#over a blurry photo of a hallway

[bmpmp3]

I was reading the wikipedia page for the higurashi franchise last night and it turns out Ryukishi07 has the exact same opinions about Key as I do (although unlike me he hasn’t declared a one-sided mortal rivalry with jun maeda)

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

‘ Blurry, Tired Eyes ’

A Drunk! Megumi Fushiguro x Male! Reader | SMUT |

A/N ; Yooooo, ngl, I’m running on zero right now yet I’m still doing this shit so sorry in advance. I don’t know how I honestly found the strength in me. It’s currently two in the morning and my ass is still up. Wide awake. So, I decided I was going to make this and finish it anyway. While staying up the entire night. Ain’t that fun? Anyway, here’s some random guilty pleasure prompt and peep the contents below.

Contents ; Masturbation, inexperienced reader, groping, drunk sex, praise, and daddy issues.

Dynamic ; Best Friends To Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Sub!Male!Reader | Dom!Megumi

P.O.V ; Second

Age range ; 18+ 21+

To be honest, you weren’t expecting this many people to show up after announcing the birthday party for Fushiguro. But, here you were, faced with an impending crowd all shoved up against one another, grinding and doing every inexplicable thing as they danced. I guess it’s what you get for entrusting Satoru with the planning.

This was the worst. You hated these types of celebrations and you knew Megumi hated them too. It didn’t help that you happened to be claustrophobic and everybody was sweating. Your face scrunched up, grossed out by the smell of liquor and onions. This was pure puke bait.

“And why the fuck does everybody have to be a whore?” You complained out loud before realizing you did so and watched a bunch of heads turn to look in your direction. That was not supposed to be said out-loud.

You took that as your cue to use your technique to disappear into the shadows and escape out of the situation by traveling to another place in the building. Although, it was extremely straining and gave you a headache once you made it into one of the hallways. Time to look for the birthday boy you’ve been trying to find all day.

Gazing up at the pictures that were hanging about, you looked over a couple that had your peers, hovering over to the stoic frowning Fushiguro who bore his eyes directly into the camera in the photo.

A small smile crossed your face, laughing a little at the memory of Itadori harassing the ravenette until he snapped just before it. Those two were always bickering back and forth, never giving each other a break, not once. It was entertaining to watch them chase each other around. Sometimes, joining in on it when it got out of hand. But, it was usually to hold Megumi back from killing the dumb guy.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, maybe you also helped because you felt left out. The twinges of jealousy when Yuuji would get too close to his face or he’d get in a position with him that looked risqué. Either way, it formed a knot in your throat and you couldn’t help including yourself.

But, that couldn’t mean much. You figured it was because you were overprotective that this feeling frequently came to mind. Megumi had been your exclusive best friend for a couple of years by now. That had to be normal.

A part of you knew that there was more to it than what you were acknowledging. Though, you didn’t want to elaborate on it. There was no point in figuring something like that out if you hadn’t even crossed the flirting stage. And you didn’t know if he was interested in men.

The noise of an object thudding on the ground in the nearby room knocked you out of your mind ramble, causing you to jump in surprise before narrowing your (E/C) eyes at the door. You could sense it wasn’t a curse so that was good. That didn’t mean you were any less curious about who it was.

As you walked toward it, you could hear sounds from the other side getting clearer and clearer. And they didn’t sound innocent. It was groaning and huffing, desperate too. But, not just from anyone, no. This was the familiar voice of the boy you were thinking about a second ago.

Like a hypocrite, your heart felt like it was about to break. ‘He couldn’t be hooking up with somebody, right?’ you worriedly asked in thought, a wave of emotions washing over you before another loud moan muffled through the wooden door.

There was no way you were going to stop yourself from figuring it out after that. Apologizing to Megumi under your breath, you reached for the door knob and opened it to something you never expected to see instead.

The raven-haired male was completely naked from head to toe, leaning over a trash can with his left hand placed on the wall while the other was rubbing up and down his shaft.

His hair was drenched with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, and his chest glistened in the lamp light. There were veins popping from his arms, neck, and most of all, his dick. His thumb focusing on his tip every couple of pumps as he mumbled out questions, “Fuck, why do I have to get so hard? Why won’t it go away?”

‘Jesus, fucking, Christ,’ was the only thing you could think. You were watching your best friend touch himself, bare. And it wasn’t taking you much before you were struggling right alongside him. The front of your pants tightening and a bulge poking through the fabric.

He noticed your presence once he adjusted to fucking his hand and took a minute to process, his dark blue eyes slowly widening as he stared back at you. You didn’t say anything, choked up by anxiety. Leaving the two of you to stand in silence, waiting for either one of you to break it.

Megumi covered himself with the sweater resting on the desk near him, eventually speaking up while trying to shake off the shock of being caught, “How long have you been standing there?” A red hue spread across both yours and his cheeks as you struggled to make eye contact. How come he had the ability to be so direct even during something like this? It was a quality that you liked, regardless.

You answered him in a quiet voice, “It’s been a couple of minutes…” Lowering your head out of embarrassment but not looking away entirely. You had just enough access to see what he was doing. And in that peripheral vision, you saw his attention flicker downwards.

Quickly, you hid your hard-on with your hands. Although, Megumi knew exactly what that gesture meant so it wasn’t successful. You could tell from the way his eyebrows switched from furrowed to raised like he was surprised. Then how more silence followed.

Not a single chance in hell were you going to look directly at him again, not when he was staring you down like this. You were hoping, praying to god that he wouldn’t point fingers despite not believing in that which meant you knew you were screwed. Was your friendship finally going to end here? What did this mean for the rest of the friends that are connected to you both? Panic was settling in the more he let you stand there.

“Can you close the door? I want to talk to you,” he asked bluntly after what felt like forever and honestly, that made your fear worse. “Please don’t say we can’t be friends because of this,” you interjected before he said anything else and closed the door like he suggested.

Fushiguro laughed through his nose and grumbled as if he was offended that you thought that, “Why would I want to end our friendship because you caught me jerking off, [F/N]?” Hearing him say it so casual made you get the comfortability to look at him again, seeing that he was picking up his clothes and acting like nothing happened.

He let you watch him get dressed, his back facing you the entire time, but you got the whole show. How he snapped his boxers around his waist, the indents in his back as well as the scars, and how his hair sprung back up into the spiky hairstyle he loved to style it in after he pulled his shirt over his head. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was really hard not to when you secretly admitted the feelings you have to yourself. And you just saw him masturbating. You saw his…

Not trying to finish that sentence in your head, you moved on by walking over to an outlet in what appeared to be an old classroom and kneeled down next to it to plug in the charger you brought. Thank god, you have an excuse now.

Awkwardly snapping it inside of the lightning port of your phone, you left it resting on a windowsill and turned to face Megumi. He was back in the outfit you had given him for his birthday. A cerulean sleeveless top with black Nike sweatpants. It was simple, yet he made it look like gold.

“Are you going to answer or are you going to keep checking me out?” He tilted his head, those wolf-shaped eyes of his burrowing into yours and making you unable to pry them away.

Your breath caught in your throat and all at once, thoughts became jumbled and you couldn’t figure out a thing to respond with. He was acting so careless just a second ago but now, he was flat out telling you that he knew what you were doing. What was going on?

Megumi sighed and rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s obvious you liked what you saw. Your dick’s been rock solid this whole time.” He nodded his head toward your lower half, causing you to choke on your spit, and sputter, “What? No! No! I’m just drunk…” You struggled to breathe and had to hit your chest to help yourself. Hopefully, this excuse will hold up.

But, it didn’t. The ravenette began to walk towards you, his abyssal blue orbs never leaving yours once while you froze there. Until he was right in front of your face and glancing at your lips. “That’s convenient. I’m a little tipsy myself…” he said softly, looking back up through his long eyelashes.

God, he was so beautiful. You were beginning to fall for his tricks already. But, you didn’t care about how fast you went for it, you cared about the fact he was showing interest.

The pretty boy pushed forward, his hands placing themselves on either side of your head as his nose connected with yours. Your breathing escalated. This was happening. It was happening. He was going to kiss you.

Your eyelids fluttered shut while both of your lips locked with one another. His lips softer than a cloud and the pressure enough to relieve the tension in you. You had been waiting for this for so long. The tugging between his mouth and yours. When his teeth pressed into your bottom lip or how his lashes brushed against your skin. He tasted like Sake and somewhat bitterly sweet like dark caramel. It was worth every ounce of waiting. Every bit.

His hair brushed with yours and the palm of his hand reached up to cup your cheek, moving it to the back of your neck over time. At some point, he needed to pull away for air and as he did, the two of you were back to locking eyes.

The way Megumi was staring at you gave you chills. It was like pure lust clouded over his expression. He was giving you that ‘fuck me’ look so obviously that it made your knees slightly buckle. To follow up with that, he went straight to the point by sliding down one of his hands to your bulge and groping it. His voice smooth like whiskey when adding, “Can I take these off?”

You melted like butter in his hands, instinctively bucking your hips into him and groaning with a nod. It was crazy how bad you wanted this. The damp spot of pre-cum on your boxers getting bigger and bigger the evidence of that.

Fushiguro unbuttoned and unzipped your pants easily, hooking his fingers in the loops to pull them down to your knees. He kissed your cheek and the side of your jaw while continuing down with them until he was at your neck, searching for a secret sweet spot.

Moans cascaded out of you bit by bit during his exploration, getting sharper around an area he kept brushing past. When he figured out where it was, he suckled on the skin and abused it enough to where a huge hickey rested there. He got your boxers off as well and the moment his fingers touched you, your hand grabbed his wrist and tightened.

“Fuck! Wait! I haven’t done this with anybody else before! This is a lot to take in,” you exclaimed, panting and looking down at the sight of your naked bottom half right next to his covered hard one. Sort of wishing that he didn’t put his clothes back on.

Megumi didn’t seem to be phased by that. Instead, he figured out what you were looking at and got to stripping them off too. Once he was in nothing, he gave a soft smile and reassured, “It’s okay, [F/N]. You can trust me with this. I just… I really need to do this with you.” It worked and made you relax your muscles, getting closer to him unconsciously.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his tip against yours, wrapping his big, rough hand around them before spitting on it. Pumping it up and down, matching the pace he was going for himself earlier, and using the same hand now that you mentioned it. Your head rested back into the wall as you grunted out what you were thinking impulsively, “Fuck, daddy.!” You weren’t trying to say it, you just did. Outing a kink to him that you swore no one would hear a single peep about. That was what you get for attempting something slightly not-safe-for-work with a guy you’ve had freaky dreams about.

You scanned his face for any small detail of him feeling disgusted, weirded out, all of the above; you found none of that. Rather, he was seemingly in awe from how his mouth parted. It shifted into him giving a small smirk, letting out the most sexually frustrated voice you’ve heard yet in a whisper, “Keep calling me that… And don’t you ever fucking stop.”

Shuddering, you were letting more and more noises go that you didn’t know you could make and he was savoring every single one. Moaning along with you, fucking his cock against yours, and smearing his pre-cum over the both of you like it was lube.

The sorcerer got impatient. He needed something better than this. He knew what he wanted, the idea felt so right to him, he couldn’t suppress the urge to. You were right there, perfectly laid out.

Fushiguro guided himself down, using one of his hands to grab your thigh and move you to the desk. You placed both of your palms behind you to support yourself, just as ready as he was, maybe even more. With a rush of dopamine, you got the courage to dirty talk back, “Please… I want you… Daddy.” The nickname was hesitated on, but that was because this was all so new to you. How could he be so comfortable with this?

As low as it was, Megumi was pleased with the request and bit his lip at the sight of you spreading your legs below him. He never would’ve thought he would get you like this and fuck, he wasn’t complaining. Hell, he felt lucky.

He positioned himself against you, but teased by rubbing in circles. Making sure that you were wet enough for him to slide in with no issue. That proved helpful as his dick inched inside soon after, easing all of it until he could feel himself so deep that it was close to your stomach. You were gripping onto his arms, one on his bicep, the other on his forearm. Squeezing harder than you ever had.

It hurt so fucking bad. Like he was ripping you apart and forcing your body to succumb to him. Tears brimmed your eyes and he noticed it, stopping and keeping himself there so you could adjust. ‘Fuck’, he mentally cursed to himself, ‘It’s his first… I’m his first.’ A part of him got excited repeating that, proud of it. “Shit, sorry… I’m sorry, baby… Tell me when you’re okay…” Megumi rambled while placing a tiny kiss on your lips to make up for the pain. Never fucking a guy had its drawbacks.

Eventually, you got used to the fullness and it eased away into the pleasure you’ve heard so many things about. You gave him the go by nodding and tightened your grip to get yourself ready. A shocked gasp jumped out when he did the first thrust. It felt amazing. Too amazing.

You begged for more, “Please, faster. I want it. I want you to destroy me…” Losing yourself to the feeling of his huge dick fucking in and out of you, your cries got louder and desperate. Especially when his hand went to wrapping around your shaft to stimulate you even further. The pumping, the ramming, and his growls from his own enjoyment with your body all crashed down onto you.

Your edge was nearing, rushing at you with full speed, and coming closer by the minute as Megumi buried himself to where you could feel his tip poking out of your stomach. You cried out in pleasure, “Gumi! Fuck! You’re too deep…!” Arching your back and rolling your eyes, your dick started to twitch.

He chuckled and went faster with his hand, pumping the cum out of you basically and letting it explode onto your chest. It covered the majority of your lower half and dripped down as he continued to ram you into the desk. More sputtering out while he was fucking the high out of you. Your eyes were lazily closing, your mind becoming numb and dumb from the overstimulation.

Moans were blending together as your body threw a fit, digging your nails into any skin you could. He held you tightly there so you wouldn’t escape, doing you so hard now that it was sounding like everything was going to collapse underneath you.

Fushiguro praised you throughout this as an apology, “God, you feel so good… I can feel you holding me there inside… Like you want me to fucking breed you, [Y/N]..!”

That sent another orgasm over you and caused your cum to spill everywhere again, your legs sticky with it at this point. But, he kept going. He was so close. Right there.

The raven-haired man clawed at the edges of the desk when he was reaching cloud nine, thrusting in hard and passionate. He made sure to fuck his seed inside of you until it was like you were being bred by him. You knew you couldn’t conceive, but it sure as hell would be the case if you could. His muscles stopped tensing the moment he was done and he let out a satisfied sigh that was rare to hear, “If I knew sex with you was going to be that good, I would’ve made you my boyfriend sooner.”

With a peck on the forehead, he pulled out of you and let you catch your breath. ‘Boyfriend? He called me his boyfriend?’ that was all that could repeat in your mind as he walked over to where your clothes were scattered to clean. When everything was put away and he wiped up most of what he could off of the both of you, Megumi decided to have you come home with him. Walking out of the classroom together, he excitedly chimed, “Thanks for the birthday present, [F/N]!”

[greenunoreversecard]

Don't hide your pain

-> Angel dust x reader

A/N: I made this of my own violation. I needed to therapize myself

Reader POV, ftm male, who's ✨️traumatized✨️

It always starts like this.

Things go well for a while. Things go great, even.

And then it gets bad. And it stays bad, and i ruin every close relationship and im alone.

And then it repeats.

I just wish I could be better. I guess that's why I'm at the hotel.

Things have been good for a while, so good, infact I though the cycle could be over.

Angel brought so much light to my life. He made me feel so happy, and wanted and needed.

And I was so much better. But it seems like the happier I was the worse i fall.

I sigh, rolling over in my bed, grabbing my phone. Fuck it's late in the day. Charlie will be upset, but i cant seem to care. I just- I don't wanna leave my bed.

I look away from my lockscreen, a blurry picture of angel in my Hoodie chasing after nuggets, who has his phone in his mouth, trying to run away with it. It caught angel off guard, and i was laughing so hard i couldnt get a steady photo.

Its one of my favorite memories. I feel a small smile tug at my lips, but my body and my face feel like led that I can barely move.

Theres a knock at my door.

"Hey, baby. Are you ok? Haven't seen you in a day, and I wanted to make sure ya alright.." I hear his quiet voice as the door squeaking lightly as Angle peeks in, silhouette gently illuminated from the light in the hallway.

I grumble in reply and roll over. He sighs, and for a moment I think he leaves but i feel him sit on my bed, next to me. I can feel his warmth. Despite having the features of a cold-blooded spider, he's always run rather hot.

He rests his hand on my back.

"Baby, I can't help you if you dont talk ta me"

Irritation rises in me.

"Don't. I dont need you. I dont need your fucking pity. Just fuck off, please." I say, voice rough and shoulders tense.

His determination doesn't deter, though.

"I don't pity you, love. I just wanna help."

I know my irritation is irrational, logically. But I can't help being angry. Angry I am this way, angry I'm so helpless. And I'm ahry he has to see me like this, considering he has it so much worse. He deserves better than this. Better than me. But I can't seem to stop the slow of my defensive anger, vomiting out words I'm uncertain seraid him I know they do me coming out my mouth.

"Don't pretend, angie."

"I'm serious, though. I want to help."

"Don't play with me. I don't need you, and I don't need your pity."

"Why are you doing this?"

This freezes me. I tense. I don't know why I do this. I don't know why I'm hurting him. I don't know why I'm hurting myself by hurting the only person thats treated me like a fucking sentient being..

I realise, at this point, he's as rigid as a brick, and I look over at him. He tears in the corners of his eyes, eyes slighrly red from the effort it takes to stop his tears. His hair is a mess, and he's shaking, God's he's shaking.

"I- please, sugar. I just wanna help you but- but I can't if you push us away. I you push me away. I- I don't wanna lose you. I can't fucking lose you. And I can feel you sliping and its- it's scary. Please, if not for you then for me."

At this, a sob wracks its way through my body, every viceral emotion I've held back hitting me like a dam destroyed. Apologies spewing through my lips like it's a lifeline. And in a way, it is. Because, I know hes right. And I know if I continue on the way I do, I'll be destroyed at my own hands. And I'll lose him, I'll lose my lifeline.

...

..

.

I don't know how long I cry for. It's all kind of blurry, really. I know i tell him everything ive hid from him about my life through choked sobs, and at some point he's holding me to his chest, gently stroking my hair, touch gentle but deep, afraid to let me go as if I'll disappear, or break like glass.

The good never used to last for long, but maybe this time I can make it last forever.

So long as I have him.

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

End note: vv rushed lmfao. Anywhore, hopes this gives a small gauge as to my writing style. I can also try my hand at different possibilities.

Hope ye likey likey

[bytedykes]

one thing i noticed (and loved!!!!) in nimona is the different eye-shine shapes. specifically the way they changed as the story progressed, specifically focusing on ballister and ambrosius

[ID: screenshots of Ambrosius and Ballister speaking. They both have a similarly shaped, rhomboid, square diamond eye shine. /end ID]

in this first scene their eyeshines are a very similar square diamond shape. they still share it right after the part where ambrosius cuts ballister's arm off

[ID: screenshots of the two of them looking at each other, both still with a matching eyeshine shape. /end ID]

however immediately after, when ballister falls through the hole in the platform we get a brief shot of his face:

[ID: slightly blurry closeup of Ballister's face. His eye shines now seem more square. /end ID]

later we see ballister creating his new arm, and immediately after when nimona knocks on the door we see his eyes again, and the shines are completely square. not really any ambiguity to it, the tilt of them is entirely gone

[ID: closeup of Ballister's face, the eyeshines now square with the flat edge on the bottom. /end ID]

ballister isnt super consistent with this, but from here on his eyeshines remain mostly square. there are a few moments when they tilt again to resemble how they were in the first scene, eg. when he's telling nimona he's not a villain, and when she reminds him that ambrosius cut off his arm and he tells her its complicated, as well as more later that i wont get into now

[ID: screenshots of the above mentioned scenes, in both Ballister's eyeshines have a more oblong rhomboid vertically-oriented shape. /end ID]

BUT!!! a bit later, when he and nimona bump into ambrosius as they're breaking out of the castle,

[ID: screenshots of Ambrosius and Ballister looking at each other, both again with diamond shaped eyeshines. /end ID]

wow look at that they match again! ballister's are a bit more square and ambrosius's are more elongated, but again they have a very similar shape! however immediately after...

[ID: closeups of Ballister's face. In the first his eyeshines are square, in the second they are more diamond shaped. /end ID]

the first screenshot here is when he says "did you see the way he looked at me?" to nimona. the second is right after he says "he really thinks I killed the queen." by this point you probably can tell where i'm going with this post

also this is the part where i just now noticed nimona's upper earring on her left ear is a star hoop :) very neat

nimona snaps ballister out of his daze (square again), makes him promise he wont freak out (still square) and then he rides off on rhino-nimona (square). when he sees and almost runs over ambrosius in the hallway, the brief seconds he's looking at him, his eyeshines tilt again into a diamond. no screenshot of this one because it's hard to get the timing right on motion shots

when ballister wakes up back at the lair they're square again

[ID: screenshot of Bal in the lair, his eyeshines square. /end ID]

when he's looking at the photo wall (at ambrosius's photo specifically) i expected them to become diamonds again, but here they stay square! i am quickly realizing this post is mostly an excuse to stare closely at ballister's big baby seal eyes

[ID: screenshot of Ambrosius's photo, where his eyeshines are upright triangles. /end ID]

in the photo ambrosius's eyeshines are triangles which isn't a shape we've seen on him before. i dont think this really means anything though its just neat

skipping to the part where ambrosius says he'll be the one to hunt down ballister, his eyeshines are triangular here too, in person this time

[ID: closeup of Ambrosius's face. His eyeshines are triangular. /end ID]

during his declaration to "find ballister, and bring him to me" however his eyeshines are briefly diamond shaped again

[ID: Ambrosius looking down in sadness or resignation, with diamond eyeshines. /end ID]

back to bal. in the subway, both nimona's version of ballister and the real ballister have square eyeshines.

[ID: Nimona-as-Ballister with a pathetic expression, and the real Ballister with a disapproving one. Both have square eyeshines. /end ID]

in the next scene where the knights are looking at the subway footage, ambrosius's eyeshine shape has changed again:

[ID: closeups of Ambrosius's face. He has oblong reverse triangle eyeshines. /end ID]

they are now long triangles. my eyesight isnt awesome so the first time i watched this part i thought they were hearts :) but theyre triangles

i dont have it in me to rewatch the entire movie for this post so skipping to way later when ballister is trying to convince ambrosius the director is the one behind the queen's murder. the lines said are important here too

[ID: Ambrosius's face right before Ballister pulls out the phone with the video proof. Second image is Ballister's face after the phone is shot from his hand. Ambrosius has diamond eyeshines and Bal has square ones. /end ID]

the line bal is saying in that screenshot is "it doesn't matter. you shouldn't need proof. you know i'm not a murderer." then:

[ID: Ambrosius is pointing a sword at Ballister. Ballister's eyeshines are square, Ambrosius's are hard to see but resemble diamonds. /end ID]

AND THEN:

[ID: Ambrosius looking up at Nimona when she shoots into the air. His eyeshines are triangles. /end ID]

during their nacho meetup at the [checks notes] tavern? bar? nacho place? whatever. their eyeshines are square and triangle respectively

[ID: three consecutive shots of their conversation. Ballister has square eyeshines; then Ambrosius has triangular eyeshines; the last picture is of Ambrosius putting his hand over Ballister's prosthetic one. /end ID]

their shapes remain this way for a while until a key moment where ballister looks at nimona's rampage and realizes he fucked up BAD

[ID: closeup of Ballister's face, with distinctly diamond eyeshines. Behind him a fire rages. /end ID]

it's not clear in the screenshot but the fire in the background is ALSO diamond shaped which probably means nothing but again, is pretty neat

and then yeah basically from there their eyeshines stay the same shape to the end of the movie including the epilogue. i cant add any more images to this post though so i will have to stop here!!! just take my word for it. their (i say their but i really mean ballister's, because ambrosius doesn't get any more good eye shots after the beginning of the epilogue) stay their respective shape until the very end

"wow, nik, this post was beyond pointless" you might be thinking and yeah maybe!!! this may be all coincidence and i may be looking for things that are not even remotely there!!! but guess what i sat here for over an hour taking screenshots and putting this post together so by god i WILL see it to its end

my idea is that the changing eyeshine shapes represent their paths splitting and then coming back together again. at the beginning they have the same eyeshine shape; they're together, they understand each other, they think the same way. (this is a good time for me to note that the director's eyeshine shape is also a vertically oriented rhombus.)

then the betrayal happens. ballister kills the queen, ambrosius cuts of ballister's arm. they still have the same eyeshine shape here; but then ballister falls and ambrosius doesn't fall with him. this is where they separate - this is the betrayal

after making himself a prosthetic ballister's eyeshines are a different shape, more clearly now. he is apart from ambrosius, they're no longer a unit. however his eyeshines still appear as diamonds occasionally, namely in moments where he's with or thinking about ambrosius (or the institute, im mainly thinking of the "im not a villain" line when he's thinking i'm still a knight, i'm still good)

ambrosius's eyeshines are still the same diamond-like shape. when he and ballister see each other again they briefly share a shape again. it's not as similar anymore, and they're not the same as they were. there's still this rift of betrayal between them. but in that moment they're having, well, a moment

in the closet when he's thinking of ambrosius's betrayal (did you see the way he looked at me?) his eyeshines change between square and diamond

then cut to ambrosius, who's eyeshines are also a different shape now: when he's formalizing his betrayal to he and ballister's relationship, officially declaring that he will be the one to hunt him down. but there's a moment where his armor is being put on where he looks down with guilt and diamond shaped eyeshines

i dont even want to talk about the subway footage part because i still keep mistaking the long triangles for hearts which is killing me. killing me DEAD. if his eyeshines were really hearts when he was saying things like "something doesn't feel right, he hates freestyle jazz" i think i'd just explode or something. moving on

during the confrontation at the institute, before ballister tries to pull out the phone and is telling ambrosius he has proof, ambrosius's eyeshines are diamonds! just like in the beginning! i think here it's more representative of how he wants to believe ballister, despite the director whispering in his ear not to, how he badly wants for all of this to be a misunderstanding and for proof that ballister didn't betray the institute, didn't betray him. he doesn't want to lose his best friend (and more)

but ballister's eyeshines are square here- like he says a few seconds later, "you shouldn't need proof." he's being betrayed again, ambrosius doesn't believe in him after all. but even when pointing a sword at ballister he looks at him with diamond eyeshines. when nimona begins doing her thing his eyeshines are triangles again, like he and ballister are fully diverging paths again

you get the idea. their eyeshines are representing of their emotions about, and relationship with each other. so then why don't they go back to the diamond shape at the end of the movie? why are their eyeshines different even when it's clear that they've made up, they're happy now, things are different?

well i DO have an explanation for this. things are different now! they're no longer under the thumb of the institute (is this a good time to mention again that the director's eyeshines are also diamonds), a section of the wall is down, the kingdom is different! it's changing!

and so have they! the way i'm choosing to read into this, is that they're not the same people as they were at the beginning of the movie. they're not both brainwashed into thinking the same way, having the same ideology where cutting off your boyfriend's arm instead of disarming him isn't only justifiable, it's what's expected. now they're their own people, who aren't under constant pressure of a legacy or an institute. they've grown! and now it's okay that they don't think the exact same, because they love each other, and are now capable of loving each other like this

tldr this movie is great i love it here :)

obviously this might all just be a coincidence and im just overthinking it lol but whatever i spent this long reading into it i might as well hit post

edit: people have mentioned that ND retweeted stuff relating to this so it IS intentional! yayy i love being right

also for the love of god do not add undescribed images to this post. it takes like two seconds to describe a screenshot just use the same formula ive used for every single image here. please i can't keep doing this

[veras1ne]

✰࿐ ˊˎ- “BITE ME.”

Hi Doves!! This is my first fic from the Saw franchise!

I’m really excited for the months following as I’ll be posting more frequently and have a lot more lined up!! I hope you all enjoy this fic!

🫧Pairing: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x Fem!Apprentice!Reader

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🦢: I am NOT responsible for the media you read and consume! Your warnings are the following: Kidnapping, Stalking, Taking pictures without consent, Sex, PIV, Blowjobs, Pervert Behavior by Adam and Reader.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Adam believed his life would be over, but it turned out a certain apprentice had a different idea in mind. Now he has to follow a new set of rules

The scraping of metal tinged in your ear as you hauled the heavy contraption down the grimy hallway. You just nearly felt the vibrations through the tile flooring beneath your feet.

Adam’s eyes were droopy and his body frail and tired, yet his mind was widely awake. He couldn’t remember where he was last; he recalled picking at the skin of his shoulder that once was flushed with dried blood and the means for infection, courtesy of Dr. Lawrence Gordon’s gunshot that still rang in his ears weeks later. He hadn’t expected Lawrence to come back for him; in fact, he truly believed that he would die in that room, only surrounded by white tile and shit stains on the walls. His ankle was covered in blood and blistered skin. The friction of the chains caused his skin to burn and ache, leading his voice to scream and call out to anyone who was listening. His last wish was for someone to hear him, but he didn’t ever expect to truly be out of this nightmare. He wasn’t aware someone was coming for him, stalking him and preying on him.

But you did.

You pulled open the door to the room, and it screeched like nails on a chalkboard against the concrete wall. Adam’s blurry mind at the loud noise Other than his own desperate screaming and beckoning, he hadn’t heard any relevant sounds to aid him in his escape in days.

There was no sound to indicate another life. Lawrence had abandoned him; Jigsaw was nowhere to be seen, and all that was left was the burning ache of his wailing and the sound of the security cameras buzzing.But none of those things are registered in Adam’s mind now. His eyes were wide and fearful. The sight of an unknown face—someone who looked like them—was enough to make him startle and panic. His mouth was gagged, and his neck was embellished with a metal collar. On the inside of the collar were several rows of nails, and the tips of the needles were each plucked and perfectly arranged to suffocate him and create panic. Connected to his collar was a chain padlocked into the wall.

He was just barely being suffocated by the claustrophobic heat of the room and the relentless tugging of the chains that bound him to his collar. The air that entered his nostrils was thick and stale and tasted sourly of iron.

Sweat poured from his forehead onto his already sweaty hairline. It pooled at the small of his back. He began to quiver once he realized that whoever came into this room had no intention of leaving it anytime soon. “Hello Adam. I want to play a game.” Your voice echoed throughout the chamber-like walls. “You’d consider yourself a photographer, wouldn’t you, Adam? I sure would.” You stepped further towards him and shoved a box of photos in his lap, the box containing pictures of yourself in excessively vulnerable situations, like finding yourself in the hallway of different hook-up apartments or in your own home, some even depicting yourself getting undressed in the shower. “You’ve spent your life following others, but you’ve chosen the wrong person to follow, Adam.” You took another step towards him, reaching your hand out and pressing it against his face, caressing the side of his cheek. “You probably thought you could live your life without consequence for your actions, but you’re wrong. Just like how one wrong move could be the end of your life, so follow my rules and play nice, sweetheart." You smiled a thin smile filled with malice and lust.

A grin so fake that it was more than believable, if a bit unsettling. You grabbed his collar and yanked him upwards, the metal biting deep into his flesh, untying his makeshift gag and throwing the fabric onto the ground. His swollen cheeks and puffy eyes only made your lust for him grow so much stronger. “What do you want from me?” His voice was hoarse but whiny and strong with misery. “What’s wrong? You wanted to see me so badly before, and now that you can, you don’t like it? You should be grateful. John wanted to leave you there to starve; Mandy wanted to put you out of your misery, but not me. I wanted to meet you face-to-face." He let out a small breath as your hands slipped over his bare shoulders, down his chest, and back to his arms, squeezing them as you reached them, his muscles flexing under your hands. “I guess you’ll finally get to see everything in live motion, and not just from one of your silly pictures.” You moved your lips closer to his ear. His breathing hitched as he looked at you with glossed-over eyes, and his pupils dilated to slits as he stared at you. “Tell me what else you think is wrong, Adam. Tell me how you feel about being here. Tell me how you really are." As you whispered in his ear, you squeezed your fingers harder onto his upper arm.

You watched him squirm and whimper. “Oh fuck, man.” His hands found their way to your hips. “What did you do with those photos of me, Adam? Did you think about me at night?” You gave him a sly smile as you toyed with the lock on his collar. “Do you want me to take off my shirt? Do you want me to lay it across the chair so you can touch me? What kind of fantasy do you have of me, baby?” You leaned forward so that your chest pressed firmly into his.

Your lower leg rested against his crotch, pressing down and giving him his strongly desired relief. “Do you want me, Adam?” Your hand brushed his hair back; it was greasy and had dried blood and sweat in between strands, but at that point in time, nothing else mattered; only he did. "Shit, you’re fucking crazy, dude.” Your face snapped at his response, changing from pleasure to anger. “I would watch your attitude if you want to get out of here alive. Remember my rules, Adam; play nicely.” You tugged on the chain binding him, drawing a few beads of blood out of his neck. “Bite me.” He spat at you, his words stinging on your lips as you captured his in an angry, heated kiss.

He sucked your tongue into his mouth while you moaned into it; your lips parted slightly as you explored your tongue with his, and your hands were wandering his body. They slid up his chest to his shoulders, then his neck, then his jawline, until they tangled in his dirty locks. He pulled you closer until you were completely wrapped around him, grinding your hips into his groin as minutes felt like hours with your lips interlocked. “Fuck, I fucking knew you were perfect, so pretty.” He cried out against your lips, his hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling your hips down against him.

You both moaned when you felt his erection rubbing against your clitoral area through your trousers and underwear, his cock hardening even more against you. Your hips slid against his jeans as you sat on the floor, tucking your knees under your thighs. Cold hands slid across his jeans, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his blue trousers, hooking his underwear, and pulling them down.

You opened your mouth slowly, sliding your bottom lip along the tip of his erect penis. Your tongue danced delicately, sucking him off gently and softly. His head hung low as he groaned against your mouth.

His arms encircled your waist, keeping you pressed into his warm, hard body. “Are you enjoying yourself, Adam?” you asked quietly, licking away the last remnants of cum. He nodded quickly, turning his face away so he didn’t have to look you in the eyes. He couldn’t hold your stare and instead opted for staring at the ceiling, his arms still tight around your waist. He shivered as you continued sucking on his cock. “Yes, yes. That feels so good.” He gasped as your lips closed around the head, taking his full shaft into your desperate throat. He buckled his knees, his hips rocking into you roughly as you swallowed him down, moaning lightly as your nails dug deeply into his skin, nearly breaking it and almost bruising them as he tried desperately not to cum too early.

He clenched his fists, digging his own nails harshly into the skin of your shoulders as he guided your head up and down his hard cock. You licked the length of the base of it until it was throbbing painfully.

You took him to the back of your throat, holding him in place as you drank him down slowly. “Oh shit…” He breathed out as his body trembled, his eyes wild, and he panicked with desire, feeling his own orgasm rising in his abdomen. You pulled his cock out of his mouth, much to his displeasure and anger.

His whimpers made your hole clench around the emptyness that you so desired to be filled. “If I unchained you right now, would you scream and run? You remember the rules, right? Let’s see if you’ll still play by them once you’ve gotten your freedom. Get on your knees.”

His face was distorted in confusion, not quite understanding what for. "Look, man, I’m not into that sort of thing." He shook his head and looked at you in fear, sitting down on the cold floor anyway. “I’m taking your collar off, not pegging you with a knife.” The keys from your pocket jingled as you unlocked them, the heavy metal contraption falling to the floor. He removed his white shirt that was covered in dried blood, his pale body glistening with sweat and grime that covered every inch of his smooth chest. You placed the collar on the table next to you as you pulled him to the chair nearby. “Are you sure that this is what you want, Adam?” Your expression showed genuine concern.

Even though it was true you had locked him up in this room and kept him as your personal hostage only to give him a sloppy head, you still had a heart, and you were determined to give it to him in its entirety. “Put that pretty pussy right on my cock, please.” You smiled at him as you pushed your black pants and panties down to the floor, straddling his muscular thighs and kissing his neck.

His body twitched as you slid down his shaft, bottoming out as your pussy stretched around his dick, gushing around his flesh. “Shit, Adam.” You sighed, loving the heat of his body in the cold room, the wet warmth against your insides, and the way your juices trickled down the shaft of his dick and dripped in soft puddles onto the floor. You began moving up and down his cock with slow, steady strokes, adjusting your puckering hole to his shaft. Your legs started shaking as he lifted himself up, thrusting into you deep, your nipples pebbling, and your core tightening as your body began to move in rhythm to his movements.

His face flushed red, his eyes became glassy, his head thrown back, and his mouth opened in pleasure. His hands gripped your waist tighter, taking full control of your body movements as they related to your wet heat. His hands ran up and down your hips, his fingers sliding up and down your waist, causing you to tighten and pull harder on his shaft. He groaned loudly, his cock hitting all of your sweet spots as he pumped into you.

You were panting, your eyes closing as you focused on the way your walls tightened around his cock. “Did you ever touch yourself with those pictures of me, Adam? Did you imagine what it would be like to fuck me?" He bit his lower lip as he began to growl against your shoulder, releasing his grip on your waist as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. “F-fuck, every night. I wanted to know what your tight pussy would feel like around my cock.” He ground against your pussyrelentlessly until your whole body started shaking. “I knew you were a disgusting little pervert." You were so close, and his confession only drew you closer.

You could feel your juices dripping into your pussy as he continued to pump into you, pushing you further and further toward your release. You arched your back, reaching your hands behind you to grab onto something to help hold on to as you came. You screamed his name as you came hard, your pussy clenching around his thick cock, still chasing his orgasm as he pound into you, overstimulating your sore nerves.

His body tensed, his muscles trembling violently as he spilled his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. His arms wrapped themselves around your back as he held you close. “That felt so good. So fucking amazing.” His voice shook as he spoke against your neck. You turned so that your faces were level, and his arms were still wrapped around you. You kissed him tenderly, your lips lingering on his, before you pulled away. “Congratulations, Adam. You’ve won your game. You have been reborn.” He smiled and wet his lips. “So was that, like, a reverse rebirth kind of thing?” Your face turned from joy to bewilderment, and it only took one sentence from an idiot. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

[kairiscorner]

For the I/atsv drafts:

14!

well hello hello again @sabcandoit >:) CONSIDER IT DONE !!

so imagine,

the atsv babes: when you lose your glasses

miles would probably see you at school as always, walk up to you and greet you a good morning, only to have you looking around, confused and restless, as you're muttering to a locker. "hey," he'd begin in the not-so-rizzing-up way and smile at you with his big, sweet smile as he looks at your back that's turned to your fidgety figure. "oh, hi miles." you say as you look at a mop erected on a clean up bucket by the janitor's closet. miles chuckles as he turns you around gently and holds you by the shoulders. "hey, quit playin', i'm over he--oh." he said in two starkly different tones as he sees your confused expression, your eyes seeming a lot smaller without those glasses that framed your cute face. you squinted to get a better look at miles, and you finally realized it was him. "oh, a cute baby deer is in front of me, i walked into a mystical forest, not school." you joked, and miles chuckled. "lost your glasses again?" he asked, to which you sighed and nodded. miles chuckled yet again, he loved you a lot, but you had a tendency to be a little scatterbrained. "oh, what would you do without me, chiquita?" he teased you as you pouted. he opened his locker, where there were photos of you two decorating the back of his locker's door, and with some of your stuff with him; notebooks, folders, pencil cases and books, and of course, your spare glasses if you ever lost your main pair. he handed them to you with a slight eyebrow raise and pout to match your expression. "for you, mi amor." he gestured so gallantly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "you practicing your spanish on me because of our test later, or because you want to impress me?" you quizzed him as you put on your glasses, him laughing a little at your bluntness. "come on, can't your boyfriend call you his one and only, linda?" he asked you sweetly as he took your hand. "you look really pretty with your glasses on, and even when they're off... i can't take my eyes off you."

gwen would have thought that a few lowlife bullies stole your glasses when she caught you in between periods at the hallway, wandering about, your hand extended in front of you slightly as you tried to weave your way through the crowd. gwen rushed over to you, knowing how bad your eyesight was, she was worried you'd bump into someone or something. she took your hand as she called your name, and you stopped. recognizing that voice, you turned your head to look at a fuzzy image of light blonde hair with light blue blobs on a face that looked distortedly concerned. "oh, hey gwinny." you said awkwardly, hoping it was gwen. "hi, where, uh, where are your glasses?" she asked you, to which you laughed nervously at that, scratching your cheek all the while, trying to come up with the right way to say it. "i... left them at home." you admitted. gwen sighed. "this is the, what, third time this month?" she asked as she held on to you tighter. you chuckled again. "ah, fourth time, actually." you corrected her as she shook her head and cracked a smile. "you can still read my handwriting, right?" "takes a while to register since you write your 'b's and 'p's so similarly, but i can manage. thanks, gwinny." you thanked her as she playfully hit your arm and smiled. "you owe me a tutoring session tonight for this."

pav would not have realized you needed glasses until he noticed how close you were to the papers that were posted on the bulletin board when he came up to you. "whatcha reading?" he'd ask you as he crept up towards you, and you'd've yelped a little in surprise, unsure who was in front of you until you saw a blurry shape of his signature hair. "now either it's spider man or it's just you, pav." you remarked sarcastically as pav grinned at you. "come on, don't kid around, you know it's me! spider man's not as dashing as i am, you know." he said. "sorry, you're just really blurry right now." you muttered as you rubbed your eyes. he tilted his head to the side. "blurry? wait... do you need glasses?" he asked, to which you perked up and looked at his direction. "...yeah." pav nodded as he leaned closer towards you. "well that explains why you keep leaning over to my side when we're in class, copying notes." he said as he brushed your hair off your face and smiled radiantly at you. "i've got you, though. i'll be by your side all day, i'll help you out as much as you need me to!" he beamed. "man, i really do wanna see you in glasses, though. bet you'd look super cute in them, and, oh, to have me pushing them up on your face when they're about to fall off..." he teased you as you blushed and pouted at him. "in your dreams, prabhakar." you spat at him as he chuckled.

hobie would have been slightly confused as you kept looking at the ground as you walked, and hastily looked up and around, waving your hands around as you tried to tread your way through the rows of people walking past you. he rushed over to you, concerned about what might've come over you. "you alright? you seem a little uncomfy." he asked you with a tone of slight worry as you looked up at the tall boy, making out a blurry image of his wicks and his dark skin as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "oh, don't tell me you got your lenses nicked off you." he said with a small smirk. you shook your head. "they weren't nicked, just... i lost them last night, and now i have to get replacements." you said with a sad sigh. hobie chuckled. "what's your eye grade?" he asked as he took your hand in his own larger ones. you blushed at the touch but cleared your throat to answer him. he nodded and smirked wider. "y'know, you could get yourself some replacements, go ahead, it's your personal liberty; but i'd... i'd like to make you some custom frames, courtesy of your beloved hobart. what do you say?" he asked as he leaned closer to you. "i'd... like that a lot." you admitted. "wonderful. now, let me make sure you don't stumble over your own cute little feet." he said as he lifted you up and carried you in a bridal style manner, out of concern you might bump into someone or something, of course.

a/n: HOBIE AND MILES KAKSKDJDJDKDFHFOFNFJDKKSNDKDLD

tags !! @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @luvstarrstruck @fictarian

[pseudonymphomania]

A page from one of Diavolo’s photo albums (inspired by the “Memorable Photos” Diavolo SSR from OG)

View from Top to Bottom, Left to Right.

Suggested OM BG Music to read this to: Always By Your Side

This candid of Dame Lucifer was taken by Diavolo as she passed by the area on her way to the stage after having her makeup done by Asmo.

Diavolo and Lucifer go to a cafe which boasts new specials. Despite his aversion to photos in a public place, Lucifer poses for a surreptitious photo while there, prompted by Diavolo's excitement at having ordered a ridiculously large and aesthetic drink for the first time. Lucifer ordered a small cake and took off his gloves to enjoy it. [the drink and cake are cut off]

This is the selfie that Lucifer took in MC's bedroom after having a heart-to-heart with Diavolo in the "Creating Records" WW. Lucifer only took one picture before giving the phone back so it is slightly blurry, but you can clearly see Diavolo's surprise.

It was a long and tough snowball fight between Lucifer and his brothers at RAD. The battle was hard won and as everyone left to go back inside, Diavolo catches Lucifer looking at the sky and decides to make it snow. Diavolo takes a picture of Lucifer's peaceful face, committing to memory of what it looked like when someone cared for family as much as he did and what it meant to him to know that they were safe.

The Fantastic Three are having fantastic tea and Barbatos is trolling Lucifer again. Taken by Diavolo.

Diavolo and Lucifer speaking in the hallways of RAD [but this photo is cut off so only the shoes are visible]. Taken by Barbatos.

Diavolo is very happy about Lucifer in his uncharacteristic unicorn onesie. Lucifer is annoyed that the presentation of his personal image, something he takes a lot of care in, is being offset by this travesty; however, Lucifer lets Diavolo take a few photos before he takes off the onesie with full intention to toss it into the flames. [MC rescues the onesie before that happens]

Diavolo and Lucifer are in Lucifer's bedroom drinking horns of Demonus. Diavolo remembers that he had a gift so he presents Lucifer with a Demonus body pillow. Lucifer, being drunk, is uninhibited in showing how much he likes it. Diavolo takes a photo of Lucifer cuddling the pillow, but as Diavolo is also drunk, he fails to consider environmental lighting, composition and the fact that his finger is in the shot.

The Fantastic Three go on a business trip. They have a little bit of time to relax so they go to the hot springs in Moryo Town. Diavolo, being playful, decides to splash Lucifer with the hot water and instigates a splash war. This photo is taken by Barbatos who is the only one able to avoid the portent of shenanigans.

The Fantastic Three go camping. After a full day of Camp Master Lucifer's treatment, Lucifer shows Diavolo how to cook marshmallows over the fire for s'mores. Taken by Barbatos.

Diavolo and Lucifer are in the Human World for business. They decide to play chess in the park like retired old men. Diavolo wins the first round white and decides to switch places with Lucifer. He jokes about how Lucifer could have beaten him if he had been more aggressive. Lucifer smiles and retorts that white always has an advantage and that was why he won, but is taken off guard by Diavolo who raises his black pawn and says, "yes it is true. White goes first and black has a critical weakness, but to be truthful, I've never felt more powerful." Lucifer catches on and takes his own white king, placing it in the F7 spot where Diavolo's black pawn had been.*

This photo was taken by the Anti-Lucifer League after a prank on Lucifer. By request, it was sent to MC after-the-fact.

This photo was taken by MC who was watching Satan and Belphie run away, being chased by an angry Lucifer. Both photos were sent to Diavolo after-the-fact.

Diavolo and Lucifer have a long conversation about inter-realm politics while looking out into the yonder. This photo was taken by Barbatos.

The Fantastic Three go to Diavolo's private beach. Diavolo plays in the water as Lucifer watches but Lucifer is overly concerned about what kind of travesties he will come back to when the trip is over so he doesn't share Diavolo's excitement. Taken by Barbatos.

This photo was taken by Diavolo. Lucifer fell asleep while Diavolo was showing off the photo albums and he rests on Diavolo's shoulder. This photo will be shown to Lucifer next time he comes over to look through the memories.

*The F7 square is widely considered the weakest spot on the board being only protected by the black king and is often subjected to attacks. Lucifer putting his white king in that spot means that this game of chess is null but it is an allegory for Lucifer's defection and Diavolo's protection who went from just prince (pawn) to Acting-King. The point of chess is to checkmate, but with the white king protecting the black king and vice versa, who is there to defeat them?

[glorious-spoon]

may i request “…casually” for the kiss prompts, if it inspires you? 🤗

- @buckactuallys

Hi, and thank you! Have some morning after sappiness, I hope you enjoy! ☺️

-

The bed is empty when Buck wakes up.

This isn't an unusual thing, actually; given the chance, he likes to sleep in. And a lot of hookups like to have some space the morning after: get showered, get dressed, start their days, make it clear that it's time for Buck to show himself the door without actually having to kick him out. He knows that whole song and dance by heart, and it doesn't bother him that much, usually.

It doesn't usually work like that when he sleeps over at Eddie's. Chris is an early riser, and while Eddie is hit or miss, he's not usually much good at staying quiet before he's got a cup or two of coffee in him. Buck has woken up more than a few times to the sound of Eddie stumbling into something in the kitchen and then cursing about it in a blurry, sleep-hoarse voice.

The thing is, usually when he sleeps over here, he sleeps on the couch.

Buck rolls over, squinting at the clock that Eddie keeps on his side of the bed. It's not actually that late; just past 8:30. The door is closed, and the room is full of hazy, diffuse morning sunlight. The walls are still painfully bare even a year after Buck helped Eddie patch and paint the smashed-up plaster, but there's a new rug on the floor, a handful of framed photos on the wall by the door. Mostly Chris, but there's one of Eddie and Buck there, from May's graduation party, draped in beads and hamming it up for the camera.

It makes Buck smile a little as he folds himself upright, but he's not sure where to go after that. He can hear noise coming from the kitchen: the clatter of dishes, soft conversation. Chris is home. And Buck is here, in Eddie's bed, clearly having spent the night there instead of on the couch. It's a little late now to try to sneak out, unless Eddie wants him to go out the window. And they really didn't talk about any of this last night. It seemed very distant then, with Eddie pressing him against the mattress, Eddie's mouth hot against his, the searing eagerness of his hands as he pulled Buck closer and touched him like he'd been thinking about it for a while, but now—

Now, Buck really wishes he'd thought to ask.

Footsteps in the hall. He freezes, and has a moment to be profoundly grateful that he pulled on a pair of sleep shorts last night, because there's a knock at the door, and then Chris ducks his head in without waiting for an answer. He does not seem surprised to see Buck there.

"Oh good, you're awake," he says. "Dad says breakfast is ready. He burned the first two pancakes, but the rest are fine."

"Oh," Buck manages, slightly airless. "I'll, um. I'll be there in a minute."

"Don't take too long, or you'll get stuck with the burned ones," Chris warns, and retreats back out of the room. Over the roaring in his ears, Buck can just hear his clear voice saying something to Eddie that includes his name.

He swings his legs off the bed, scrounges the t-shirt he abandoned on the floor last night, and gets up. His heart doesn't stop racing all the way down the hallway, but when he steps into the kitchen, Eddie glances up at him and smiles.

It's easy, that smile. There's none of the panicked regret Buck was fearing in it at all.

"Morning," he says. "You sleep okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Buck scrubs the back of his neck. Chris is in the dining room, setting the table for the three of them. On the counter next to the stove is a plate of pancakes covered by a dish towel to keep it warm; butter and syrup and orange juice for Chris are already out on the table. There's a full pot of coffee steaming fragrantly on the counter

There's Eddie, leaning over the stove to slide the skillet off the heat. He scrapes at the patch of spilled batter that scorched on the burner, then sets the spatula down and turns back toward Buck. He looks—he looks soft, a little bit sleepy still with his fluffy hair and his rumpled t-shirt. He looks like Eddie. The way he's looking at Buck isn't even new, now that he's paying attention to it.

"Can I, uh, can I help with anything?"

"Mostly all done," Eddie says, but he hands the plate of pancakes to Buck. "Here, take this to the table, I'll grab us coffee."

Then he cups Buck's cheek, leans up just a little, and kisses him briefly on the mouth, so sweetly casual that Buck kisses back without even thinking about it.

It feels different than kissing him last night, all that heat and urgency. It feels different than lazily making out in the sleepy afterglow. It feels—easy, comfortable, real.

"So we're really doing this, huh?" Buck asks, soft, when they finally break apart.

Eddie laughs under his breath and kisses him again. "Yeah. As long as you want to."

"I want to," Buck says, so fast that Eddie laughs again, louder, as he steps away.

"Still need to talk to Chris," he says, pulling out a pair of mugs.

"I think he, uh, I think he's probably figured it out," Buck says with a faint wince. He was in Eddie's bed this morning. Chris is definitely old enough now to read between the lines there. Though at least he didn't seem upset.

Eddie snickers. "Yeah. But I want to do this right. This is important." He glances at Buck again. "You're important."

"Oh," Buck says, helplessly warm.

"After breakfast," Eddie says firmly, passing Buck one of the coffee cups in his hand. Cream swirls through it, and the porcelain is warm. "Come on."

Buck takes a deep breath, nods, and follows him out into the sunlit dining room.

[captain-mj]

Monster handler monster handler monster handler! You promised to hurt the babe! (Not by Soap’s hands of course)

Hell yeah! A few of you guys may have... opinions on this one lol

Ghost wasn’t nervous. Whatever Soap did to him, it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Alex took them home and he noticed Gaz and Price there. He started to sink into his seat, groaning. 

Price already had the lecture ready. It was on the tip of his tongue and Ghost could see it. 

Soap shoved Price to the side and grabbed Ghost’s hands immediately. He pulled Ghost’s gloves off so he could check his hands, glancing over his knuckles. 

Ghost froze and watched him. Was this idiot going to hit him with a ruler or something? Seemed weird.

“You didn’t hurt your hands again did you?” Soap glanced up at him. 

Ghost blinked and he could feel the other three staring at him. “What?”

“When you go off places, you tend to hurt your hands.” Soap pointed out and he seemed to decide his hands were adequate. “I got worried. If you want to go places, you could just tell me. Freaked me out when you were missing.” He glanced up at him with those giant blue eyes and Ghost nodded dumbly. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

Soap smiled at him and quickly started to pull Ghost along, completely ignoring Gaz and Price. He was Ghost’s handler. Neither of them needed to be involved. Ghost flushed a little and followed him. 

Soap hummed. “So what did you guys do?”

“We ate and Alex showed me a bridge.”

“Why did you need to go to a bridge?”

“...to pretend to be mothman. Because of the black wings.”

Soap laughed. “No way! Did you get photos?”

Ghost pulled out his phone and showed him, unaware of how his wings were fluttering or his tufts were sticking straight up in excitement. Soap would never tell him. He knew he’d probably start to think of it and wouldn’t do it again and something about seeing him show emotion so easily was beautiful. 

The pictures on the other hand… They had really made it the worse possible picture. Ghost was incredibly blurry and scary. 

“You look so cool.” 

Ghost… chirped? Churred? Rumbled? The noise was new and interesting and Soap wanted to hear it again. 

“Thank you! I thought it looked nice.” Ghost smiled at him.

Soap never wanted to let anything happen to him again.

The very next day, Shepherd ordered physicals on all ESUs. They had to have them annually, so it wasn’t the most shocking. 

What was strange was how reluctant Ghost was to do it. Soap didn’t really get it. A few minutes with a doctor and he would get the okay to continue. 

Price warned him that getting Ghost to do the exam was hellish. When asked if he could help, Price shook his head. 

“Absolutely not. This is the first time I don’t have to worry about that. Plus, I’ll be busy that day.”

“What are you going to busy with Captain?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you more afterwards, okay?” Price sounded rather casual so Soap dropped it. 

Then, the day came and Ghost had disappeared. Soap had to search the entire base for him and it was past four before he had even heard a word of where he was. So Soap told the nurses to come back tomorrow, but silently. 

Ghost reappeared after dinner, eating calmly.

“Where did you go?” Soap said conversationally.

“Out.”

“I told you to tell me. I needed you for a mission report today.” Soap pouted at him and Ghost frowned, staring at him. 

“That all?”

“Yep.”

Ghost nodded slowly and kept eating. He was clearly half starved. Poor thing. Soap watched him and eventually walked with him to his room, admiring the way he moved like usual. 

“Oh, Lt, can you help me in the morning?”

“With what, Johnny?”

“With the mission reports, Ghost.” Soap smiled at him and Ghost nodded. Slowly, he pulled away, clearly cautious, but he didn’t really have a reason to be. Exam day was over. 

Soap waited until after breakfast to lead Ghost down the hallway to his room. He promptly ignored his room and led them to the infirmary. Ghost caught on and tried to leave and Soap grabbed on to his arm.

“Simon. Physical. Now.”

“No!”

“Simon!”

Ghost snarled at him and Soap snarled back. It wasn’t as intimidating, but it was enough to catch him off guard. He reluctantly let himself get dragged along. 

“Soap… I don’t want them to…” Ghost seemed weirdly whiney. Usually he didn’t really complain about anything. On their last mission, they ran out of MREs and had to hunt for food and cold as hell Russia and he didn’t complain. Maybe he was immune to the cold and Soap just didn’t know?

The nurse smiled at Soap and put on rubber gloves, making them snap. Ghost flinched. “Thank you Mister MacTavish, but I can take it from here.”

“Price said he stayed, so I’m staying.” 

“Price is a Captain.”

“Fine. If you want him to go feral and eat you alive.” Soap raised his hands and the nurse’s jaw twitched. He looked… distinctly upset. Ghost snapped his teeth to add weight to the accusation. 

The nurse sighed. “Fine. You know the drill, Mister Riley.” 

Ghost slowly started to undress. Soap didn’t really think it was odd until he was down to his underwear and slipped off his mask. 

“Wait a minute, this isn’t protocol.”

“He’s not protocol.” The nurse retorted. “We have to check the spread of the… infected skin.”

Infected? 

“It’s fine, Soap, It is protocol for me.” Ghost said quietly, but he pointedly did not look at either of them. 

Soap took a moment to look at his face. The soft blond curls and the scarring. Black skin that went up his throat and along his body, spiraling out from where his wings met his skin and from where his nails were. The nurse started to measure it and took photos of where it was. He clearly avoided any identifying features and Ghost didn’t fight which gave Soap an idea of how fucked this situation was. 

“Bad?”

“Surprisingly good news. No spread that I can see.” The nurse clicked his pen and made a few notes. “You can get redressed and we’ll do the other tests okay?” 

Ghost threw his clothes on quickly, relaxing immediately. They quietly went through the other blood test while Soap’s brain was still reeling. 

Spreading? 

What happened when it covered all of his skin?

Were they just worried since it was uncontrollable? 

Ghost was unique. His physiology and biology a complete mystery to everyone. If he lost what little was left of himself, his face disappearing and shifting, if that was even possible, what would happen to him? Would it simply be the los of humanity? Or worse, would Ghost simply be gone? An actual monster? 

Soap didn’t know. He wanted to ask, but Ghost was about to get his blood drawn. 

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, Ghost?”

“Can you hold my hand? I don’t like needles.” Ghost looked up at him and Soap quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed. 

The nurse took his blood and put it in a vial. He did a few standard fitness tests to check that Ghost hadn’t deteriorated or started to develop any health issues. 

Soap waited until they were out of there, a little surprised by how easy it was considering how hard it had been to get Ghost there, to ask Simon something that had been bothering him lately. “What do you plan to do when you retire?”

“I won’t.”

“Gonna go up the ranks?”

“No. I’m going to die a Lieutenant.” Ghost looked at him. “Johnny, I appreciate what you do. It’s nice to not feel like a walking weapon all of the time. But I’m never, ever going to retire.”

“Could they… remove your wings?”

Ghost stopped and it was suddenly too quiet. A vacuum had formed in the hallway as Ghost slowly turned to him.

“Even if they could. They never, ever would. Do you ever wonder why I have restrictions and why I’m a ticking time bomb?”

Soap stared at him, because yeah. Of course he wondered.

“I was rescued, ya know. Went home. To my family. Good people. They didn’t know really how to handle it. Who would? It was Christmas. I still remember the lights. Twinkling rainbow ones.” Ghost looked away, eyes shining as they reflected the hallway light. “It was the microwave. It went off and they forgot to warn me.” 

Soap stared. He didn’t want to say it. “You freaked out?”

“You have any nephews?”

“Yes.”

“You ever want to know what their guts look like? Because I do. I know what my brother’s blood tasted like in my mouth. It was fucking bitter. Not only could I never, ever go back to civilian life for many, many reasons. The moment I retire is the moment I die. Either by the enemy or by you.”

Soap shook his head, shaking. “I’d never.” Ghost didn’t sound guilty. He sounded blank. But Soap had picked up a while ago what those things meant. The less emotion he showed, the more he felt. 

“Fine. Then, it’ll be Price. Or Gaz. Or Shepherd. Or Las…” Soap noticed the sad look in his eyes. Was he thinking of his own Mom? “Or Laswell. It’ll be quick. I know that.”

“How can you be sure that this will still happen?”

“Because I asked. It’s part of my contract. I’m a dead man walking, Johnny. Living on time I stole from a little boy named Joseph who wanted to be a pilot.” Ghost’s voice cracked. It sounded painful. 

Soap gently led Ghost to his room since it was closest. He left the lights off, sure Ghost could see just fine and he knew his own room well enough to not stumble around blindly. They fell to the bed and Ghost grabbed him, pulling him to his chest like he was an overgrown teddy bear. Maybe that’s all he was to the guy. 

It felt right though. Snuggling him like this. 

Ghost didn’t sleep. Soap could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest underneath him. 

“You should stay here more often.” He didn’t want to think of the christmas party. 

“Your bed is cramped.”

“Exactly. Gives me the excuse to lay on you.” Soap smiled. “Thank you for putting up with today. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It’s fine.”

“Still. Dealing with needles and being undressed. You were very brave for me.” 

Ghost rumbled again. Soap closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling. 

They couldn’t stay in there forever. It was only noon after all. 

Price sent out a message for them to have a meeting so Ghost dragged them up and they made sure to look ready. Fix their collars and hair, military styles right?

Price stood at the end of the little meeting table. “So, for the time being, we will be working with a group of mercenaries. Including their leader, Graves.”

None of them really reacted. It wasn’t exactly unusual, they had worked with KorTac, their sworn enemies before. It just came with the job. 

Graves hummed and all of them jumped as he wasn’t exactly visible in the shadows. He slid next to Price, the two of them rather close. “Full disclosure, I am an ESU. Ex Military, but I left. If that’s a problem, you can figure it out on your own.” 

Soap tilted his head. Weird. How fitting considering their earlier conversation, seeing one of them out and about and away from the military. He didn’t notice Ghost tightening like a coil. 

Price cleared his throat. “I’ll be working closely with him, of course, but he is a commander. Show him full respect as you would me.” 

Graves smiled. “Personally, I think the whole handler thing is silly, but I get its protocol. My Shadows will introduce themselves to you over the next few days. We’ll be staying at your base.” 

Everyone else seemed to understand and dispersed. Price and Graves talked for a few minutes, rather close to each other before they left. 

Soap looked at Ghost, wondering why they weren’t leaving. Ghost looked incredibly tense. 

“He replaced me.”

Soap frowned. “What?”

“He replaced me. He said he couldn’t be my handler anymore because he didn’t have time. They told him no. If they gave him this task, they weren’t the ones who told him he couldn’t. He just… decided he couldn’t. Price replaced me. He replaced me.” Ghost sounded so distraught. “Was I not good enough?”

“Simon, no, I’m sure the-”

“He replaced me.” Ghost hissed, glaring at Soap. His shoulders were heaving and Soap knew he was just lashing out because he was hurt, but his heart sped up anyway, a little afraid. 

“Simon.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” Ghost shook. 

Soap paused. “No. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He stared at him, swallowing. “Didn’t do anything wrong, big guy.” 

Soap was going to get answers out of Price even if he had to beat it out of him. 

Taglist this may be my outdated taglist but if you want to be added, please comment

@nalawayward @joltom @azure-winter-crow @korym @cod-hyperfixation @thychuvaluswife @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @commie-ghost

[munsster]

PICTURES WITH EDDIE HIM COVERING YOUR BOOBS WITH HIS HANDS WITH HIS RINGS OMG AHHAHAHAHAHWKSUWJDJAJSHJKAHDKAWJND I NEED A ONESHOT OF THIS

it’ll last longer

A/N: oh my god & him totally leaving them in places he knows you’ll see just to get you flustered as f*ck 👹

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Bimbo!Reader

Summary: You show Eddie your new Polaroid camera, and he already has a few ideas. 1.4k words

Warnings: tibbies, boobies, bReasts, + hands on ‘em, being naked but nonpenetrative so it is technically smut, praise, taking nudes, hand kink, flustered and horny eddie, mention of drug use, mention of gun violence, everyone is over 18 here

Eddie had been royally pissed off a second ago. With the pounding on his door like goddamn thunder spiraling him right towards a raging headache. But then it swung open to your smiling face, your arms clasped behind your back, and he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed anymore.

Not with the slight curve of your mouth and the soft squint of your eyes and your pink mini skirt peaking out beneath the hem of his leather jacket. Not with your cherry lipgloss laid on thick and the locket stuffed with his likeness jingling just above your cleavage reflecting the golden lamplight past his shoulder.

“Hey, bug, how’s my favorite conformist doing?” 

“She’s busy,” you say, suddenly pouty and sullen. But you can’t just wipe the remnants of that giddy look off your face or dim the stars in your eyes, so as bitter as you try to be, he knows you’re still beaming somewhere under there.

“Busy?”

“Snorting white in Milan with millionaire heartthrob: John, Jr.”

“How very metal of her,” he teases, dipping down and pressing a chaste kiss to your bottom lip. But you disappear past him into the depths of the hallway, and he finds you perched on his bed kicking your legs out in front of you.

A click, a whirr, and a blinding flash: he’s staggering backward, fluorescent yellow burned into his vision. He blinks the static away to see you wide-eyed down at a small, square picture edged with a thick white border.

“What the shit?”

Propping yourself up on your knees, you tuck a boxy, grey camera under your arm and offer him the little photo. On film, his big hands are outstretched and overexposed, his silver rings reduced to a couple black bands at the base of his fingers. The grainy lens caught him grimacing though his knuckles, lips pursed, eyes shut.

“When’d you get it?” Eddie nods to your sleek and shiny Polaroid camera that flicks back open when you slip your thumb across the back.

“It was sitting on the dash when daddy drove me home from the rink.”

“Well… I’m keeping this,” he says, mouth pressed in a line when you bounce up to glance at the blurry picture with a sweet giggle.

“I can take a better one for you,” you coo, but he grabs a fistful of the leather jacket draped over your shoulders, tugging you closer, and slipping it into the inner pocket.

“How ‘bout I take some of you, bug?”

“Me?

“Yeah, you,” he breathes, taking in a lungful of your sugary, jasmine-spritzed perfume that peppers your neck in sloppy kisses of springtime and pie-eating contests at greasy carnivals. You fill him with wistful nostalgia, prodding around in his heart and guts for the tenderest spots and prodding some more when you realize how supple they are between your teeth.

“Doing what?” you say with a shrug. And that look in his tired eyes is all-telling. It’s like he can see through your top, and doesn’t even bother with being subtle because you’re so perfect, the risk is nothing compared to the reward

“That’s rotten, Munson. Don’t be vulgar.”

“Why, ‘cause your daddy bought you that camera? What’s he gonna care that Hawkins’ resident freak is defiling his daughter on a Thursday night?”

“He’d also buy me a shotgun, if I asked.”

“Is that supposed to scare me, bug?”

“Big, too, ‘n I’d aim it right here”—your rounded, ballet-slipper-pink fingernail draws an ‘X’ over his sternum—“break your heart real easy.”

“Don’t need a shotgun for that,” he huffs, guiding your fist open against his waist, slotting his fingers beneath the weighty underbelly of your Polaroid camera, and pressing his plump lips to your brow to get you to transfer its weight to his palm.

He holds your chin between thumb and knuckle, even though you pout and fiddle with the chain hanging from his belt loops. He lifts the camera to eye-level, sputtering and snapping when he fingers for the bright red button, tapping it gently.

The flash rings in your ears, leaves behind a distorted blob of darkness when you look up. The camera spits out an onyx plain of undeveloped film before slowly flooding with splotches of bronzy green.

“Hello, Miss America,” he mumbles, wobbling the delicate picture back and forth in the air, and you shriek, wrapping both hands around his forearm.

“Fuck, Eddie!”

“Yes, ma’am—”

“No, the ink, baby, it’ll bubble,” you whine, pinching the picture and blowing softly along its face.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says when you turn away from him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, pecking just below your diamond-studded ear with a sigh. “You still look incredible.”

And you do. Like a model, as always, he thinks, but you’d make fun of him for dreaming where you won’t. He always tells you to remember him when you’re strutting through Manhattan, being clobbered by psychos with expensive cameras.

The photo’s abandoned atop his amp and the kisses are slow and sweet with your jacket draped over the edge of the bed and your fingers in his hair and his lips lazy and wet against yours. You taste biting and bubbly like cheap champagne, royal and bold under his tongue.

He picks at the barbie-pink bandeau across your chest, and you arch into his touch when his fingertips brush your pert nipples through the stretchy fabric. He ducks his head against your collar, tonguing the smooth skin with a harsh breath. Two fingers hooked between your tits to drag the spandex down around your waist. His eyes are half-lidded when you draw your fingernails up his cheek.

“Get the camera,” you huff, his wild eyes peering down at you as his fingers scramble for the heavyweight thing leaving a shallow dent in his mattress. He aims it right at you, capturing your chest, up your neck, and the careful swoop of your baby soft cupid’s bow.

But you whine, “not of me!” and plant your palms over your face with a squeal. He’d scold you for it if he wasn’t completely taken with the likes of you. The photo slips onto the pillow next to your head, camera sitting beside your bicep while he licks his lips and leans slowly, mouth waiting with bated breath as it meets the tenderness of your bare breasts. One hand cups the other while he laps at your nipple with a soft groan rattling shockwaves through your chest like a battering and deadly riptide.

You weave your deft fingers into his messy hair and lift the camera above your head, fumbling your thumb against the button, and shuddering when he blinks up at you from between your breasts. His eyes go light for a second for the camera, flashing deep hazel rimmed with brown as he’s blinded. But it doesn’t matter with your skin lush and salty on his tongue.

He’s a little foggy when you sit up, but you nod to the wall his mattress is shoved up against, and he slumps towards it, gripping your hips until you wiggle into his lap.

With his heart beating on your back, you tilt your head to the side, and he slides the pad of his thumb just beneath your hairline where his name is tatted in sloppy black ink. He kisses it and hooks his fingers under your jaw to look you in the eye with a hungry grin. You lift the camera, and it clacks when he kisses you, full of tongue and saliva and gutterbrain when his grip goes slack, both hands down and cradling your ribs as they expand with air. With staggering and stuffy satisfaction. With life when his thumbs swipe beneath the curve of your breasts and he hums into your mouth.

You’re buzzing on high in his hands, and he can tell. Whether or not he’s touching you most of the time, it still makes you skittish and hot like this. Jumpy and tense and precious all under his roof and in his hands.

He brings them to cup your breasts, holding them against you because it makes you purr into his mouth. Heavy rings cold on your nipples, pinching with every flex of his antsy fingers. And it makes him harder against your lower back. Click, and the photo spits out against your calf, developing under your leg. And the camera is abandoned once his knees pin your thighs open wide.

The photos still litter his bedroom the next morning.

The boys creep up on him at his cluttered locker as he tucks the corner of a Polaroid picture beneath one of the heart-shaped magnets you bought for him. His ringed hands are clearly outlined, palms covering a pair of tits, hickey bruised against the girl’s jugular. Their eyes go wide, exchanging glances before Dustin shifts and clears his throat.

“What do you want,” Eddie barks, turning on his heel with a squinted glare

“Isn’t that the necklace you bought for—”

“Hi, Eddie,” you chirp, “hi, boys.”

Their sneakers shuffle back and forth on the squeaky linoleum while they narrowly avoid your eye contact and mumble nervous greetings. And you survey them slowly, with blind curiosity, at first. You blame it on their early-pubescent-nerves and brush it off. Then Eddie rocks forward with a grin, kissing the edge of your bubblegum pink mouth, giving way to a glimpse of the wide open door of his locker, newly decorated with a picture you recognize all too well with a rush of mortification.

Heart pounding, you glance back at the boys who have already scuttled halfway down the busy hall, whispering and giggling at each other. Eddie slips his arms around your waist with a content hum pressed to your warm temple.

“Good morning, bug.”

masterlist

[thelemonsnek]

[image id: a fake screenshot of a series of text messages from an unknown number (which is Ingo) to Noelle, a pokemon oc.  The first text from Ingo reads “Testing the number.” followed by a drawing of Ingo and Emmet, both positively covered in Joltiks and running down a hallway, Emmet laughing uproariously and Ingo seemingly startled by two on his head.  The final text is from Noelle, and is simply a picture with no words.  It is a drawing with a heavy motion blur over it, of an Empoleon and Serperior, up close as if they were the ones taking the photo.  End id]

“Her own Xtrans beeps. The message is a fairly serious "Testing the number." followed by a selfie of both brothers clearly taken by Emmet, in which they're both covered in Joltiks for some reason. Immediately she responds with the stupidest selfie she has on her Xtrans right now (it's Plouf and Maja attempting to use the Xtrans with neither of them having opposable thumbs. The picture is, understandably, very blurry).”

Rp snippet and pov oc both by @drawnecromancy!  Read this rp response and I couldn’t not draw it :]]

[image id: a closeup of the drawing of Ingo and Emmet from the above image.  End id]

(Ingo and Emmet’s shirts say “I’m with stupid” and “I’m with stupider.  Btw :) )

[daiseukiis]

╰ ⋆ 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ଓ.° ╮

𓄹 ⌗ 021. ⠀⠀⠀⠀did kaiser just kiss you

CONTENT. suggestive, profanity, online bullying and threats of kys

020 | MASTERLIST | 022

monday, 2:36 pm

⠀⠀⠀⠀ “there you are.” a specific journalist frantically pulls mae to the side, her just finishing her biology class. she cocks a brow up at his behaviour, seeing how panicked he is as they quickly walk to the side to more empty hallway. “akaashi?”

“we have a problem.” akaashi keiji takes his phone out, handing it to mae to read all the tweets. she wasn't too sure what was going on, since after the time she got posted on loki's twitter she had her notifications to following only.

“w-what’s this?” her heart drops at the comments and all the mentions directed at her. this was the first that she was under fire for something, especially when it was something over a blurry photo that can be viewed in so many ways that could ruin her. this was mae's first ever scandal, and the fact that so many people hidden behind a screen had such bold words to say to her made her blank out.

mae was so engrossed in all the comments that she couldn't even feel the vibration of her phone going off; kaiser's caller id showing up on her screen as all eyes were stuck on akaashi's. the boy frantically looks around for her, praying she pick up so he could go to her and clear whatever the hell it was that ness sent to him.

mae's eyes see the colour of dark plum at the corner of her eyes, looking up to see the sumire herself with a stoic look to her face. the fear that came over mae was an understatement, her stomach went into twists at the sight of her.

“this is a misun—” mae's words are silence by the contact of sumire's hand going on to her skin. the scene which causes many of them to go into a frenzy, their bodies moving before any of their minds could process the action she just did.

“i invite you into my house, and this is how you repay me?” the look of pain is on her face as shock paints mae's, she was so numb to the feeling that she didn't even know how to react.

kaiser who saw the scene unravel runs towards mae, putting the phone in his pocket as he brings the girl in his arms in one fluid motion. “sumire!” the glare he bares at the swimmer is sharp, one that makes her snap and want to slap him next.

“back off!” in sync both itoshi rin and mikage reo are pulling the girl by her arms to make sure she doesn't do anything else to them.

“are you alright?” his words are soft, different to how she had talked to him the first few times. the footballer could feel her heartbeat, one that pounds against her chest for him to resonate long with. mae is at a lost of words as she stares at him with widen eyes, “kaiser…”

“what the hell was that for?” his eyes narrow at the girl in front of him, one she reciprocates with the same look. sumire scoffs after getting rin and reo to get off her. “i know you’ve seen it.”

“you didn’t have to hit her!” reo yells as he grabs hold of sumire’s forearm, getting her to step away from kaiser and akaashi who were blocking her from mae. the swimmer gives reo a glare, telling him to leave her alone before heaving a sigh. they were right ; she had to calm down because sumire was being unreasonable.

“what were you doing with sosuke?” she takes a breath, holding on to reo's to hold herself back from doing anymore damage than needed. the atmosphere is thick between all of them, especially the tension between kaiser and sumire.

mae taps kaiser's forearm, signalling that she was feeling better. though the look of protest was in kaiser's face, he did what she wanted. he removes her from his embrace as she nods at akaashi, mae makes her way to stand in front of sumire, “kaiser spilled his drink on me after yamazaki bumped into him and he just gave me something to change into.”

“i was there in the room with them," aiyumi's voice is suddenly heard at the end of the hallway, breathing in a haste ; likely running to find the two though was too late. "sosuke left and didn’t do anything.”

“the camera flash.” mae suddenly remembers that critical detail, knowing that when yamazaki had gave her a hug since mae had almost broke down during their encounter. everyone perks up at the newfound fact, causing aiyumi to nod at it. “you’re right. we heard a camera shutter and there was a flash during that time, but we just thought it was from the party.”

“so someone purposely did it to start rumours…?” sumire is at a lost of words hearing about it, but kaiser couldn't help but ponder on one question, “who the hell would do that?”

“how are you feeling?” kaiser asks as the two of them sit out in an empty study room. akaashi had stayed for a few minutes earlier but had to head to class and left the two of them alone after mae had calmed down.

“like shit.” mae groans. her hand is placed under her chin as her elbow prompts on to the table. though a smirk plays on her lips, eyes glancing towards blue roses. “i’d feel better if you kissed me.”

“if that's what liebe wants.” even in this type of situation kaiser couldn't help but scoff at her remark. his fingers brush the strands of mae's hair behind her ear before he places a chaste kiss on her cheek— one which she wasn't expecting at all.

“are we interrupting something?”

“did kaiser just kiss you.”

“kiyuri!” the said girl and ness stand in front of the door. shock is on ness' face as kiyuri had a slightly distraughted look on hers. kaiser and mae blink, both sending an innocent smile towards them.

“mae, everyone’s calling you a home wrecker.” kiyuri's previous question was rhetorical, so she wasn't expecting much of answer and ignores her attitude. the boy beside her blinks, “maybe she is.”

“listen ness, shut the fuck up.” kiyuri deadpans pretty face. ness scoffs at her, “i’m just saying.”

“it looks bad in the photo but nothing really happened, aiyumi’s my witness.” mae blurts out, stopping the unnecessary banter the two were about to go through.

“the fuck is this, a courtroom?” kiyuri clicks her tongue, quickly texting something due to a message being sent to her. “shohei’s on his way, he’s asking if the performance for the mid game is still on.”

“i have an idea.”

“why is she stripping?!” bachira meguru screams out with the rest of the crowd have their mouths agape from the scene, multiple gasps and cheers going louder at her actions. oliver shakes his head, smirking at mae's bold way to counter one of the rumours of her wearing baggy outfits to mask hickeys left on her body. just as everyone saw the blank canvas of her body that one rumour was shut down, “damn she has balls.”

mae on stage throws the shirt she had taken off on to the field, blowing a kiss towards kaiser's way with a wink. the boy himself chuckles, amused by her rather controversial idea.

ness cocks a brow out, seeing the expression on the strikers face. “kaiser?” “i guess she isn’t just a pretty face.” he smirks to himself as he watches mae turning her body around and shakes her ass towards the crowd on the beats before running off stage for the next set.

the crowd continues to watch the performance, as the social media about her scandal continues to go aflare at her supposed actions. just as the music ends, the cheers of the audience was much louder than the occasional boo's she had gotten seeing how she was the center of the group.

everyone watches as many of the dancers get off stage, but mae is the only that stays which causes a lot of the audience to question what was going on. one of the staff run and hand her a mic, mae tapping it to hush the crowd at their words.

“i just wanted to thank all the support everyone has given the team, especially since we’re going to the next round for competitions.” before mae could continue the audience is mixed with boos and congratulations for her accomplishments, one that mae just nervously laughs off.

once the crowd has started to quiet down she continues, “but i also just wanted to address those rumours about me and yamazaki sosuke, they’re not real and there’s nothing going on between us." there's a pause in her words due to the fact many of the people there had started going on their phones, yamazaki, sumire and aiyumi confirming her words and announcing the authenticy of the rumours. "fujima aiyumi was even in the room but she isn’t in the picture.”

“and i’m dating kuneda shohei.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 !

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ i uh... didn't fix the time properly oops

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ they preformed the same routine they did for qualifiers.

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ the football team won their game, though kaiser wasn't happy the second half knowing this fact.

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REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

© daiseukiis 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

[bizzybkd]

Cornbread (2)

Killmonger x pregnant!reader part two

Warnings: none

“(Y/n), dear, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Queen Romanda asked, having put the pan of cornbread batter into the oven. You were sitting at a table only a few feet away as she refused to let you be on your feet. As well as having had you change into a long, beautifully patterned blue and yellow robe she had had made for you when you gave birth, but seeing as she underestimated the size of your coming child, decided you should be given the gift ahead of time to be comfy until the birth of her grandchild.

You were grateful for the gift, it represented a part of your culture you weren’t able to be indulged in, a distant part but it was still a part of you seeing as your ancestors had been twisted and traded with other racial DNA over the generations. You loved every part of yourself of course, but it was nice to be in touch with a specific part, like you belonged somewhere besides being from “everywhere”.

As for the question of your current state, the way you were bouncing your left leg and your hands unknowingly tense around the glass of water you had been given gave more than just the impression of uncomfortableness.

“Oh yes, Queen Romanda,I’m kakuhle ngokupheleleyo.(“perfectly fine”)”You replied, God, those Duolingo lessons really paid off. That, and Erik helping you himself.

Romanda smiled, she loved how you embraced her kingdom’s culture as your own, as it was anyway. “Kuyaqondwa, ntombi.” She replied.

“Queen Mother!” One of the Dora Milaje cried, rushing into the room, the Queen immediately on her guard. “There seems to be an uproar in the capital, citizens are protesting what they have found to be an unfair merchant.” She explained, spear at her side in attention.

“Take me. I must apologize, ntombi, but I must attend to this.” She said, speed walking up to you and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before going with the warrior.

This left you alone in the kitchen, the gorgeous vibranium and black titanium of the tiles and counters made the entire room feel clean and sleek. You imagined having this for you and Erik’s home, although you knew it’d cost an arm and a leg to install, let alone maintain.

After just a few minutes in silence, you got up to your feet, mouthing a small apology to Queen Romanda, as you had broken you unspoken promise to stay off your feet. Walking the hallways, the cup of water in your hands seemed to be weightless as you looked at the many tapestries and paintings, the tall doors that were patterned so nicely it made you wonder how much time each one took to make.

Letting your mind wander was a speciality of yours, it’s how you passed most of the time when you were by yourself. Creating stories and characters and scenarios in your head and playing them out how you saw fit, if the characters didn’t act on their own anyway.

As you started imagining yourself as queen, keeping the ideas to yourself as you were afraid even speaking something like that completely alone would risk treason, you felt your phone buzz in the back pocket of your shorts, the shorts you had left in the guest room you’d stayed in the last time you were in the castle.

Erik’s contact name “Husband🖤” showed on your phone, along with the blurry contact photos of his butt you’d taken while he slept on his stomach on the couch a few months ago.

“Hello, my love.” You answered, stopping in your tracks and leaning against the wall of the hallway, holding the glass and your hand on your belly.

“Hello, Beautiful, I’m here, I’m just outside by the landing deck, where are you in the castle?” He asked, you could hear the deafening sounds of helicopters in the background until they stopped and the sound of a door closing could be here from the phone and from down the hall.

As you turned your head and saw him come around the corner, you immediately hung up the phone and grinned. You couldn’t run, but you quickly walked up to your fiancé, who’s smile couldn’t be contained as he met you 3/4 the way, he hated seeing you going around with that beach ball in your belly.

He hugged you gently, doing his best not to squeeze too hard before kissing your lips and smiling, he stared happily into your eyes and rubbed your hips gently, your hands on his shoulders before they trailed down to his chest.

“You’re finally here..!” You cheered quietly, hugging him once more, not being able to be as close as you wanted to be.

He let out a soft chuckle and held the back of your head and kissed the opposite side. “Yes, I am, I couldn’t miss seeing your cute ass.” He smirked, tapping your butt.

With a roll of your eyes you stole another kiss. “Yeah yeah, as if that’s not the reason I’m even in this position.” You joked, tapping your belly gently until you buckled your knees, grabbing onto his forearms immediately.

“(Y/n)?!” Erik jumped, grabbing your arms as well to hold you up. “What’s the matter with you?”

You gulped and looked up at him shakily, clearing your throat and climbing up his arms and gaining back your composure. You have a shaky nod that made you feel like your brains had been turned to mush, and with the roll of your eyes to the back of your head and the last sight you saw being your worried fiancé, you blacked out.

~~~

You awoke to the soft sounds of wind, lying on your back and surrounded by what looked like purple and violet blades of tall grass. You laid under an Acadia tree, the low hanging and outstretched branches hovered over you, as if shielding you from the setting sun. The sky was beautiful, if you hadn’t noticed the tiny biting sensation on your calve you could have stared at it for hours.

With a small yelp, you looked down for the source of the biting, a small black panther cub the culprit. You cocked your head to the side. Wondering how in the world it even got here. Then again, how in the world did you get here?

You got up to your feet, using the tree behind you to help you, despite feeling somewhat weightless in this new place, the mound on your belly still kept you aware of how silly that feeling was.

Trying to look around, it seemed as though you were somewhere in the wild, free from the fingertips of civilization and untouched by that of humans even. All that lived in your line of sight was you, your growing baby, and the panther cub that suddenly stood on its two back legs in front of you.

As surreal and entirely unnatural such a thing was, you weren’t afraid, as if something inside you was telling you not to be scared. The cub slowly changed before you, you didn’t even remember blinking, but you suddenly saw a baby in front of you, sitting on the ground.

It looked eerily familiar, from its curly topped head to the dark brown eyes in its head. As you studied the child even more, you eventually bent down to be face to face, this bend having turned immediately into a sit of course.

“What are you doing here..?” You said, your voice no more than a whisper.

‘Do not speak to him.’ A voice told you.

You froze, the voice wasn’t familiar at all, and it didn’t even feel like it was around you, like someone had played it in your head. You didn’t jump either, everything that would have had your head spinning and think nig you were going crazy around you only made you feel as though it was natural. That this was all meant to happen.

You only nodded to the voice, turning your attention back to the child, who had slowly turned into someone who seemed to be 13-14. He looked like Erik, in an eerily similar kinda way. Was this him as a child? No, it couldn’t be, the child’s hair was different than Erik’s, and a different color.

Taking a second, it hit you, he had your hair. And your nose, and even your face shape. While he had Erik’s eyes, lips, and skin tone, he even had a birthmark on his arm that resembled the one you had.

This was your child. The same one brewing in your belly. You reached a hand down to your stomach only to hit the ground, looking down, your stomach was flatter, not completely but enough to show the absence of a pregnancy. You looked back up at the child who now looked 18.

You scrambled back a bit but immediately calmed down. He looked like you, he’d grown into his features and had locs, one in particular had the tip colored white, with face paint adorning his features. He extended a hand to you, his face still neutral.

Taking his hand, you could feel the calluses, he obviously had some kind of training as he grew. They reminded you of Erik’s. As you stood to your feet, the robe you once wore was gone and you were suddenly in a much fancier attire, you examined yourself and saw how the fabric fell perfectly over your curves and how well it fit your body shape. The glimmering gold and black accents could only shine in the permanent sunset in front of you.

Looking up once more, your son had become grown, you couldn’t even assume the age he’d turned into. He had Erik’s build, and what you could guess to have grown to 6’3 or so. There was a scar across the bridge of his nose and one down the side of his mouth. He gave you a smile and bent down to kiss the top of your hand, it was then that you saw the throne that had been hidden behind his large build. Your son released your hand and stood straight, walking backwards with his hands behind him to the throne, stopping just before it and sitting down, either hand on the arm rests of the throne.

‘King M’Jabe.’ The voice said.

~~~

You woke up with a gasp, sitting up too quickly until four hands held you, one on either arm and two on your back. Your breathing quickened as you looked around yourself, the ringing in your ears and the sounds of monitors beeping out of control filled your ears, slowly fading until you heard voices.

Erik was on your left and T’Challa was on your right, you looked at both of them and put a hand over your chest, doing your best to catch your breath as Erik asked you what happened, his voice obviously snitched on his current state, he’d cried, at least once. His voice was shaky and desperate, as if he’d waited ages for you to wake up.

It felt like you hadn’t been gone more than five minutes.

[repurpose-yourself]

Santa's Objectified Helpers 2 (6/7)

"It's always funny when someone else gets hurt, isn't it?" Chris asked pointedly.

Titus blankly stared at Santa, his mind consumed in thoughts with no way to articulate them at the moment. Rather, he sat across from Chris, his body stationary in a chair and unable to move.

"I suppose you can't answer. But that's fine with me. You're a pretty terrible person, so I can't imagine our conversation would have much depth to it," Chris said, before standing up and walking to the side of his desk, "Remember this person?"

A gray rectangle appeared over the desk. Slowly a blurry image appeared, which sharpened in appearance as Santa spoke. Titus didn't need clarity to know what the photo represented, though.

"I think you do," Chris remarked, "A bright and upcoming mind ready to take on the world, at least before this photo was taken. It's hard to change the world after a brutal attack left him reliant on a machine to live, isn't it? Nevermind that this man has no brain activity either."

Titus screamed profanities in his mind, wishing to bring harm to Santa for being imprisoned in his own body.

"You were a bright person too, until misguided decisions grouped you with a less than desirable crowd," Chris explained, though Titus didn't need it, "One thing led to another and you found yourself stomping all over this man's head just as they left a gay club. He didn't even have a chance to respond. A few blows to the body put him on the ground and you followed up with additional strikes to the head with your boots."

The image faded away and Santa returned to his desk.

"Just a pillar of society, aren't we?" Chris said, "I can't help this victim now. But I can bring an end to the terror you inflict upon the gay community."

Titus' vision slowly dipped to black...

***

"Stomp out hate?" a man said, looking down at a doormat, "That's a clever doormat... Don't mind if I do."

'Ow!' Titus wailed internally, feeling unfathomable weight press down without warning, 'Get off!'

In the background music played and people talked. Titus awoke inside a small entrance way, with a hallway that led into a crowd of people. On the other side was a door. Titus didn't understand what was going on, nor why he was seeing everything from so low.

'Where the hell am I?! And why can't I move yet?!' Titus yelled silently.

Suddenly the door opened and two men walked in, one best described as a twink while the other was broad chested and muscular. Both seemed on opposite sides of the spectrum, yet they made the perfect couple.

"Oh look... Stomp out hate," the slender one said, looking down at Titus.

"Well," the larger one said, taking the twink's hand, "Let's do our part."

Both grinned at the doormat and jumped into the air. Titus started screaming as two sets of footwear approached rapidly. Treads from slip-on shoes and aggressive boots landed squarely upon Titus, compressing the living doormat against the hard floor.

'Fuck my life!' Titus cried, 'You fucking queers!'

The two men walked off and joined the crowd. Titus was left recoiling from the substantial weight.

"Not a fan of being stomped on?" Chris' voice asked.

'Fuck you! You did this to me!' Titus responded fiercely, though internally.

"You did this to yourself," Chris replied frankly, "It's not pleasant being walked all over, is it?"

'Please!' Titus pleaded, 'Free me from this existence! I don't even understand how I could be turned into a doormat!'

"Understanding is not one of your strong qualities. And even if it was, that's not necessary anymore," Chris explained, "Just like how you robbed your victim of their life, you too will exist outside the scope of what you deem appropriate."

'I'm stuck this way? Ow!' Titus screamed as another customer stomped on the living doormat, 'Please! I don't want this!'

Titus waited for Chris' response but it never came. Only the door opening could be heard, leaving the living doormat to panic. Heavy hightops landed on the former human, carefully wiping the treads all over Titus' new existence. This simple action pulled at the doormat, leaving Titus to suffer in agony.

As the man stepped off, a distinct smell was left behind. Titus wanted to gag, realizing the filth of the world had transferred from the customer's footwear onto the living doormat.

'This is so disgusting! Somebody, please help me!'

[yikesitskennawrites]

Transitions-Chapter Thirty-Seven: Staying With Layla

Series Masterlist

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Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader

—

Layla lived about twenty five minutes away from your own building and about forty minutes away from your work. The brick-building was tall and had a row of four windows stretching from one end of the building to the other on each floor, a total of sixteen windows. There was a patch of bushes without leaves in front of the building and some green grass. A total of three concrete steps lead up to the entrance which had double brown wooden doors and golden knobs. Jake put the car into park and turned off the engine. You both sat in the quiet, waiting for the other to say something. You don’t know Jake very well, but you do think that he stole the car, especially when there’s photos of someone's animals and family members taped to the dash; but the question of his morals doesn’t leave your mouth; it doesn’t matter, does it? 

He exits the car and pulls open the back seat, grabbing the duffle bag Jake stole from Marc and swings it over his shoulder. The car door shuts and he walks around to your side, pulling open the door and holding it for you. He looks sick, his face is a little paler than usual and the bags underneath his eyes are more visible. He is suffering the consequences of Marc's actions. It probably isn't the first or the last time. You exit the car and he shuts the door, making sure the car locks so he won’t have to steal another one before he leads you up the steps and into the building. It has a dim hallway, the lighting wasn’t bright and the lack of natural light entering into the narrow walkway just made it feel more claustrophobic. You think the wall paper is green or maybe it’s paint, it's just too hard to tell. There were four doors in the hallway, two on each side. You have never been to an apartment complex with this small number of residents on each floor. It must be an old building.

At the end of the hallway was a small elevator and Jake walked straight towards it, not bothering to even glance at the photos of flowers hung on the walls or the welcome mats in front of residents' doors. The elevator looked old, but you think the owners of the building tried to refurbish it by painting over the metal doors with gold color paint, you can clearly see some spots that were scratched off and a rusted brown lie underneath. The elevator wobbles as the door shuts which causes your breath to hitch. There were five buttons for five floors, from the bottom was a basement level and the top was the fourth floor. Which was pressed and colored in a dim red. 

Shifting your eyes to the closed doors in front of you, you can see the blurry reflection of you and Jake. It was kind of looking like a funhouse mirror that was tampered with. There was no screen to show what floor you are on but rather the faint beeping with, what you can only assume, is the passing of each floor. The walls of the box had the same look of the funhouse mirror and chipped paint, you wonder how many times this elevator goes out of order, especially when it jolts as it comes to a stop and the doors slide open with a loud creaking noise. Does maintenance fix the elevator quicker than the people who work in your building? Or does it take weeks to months for them to come around and fix it?

Jake exits the elevator and you follow him, the hallway looks almost identical to the first floor except there are no photos of flowers or anything to help brighten up the place and make it look welcoming. But there is a window at the end of it that looks like it has a fire escape and it helps brighten up the walkway. Gray clouds cover up the blue in the sky, you think it was supposed to rain for the remainder of the week. He leads you to the second door on the left side of the hallway. A rusted number of sixteen was screwed into the door and below that was a small peephole. In your head, you did the math. There were four residents on the bottom floor and there's four floors. So four times four is sixteen, which makes Layla's number the final apartment. You aren’t surprised that Layla would choose a flat on the top floor and at the end of it, it protects herself from any possible intruders and gives her an advantage. 

Jake raises his hand and knocks once. The sound was loud to your ears in the small space and you almost wince because of it. You don’t hear any shuffling or noise in the apartment you’re standing outside of which makes you think Layla isn’t in there. You don’t think Jake called ahead to ask if she was in her apartment or out running errands whether that be another mission or grocery shopping; so when the door does crack open just a bit to show the chain lock and the peeking of Layla before slamming shut and opening just a moment later, you’re surprised she is there.

“What happened?” She asks as she takes one long look at you, eyes scanning your face before trailing over the rest of your body, searching for any visible injuries Stevens sweater couldn’t hide. The question makes your throat close and it becomes difficult to breathe. It’s a simple question, she wants to know what happened for you to make a sudden appearance without warning; but the answer is so complicated and you are terrified that she will hate you even more when she hears it. 

“Creo que es mejor que dejemos descansar al pequeño.” He says in return to her question. You watch her eyes flicker towards Jake before she steps back and holds open the door a little wider to let you through. Jake gently places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you through the doorway and into the small hallway of Layla's flat. The floors were a light wooden color, not the deep mahogany you were used to in your own place and Stevens. The kitchen was on your right, it was small and spacious, a vase of daisies rested on the counter. To your left was a supply closet door with you guessed, was where Layla stores brooms and mops and any other cleaning supply. 

The hallway opened up into a living room. A white couch that looks a bit too expensive for you to sit on faces the flat screen hanging on the wall.On either side of the couch were end tables with light stands resting on them. A bit to the right of the sitting room was a square dining table with a set of four chairs and papers and books covered it just like Stevens. Tucked into the back was a bookshelf full of old looking items, vases, small statues, and books with yellowed pages sat on the shelves. It wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion that these are trinkets from her adventures. To the far left of the room, the white curtains of the windows were open and tied back to allow more natural light to pass through the glass. 

Tucked into one end of the room was a door that was slightly open and you can see the ceramic sink against the wall which made you guess it was a bathroom. On the other end was a matching door that was also cracked open and you can see the bed sheets of the mattress on the box spring. Jake lets go of your shoulder and sets the bag onto the floor behind the couch and you stare at the television. The screen is dark and you can barely see your reflection in it. You know that Marc and Steven are staring back from it or any other possible surface, they were probably analyzing you in every possible moment since you admitted what you did, that you took a life and you want to die. What do they think of you? Should it matter?

You glance away from the screen and towards the adults in the room, Jake was sharing a look with Layla, one that you recognize all too well from the looks your own parents used to occasionally share. Talk with me in private, it said and Layla trails her eyes over to you. She takes you in one last time before she nods and gestures outside of the apartment. They walk to the exit and shut the door behind them. You’re kind of glad that Jake is the one to break the news to her because you don’t think that you can. You don’t want to see the pitying looks that may cross her features or the ones filled with realization and possible fear because if this human did this to somebody, they may do it to me. 

You don’t want to see the confirmation on her face of what you already know, that you are a murderer and you need to go to jail for your crimes. Everything bad that has happened is because of you and the dead eyes that have been staring at you without end since the mall agrees too. The man on the floor below you and wheezing through the hole in his throat voices his own agreement with the noise leaving his throat in gargles of blood and fighting for air. The next time that Layla and Jake will return through that door they both will be on the same page, both with the same knowledge of what you have done and both with some form of opinion on you. You already know what that opinion is: they hate you and they know you killed way too many people, it will be best to send you off back to the states and you will go without a fight.

There is too much blood on your young hands. There shouldn’t be any but you have it dripping off of you until it forms a lake and drowns everyone around you in it. You’re killing everyone just by existing. Soon, Layla and your neighbors will become more blood on your hands, it’s better for everyone if you’re just no longer around. Whether that means you move back to New York or you find what death has in store for you. Which do you deserve more? A longer life with guilt and behind bars for fraud and your remaining family members being told that you are alive after believing you're dead for seven years, two of which are post blip; or, whatever forever punishment death has for you?

You killed people, one of them still rests in your flat since it’s too bright outside to get rid of the body. That one person has been bleeding out and staining the floorboards and seeping through them. Literally decomposing in your apartment, and one of the thoughts that crossed your mind was that your deposit was never going to get returned and you are a terrible person for that. You just took a life and you were worried about your money being returned to you, you should be ashamed of yourself. You already were, but even more ashamed, you deserve so much worse than what you did to the people in the mall and the man you stabbed to death. 

Nine times, Jake said he saw nine stab wounds when the deity told you it would take eight. You remember stabbing him eight times, you even kept count so you wouldn’t do extra or do less and keep him suffering for a longer time. So where did the ninth stab wound come from? Did you black out for a moment or did you miscount? What happened to cause that ninth wound? What did you do? 

The door creaks open and closes while a pair of footsteps walk back towards you. You keep your eyes trained on the floor as they approach, here comes the pitying looks or the angry glares that you don’t want to see. You see Layla's feet before you hear her voice, she wore slippers with a bunny face on the ends of them. She was resting on her day off and you crashed it. She was recuperating from the mall yesterday and you show up to her doorstep unannounced and ruin it. She hates you even more, she can’t even get a break from you. 

“Sit for me, okay?” She asks gently, but the voice sounds loud to your own ears. You wince at the noise and walk around the couch before sitting on the edge of the cushions precariously so you won’t ruin them with your touch. You keep your eyes on your hands in your lap as you listen to the footsteps round the couch and stop in front of you. You can see the brown leather shoes that Jake is wearing, dry mud was splattered on the sides without removing your eyes from your hands. 

“Layla's going to take care of you, alright?” He says. “It’s just like before, only this time she’s going to take care of you here until you are ready to come back.” So, they’re trading you off like a problem child to their divorced parents in a Walmart parking lot. Nobody wants you and they all hate you. Just wait until Lauren finds out what you have done, the only normal person in your life will hate you too.  

“You have Marcs and Stevens number, if you need anything just call, alright, pequeño?” He says quietly. It was too quiet, his voice is usually rough and authoritative but this was too soft for him and you don't like it one bit. He should be screaming and yelling at you, he should be showing some form of anger or regret with you. He should be telling you how you killed all those people and to prepare yourself to be one of his targets for Khonshus fist of vengeance. But, no, he is being nice or just doing his job of protecting the system. Jake Lockley, Mister I Don’t Front Unless I Have To, was being present to drop you off at daycare.

“Do you want to talk to them before we go?” He asks. Your index finger picks at your thumb as you keep your eyes trained on your hand. You don’t think you can face them and say goodbye with everything that was said last night and this morning. They have seen what you’ve done and you don’t want to hear them call you a monster for it or tell you how they should have called the police on you the first day they met you; or even at that bar they were at last night. It was a mistake meeting you, you bring chaos to their lives and they bring it to yours too. It will be better to no longer be in their lives. They won’t have to babysit and worry about you anymore.

Cut your tangled strings with them and leave their lives. Make it stop hurting for yourself and for them. Besides that, whatever words that may fall past their lips will be lies because you can’t trust them. You don’t know if they were telling the truth when they said that they loved you; and even if they were, you don’t deserve it. It’s better to break things off now than to let them re-admit it while sober or try to shove it into your eardrums to make things worse between you. So, you let your silence give Jake an answer. You don’t know what his expression looks like because your gaze never strays from your thumb that you’re picking apart until it bleeds. 

“Okay,” He says. “I’ll see you around, kid.” He left just like that, there was no screaming, no yelling, no pointing fingers at how you murdered dozens of people. Nothing. Just the soft sound of his shoes on the wooden floor and the click of the door being shut. Jake Lockley, the man who entered your life by breaking your door handle and holding a knife to your throat, left it quietly and without a fight. Layla locks the door behind him, you hear the chain lock shut and the lock on the knob click in the silence of the apartment. There is no hum of Gus fish tank, or the sound of the neighbors next door stomping around in their flat. The traffic below was quiet since this place doesn’t have a busy road unlike the apartment complex you rent. 

The busyness of the place you lived in for the past two years is gone and this place is quiet, almost peaceful; and you should have been relaxed in it, but all you felt was anything but that. She crouches down in front of you before resting her knees on the fluffy gray throw rug. She rests her hands on her pajama pants covered thighs, her fingers splaying out on the surface; and once again, you’re reminded about how you ruined her break from the stress of being around you.

‘“How are you feeling?” She asks. You watch the crimson color rise from the small wound you caused on your thumb until it forms a small bubble. She’s just asking to be polite, to have some form of small talk before the inevitable flashing blue colors of the police cars below are reflected in the window. You think there should be more blood coming from the wound after all the problems you caused and all the lives you took. This little bit isn’t enough, the deity should have left you injured. They should have stayed out of it. They should have let you fend for yourself. You need to tell them to stay the fuck away from you even if you are on your death bed and dying. You don’t want anything to do with them.

“Did Taweret heal me?” You ask instead. Your voice sounds raspy like you haven’t spoken in days when in reality it was only an hour. 

“What?”

“Last night when I killed him, did she heal me?”

“I haven’t heard her say anything to me about it.” She says. That wasn’t enough for you, you needed to know.

“Ask her.” 

“I’m not going to ask her.” 

“Layla, I need to know.” You say. “Please ask her.” You don’t know if it was the begging in your voice or the crack that followed, but she does call for her goddess. It took a moment, but the presence that entered the apartment is gentle and warm, there is no pity of anxiety in your stomach or any knot tightening for you to be aware of her. This felt different to last night, Taweret is more soft whereas the other deity was a little more rigid. Kind of like a smooth paper with only a bit of wrinkles. Taweret brings a comforting feeling like a fresh blanket from the dryer or a warm pair of socks on a cold day. This presence was not threatening or had any underlying threats, it felt like she doesn’t want anything from you unlike Horus or the unknown god. Before Layla even asks, you just know that it wasn’t Taweret who healed you early this morning. 

“You heard?” She asks, the breeze that blows through the apartment makes the papers on the table drift to the floor and the curtains tied back move slightly. “She says that it wasn’t her.” 

“Then who was it?” You ask. “Does she know?” You both wait with baited breath. You don’t know what you’re going to do if she says yes and tells you who it is. What are you going to do? Go to their temple in Egypt and tell them to fuck off? Another warm breeze passes, this one feels like it goes right over your head and skims the top of it.

“She doesn’t.” She pauses and listens to whatever it is she’s saying. “She says that she keeps to herself, a lot of the gods and goddesses don’t talk to her since she’s been in the Duat for thousands of years.” Peachy. Of course the one shot that you have to figure out who this fucker is, doesn’t even know. 

“Taweret?” You say. Layla spares a glance at you before looking back towards the window. Your gaze follows her and you try to search for the goddess. A warm breeze brushes past your cheek as if she was replying, telling you to go on. “Don’t heal me when I’m injured.”

“Don’t listen to them.” Layla says, as she whips her head to look at you. Her brown eyes glare at you, silently telling you to shut up because you don’t have a clue for what you’re talking about. But, you do, you don’t want to be healed when you get hurt. You don’t want to cause any more debt for Layla even if you’re only going to be around awhile longer. Because you will leave her. Maybe she will hate you a little less if you refuse help and stop her from extending her time as an avatar to repay a debt to make you hurt less.

“No.” You state. “I’m serious, just leave me alone.”

“Are you hearing yourself, right now?” She asks. 

“Loud and clear.” 

“That is not your decision to make.” 

“It is not your decision to heal me.” You retort. “I don’t want to be healed.” She stares at you. You can tell that she is trying to figure something out, maybe trying to find the answers of the universe or trying to discover where everything went wrong. Maybe she’s trying to find the broken pieces of you and put you back together again like that old nursery rhyme. Humpty Dumpty breaks after a great fall and everyone tries to put them together again and they can’t. Nobody can put you together again, you are broken; and perhaps you were cracking long before they even noticed that you are damaged and now you are shattered. What do you do with broken things that can no longer be fixed? You throw them away.

She only looks away from you shortly to tell Taweret goodbye before she looks back at you. The warm presence has faded and it was just you and Layla. 

“Do you want to die?” She asks. It wasn’t a statement like Jake had said earlier, but a question and despite knowing that your neighbor had to talk to her out in the hallway; and told her what he knows, it still surprises you. The question should have been expected because you figured a conversation about your thoughts and feelings was coming up, but the confirmation that she needed to proceed was what surprised you.. 

“Thought Jake would have already told you I am deadass about that.”

“Don’t joke about wanting to die, it’s not funny.” She states and gives you a stern look before she slowly exhales. Her shoulders drop and her gaze softens. When you both lived together in Stevens place while Jake was gone on missions, sometimes you would stare at Layla in moments when she was too occupied with something. During those moments, she looked younger, her wrinkles would be relaxed and her shield down as she focused on whatever task at hand. Her brown eyes were content with whatever peace she was breathing through. But now, she looks older. Too old for her age, stress and grief and anger has worn her down and sculpted her into the person you are looking at now. 

“You are seventeen years old, you are still a child and it is up to me and everyone else in your life to make sure that you are okay.” She begins. “How are you feeling right now?” You think about telling her that you feel fine and that there's nothing to worry about because everyone wants to die at least once in their life whether it's because of embarrassment or something else. But you don’t tell her that. You also don’t tell her that you’re doing great and that you’re on top of the world, and nothing could take you off of it just to see if she will believe you. Not because of how convincing you are but because she wants it to be true so she won’t have to have this conversation with you.

What you do tell her is the truth, “Like shit.”

“Okay, well, that’s a start.” She says and pauses. You know that she is thinking of what to say and maybe she’s getting ready to tell you that the police are already on their way to take you into custody. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” She asks as you gently pinch the side of your thumb until the bubble bursts and trails down your skin. You watch the blood pool at the underside of your thumb before it drops onto your sweatpants. You stare at it for a moment, the red staining the fabric as she waits for your answer. You know that you should talk about it, confide in someone about how you let your phone screen dim and snooze when you decided not to call your neighbors. You should confide in someone about how you shoved a bleach pen into a intruder's eye and you could have walked out of your apartment without stabbing him in the neck eight times- possibly nine- but didn’t. 

You should tell someone about how you killed all those people in the mall because you were too jealous and busy hanging out with a previous friend. You should tell someone about the words your neighbors told you when they were drunk and how it affected you, but you won’t. 

“Table thief?” She says quietly, the nickname steals your breath and you feel like you were sealed in a tomb. “What happened? Talk to me, baby.” She places her hand on top of your bleeding one and smears the trail and she doesn’t seem to notice. You can’t help but feel like that marked her for death if she wasn’t already. She is too kind and too caring for you and that’s what is going to get her killed if you can’t break things off with her. Maybe she is acting this way just so you feel like you can trust her. 

“You have people rooting for you,” She promises. “We all want to see you get better.” Your eyes stare at the back of her hand as she rubs her thumb gently against yours. You know that she means to be comforting but you feel like you’re poisoning her by being around her, suffocating her and everyone else in your life. It was only a matter of time before they had enough of you.

“What happened?” She asks, her voice too gentle. Too soft. Too much. It was too much for you, everything was and she will never understand and you can’t tell her because you can’t trust her. You cannot trust- a breath shudders out of you and you didn’t know you were crying until you heard a sob leave your mouth. It was too loud to your own ears and it made your head hurt, but another sob leaves you in a gasp and the woman in front of you reaches up with both hands and grasps your own, knitting her fingers between yours. Too familiar, too much.

“I can’t-” Your voice breaks off and you feel snot trailing down your upper lip. “I can’t trust you.” One of her hands lets go of yours for a moment, and you think she was pulling away, finally accepting that you really are broken and she was going to tell you how this was all a ploy to keep you in one spot until the authorities arrive. But instead, she cups your cheek and tilts your head up a bit so you are staring at her instead of the crimson red spot on the pants you are borrowing. If you didn’t know any better you would say that she looks sad. Her brown eyes are light with small golden flecks in them and her lips are tilted down a bit.

You expect her to get angry at you for your honesty, Marc would, but she doesn’t. She holds your face in her hand for a minute and she looks at you. Looks, not stares, it finally feels like she was noticing the pieces that you are and that makes your throat let out a small choked sound. 

“What makes you think that you can’t trust me?” She asks softly. You sniffle, she doesn’t sound upset or blaming you for everything that went wrong this weekend. She wasn’t telling you that you’re a murderer or that you could have saved the children in the mall. She was asking about what went wrong between you and her, and it seems like she wants to fix it and you don’t think that you can.

“I’ve been telling the truth since day one.” You whisper, your voice loud enough for her to hear but soft enough that it doesn’t cause the pounding in your skull to increase. “You lied to me about being an avatar. You said that you weren’t one anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” She says genuinely. The sound of how honest she is hurts you even more, why couldn’t she be this truthful with you in the first place?

“And you didn’t tell me that you went out on these missions. You told me you were in Switzerland for a job, not being Tawerets avatar.” 

“It was a job,” She says. “The mission was a job.”

“The mission was not worth this.” You tell her and you don’t know how to express to her that the mission was not worth her life or what you had with her. It wasn’t worth your friendship, it wasn’t worth the trust you once had in her. She purses her lips, looking at you for something that you don’t quite know of. 

“I’m sorry,” She repeats genuinely and it damn near ruins you even more. It was not fair how honest she sounds when you feel like you can’t trust her. She looks away, her eyes resting on something in the distance. Her hand still cups your cheek and her other hand is holding your own. You wait for her to pull away, and maybe walk out, go to a bar and drink until she forgets; but she doesn’t. She holds onto you until she is ready to speak again and you think about pulling away to recline into yourself and away from her, but you don’t.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks. The question nearly startles you and her brown eyes looking into your own makes you want to shrink underneath her gaze. It wasn’t a harsh look or an angry one, but one with something you need to reject for yourself so it won’t hurt too badly when you leave. It was one full of worry and love and you can’t accept it, you cannot allow yourself to have it.

She adds, “You don’t have to believe me or listen to me, but I just feel like I need to get this off of my chest.” You swallow as you feel her breath softly blow out from her lips and brush against Stevens sweater. 

“I was worried that you wouldn’t make it out of the mall yesterday. I was so mad at myself that I asked if you wanted to go with me and I brought you there. I should have taken better care of you. I should have swept you off of your feet and brought you outside where it was safer rather than to let you stay with me because I was too worried that there might be more people who wanted to hurt others out there.” She bites her lip, “I should have done everything in my power to ensure your safety rather than to allow you to stay. When I saw that man on top of you, his hands around your neck, I-” Her voice cracks and she pauses, inhaling slowly and releasing a shuddering breath. “I didn’t- I just couldn’t think. Jake got there before me and I didn’t know if you were breathing and- and I thought I lost you-” She sniffles and openly cries in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t do better.” She says, her lip wobbles and tears drip off of her jawline and onto her pajama pants. “I promise that I will do better.” You feel her thumb rub against your cheekbone before you realize that she let go of your hand and she was pulling you  onto the floor to hug you. Your knees hit the ground with a thump and her arms wrap around you in a hug, she smells like Stevens laundry detergent and that causes you to think that she went out of her way to buy the same exact one that your neighbors get at the store. Somehow, you end up being cradled in her arms rather than hugged, your head against her left shoulder and her left arm supporting your back while her right holds you closer to her. 

You sniffle, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to cry by telling yourself that you don’t deserve to. You’ve done too much crying for yourself, every time you are around Layla or your neighbors you seem to become emotional and let loose on the waterworks. All those people you killed want to cry too and they can’t, instead their families are crying for them. You should be ashamed of yourself. 

“I want to help you get better and be there for you.” She admits quietly, bending down and placing a kiss to your forehead. “I want to see you flourish and bloom and grow.” The lump in your throat is hard to swallow around, you feel terrible. You really want to believe her. You really want to try again with her, but you’re so worried about what the future has in store for you. What if she leaves you? What if the relationship you have developed with her is nothing but ash? What if she’s lying about this too? What if you lose her too? The last question leaves your mouth in a tumbled haze of a mixture of sobs and mumbles. You see her face through blurry eyes filled with tears and she ever gently holds you closer to her. 

“What was that?” She asks and proceeds to tell you that she didn’t quite catch what you said. 

“I’m going to lose you too.” You say, the words were muffled in her shirt and you look up at her with wide eyes. She softly frowns at your statement.

“You’re not going to lose me, baby.” She tells you. “I promise I will be right next to you through everything.” You sniffle, wetting her shirt with snot and tears and she doesn’t seem to mind one bit. You swallow the words that she doesn’t know how long everything will last. That she can’t promise to be next to you if she gets torn away from you by some outside force. That she can’t promise to be with you if you’re fated to go down on a sinking ship because she will drown with you. You’ve been this person for so long that change doesn’t seem possible. You’ve been stuck in this sadness and loneliness that it feels like it is forever rooted to you and this is the person you will be until you die and perhaps even after that. 

What if you can’t change? What if you can’t get better? What if you try and fail over and over again and you are still the same person when you started? The questions feel overwhelming and suffocating that you didn’t know it was climbing out of your throat until your voice is loud to your own ears and you hear the question as bright as day. 

“But what if I can’t?” You cry out. “What if this is the person I am for the rest of my life?” She looks down at you with too soft eyes and she too gently caresses your face with her right  hand. 

“Change is scary,” She admits quietly. “But I know that you can do it. You just need to want to do it in order for it to work.” You’ve been sad for so long that it’s become more of a safety blanket than an emotion. It was something constant that you found comfort in and now she was asking for you to unravel yourself from it. You sniffle again and look at the popcorn ceiling behind her head. You don’t deserve to feel comforted but you also don’t deserve to get better when the people that you killed don’t have that opportunity. The pad of her thumb wipes away a trail of tears running down the side of your face and into your ear. 

“How about this?” She says gently, “We’ll look for therapists that will be good for you.” It kind of surprises you to hear how committed she is to this. You really don’t deserve her.

“We?” You ask quietly.

“You’re not alone in this and I’m not leaving you alone.” She tells you and your heart hurts along with your head. It wasn’t fair for how she’s willing to stick with you on a sinking ship and try to bring you to safety when you’re literally stuck to the floorboards of it. You had this conversation with her just yesterday on the phone, she asked you if you thought about going to therapy and you told her that it wasn’t for you at the moment. Now, it seems like she’s not giving you a choice and you don’t feel up to arguing with her on this.

“What about the doctors looking at my papers too closely?” You ask. What if they notice the fraud? What if your name is somehow familiar to them and they trace it back to New York and they see that you are presumed dead? What if they try to look for medical records for you and they find out that you did some illegal shit?

“I have ties.” She says. “I got some contacts from people who know people and they owe me a few favors.” She pauses and shifts her hold on you a bit, you wonder if her arm or legs were going numb from your body cutting off her blood circulation. “It’s going to be awhile for that, so until then, I think you should go to a blipped support group.” Your eyes trail back to her face and you blink at her. But they didn’t do what you did, they didn’t fraud papers and move a thousand miles to another continent, and you tell her that. She gently rolls her eyes, not in exasperation but rather how different you think you are to anybody else.

“They have similar experiences to you.” She says. “They lost five years of their life too and they are seeking help for it even two years later. It’s never too late to look for help.” You nod slowly. “I think I saw some flyers for a meeting on Tuesday in a café. I’ll look up local meetings in a bit, alright?” You hum, sleep was pulling at your eyes. 

“I have work tomorrow.” You mumble. Tomorrow is Monday and you’re going to have to go back to work like you just had a normal weekend. Lauren will definitely be chatting about what happened at the mall and asking if you heard anything new about it; and you’re going to have to tell her you don’t know anything. Acting is exhausting.

“Not anymore you don’t.” She says, “You’re taking the week off and calling in sick.” You open your mouth to protest because how else will you distract yourself from the mourning of your relationship with your neighbors and the actions of this weekend; but you shut it because what was the point in arguing with someone who you know will win? You try to tell yourself that this is all a ruse just so it won’t hurt as much when she inevitably leaves just like your neighbors.

“Did you eat today?” She rubs your back gently and you shake your head. She’s being too nice to you, she’s going to dump you the moment you fall asleep, you tell yourself. “Are you hungry?” Not really, you shake your head. Your stomach has not growled or groaned to signal you of how hungry you are. Even if you were starving, you don’t think you could hold down anything because of the guilt consuming you. 

She frowns, "When was the last time you ate?” Yesterday, before the mall. You ate Stevens vegan pancakes which will probably be the last thing you will ever have that was made by him. Just yesterday, they were fussing over you to wear thermal socks and the hole in your shoe and to wear a thick jacket to keep warm from the cold air, and now they left you in the care of someone who will eventually leave you too.

“Baby?” She asks, “When was it?” And quietly, you tell her and she releases a sigh. “You’re going to eat something before you go to bed.” She says and you think about protesting, telling her no and that you’ll eat when you wake but you don’t instead, you admit the thing that has been on your mind in the last twenty-four hours.

“I don’t deserve to.” You say, nearly letting the statement be muffled by her shirt, but deciding at the last moment that you’re only going to say it once so you won’t have to repeat it. She looks at you incredulously.

“Who told you that?” She asks. “Who told you that you don’t deserve to eat?” Nobody really, but yourself.

“I killed people.” You tell her, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

“You didn’t kill anybody, baby.” She breathes out. That was a lie, you killed those teenagers and the parents of that baby in the mall, you killed everyone who didn’t make it out. You killed the man in your flat, you stabbed him to death.

“I killed the man in my apartment.”

“You did it out of self-defense.”  She tells you, “He was going to kill you if you didn’t kill him first.” You wonder if Jake told her that or she was trying to convince herself that you had no choice.

“I could have walked away.” You admit. “I incapacitated him and I could have left and called you or Marc and I didn’t.” You didn’t because you felt like you couldn’t. You didn’t because you were worried that he would go back to the cult and send others after you or your neighbors or Layla and hurt them. You add quietly after a gap of silence that felt like it stretched on forever, “I didn’t want him to take you guys away from me too.” She looks down at you with sad eyes that you feel like you don’t deserve. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She tells you and you tuck your face into her shirt to hide away from her. The scent of her clothing smelled exactly like your neighbors who left you and it makes your heart ache for them.

—

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Locked Away

ai-less whumptober23 day 27- Forgotten/ Locked away/ Immortal Whumpee fandom- Danny phantom TW- nothing summary- Sam can't shake the feeling that she needs to visit the Fenton house

ao3 ailesshwhumptober23 masterlist part 2 of AHINWTG

Ever since that night, when they’d spoked with the spirit Phantom, Sam had been having dreams. None of them were very clear, blurry faces or spots around town, the feeling of electricity. But one thing that had come up more than once was the Fenton house.

The Fenton house had stood empty for years. Or at least that's what everyone said. But the house hadn’t been sold, and it didn’t even look like it had been vandalized. The little Sam had heard about the house was that when the Fenton adults had died of old age, their daughter had visited for the funeral before leaving and never coming back. 

Several years later the City Committee had tried to track her down once to see if she’d sell the house, but they found that she’d died in a car accident.

No one approached the house. In fact, the houses to either side also stood empty.

Sam had considered exploring it before, but it just seemed like such a normal house. Sure, it was a strange situation and the houses to either side were empty but… Actually, why hadn’t she ever done it? She could faintly remember standing in front of the house before but neer one had she approached it.

Sam squared her shoulders. She was no coward. She stuffed a flashlight in her backpack and left her house. As she approached the Fenton house a sense of dread started to fill her, her body tensed and when she stood in front of the house her breathing speeded up. Subconsciously, she found herself turning around and waking a few steps away. When she realized it, she froze before gritting her teeth and walked quickly around the side of the house so that she could break in through the back. 

She felt cold and her whole body was thrumming with dread. The lock was easy to pick and she ignored the dread and stepped into the house.

She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. But with the intense dread that permeated the place, the last thing she’d expected was a house that looked so…normal. The furniture wasn’t even covered in white sheets. It was like after the adult Fentons had died, no one had stepped foot in the house. She walked through the little hallway that connected the backdoor to the living room. 

There was a dust covered photograph on the wall and Sam wiped the dust off. When she finally got a good look at the picture, she inhaled sharply. There were four figures in the picture. A large man, a slight woman, and a red haired girl. The fourth figure was unrecognizable beneath the scratch marks that covered that section of the photo. 

Could that be Phantom? Was this why she was dreaming of the Fenton house after speaking with the spirit?

She continued into the house, the dread increasing but she shoved it down. She entered the kitchen and thankfully there was no rotting food. The Fenton daughter probably took care of that at least.

As she looked around she felt drawn to a cabinet next to one wall. She couldn’t tell why, but she felt that there was something behind it. Something calling her. 

It takes a while, first to move everything in the cabinet to the table and counters and then to wiggle the cabinet far enough from the wall that she could shine her flashlight behind it. 

There was a door. She stared, for she’s not sure how long, before she finished moving the cabinet out of the way.

There’s no doorknob and there’s a board over it that’s been nailed to the wall.

It takes some time, but after looking around she found a hammer and was able to pry the nails out and remove the board.

Then she just stood there, looking at the door.

Finally, she opened the door and a wave of cold air rushed over her. There’s a stairway. She shivered, but took a step down. The cold increased the further down she went, but she only quickened her step so that she wouldn't stop.

As she approached the bottom of the stairs she started to see what looked like lab tables. There are boxes around the edges of the room and dust covered tools on the table. There’s some trash on the ground and some pieces of broken equipment scattered around. 

When she reached the bottom of the stairs her eyes landed first on a large empty hole in one wall. There were severed wires coming from it. She glanced around and realized that there’s a strange glow coming from beneath a tarp placed over what looks like a large crate or something. 

She walked over, shivering and wishing she’d brought a jacket. 

She tugged at the tarp, and when it finally fell free she stumbled back. That was a glowing green cage. 

Then she saw the lump lying at the center of the cage and gagged. That was a body. 

Then the body lifted its head and looked right at her.

She screamed.

Sam wasn’t proud of herself, but she raced out of the basement, up the stairs and out the open front door. 

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.

What was that?

She umped down the porch and had almost made it to the sidewalk when she stumbled and fell. In front of her hand, lying on the grass, was the planchet. She bit back another scream, and scrambled to her feet before racing away, not stopping until she was safe in her own room.

The next day, she couldn’t help making her way to the Fenton's street. She stopped far away, but she still stumbled back when she noticed the front door was shut. That was the door she had run out of. She hadn’t closed it. And now that she thought about it, she had neer opened it either.

She turned and raced the rest of the way to school.