly rose.  His eyes searched hers, she assumed for any sign of falsehood, mocking, or insincerity.  But she realized as she looked back at him that she'd meant it.  And before he could make a move to decide she was already shifting on the sofa and moving her knees apart.

Drakken followed her guiding until he lay heavily atop her, one of her heels caressing his rear as her hands gently roamed his back.  His eyes stared uncertainly into hers even as no space was left between their bodies.  She decided he needed some encouragement and with effort pushed her hips upward into his.

"You're...awfully soft," she remarked without thinking, a chuckle following.

Drakken frowned.  "Just give me a minute, my dear."

The look in his eyes suggested he was simply willing a hard-on to occur, and she started rolling her hips upward steadily.

"No more booze for you," she said with another slight laugh.

"Ngh.  Truth or dare?" Drakken asked.

"I love you," she blurted out.

The fog in his eyes cleared, and he stared down at her in awe.  She watched as all of the confusion, frustration, and everything else about their game and the past several days fell off of him in an instant.  His fingers were weaving into her hair, lightly kneading her scalp as he smiled down at her adoringly.  

"I lost the game," she said, realizing she'd given up her truth before he'd even asked a question.

"No...no, Shego," he said, a slight tremor in his voice as he gazed at her from inches away.  Were there two of him again?  "We both won."

His kiss banished every other thought in her head, and it wasn't long before she was lost in his warmth.  And somewhere in the swirling, alcohol-induced blackness that was rapidly taking over her, she thought she heard him say he loved her too.

---------

Shego couldn't breathe.  When her eyes flew open she immediately closed them again for the blinding light that hit them, and she tried to assess where she was, why she couldn't get enough air, and why her head was throbbing.

She instinctively reached out for her alarm clock but her fingers hit glass instead, and then a loud sound followed as she accidentally toppled whatever it was she'd touched.  She opened her eyes to mere slits and saw the champagne bottle rolling on the coffee table, its remaining contents spilling out over the wood.

Everything came back to her.

"Onh..."

Drakken's pained moan reminded her of why she couldn't breathe, and she closed her eyes again and simply waited for him to move.  Somehow speaking seemed far too great an effort, and she would let him handle that.

"Where...what...why...  Oh...oh no!" he gasped.

"'Oh no'?" Shego slurred out in annoyed reply.

"Did I...?  Did we...?" he was saying in a panic.

"No we didn't, you couldn't get it up," Shego said, recalling her disappointment before the booze finally knocked her out for the night...day...and however long they'd slept.

"I...I'm..."

"I don't know what time it is," Shego said, opening her eyes again to meet his confused and concerned ones, "but you think you got that champagne out of your system yet?"

"..."

Drakken rolled away and fell to the floor with a grunt, to both her amusement and dismay.  More bottles fell with the flailing of his arms, and Shego wondered worriedly just how much he'd had to drink.

"I'll be back," he said, and half-crawled half-tripped his way toward the bathroom.  Shego realized in an instant she had the same problem, and she held her head with both hands as she made her way more carefully to another bathroom in the suite.

She mused to herself that she was surprised the alcohol hadn't killed them, for however much they'd had, but as she freshened up she hoped it hadn't been so much as to erase Drakken's memory of the night before.  Even though they'd only gotten as far as some foreplay, she remembered her words and his...and she wanted him to make good on them.

When she made it back to the living room where their binge had occurred, Drakken was already there, leaning on the arm of the sofa and rubbing his eyes with a pained scowl on his face.

"Better?" she asked with a smirk.

"Not so loud..." he complained.

"Then you're gonna have a problem with me climaxing.  I'm not the quiet type."

Drakken's head shot up and he gaped at her, his expression unreadable.  When he didn't reply or move after several seconds, she stepped over the fallen bottles and their piles of clothing and lie down on the couch, her knees apart.

He took the hint and the sofa shifted as he crawled over her again, settling down heavily as he had the night before.

"Won't be a minute," he grunted as with more wakefulness this time, he began attending her breasts with soft kisses, suckles, and kneading.

"Yeah, that's what you said last night," Shego said in a mixture of amusement and complaint.

Drakken looked up to glare at her slightly.  "You could help."

She snaked an arm between them until she had her fingers around his soft member, and she began working it firmly and steadily as his touches began to arouse her.  But her head was still throbbing, and she regretted not turning the lights out when she'd been up as she closed her eyes again.

"This thing better get bigger," she said.

"It does!" Drakken growled and gave a slight bite to her nipple.

She let herself relax into his touch, but after the third time she startled awake and accidentally gripped him too hard as a result, by evidence of his grunts, she realized the booze was still going to win.

At least, she thought as she felt his forehead rest on her chest as his lips stilled in drowsiness, when the alcohol eventually forfeited its control over them, they still had their victory.

[kvetchlandia]

Harold Chapman     Peter Orlovsky and Allen Ginsberg, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, Paris     c.1956

A rainbow comes pouring into my window, I am electrified. Songs burst from my breast, all my crying stops, mistory fills the air. I look for my shues under my bed. A fat colored woman becomes my mother. I have no false teeth yet. Suddenly ten children sit on my lap. I grow a beard in one day. I drink a hole bottle of wine with my eyes shut. I draw on paper and I feel I am two again. I want everybody to talk to me. I empty the garbage on the tabol. I invite thousands of bottles into my room, June bugs I call them. I use the typewritter as my pillow. A spoon becomes a fork before my eyes. Bums give all their money to me. All I need is a mirror for the rest of my life. My frist five years I lived in chicken coups with not enough bacon. My mother showed her witch face in the night and told stories of blue beards. My dreams lifted me right out of my bed. I dreamt I jumped into the nozzle of a gun to fight it out with a bullet. I met Kafka and he jumped over a building to get away from me. My body turned into sugar, poured into tea I found the meaning of life All I needed was ink to be a black boy. I walk on the street looking for eyes that will caress my face. I sang in the elevators believing I was going to heaven. I got off at the 86th floor, walked down the corridor looking for fresh butts. My comes turns into a silver dollar on the bed. I look out the window and see nobody, I go down to the street, look up at my window and see nobody. So I talk to the fire hydrant, asking "Do you have bigger tears then I do?" Nobody around, I piss anywhere. My Gabriel horns, my Gabriel horns: unfold the cheerfulies, my gay jubilation.

-- Peter Orlovsky, “First Poem,” Paris  1957

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing. America two dollars and twentyseven cents January 17, 1956.   I can’t stand my own mind. America when will we end the human war? Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb. I don’t feel good don’t bother me. I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind. America when will you be angelic? When will you take off your clothes? When will you look at yourself through the grave? When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites? America why are your libraries full of tears? America when will you send your eggs to India? I’m sick of your insane demands. When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks? America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.   Your machinery is too much for me. You made me want to be a saint. There must be some other way to settle this argument.   Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.   Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?   I’m trying to come to the point. I refuse to give up my obsession. America stop pushing I know what I’m doing. America the plum blossoms are falling. I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder. America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies. America I used to be a communist when I was a kid I’m not sorry.   I smoke marijuana every chance I get. I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.   When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.   My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble. You should have seen me reading Marx. My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right. I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer. I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations. America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia. I’m addressing you. Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?   I’m obsessed by Time Magazine. I read it every week. Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.   I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library. It’s always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.   It occurs to me that I am America. I am talking to myself again.

Asia is rising against me. I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance. I’d better consider my national resources. My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that jetplanes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfive-thousand mental institutions. I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underprivileged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns. I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go. My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.

America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood? I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes. America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe America free Tom Mooney America save the Spanish Loyalists America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die America I am the Scottsboro boys. America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor the Silk-strikers’ Ewig-Weibliche made me cry I once saw the Yiddish orator Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy. America you don’t really want to go to war. America its them bad Russians. Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.   The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia’s power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages. Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader’s Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations. That no good. Ugh. Him make Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers. Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.   America this is quite serious. America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.   America is this correct? I’d better get right down to the job. It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway. America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

Allen Ginsberg, “America”  Berkeley, 1956

[kneltnotbowed]

yeah, we picked “scarab” because almost all of us like insect and other “bugs” and well, we have a few bug-adjacent parts… isn’t that a correlation some have tied to irken? either way, irken do possess a good deal of insectoid traits…

we end up, well, usually making art of our favorite things, and the things we miss mothfolk and dinosaurs, bees and fresno nightcrawlers, mostly cryptids, insects, animals, nature… sometimes we do portraits of whichever fragment wants to draw themselves, or someone from their home universe, let them take charge of the body for a bit, but that usually just makes us even more homesick than anything else.

as for the savestate thing, well… it’s kind of like a small slice of all of our universes layered on top of each other, with time frozen… some of us were in larger areas when we died, some of us were in little tiny escape pods… we can kind of shift between layers at will, to get what we need, or juxtapose two or more layers together when we need to…

it’s weird and really hard to explain, but it’s like a house with a bunch of floors, and you can go between floors, but also, one floor can sink or rise into another one to make a combined space… it’s… it’s trippy, to say the least, we usually don’t combine more than 4 layers at once because it gets overwhelming. that’s kind of how we were made, actually, our bodies all merged with each other in whatever this purgatory is, and we have no way of unmerging our shared body. trust us, we’ve tried.

anyways, we hope things continue to go well, or at least moderately boring for you, and we’ll check in whenever we can- we’ve sent transmissions elsewhere but we haven’t received many responses, and we’re a bit impatient, haha… but we’re also bad at remembering what coordinates we sent transmissions to, so… we should probably start writing this down. thanks for responding as much as you do, this is a lot less depressing than trying to talk amongst ourselves about our predicament. stay safe.

-sincerely, scarab 🪲

Huh. I do not really entirely get it, but thank you for trying to explain. As long as what you have going works well enough for you, then that is what matters.

I was split into like, different separate emotions-people once or twice. I guess that is probably not relevant, but it makes me think of it a little.

Memory issues are so troublesome, aren't they? I forget stuff like, a lot, so you are not alone there.

My week has been quite chill, earlier I did a couple of dancing ceremonies, and now it is mostly just wrap-up and occasional errand-running. Soon it will be back to inventorying work, as ever.

See you around.