#so i doubt anyone has missed the announcement at this point

[wosoamazing]

Allergic Pt 2

Warnings: Sickness, Flu, Vomiting A/N: Sorry it's only short, just a bit busy and also know this was wanted so thought short was better than nothing. Italics = Spanish

You woke up to Alexia’s gentle shaking, “y/n, get up” you just wanted to sleep, the itchiness and hives had gone but you still felt sick and tired, you groaned and rolled to face the opposite direction. “We need to go to the doctor, you need to get up,” “Can’t I just sleep?” You moaned, “Sì, after we see the doctor.” Reluctantly you got dressed and into the car.

-

“We’ll need to send her for an allergy test, but I think it's just one of your simple everyday Allergic reactions.” Alexia huffed at his response, before dragging you out early, you convinced her to let you go to training and watch, you told her you would get bored at home.

_____

You were sitting on the floor in the gym, next to Mapi, watching the girls train, when you started to feel really sick again and before you could warn anyone you were throwing up all over the ground and Mapi.

Everyone turned around and saw the commotion, Alexia immediately came over to you to comfort you, while Ingrid was helping Mapi up, Lucy was grabbing a bucket and the rest of the girls were directed out by Kiera and Aitana.

“Do you need anything? Any help?” Kiera asked coming back in, “Can you get the medics, I doubt very much that this is a simple allergic reaction.” Alexia asked as she rubbed your back as you continued to throw up, you had started to sway slightly, becoming weaker, as you heaved your stomach contents up. As you finally finished throwing up your knees suddenly buckled underneath you, and Alexia caught you lowering you to the ground, she sat behind you, supporting you as your full body weight leant against her.

“Ale,” you breathed out weakly “I know Bebita, it's okay, I’m here, the medics will come and see what is wrong, we’ll fix you up and get you feeling better. But I’m here, and I won't leave you again until you’re 100% better.”

One of the medics came in and did some checks, “I think she also has the flu, we will give her some anti-nausea medication so hopefully she stops vomiting as she is getting dehydrated, but you should take her home, and just try to get her to sleep it off.”

_____

“Don’t worry it’s just us,” Alexia announced as she helped you walk into the house and over to the couch, Olga came out of her office to see what was happening,

“Oh, is everything okay, why are you home?” “Bebita is sick, she threw up on Mapi, the doctors said it's probably the flu too, so they gave her anti-nausea medication, said to bring her home and get her to sleep, and fluids,” Alexia rattled off going through her mental checklist.

“No but why are you home? You knew I was working from home today, I could’ve picked y/n/n up,” Olga was surprised Alexia had brought you home, usually she would call Olga to pick you up if you ever needed to leave earlier than her for some reason, it was unlike Alexia to miss training for any reason, especially considering it was the first training day since the game on the weekend. “Bebita is sick,” Alexia snapped at her girlfriend, perplexed. 

“Okay,” Olga said, not knowing how to respond to her girlfriend's absurdity. As Alexia went to sit down next to you Olga gave her a stern look, even though you had a shower to get cleaned up at training, however Alexia hadn’t bothered, her one focus being on you and getting you better, meaning she was still sweaty and gross from training. “Shower,” Olga ordered as she pointed to the general direction of their bathroom, Alexia pouted at her girlfriends orders, “now,” she quickly scampered off to their bedroom, which caused you to laugh, however laughing wasn’t a good idea as your laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit, “It’s okay, don’t worry,” Olga reassured you as she sat down next to you and rubbed your back, “water,” she said as handed you your bottle after you had finished coughing. After you had finished drinking you moved so that you could lay down, you were on your stomach and your head was in her lap, she adjusted her position so you would be more comfortable and she turned one of the current games on as she started to softly scratch your back with one hand, with the other she messaged Alexia, asking her to get somethings you would most likely need before she came back.

“Ale are you okay?” Olga asked as Alexia walked back into the lounge with everything Olga had requested for you, she was looking a little flushed and also a little pale. “I’m fine,” she huffed out in annoyance, “do you want anything? I’m going to get a drink for y/n,” she said, voice raspier than usual, “I’m okay, thank you,” Olga replied with a soft smile, not wanting to push her girlfriend further.

A harsh cough was heard from the kitchen and it suddenly all made sense, to Olga. “Can I go stay with Mapi and Ingrid?” you asked as you shifted your position so you could look at her, sick Alexia was definitely not someone people would choose to be around normally let alone when you yourself were sick.

“I’ll message them,” as she finished talking and went to reach for her phone, a few more harsh coughs were heard from the kitchen, “are you sure you’re fine?” “As I said before, I am absolutely fine.”

[thevillainswhore]

Perverse Desires

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Assigned an undercover mission, you’re partnered up with the bane of your existence, Bucky, to pay a visit to a s-ex club. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Smut (s-ex club, oral f receiving, f-ingering, nipple play, voyeruism, exhibitionism, degradation)

A/N: unbeta’d, dividers by saradika

Um, idk where this came from tbh, enjoy tho x

“Are you sure I’m the right person for this, Cap?”

The mission brief Steve handed over to you had stunned you in all honesty. You had been on numerous undercover missions for the team in the past, so there was no doubt in your mind or anyone else’s that you were capable for the job. It was your speciality - having a knack for being precise with discrete sufficiency and perfect timing to be able to get in and get out without making a fuss. But, this was totally new, even for you.

“Agent, I have no concern whether you’re fit for this job. I know it’s… different.” Steve clears his throat and you know this is as awkward for him as it is for you. “But, you were highly recommended and you have a- um, how d-do I say this? You, er-“

Tony interrupts Steve’s rambling from his seat in the corner of the office you were all situated in, decidingly having enough of watching his co-worker stumble from embarrassment.

“What Captain prude is trying to say, sweetheart, is that you have the right look for the job - great features, killer body - y’know? You’ll draw the target out no problem.” He finishes his explanation by throwing a wink paired with a smug smirk at Steve’s flushed cheeks.

“Yes. Thank you, Tony.” The grimace on Steve’s face has you desperate to laugh at his unease, but you manage to keep it in, eager to get out of this office soon as possible. “Your skills and experience are also compatible with the nature of this mission, Agent - it’s imperative we don’t mess this up.”

Skimming over the mission brief once more, you take in the role you have to play. An exclusive member of a popular underground sex club that’s been flagged up by Fury for suspicion of covering up a huge drug ring. Target ‘Antonio Maxwell’ - the leader the Avengers were looking to take down. While it wasn’t a world-ending level threat, the new drug allegedly supplied by Maxwell had already implemented significant damage and a high number of mysterious death cases to those in contact with him, concerning enough for higher ups to ask for help with this.

That’s where you came in.

You had enough background knowledge of ring leaders and crime bosses to call point on this - having worked undercover multiple times in this specific area over your years as an agent. Knowing how men like this worked and their strategies to cover their tracks was your forte. This would be a piece of cake for you. Yeah, the sex club element was a new challenge for you, but you were up for it.

“Okay boys. I’m in.”

Pleased hums and mumbled chatter from Steve and Tony as they finished up the paperwork with your agreement faded to the distance as you read till the bottom of the page of the brief - a new detail you must have missed before catching your eye and making you frown in confusion. Lifting your gaze to the men, you question the two of them one more time.

“Um- guys, it says here I’ll be working with a partner? Can I ask who it is?”

And just as Steve and Tony throw each other a worried look that has your eyes growing wide with realisation, you hear the door click open, a tall, beefy figure joining the room to announce his presence.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

“Sorry I’m late Punk, what did’ya need?”

Bucky Barnes.

“Y’know you don’t have to look so happy to see me dollface, I know how much you love spending time with me.”

Hell didn’t have shit on this.

Barnes is the literal bane of your existence. Constantly a pain in your ass since he had nothing better to do with his days than annoy you. Avenger you may not be, but the amount of time you still have to spend around him is ridiculous. Training, gym, drills. He just seems to be in your presence 24/7 and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing it on purpose. His teasing and childish remarks at your capability to do your job always has you biting your tongue around him. Frustration leading you to walk away from what you were previously doing, or causing you to snap in anger and scream at him in front of the other recruits - smug smile plastered over the bastard’s face knowing he’d won, yet again.

Bucky was unbearable.

You are also possibly the only one in the entire Shield initiative, who hadn’t fallen for his charm or swooned over him - women and men actually falling over their feet just at the sight of him - never mind what they did to actually have a scrap of his attention.

Sickening.

And so you believe it’s because of this reason, Barnes has made it his business to make sure every day is torture for you. His fragile masculinity unable to comprehend that you’re just not into him. Not desperate enough to whittle your entire being to admiring him.

Even if he did have them ocean blue eyes you occasionally got lost in.

Where the hell did that come from?

“Just because we’re paired together Barnes, doesn’t mean we have to speak - let’s just get this mission done with and go back home. Sooner this is over the better.”

Bucky’s mock gasp at your scolding only boils your blood hotter.

“Okay, first of all, ouch, I thought we were friends, baby.” His low chuckle and his pet names have you fighting the war going on between your cunt and your head.

“And second of all, we kinda have to talk. It’s part of the mission - the whole sex crazed relationship we got going on to be exclusive members of the club, remember? Silly bunny, I know your head gets a little fuzzy sometimes, but catch up dollface, you’re slacking.”

Okay, that shouldn’t be making my panties wet.

Huffing a frustrated sigh and ignoring his efforts to rile you up, you snatch the mission brief out of the compartment of the car and place it over your legs to read it over one more time before reaching your destination. Not giving Bucky the satisfaction of seeing your thighs rub together to stop the ache in your pussy and the butterflies in your stomach.

“There’s a good girl.”

Fuck.

The tacky neon signs and the disco lights of the bar you arrive at almost give you a headache worse than Barnes did on a bad day - you know this is a front to their downstairs adult party.

Stepping out of the car in your knee high leather boots is a task, but you make it look effortless as you smoothly swing your legs round and stand up, shuffling your tight, mini black dress down to cover as much of your ass as possible. Your outfit had to match the vibe of the character you were playing and you didn’t sell her short.

Bucky, however, got the better end of the stick in his full black suit. Top three buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his broad chest with a smattering of hair.

Stupid fucking Barnes and his stupid, slutty chest.

Closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath to calm your headspace for the mission, you fail to notice the silent ex-assassin creep up beside you and whisper in your ear, “Last minute nerves, dollface?”.

Your eyes open wide in shock at the feel of his breath against your neck, goosebumps running down your arms and you push down the urge to shiver. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ, do you mind? A bit of personal space would be nice please”, turning your head towards Bucky, you realise too late how close he is to you, noses almost bumping together as his intense gaze pins you to your spot.

“Can’t start getting all jumpy on me now, baby bunny. Thought you were good at your job.”

You can nearly feel the motion of his lips moving as he speaks. How easy it would be to just move that tiny bit closer to finally know if they’re as soft and plump as they look.

You’re better than this, he’s making you look weak - that’s his plan.

Your leather heels click as you walk away from him, tearing your body out of danger and berating yourself for acting just like those back at the compound, the lovesick recruits who put Bucky Barnes on a pedestal. You would not be like them. Not in a million years.

You don’t see Bucky cock his head as he watches your hips sway side to side, but you definitely hear his low whistle in reference to your ass - his grunt of laughter following soon after when you stick your middle finger up over your shoulder at him.

Security protocol of the club doesn’t take as long as you thought it would, the tech department handling your fake identity documents with the utmost care to ensure there would be no issues.

Now, you stood at the ominous red door at the end of the hallway, about to be let into the most prestigious sex club known. You couldn’t say you were totally ready, the natural fear of the unknown rattling your psyche. Yet, you didn’t let it show. Face stoic with a subtle sultry undertone to enhance your allure.

Bucky’s coded knocks on the door echoes through the hallway, his cold metal hand snaking over your waist and squeezing the meat of your hip. If the door hadn't opened as quick you would have stomped on his foot.

Would of served the fucker right.

And soon enough, with a private spoken password, only sent to the invited elite, you were in.

Holy. Fuck.

Had Bucky not kept his arm around your waist you would have fell flat on your ass.

Everywhere you looked had your heart beat erratically speeding up. Cocks. Tits. Pussys. All of it was on show without a care in the world. Threesomes, gangbangs, doms and subs. Any sexual position or kink your mind could conjure up was playing out in front of you - the glow of the red strobe lights highlighting the sweat, spit and cum covering numerous naked bodies.

The music blasting over the speakers had no chance of silencing the high pitched moans and needy whimpers of pleasure. Whips smacking against skin and leather cuffs clinking against railings - you didn’t know how to process your senses going haywire.

“What’s a matter, dollface? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen a cock before.”

You don’t think you could have suppressed the tingles shooting through your nerves at Bucky’s use of the word ‘cock’, the image already engraved in your mind of you squirming in his hold as he tells you his filthy thoughts.

Bitch, now is not the time.

Right, you had a mission to complete and you couldn’t fuck this up.

“Shut the fuck up Barnes. We didn’t come here to fuck around and argue, so you scour the left side of the room and I’ll take the right - if you see Maxwell then communicate through the coms.” Without listening to what would without a doubt be another jab at you from Bucky, you stepped away and left him alone, praying that a moment away from him would clear your head.

It had been at least an hour of searching, still no sign of Maxwell or at least any type of drug dealings you could snap a picture of for evidence. The ache ever present in your feet from the six inch leather boots. You had scoured the entirety of your side, ignoring the clapping of wet skin and grunts of feral men. You just needed a minute to rethink your strategy and come up with a new plan - something worthy enough to draw Maxwell out of his hiding spot for the night.

Stepping into the nearest open plan room, you lean against the wall and rub your temples in an attempt to get your brain flowing. Not noticing the growing crowd gathering to watch the spectacle on the sofa in the middle of the room. You really hadn’t paid attention to the man laying a woman down and spreading her legs for everyone to get a good view, too preoccupied with your own situation.

It only registered what was happening when you heard the first breathy whine of a woman, slowly lifting your head to witness a man licking her pussy in languid strokes, thumbs holding her folds open to suck her clit.

Shit, this is really happening.

It also occurred to you that the woman kind of looked like you - same hair colour and body type, enough to have you imagining it was you in her position.

You swallowed the growing knot in your throat, the arousal pooling in your lacy underwear creating a sticky mess. Chest heaving up and down as the scene before you had your breaths coming in heavier.

What the fuck am I doing?

You had never counted yourself as a voyeurist. You most definitely were not inexperienced and had experimented plenty in the bedroom with partners, but this was a total new sensation for you. Watching someone else bask in the pleasure their partner was bringing them, legs trembling uncontrollably. It was really doing it for you.

Without permission, you found yourself stepping closer, greedy to be just that tiny bit nearer to the main event. Your mouth stayed open as you placed your hands on both of your arms, licking your lips with raw need.

As you got a closer look at the man, you took in his mid length brunette hair, tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He had a broad stocky build, beefy and probably big enough to tower over you should he stand up. Wait…

He looks like Bucky.

You shifted on the balls of your feet at your new epiphany, shaking in anticipation on whether to stay and watch or leave.

Surely it couldn’t hurt to watch a little, right?

Bucky was growing fed up with the lack of leads on his hunt for information. No sightings of drugs and no clue where the leader of the drug ring was. He guesses you were still searching on your end too, a silent line on his com alerting him you’d found nothing as well.

He should probably go check to see how you’re doing.

While Bucky knows how irritated he makes you, it wasn’t his intention to make you dislike him, believe it or not. In fact, he had the biggest crush on you and just didn’t know how to deal with it. It’s true he really is used to most people gawking in lust over him and the endless invitations to go out for a drink. So when he first observed your blatant disregard for him, it sent him into a frenzy, powerless to his instant attraction for you. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you, even if it had you wanting to pummel him into the ground.

You’re cute when you’re angry, sue him.

And he’s not stupid enough to not comprehend the tension between you, you’re just unwilling to give in - don’t want the shame of contradicting yourself and falling for him like the rest of them.

Silly little bunny, you’d give in soon enough.

So imagine his surprise when he silently walks into the next room to find you there, hand trembling against your neck as you watch a man sloppily eat a woman’s pussy, teeth biting your lower lip to stop any noise from coming out of your mouth.

His naughty little minx, getting off by watching other people fuck. He was impressed.

Bucky wouldn’t have pegged you as a little voyeur. He can’t say he’s disappointed though.

It’s times like this where Bucky praises his super hearing from the serum, low chatter from the upper floor has him pulled out of his thoughts of you and sneaking a glance up to see a middle aged man leaning over the open plan railing and looking directly out at you. Maxwell.

Fuck, he was onto you.

Options speed through Bucky's head as he quickly concocts a plan to kill two birds with one stone. Throwing the target off your scent and getting to have some fun with you.

Time to play, babydoll.

Glued to the scene in front of you, your surroundings blur, mission forgotten as you focus on the sounds of the woman’s sloppy wet cunt, obscene squelching from the man’s thick fingers that fuck her pussy and her juices spraying out.

All the more reason for the loud gasp that escapes you as a cold hard hand wraps around your throat and drags you back into a firm chest, the whir of fingers squeezing the sides to slightly cut off your airway. Warm breath tickling the curve of your neck as electricity shoots through your body.

“Who’d have thought a stuck up little bitch like you enjoys something as dirty as this, huh?”

Shit.

“You’re a filthy fuckin’ slut, you know that baby? Y’know how disgusting you are getting off on this?” You can’t help crossing your legs to try and create some friction to ease the ache in your cunt and the needy whimpers that echo across the room even with Bucky's hand choking you - blending with the slick noise of the woman’s wet pussy on the sofa.

You weren't banking on your mission partner catching you in the devious act, anxiety bleeding over you as he finds out how shameless you are and how much you want him.

A large number of the growing crowd have turned to watch the display of you and Bucky. Humiliation washing over you from his degradation and how exposed you feel.

Bucky hadn’t felt this horny for as long as he could remember, his hard cock straining against his trousers over how much he’s enjoying turning you to putty in his hands for everyone to see.

You’re mine, little bunny. Even if everyone can see the dumb fucked out mess I’ve reduced you to.

“C’mon dollface, you’re normally so feisty, where’s them claws you like to scratch me with, kitten?”

His condescending words only cease to turn you into a bigger puddle, unable to get your words out without moaning or stuttering, “B-bucky, p-please.”

Even though Bucky wants to hold out longer, he can’t help but bring his other arm up from his firm hold on your waist up to your tits, toying with your peaked nippes over your dress.

Somehow, the little shit knew they were sensitive.

His grip on your throat moves up to hold your jaw, making sure you’re still watching the other couple play as he tweaks your nippes, rubbing his thumb over them and squeezing your tits. He fucking loved it. The broken moans you no longer care to keep down break free as drool drips down your chin.

You didn't think you could like being spoken to the way Bucky does, his harsh words but soothing tone has your head fuzzy and your mind empty, no coherent thoughts other than the man behind you.

Your ass rubs back onto Bucky’s crotch as you squirm in his hold, the throaty rumble he lets out only worsening the throb of your cunt.

“Y’know they kinda look like us don’t ya think, bunny baby? Is that what has you so fuckin’ gone, huh? You wanna know how good I’d eat your pretty little pussy?” He starts to grind his cock into the curve of your ass, the thin material of your dress leaving no guesses to how thick he really is.

It’s helpless as your head flops back onto Bucky's shoulder, boneless in his arms. You’ve forgotten about everyone else in the room with you, only enough room in your head to process who’s making you feel so good.

The tingling of your swollen clit has you wailing needy moans, the lack of stimulation edging you and forcing tears from your eyes.

“Oh dollface, you’re crying now? You need me to make all those tingles go away?”

You couldn’t nod your head fast enough, dragging his hand to place it over your soaked panties under your dress with pleas whispered against his neck. He’d punish you for that in normal circumstances, but right now he really wants to see you cum.

His warm fingers gently start rubbing your pulsing clit, the added friction of your lace underwear making your eyes roll to the back of your head and high pitched whimpers to fill the room. Gyrating your hips to follow his motion, you can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter, so close to that release you’re internally begging for.

“You’re so fuckin’ desperate, bunny, my cocks rock fuckin’ solid for ya, bet you could take this fat cock in your tight little cunt.”

You can feel the brink of your orgasm on the precipice from his words, his Brooklyn accent spilling through as he continues to rub his huge cock against your back.

But it’s the switch from rubbing to repeatedly tapping your bundle of nerves as he licks the trail of sweat from your neck to groan in your ear that makes you finally let go.

“Now, fuckin’ cum for me before I leave your pathetic ass begging for me.”

Your legs give out as you suck lungfuls of air back in, eyes cross eyed as you see stars from how powerful your orgasm is. You don’t think you’ve ever cum that hard before in your life, and you’d crawl to Bucky on all fours to beg for it again.

Eventually, your high slowly descends and you come back down to earth, body limp but twitching with spasms. Should you even try to take a step forward you know you’d fall flat on your face, so you're grateful for Bucky keeping a tight embrace around you and cooing shushes into your ear as you muster a fucked out smile on your face.

You don’t care to see if anyone’s still around, if the couple that turned you on and got you into this state in the first place are still going at it.

Bucky, however, takes a peak back up to Maxwell, knowing he’d watched the whole show and his worries had been reassured by your brazen display that you weren’t suspicious. He catches the back of his coat, walking down the steps and into a back room.

The smirk grows back on his face as he takes one hand away from your body, your whine of displeasure all the more satisfying for what comes next, he won’t be able to see your face but that’s okay - he’s more than happy to feel your reaction instead.

Sucking his fingers from your juices that are still running down your leg, he presses the button on the com to send an update on status to backup and Steve.

“Target's position secured. Distraction followed through and on route to prepare for arrest, over.”

Your eyes rip open from your hazy daydream as you soak in Bucky’s update to the rest of the team. Blood running cold when it finally processes his motive for your little show.

“My my little bunny, I gotta say I’m impressed you folded so easily for lil’ old me.” Bucky’s murmur against your head vibrates through your entire being, but you can’t bring yourself to move an inch.

His chuckle has fury bubbling up to the surface, yet you’re speechless as he leaves a gentle kiss to your temple and departs with his final words.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter either, doll. I had fun, looking forward to the next time too. But let’s go catch Maxwell for now, yeah? I’ll even keep hush of your unprofessionalism on the job.”

You can only stare as he strolls towards the back room where you can only assume Maxwell is, whistling a tune to himself as he tucks his hands in his pockets, uncaring to the salacious acts of sex still occurring around you.

You’re so fucked.

A/N: I have to thank my angel baby @rookthorne for the inspiration in writing this after one of our little domme sessions 👀 loves you so much kotenok 💗 thank you for reading lovelies!!

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Femme!Henderson!Reader

Summary: Y/N Henderson’s relationship with Eddie puts her at odds with Jason Carver and co.

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, bullying/harassment, slut shaming, allusions to sexual content (nothing sexual actually happens), Jason being a prick, swearing, Reader is Dustin’s sister but no physical descriptions are used and you can read it as an adopted sibling if you want, I think that’s it but let me know if I missed something

A/N: Alright, this is the first Fic I’ve ever posted on here. I’m honestly a little nervous, but hopefully you enjoy. I’ll probably end up posting this on my Ao3 too so I’ll link that at some point.

My Master List | Ao3

—

“I’m gonna miss you”, Eddie whines as he leans against the locker next to yours.

“It’s one class”, you reply as you swap out your English textbook for history, “that’s, what, an hour?”

“Actually I have Davis’s class next so it feels more like three hours”, Eddie says.

You snort. Mr. Davis has probably been around since the dinosaur era, and if there were to be a competition for most boring teacher at Hawkins High, he would win it hands down.

“It’s not funny”, Eddie teasingly pouts, “I might actually die of boredom.”

“As much as I would hate for that to happen, I’ve got my own class to get to, so unfortunately you’re on your own for now,” you reply.

“Alright well, please tell the rest of Hellfire I’m going to miss them”, he tells you, “and feel free to wear that black skirt of yours to the funeral. The tight one. It’s what I would’ve wanted.”

You roll your eyes affectionately before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re so dramatic”, you say, “I’ll see you later.”

“If I survive that long”, he calls. You shake your head before turning the corner and heading into your history classroom.

“Okay, class”, your teacher, Mr. Price announces once the bell rings, “I’ve written some questions on the board. You’ll find the answers in Chapter 5 of your textbook. Write them down and turn them in by the end of class. You may work with a partner if you’d like.”

You pull your textbook out of your bag and flip to a clean sheet in your notebook. You don’t have any friends in this class, so you figure you may as well just do it yourself and get it over with. That is, until a voice startles you as you’re about to start reading the first page of the chapter.

“Hey, Y/N. Do you wanna work together?”

You blink up at the source of the voice and are pretty sure you must be hallucinating. That’s the only explanation you can think of as to why Jason Carver would be asking you to be his partner.

The two of you have been in the same grade since Kindergarten and you can't think of a single time in all those years that he’s directly acknowledged your existence. The closest thing you have to a connection with him is that your little brother is friends with one of his new Basketball recruits, but you kind of doubt he even knows or cares about that. There’s a few members of his little posse he could be asking to work with him, so you have no clue why he’d be asking you of all people. But, you don’t have anyone else, so you shrug.

“Sure, I guess”, you say.

“Great”, he smiles, moving to sit down next to you.

“I’ll get started on number 1”, you suggest, “maybe you can do number 2 and we’ll compare?”

“Sure”, he says sweetly. You’re honestly getting a little freaked out by how friendly he’s being.

You both do your agreed upon work, and then switch off to show each other your answers.

“So?” you ask when he’s finished reading yours, “does that seem right?”

“Yeah”, he replies, “you’re good at this. You ever thought about being a tutor?”

“Oh, no, not really”, you say.

“See, I just ask because our youth group has this program where some of us older members help the younger kids out after school and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s cool”, you tell him, not really engaged the conversation. It all sounds well and good, but you really aren’t interested in being a tutor at the moment.

“You know, the church has a lot of great programs”, Jason continues, and you’re not sure what any of this has to do with the Byzantine empire, which is what you’re supposed to be discussing.

“Okay”, you say.

“They do a lot of outreach, a lot of stuff to help people who have lost their way.”

“Lost their way?” you inquire, a small part of you beginning to understand what’s actually going on.

“Yeah. You know. Made bad choices, got mixed up with the wrong people.”

“Um, I think we should just get back to the assignment”, you suggest, uncomfortable with the discussion and not wanting it to go any further.

“Look”, Jason sighs, “what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a nice girl. I’d hate to see you go down a bad path.”

Okay. You get it now, and it’s starting to piss you off.

“Thank you, but I’m doing just fine”, you insist.

“You’ve been hanging around with Eddie Munson”, Jason says, as if it’s some scandalous secret and not just you spending time with your boyfriend, “you really shouldn’t do that, you know…”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded he would just up and say such a thing to you.

“You can’t be serious…”, you say.

Jason leans in to you, a deadly serious expression on his face.

“I’ve heard about guys like him before”, he tells you, “I know the stuff they’re into.”

Yeah, so do you. It’s tabletop role playing games, which is about the least nefarious activity you could possibly think of. Jason clearly doesn’t see it that way, though, because he’s still going on.

“And I know they like to lure innocent people like you into their little organizations. I’m telling you, Munson is bad news. You should stay away before you get hurt.”

You seriously have to hold yourself back from laughing right in Jason’s face. You’re not sure what reality he’s living in, but it clearly isn’t the same one you are. Last weekend, you and Eddie had watched Terms of Endearment and he’d started to cry (well started tearing up at least, even sniffled a little, though he vehemently denied it). There’s not a single situation in which you can ever imagine him causing you intentional harm.

“Okay, you know what”, you say, “I think I’m gonna finish the rest of the assignment alone, thanks.”

Jason grabs your arm gently but firmly. “I’m serious, Y/N. He’s dangerous. Stay away from him before you end up hurt or killed.”

You’re really not sure what the most offensive part of all this is. It’s either that Jason thinks that somehow Eddie Munson, your lovable dork of a boyfriend,is secretly an evil Satanist cult leader, or that you’re apparently too stupid or naive to make that kind of judgment for yourself. Maybe it’s that he volunteered to work with you on an assignment and acted all friendly with you just so he could get this opportunity to preach to you about your supposedly “dangerous” lifestyle. He’s never given you the time of day before, after all.

“I don’t know what it is you think you see in him, but I promise you it’s not going to end well.”

You snort. Is he, what, jealous or something? He’s got a girlfriend, after all, and plenty of other girls who’d be willing to take her place if she were to leave him. It’s kind of sad that he’s apparently so insecure that the mere thought of Eddie Munson getting female attention is enough to have him losing his shit like this.

“Whatever”, you spit, “just leave me alone.”

He glares at you, but ultimately turns his attention to his textbook and doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the class.

-

You happily shove the encounter out of your mind once the bell rings. You’re perfectly content with the social circle you keep, and you’re not going to let some jock with an inflated sense of self importance change that.

Jason apparently doesn’t do the same because he spends lunch glaring at you from his table. Granted, him shooting disgusted looks in the general direction of the Hellfire Club is a regular occurance, but today he’s making it obvious his ire is directed specifically at you.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Eddie asks.

“I dunno”, you shrug, “he’s just an asshole.”

Eddie peers at him for a moment and you can see a familiar glint of mischief twinkle in his eye. Before you can comment, he’s dramatically pushing himself to his feet and sauntering over to Jason and company.

“What do you want?” Jason demands.

“Couldn’t help but notice you staring”, Eddie says, “just wanted to let you know that I’m flattered, but unfortunately you aren’t really my type. Sorry.”

“Fuck off”, Jason barks, “disgusting freak.”

“Don’t take it too hard”, Eddie says, giving him a joking pat on the shoulder before making his way back over to you. You stifle a laugh at the indignant look plastered on Jason’s face. Eddie shoots you a proud grin and you shake your head affectionately. Jason clearly doesn’t know shit about “guys like Eddie.”

-

The next few days pass by uneventfully. Jason doesn’t try talking to you again, which you’re thankful for. Wednesday starts out normally, you go to history, and Jason roundly ignores your presence. Then you have to go to your next class, which is gym.

Definitely not a favorite of yours, and you don’t even have Eddie in your class to ease the pain. You make it through your warm ups, and then the coach has you split up to practice your volleyball serves. Everything’s going well until Andy, one of Jason’s buddies, approaches you out of nowhere.

“Hey, Henderson”, he says, a smirk on his face, “you think you could score me some weed?”

You look at him, confused. You don’t get involved in Eddie’s side hustle, so you’re not sure why he’d ask you.

“What?”

“Oh, I just figured you probably get a good discount”, he goes on, “I mean, that’s why you let Munson fuck you, right?”

You freeze in shock, your cheeks starting to grow hot. You can’t say you’re used to people making comments about your sex life, especially not to your face.

“I mean, I gotta say”, Andy continues, a cruel glint in his eye, “I didn’t take you for a slut. But come on. Spreading your legs for that freak? Jesus, that’s sad. You know, I’d be happy to show you a good time, since you’re so desperate for it.”

You can only stand there, mouth agape. Sure, you’ve gotten a gross comment or two from a male classmate before, but nothing like this. You certainly have never been called a slut before. You try to formulate a response, but you can’t come up with one. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the coach’s whistle rings out, signaling for you all to hit the changing rooms. You dash out of the gym, more than pleased to be away from Andy.

You hop in the shower in the locker room, take a few moments to shake off the discomfort of the interaction. You’re not entirely successful in that endeavor, because it keeps playing in your mind even after you’re dressed and making your way back into the hallways.

You have no idea where the hell Andy came up with all of that. At this point, it’s common knowledge that you and Eddie are dating, but you don’t know where this idea that you’re sleeping with him for drugs came from. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Hey, Beautiful”, you’re distracted from your thoughts by Eddie, who comes happily bounding over to you. His face falls when he sees the look on your face though.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine”, you say. Something about the idea of telling Eddie about what happened leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s embarrassing, and you definitely don’t want him to feel like it’s somehow his fault that Jason and Andy are giving you a hard time.

Besides, it doesn’t matter. Once again, nothing they say about you or Eddie is true. You can’t let some stupid jocks get to you.

-

Honestly, you probably could’ve been okay, if that was the end of it. Unfortunately, things only get worse the next day.

As you make your way to your seat in history, you catch sight of Amber and Samantha, two cheerleaders who like to hang around Jason and the others, whispering as you walk by.

You ignore them, figuring you’re being paranoid and they probably aren’t even talking about you, but when you sit down, Amber turns and looks you right in the eye.

She raises her voice then, clearly intending for you to hear what she’s saying.

“I hope she’s gotten tested”, she tells Samantha, “I can’t imagine what nasty shit the Freak is passing on to her.”

You take a deep breath, turning away from her.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, it’s not true.

“I hope the drugs are worth it,” Samantha says.

You clench your jaw as you slip into your seat. It shouldn’t bother you so much. It's not true, and even if it were, who cares what Amber and Samantha have to say about it?

You’re dating Eddie because you like him. You like the way he’s always joking around and making you laugh, you like that he makes a point of looking out for Dustin and his friends, you like the way he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes and flashes that mischievous grin. Cheap access to his drugs has never even crossed your mind.

You shouldn’t concern yourself with what they say, you know that, but hearing your name in connection with “slut” grinds at you.

-

During gym class, you do your best to avoid Andy, because everytime he notices you looking at him, he’s making some suggestive gesture at you. You don’t bother telling anyone about it, since Andy’s on the basketball team and the coach would probably take his side.

In the hallway, you accidentally bump into Patrick from the basketball team. You mutter an apology, which he accepts, but his girlfriend gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t talk to her”, you hear her tell him as you walk away, “she’s a slut.”

-

All of the gossip has put you in a foul mood by the time you get to your second to last period of the day, which happens to be study hall.

Like always, it’s in the cafeteria, with you and a bunch of other students of varying grade levels all sitting around doing your homework. Technically, you’re not supposed to talk, but the teacher in charge is way too underpaid to worry about enforcing that, so you can usually get away with conversation as long as things don’t get too rowdy.

You’re not taking advantage of that today, rather trying your best to distract yourself by actually doing your homework. You’re halfway through summarizing Act 3 of Hamlet when you hear someone say your name.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You’re confused when you look up to find Lucas standing there. Technically, you’ve known him for years, but it’s not like you’ve ever associated with him outside the time he spends with Dustin.

“What?” you ask, a little meaner than you mean to.

“I just thought you should know that…well, I think Jason has been going around saying things about you.”

Of course. You should’ve known Jason was behind this. Jason fucking Carver. Captain of the Basketball Team. Active member of the local church. Son of one of the most respected families in Hawkins. He’s clearly used to people listening to whatever he has to say. Apparently, his ego couldn’t handle you dismissing his comments about your relationship with Eddie.

Jesus, you’d always known he was a bit of an asshole, but this is a level of pettiness you’d never expected, even from him.

“Don’t tell him I told you”, Lucas adds, “but I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you”, you say. You’re definitely glad to have that piece of information.

-

The next day, you storm into Mr. Price’s classroom with righteous fury coursing through your veins. You bypass your desk and instead march straight up to Jason.

He pauses his conversation with Andy and Samantha when he sees you approach.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You demand.

“Excuse me?” Jason asks.

“I know you’ve been starting rumors about me”, you tell him, “what exactly is your problem, Jason?”

“Me? I don’t have a problem”, Jason insists, “I just think it’s fair the men of Hawkins High get a warning about your ‘extracurricular’ activities.”

You can feel heat flood your cheeks.

“You’re a dick, Jason!” you hiss.

“You know, Y/N”, Jason retorts, “I actually feel bad for you. I mean, no decent man is ever going to want you when they find out you’ve been giving it up to some trailer trash freak.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, you snap.

“Believe me, I know exactly what happens to girls who hang around with filthy, Satan-worshiping scumbags”, he says, “and you know what? I’m not going to feel sorry for you when they’re finding your body dumped in the woods.”

“Get over yourself!”

“Whatever”, Jason shakes his head, “I’m not gonna take the attitude from some little slut.”

You’re not fully in control of yourself during what happens next. One second you’re standing there listening to Jason degrade you, the next your fist is connecting with his face.

He stands there, stunned for a moment, before opening his mouth to say something. He doesn’t get the chance though, because Mr. Price gets to it first.

“Ms. Henderson”, he gasps, “Mr. Carver, what on earth is going on here?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason spits accusingly.

“I-I…I’m sorry I…”

“Enough”, Mr. Price sighs, “I want both of you going to the principal’s office right now!”

-

You’re in deep shit. That much is immediately clear. You punched Jason Carver in the face. It’s not like you even claim it was self defense, since he didn’t do anything physical to you.

“So”, Principal Higgins sighs, “tell me what happened again?”

“She punched me in the face”, Jason hisses.

“Is that true?”

“Yes”, you sigh, “but he called me a slut.”

Principal Higgins rubs his temple, processing the information. Meanwhile, Jason’s gaze is fixed firmly on you, his eyes full of hatred.

“Mr. Carver”, Higgins says finally, “that is not appropriate language to use in regards to another student. You may go back to class, but I better not hear about something like this again.”

Jason stands and marches out of the office, as if he has a right to be pissed about Higgins’ scolding. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he gets a slap on the wrist. Nobody wants to punish the star basketball player. You’re certain that if it were anyone else, Eddie or Dustin or one of the other Hellfire Club members, they definitely wouldn’t be getting off so easily.

“Now, as for you Ms. Henderson”, Higgins says, “we do not allow for any sort of violence in this school. However, in all your years at this school, you have never had to receive any form of discipline. So I’m willing to be flexible here. Normally, something like this could be grounds for suspension, but since this is your first time, I say it’s two weeks detention after school starting next Monday. Does that sound fair to you?”

Not really, no, but you can’t say that.

“Yes”, you reply instead.

“Alright. Good. Now go back to class. And Ms. Henderson, I sincerely hope I won’t have to see you in my office again.”

-

You’re in a bad mood when Mr. Price’s class finally ends. You’ve gone your entire high school career without getting a detention and now you’ve ruined that over some pompous dick bag. Speaking of, Jason has been staring daggers at you since you returned to class, and is continuing to do so even now as you’re leaving.

There’s a tense, awkward moment where you both stand there in the hallway, glaring at each other, but it’s broken when the force of a body colliding with your back almost takes you off your feet. Jason is forgotten when a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Eddie”, you huff playfully.

“How’d you know it was me?” he asks as you turn around to face him.

“Cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself, Munson”, you reply.

“Don’t blame me”, he replies, “you know I’m powerless to resist your charms.”

Before you can reply he’s pulling you close and beginning to press kisses to your cheek. You know the two of you are making a scene, and on any other day you might be a little self conscious about it, but today you’re just glad to have him around.

His kisses stop suddenly and you realize he’s stopped because he’s finally noticed Jason’s hateful glaring. Unfazed as always, he just flashes a cocky smile and gives Jason a mocking impression of a friendly wave. Jason makes a face like he’s wishing for both you and Eddie’s violent deaths.

“Geez”, Eddie comments, “he looks pissed.”

“Um, yeah, probably because I punched him in the face”, you mutter.

Eddie’s eyes widen in obvious surprise.

“He had it coming”, you add, “he was being a Dick.”

You know you don’t have to defend yourself to Eddie. He knows better than anyone how nasty Jason can be.

“My, my, Fair Lady Henderson”, he smiles, “I dare say that was very Metal of you.”

“Yeah, well, Higgins didn’t think so”, you reply, “I got two weeks detention for it.”

“Ol’ Higgins never did have a sense of humor”, Eddie says, “but from where I’m standing, you’re basically a hero.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah”, Eddie tells you, “Jason and his goons have been making our lives miserable for years.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You’re definitely not happy with the day’s events, but knowing Eddie’s on your side makes it a little more bearable.

-

On Monday you begrudgingly make your way to Mrs. Cline’s room for your first day of detention.

“Ms. Henderson?” she asks when you walk in.

“Yeah”, you say, a little embarrassed.

“Wonderful”, she says, checking your name off of a list in front of her, “please take a seat.”

There’s only two other people in there with you, so you just pick a seat as far from them as possible and sit down.

“Alright”, Mrs. Cline says, “looks like everyone’s here except…”

“I’m here.”

You look up in surprise to see Eddie come walking into the room.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Munson”, Mrs. Cline says dryly, “what a surprise. Please take a seat.”

You know that Eddie isn’t a stranger to detention, but it’s weird that he didn’t mention anything to you when you’d told him about it. He walks over to the desk next to yours, looking way too pleased for someone who’s about to serve a stint in detention.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Oh, you know, got caught vandalizing the boy’s locker room during free period”, he tells you.

“What? When?”

“Friday”, he says with a satisfied smirk.

You frown. This must’ve happened after the whole Jason thing on Friday which means…

Which means Eddie did it knowing that you were also going to be in detention.

“Eddie”, you say, “did you get detention just because I did?”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?” he grins.

You can’t help but smile along with him.

“Mr. Munson, Ms. Henderson”, Mrs. Cline calls from her desk, “no talking during detention.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips and waits until Mrs. Cline looks away before giving you a playful wink. You stifle a giggle.

You don’t know Jason all that well, but you’re pretty sure he would never dream of landing himself in detention just to keep his girlfriend company. You’ve never seen him make a scene in the middle of the hallways to get her to smile. That’s the thing about this that really gets under your skin. Jason and the others don’t know shit. They think that just because Eddie doesn’t fall into their narrow definition of “acceptable”, he must be scary and dangerous. They think that just because you’re not afraid of him, you must be dirty and corrupted. They’re too close-minded to look closer and see that Eddie is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever imagine, that you spend time with him because he makes you happy. They’d rather write him off as a freak and you off as a slut than accept that maybe their perception is wrong.

You’re far from being a violent person, but you can’t say you regret what you did. Jason deserved to be put in his place, and it’s not like you did any serious damage to him anyway. You’re glad you stood up for yourself, for Eddie. You’ve probably tacked “psycho bitch” onto your already unflattering “whore” reputation, but at this point, you’re not sure you care. If being a freak means you get to spend your days with the love of your life, you will gladly accept that label.

-

After the designated two hours are up, Mrs. Cline dismisses you all.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad”, you say as you and Eddie start making your way through the hall.

“Nah”, he replies, “I mean it’s boring but it’s not bad.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not planning on having to do this again”, you continue, “but it’s bearable.”

Eddie nods.

“I’m sorry, by the way”, he adds.

“For what?”

“Jason and the others. They’ve been giving you a hard time, right?”

“Yeah”, you shrug, “it is what it is. Not your fault.”

“I mean it kind of is”, Eddie replies, “they’re only doing it because you’re dating me.”

“Eddie”, you say, “Jason’s an asshole, okay? That’s not on you. If he can’t handle our relationship, then fuck him.”

That gets a grin out of Eddie.

“You know, you’re getting to be quite a rabble rouser, Henderson”, he jokes.

“I’m learning from the best”, you tease back.

Eddie’s smile widens. He follows you out to your car and then presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow, Sweetheart”, he says and then heads off to his van. You watch him go, butterflies still lingering in your tummy from the contact.

If you’d actually had any doubts about Eddie, they would’ve disappeared in that moment. That feeling, it’s a one of a kind thing. No one’s ever managed to give it to you before, and you’re not sure anyone else ever will. You love Eddie. He loves you. He’s sweet, and silly and he treats you right. If your peers want to believe a bunch of bullshit about you two, then let them. You know what you have, and you’re not going to let them ruin it for you.

Grinning to yourself, you hop in your car, put the Black Sabbath tape you borrowed from Eddie into the player and head home.

[floral-and-fine]

Red Heart

Michael Langdon x fem reader

summary: At the end of the world, the Reader finds herself in Outpost 3 with nothing more than a name. With no memories of her life before, stuck living underground with strangers, and only ally seemingly being the militant Ms Mead, she's surprised by the instant connection she has with the member of the Cooperative that arrives one day without any prior warning. It's not long before her past and ties to him are revealed.

warnings: some of the usual dark content like murder and killing, I guess. Surprisingly no smut, just fluff and romance.

a/n: This is my longest fic ever so far! I combined a new idea with an old idea. There are 2 different endings, which is another first for me. With both endings, the story is roughly 28,500 words. I’m thinking about writing a smutty one shot for Michael soon. Thank you @ewokiee and @steeevienicks for the help.

“So,” Evie started, arching her brow. “You really have no memory of your life before?” She pressed, her eyes looking you over as she sized you up.

The two of you were sitting on one of black leather couches during cocktail hour. 

“Afraid not,” you muttered with a slight shrug. 

“Hm,” she looked away, taking a sip of her drink. “Must make adjusting to all this,” she gestured to the room and the other people present while sloshing her glass of mineral water around. “Easier… Nothing from your past to miss, no previous life to long for.”

“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”

It was true, you couldn’t remember anything from your past. You didn’t even have any recollection of arriving at The Outpost. Two weeks ago, you had woken up in your room here, unable to recall anything except for your name. Ms. Mead was the first person you met, she had given you a quick rundown of where you were, what had happened, and the rules of Outpost 3 while she helped you change into a formal violet dress. 

But Evie had a point, as the days passed the others became more strung out and restless, Coco’s hair changed daily, Gallant’s mood swings were more extreme, and they all complained from morning to night. 

But, when they would speak of the world before the end, you had to admit you were a little envious. They’d talk about foods you’d never likely taste, weather you’d never feel, places you’d never see… having no memories was a blessing and a curse. 

However, your curiosity was stronger than your envy, which is why you often found yourself sitting next to Evie, so you could listen to her stories. She was always happy to speak about herself and her past exploits. 

Suddenly, two strangers entered the music room. You straightened out the skirt of your dress, your fingers running across the purple silk as you sat up straight. It didn’t go unnoticed that the two strangers were both dressed in purple as well. 

You had quickly learned its significance in this new world. Purple meant you were part of the elite and that was your only clue to who you were before. You wondered if you had been an heiress like Coco or an actress like Dinah. But you had your doubts. Even Evie often commented that you were far too kind, too humble to have been anyone with any real clout or power. Which left you wondering why you were here, really, if you paid your way like the rest. 

Eager to speak to new people, everyone stood up to greet the new meat. Gallant was quick to approach them and ask them questions about what the world above was like. 

“It’s all gone,” the boy stated solemnly. 

“Everything,” the girl added. 

Ms. Venable soon joined the group, announcing it was time for dinner. Everyone followed her out to the dining room. 

You took your usual seat and quietly waited to be served by the grays. You remained seated as Coco threw her fit over having to eat another cube. You jumped slightly when Ms. Venable struck Coco’s face. You hadn’t seen her lose her composure like that and it frightened you. 

When Ms. Mead had shared with Ms. Venable that had no memory of who you were, she had questioned you repeatedly. You could see it in her eyes that she didn’t think you belonged. Ms. Venable believed you were unworthy of being a purple and hadn’t earned your spot here at this sanctuary. You were sure she was looking for a way to dispose of you. 

Your eyes remained downcasted as Ms. Venable addressed the group. She shared that three of the outposts had already been overrun, there was only enough food for 18 months, and that the world above was beyond repair.

The Fist and a few other members of The Cooperative entered the dining room, The Fist whispered something to Ms. Mead. 

“There’s a problem,” Ms. Mead shared. “We've detected a spike in the background radiation, centered in this room.”

Immediately Gallant pointed a finger at the newcomers who insisted they were clean.

“Place your hands on the table,” Ms. Mead directed, calmly. “And don’t move.”

Ms. Mead gave you a small reassuring smile as she came around with the Geiger Counter. Despite how the rest of the group felt about Ms. Mead, you found her presence comforting like you were safe with her around. 

You watched wide eyed as Gallant and Stu were dragged away from the table. Moments later Ms. Venable dismissed you and the rest of the group. 

You retired to your room and immediately started the shower to let the water heat up. Ms. Mead’s words about radiation and its effects were still swirling around your head. Stripping out of the dress, you left it on the floor as you bathed, washing every inch of your body. 

The next day, you and the rest of the group learned Stu’s fate. Andre was inconsolable, sobbing as he mourned over the death of his lover. 

At dinner everyone was surprised when instead of bland tasteless cubes, soup was served. Ms. Venable referred to it as bonne bouche.

You pushed the meat around with your spoon, you had to admit it smelled appetizing. Everyone else delved in, rejoicing over the flavor and taste. A few questioned the source of the meat and  where the meat came from, but Ms. Mead insisted that it was chicken. Yet no one seemed truly convinced. 

You were about to take a bite when Andre found a bone in his bowl. He quickly pushed his bowl aside, identifying the bone as a finger, immediately claiming that Stu had been served. 

Most of the others reacted with disgust, silverware clattering on the table as they began retching and spitting the stew out. Andre leapt from his seat, swept up in an emotional outburst. 

Ms. Venable attempted to reassure the group, stressing that there were some lines that should never be crossed. 

Evie was the only purple unphased and continued to eat. 

You calmly placed your spoon back down on your napkin, watching as the rest of the purples filed out of the dining room. 

As you joined them in the music room, they were still talking about the strange supper, arguing over whether it had been Stu or not. Andre was still distraught as his mother tried to comfort him. 

The arguing came to a halt as Emily shushed everyone when the music suddenly stopped. Gallant rushed to the radio as the song had changed. For two full weeks nonstop Karen Carpenter's voice had droned on and on, but now a new voice rang out. 

‘There's got to be a morning after

If we can hold on through the night’

Gallant mistook it as a sign of hope, a message sent directly from The Cooperative that there was hope for the future, but 18 grueling months had passed since then.  

Evie had run out of stories to tell. Andre’s tears had dried. Dinah’s advice had become stale and repetitive. 

The days had all blurred together, then the weeks, then the months. Everyday was just like the last. You were desperate for something to change. 

You often wondered, late in the night, if perhaps you had already died and this was purgatory or even hell, and that you were here to atone for the sins of life you couldn’t remember. 

Ms. Venable tapped her cane.”This will be our last breakfast,” she announced. “We’re cutting back to one meal a day.”

You could feel the dismay and uneasiness in the room. Coco was first to share her complaints about the new arrangement, followed by Gallant. Both Evie and Dinah tried to be voices of reason, but it seemed to only fuel their frustrations more. Gallant jumped to his feet, and threatened Dinah with his fork. 

Instinctively, you scooted closer to Ms. Mead as tempers rose. She looked towards The Fist, giving her a wordless order. 

“I say we take our chances outside,” Coco’s assistant suggested. 

“She’s right. We have to get out of here,” Gallant agreed. 

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Ms. Mead stated firmly. 

Gallant threw his plate, “What are you going to do? Shoot us all?”

The Fist made her way towards him. 

You gripped your utensils tightly as the scene unfolded before you. You knew the members of The Cooperative wouldn’t hesitate to kill any one of you, the had done away with several people already. 

Suddenly, red lights flashed accompanied with the blare of an alarm rung out, effectively catching everyone’s attention. 

“Perimeter alert. There’s been a breach,” The Fist explained.

Ms. Mead sighed, giving you a curt nod, before following The Fist towards the stairs. 

No one was sure what to expect. Most were thinking that this was it, that the outpost would be overrun like the others. 

You probably should’ve felt worried as well, but frankly you were just glad something unexpected had happened, something to break the monotony. You stared up at the ceiling wondering who or what was up there. 

That night you were restless, tossing and turning, legs tangled in your sheets as you tried to fall into a deep sleep that never came. Instead, your busy mind conjured vivid and unsettling dreams, full of unfamiliar people and experiences that you didn’t remember or you didn’t understand, almost like being in a foreign film. 

Amongst all the nameless faces was a boy with blonde hair and striking blue eyes who appeared over and over again, catching your attention. As you watched him from afar he continuously changed from a child to a man.

You tried to get closer to him, reaching out with your hands trying to grab him, stop him, but each time he slipped away from your fingers with a pained look in his eyes. 

When your eyes snapped open, your poor head was throbbing, pounding against your skull. You curled into a ball sobbing quietly over the pain and the new emptiness in your chest. 

Everytime you closed your eyes you thought about that boy, it was almost as if you could feel his longing, his pain. You wished you could make out his face, but you could only recall pieces, like his fluffy blonde hair and the shade of his steel blue eyes. 

…

He was beautiful.

He was the most beautiful person you had ever seen, not that you much to compare him to considering the only faces you could remember were residents here at the outpost. You knew you were staring as he strode into the music room, but you couldn’t resist. Even if you tried, you were sure that you couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect than the man standing before you. 

Ms.Venable stepped aside as he turned and faced the survivors of Outpost 3. 

“My name is Langdon, and I represent The Cooperative,” the man stated, standing in the center of the room. 

You were so engrossed with his appearance that you were unable to process his words, although you did notice the soothing sound of his honeyed voice, so sweet and rich. He exuded confidence and poise as he spoke of the horrors that had befallen the world and the few remaining survivors. There was a sort of haughtiness as he answered questions that you also admired. 

It was unnerving, feeling attraction for the very first time. It was as if you could easily lose yourself to him, all of yourself, and that alone was very frightening. Surely, before the world crumpled, you must have felt this sort of magnetism towards people before, but you couldn’t imagine it was anything as powerful as this. Was this a crush? Love at first sight? Whatever it was, you weren’t prepared for how strong this pull would be. 

Gallant volunteered to be interviewed first, obviously eager to earn his spot at The Sanctuary. Despite your immediate interest in Michael Langdon, you were not as eager to be alone with him. 

How could you answer any of his questions when you didn’t know a thing about yourself? 

But as the thought crossed your mind, Michael’s eyes met yours, and for a brief moment it seemed as though his sauve and indifferent attitude faltered revealing something vulnerable and delicate beneath. Blue eyes that were cold and hard like ice were now swimming with emotion. 

It only lasted for a second, his cool demeanor returning as he turned away from you. 

“The process should only take me a couple of days,” Michael explained. “So you won’t be kept in suspense forever.”

“For those of you who don’t make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking,” he held up a vial containing white pills. “Down one of these. One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up.”

“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you,” his eyes swept across the room, his eyes locking with yours one more time before he took his leave. 

There was a heaviness in the air as the weight of his words sunk in. There was no survival without admittance to The Sanctuary. Staying here would inevitably lead to death, it was just a question of how, by feral cannibals or suicide. 

As usual, the others erupted into a squabble, arguing over who was worthy and unworthy of going to The Sanctuary. 

You rose to your feet as you felt your headache returning. No one questioned you as you made your way out, towards the comfort of your bedroom.

Your head snapped towards your bedroom door as someone urgently rapped against it. 

“Ms. Venable has requested your presence,” Ms. Mead announced from the other side. “She has a few questions for you.”

“I’ll be right out,” you sighed as your fingers expertly finished buttoning your dress. 

Ms. Mead gave you a half smile as you stepped out of your room. The two of you walked quietly through the halls as she escorted you to Ms. Venable’s office. 

This happened about once a month, and you dreaded it every single time. At first she was reasonably pleasant, but as the months went by, she became more hostile, frustrated that your answers never changed. 

You took a deep breath as you both stopped outside her door. Ms. Mead got the door and held it open for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her as you crossed the threshold. 

“Of course,” she nodded, but as she closed the door, she gave Ms. Venable a stern look, who glared back in return. There seemed to be a sudden rift between the two women. 

You looked wistfully at the closed door, wishing that Ms. Mead had stayed. Ms. Venable cleared her throat and motioned to the chair across from her. 

“Ms. Y/n,” she greeted you as you took your seat. 

“Ms. Venable,” you replied, with a polite but forced smile. 

“18 months,” she began, chuckling dryly. “We’ve been here for 18 months and you still claim to have no memories?” She phrased it as a question but didn’t wait for a response. “It’s almost too convenient, isn’t it? The perfect little lie to hide behind.”

“It’s not a lie,” you insisted, locking your eyes with hers hoping to show her you were telling the truth, just like you had all the other times before. 

Ms. Venable wasn’t convinced, of course, that’s why she continued with these monthly interrogations. She had been present for the arrival of all the others, except for you. You seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, standing beside Ms. Mead in a satin gown as she introduced you to the other purples. 

“So,” Ms. Venable continued, barely able to hide her contempt while she feigned sympathy. “No changes? Nothing at all?” 

You looked away, your fingers playing with the lace trim on your skirt. You hadn’t planned on sharing that dream with anyone, but maybe it would get her off your back for a while. 

“I had this… dream recently, I can’t remember all the details, but there was this face, it’s not a clear image, but it lingers in my mind, of a sweet boy with blonde hair. I know… I know whoever he is, that I love him,” you admitted. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to picture him, but no matter how hard you tried it was like trying to see through fog. And there were all these feelings that emerged just at the thought of him, completely overwhelming you, making it hard to articulate any further. 

“I-I need to go,” you sniffled, your vision blurry as you got to your feet and rushed out the office. 

Your headache returned, bringing waves of nausea with it. The world around you was swirling and rocking, the light of the candles and lanterns were blinding. Holding your hand out you steadied yourself with the wall, using it as your anchor and guide as you tried to return to the safety of your room. 

“Ms. Y/n?”

Even with you squeezing your shut, you recognized the voice belonging to Coco’s assistant Mallory. She immediately offered you assistance, helping you sit on the floor. 

“Thank you,” you muttered, resting against the cool concrete wall. 

“Of course,” she said, sitting next to you. 

You bent your knees, pulling them up to your chest. “I keep getting these headaches along with these strange dreams,” you explained. “I think they might have to do with my memories.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” she consoled. “Ever since being here, I’ve felt off too, like I’m not all here or I’m missing parts of myself… I have a feeling there’s a reason for it all.”

The two of you sat there in a comfortable silence. You had never really spent time with Mallory before, the grays were always so busy compared to the purples, but she seemed much nicer than most of the people who’ve gotten to know. 

Mallory accompanied you back to your room, once you felt well enough to walk again. You still had to prepare for your upcoming interview. 

….

The grays pulled the doors open and immediately closed them shut as soon as you stepped into the office. 

Michael was waiting by his desk for you.  An eager smile formed on his lips as he watched you timidly approach him. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?” He said, gesturing to the leather chair across from his desk before he promptly moved to his own seat. 

You swallowed thickly, your hands folded in your lap, you had spent hours agonizing over this interview. You wanted to secure a spot at The Sanctuary just like everyone else, but what could you say to convince him? 

Ms. Venable drilled you every chance she got about who you are or were, she was obviously certain that you didn’t belong with the rest. Even the other purples had made it a habit, regularly pointing out to you that if you had been anyone important than someone here at the outpost should’ve recognized you, but none of them did. You were no one. 

Then, of course, there was the whole other ordeal of you being infatuated with Michael Langdon, you were completely bewitched by his charm and beauty. 

Your stomach was already fluttering uncontrollably simply because you were in the same room with him, alone. Your gaze flickered to him, briefly taking in the sight before you. His body language spoke volumes as sat there like a young king perched upon his throne, radiating elegance and authority. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Michael mused. “ Unlike your…companions, who have all been so loud and obnoxious,” he rolled his eyes. “Constantly pestering me, pleading their cases, and offering deals and bribes thinking I can be swayed by their foolish promises but not you, not even now, why?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. 

“Could it be that you’ve already decided that you won’t be selected?” he speculated. 

You looked away. “I’m nobody special or significant,” you explained, bunching your skirts in your hands. “I don’t even know why I’m here or how I even arrived at the outpost.”

“Ah, yes,” Michael hummed. “Ms. Venable has informed me that you have no memories of your past.” He gave you a hard look, before leaning forward, his fingers drumming on the desk. “Have you considered that perhaps you’re here because someone special, someone powerful, made these arrangements for you?”

You shook your head, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind at all, but it wasn’t an unreasonable idea. “If that were true then wouldn’t that person be here with me now?”

Michael shrugged, resting his elbows on the armrests as he leaned back and crossed his legs, “Unless they weren’t able to get here in time, perhaps they died on their way to the outpost or worse, survived… but who knows maybe they did make it, maybe they’re here and haven’t told you.”

“Why would someone do that?” Your eyes moved from Michael to the files on his desk, could it really be that one of the others knows who you are. “Do any of your files mention anything about why or how I ended up here?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” he replied with a mocking smile, laying his hand on top of the stack, a playful look in his eye as he stared down at the pile. 

Your shoulders slumped, you had hoped that Michael would have some answers for you, but instead he just planted more questions and worries in your head. 

“How do you feel about them, the others?” He asked offhandedly, casually changing the subject, while slightly swiveling his chair side to side.

You perked up at the question. “Oh, Evie has been a friend, someone to talk to, to confide in,” you said with a small shrug. “And Ms. Mead, even though she keeps her distance from us, she’s been a source of comfort for me, someone I can trust.”

Micheal snickered, shaking his head, “You’re the first to say anything remotely kind about the other survivors. The rest were all so quick to share with me the ugly and disgraceful truths they had gathered about one another. It’s… a refreshing change.”

He tilted his head, his gaze lingering on your face as his finger traced down the side of his face to his jaw. Your eyes followed the gesture, mesmerized, it seemed unfair to try to have to concentrate with him right in front of you. Every movement he made, no matter how small or fleeting, was alluring, like he was tempting you. 

“Do you find me attractive?” He asked, his eyes lighting up with delight as he watched you squirm. 

Your eyes widened, twisting your silk skirt with your hands, it was as if he could read your mind. 

“Tell me,”  Michael urged with a smirk, rising from his chair and slowly striding towards you. “What exactly do you like about me?” 

He partially sat on his desk right in front of you, his hands clasped in front as he waited. 

You parted your lips, licking them nervously. “Everything,” you answered in a small voice. 

“Everything?” He repeated, lifting his brow. He leaned closer towards you, his long golden hair falling forward like a curtain, his face inching towards yours. 

You nodded, your eyes locking with his as you craned your neck towards him. 

“I believe you,” he whispered, his breath tickling your face as his nose touched yours. “Too bad we’re out of time.”

You blinked in surprise as the large black doors slid open. 

Michael straightened out his posture, before turning away. “We’ll speak again, soon,” he added as he headed up the staircase. 

You wandered the halls, head in the clouds, daydreaming of the kiss that almost happened between you and Michael. You were certain now that whatever you were feeling was more than a crush. 

“Ms. Y/n?” Ms. Mead started as you almost walked into her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling embarrassed as you suddenly returned to planet Earth. 

“Everything alright?”

You giggled, “I’m fine, never better.”

She gave you an odd look, “Are you sure? This morning you didn’t look too well.”

You smiled warmly at her, “It was just a little headache, that’s all.”

She nodded, still not completely convinced. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mead.”

She sighed, straightening out her coat as you both stood there in the middle of the empty corridor. You were about to ask what was on her mind, but suddenly she opened her mouth. 

“Have you talked to him yet? Mr. Langdon?” She asked. 

“I have,” you replied, trying not to smile too wide.

She looked down. “The others seemed worse off after talking to him,” she shared. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to my turn.”

“Why?” You inquired, voice laced with concern. “Surely your hard work and dedication to The Cooperative should guarantee you a spot.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” 

“It’s the truth,” you assured her. 

“What do you make of him?” Ms. Mead asked, unsure how to feel about the newcomer, he was with The Cooperative afterall and her loyalty to her employer was still strong. She had followed orders and had done the best she could in these circumstances. Perhaps, this Langdon did hold the key to salvation. 

“It’s hard to put it into words,” you began to explain. “But I feel a connection to him.”

“Just keep your wits about you,” she advised, giving you a slight nod as she left. 

…

You were moving sluggishly, having spent most of the morning in bed trying to recover from another headache. While the pain lingered, your head no longer felt like it was going to explode. 

Slowly, you pulled open your wardrobe and shifted through your options wishing there was something comfier and easier to wear instead of all these complicated dresses. 

You eventually settled on a simple tea gown which you were able to wear without a corset. As you were tying the back of the bodice, someone knocked on your door.

“Ms. Venable?” You questioned, stepping back as she invited herself into your bedroom. 

“Close the door,” she ordered, standing tall with both of her hands clasping her cane. 

You pushed the door closed, but remained far from Ms. Venable. She had never dropped in on you like this, and you didn’t like it. It felt too invasive, seeing her in your room acting as if she owned the place. You knew nothing good would come from this visit. 

“I want you to tell me more about the boy,” she demanded, her dark eyes boring into yours.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Hiding something?” She probed. 

“No,” you objected. “I’ve already told you everything I could remember.”

“Surely that’s not all,” she argued, giving you an incredulous look. 

After what Ms. Mead shared with her about the beautiful boy, Ms. Venable was now convinced that the two of you were speaking of the same boy. The way you both reacted emotionally while speaking of your love for him made it obvious. 

Now the big question was who was this boy? 

Since the beginning, Ms. Venable had suspected that there was a connection between Ms. Mead and you. This only solidified her suspicions that you and her knew each other from before, most likely through The Cooperative. 

This had to be why Ms. Mead had protected you, you were the one that should’ve been killed instead of Stu. But Ms. Mead had decided otherwise, despite the clear orders Ms. Venable had given her. No one would have cared or even noticed if you had died. You were an outlier, something unpredictable to the order she had created here. She wanted you gone. 

“Think harder,” Ms. Venable commanded, glaring at you. “Who is the boy?”

“I don’t know,” you pressed your back against the wall. 

She slammed her cane on the floor. “Worthless girl,” she snapped. “You have no idea what’s at stake here.”

You had to know something. The order she had worked so hard to cultivate was beginning to crumble, it was all in jeopardy because of the arrival of Langdon. He was pulling it all apart at the seams, revealing her lies and planting the seeds of disobedience. He brought chaos and disorder into her outpost while repeatedly undermining her authority. She needed to regain some sort of control, before it was too late. 

“What?” You furrowed your brows, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t understand, what does he have to do with anything?”

Ms. Venable practically snarled, “Liar.”

You jumped slightly as your door suddenly opened, revealing Michael standing on the other side. 

“Ms. Venable,” he began. “I’ve been waiting in my office for quite some time…I still have questions for Ms. y/n,” he explained, folding his arms behind his back.

Ms.Venable glared at Michael, clenching her jaw tightly, her hands practically shaking with irritation over the sudden disruption. 

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he warned.

Ms. Venable didn't budge, she didn’t like being played for a fool, you knew more than you were letting on and she could see now that there was something going on between you and Langdon. 

Micheal smirked, obviously amused.“I think it’s time for you to leave,” he stated, taking a step to the side gesturing for her to go. 

She huffed, her cane tapping on the floor as she finally took her leave.

“Mr. Langdon,” you said softly, tilting your head.

“Michael,” he corrected.

“Michael,” you started again. “I wasn’t aware we were meeting again so soon.”

He smiled, directing his attention to you. “I wanted to continue where we left off yesterday. And now that Ms. Venable is gone, we can.”

Your face flushed as you recalled how your interview with him ended. You could still picture his face just inches from yours, his lips parted as you leaned in towards him. You had wondered if  you had just a minute or two longer with him, what would’ve happened? Was he really going to kiss you?

“What are you thinking about?” He looked around your room, before approaching you, his hands wrapping around your elbows as he pulled you towards him.

“Nothing,” you answered in a small voice. 

He laughed lightly, “I’m sure it’s not nothing.” His fingers curled tighter around your arms. “Let’s see… does it have anything to do with me?”

You bit your lip and nodded. 

He smirked triumphantly. “You don’t have to be so nervous about that,” Michael mused. “I want you to think about me… to want me. Do you want me?”

You nodded again, not trusting your voice. 

“Good,” he murmured. “Considering how we might end up the last two people on Earth.”

You furrowed your brow as Michael reached up, his knuckle running along your cheek. 

“Which brings me to why I’m here,” he continued, lowering his hand making you immediately miss his touch as it left your skin. “I have important news, news that I wanted to deliver to you in person.”

He focused on your face with a serious look, “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room, do you understand?”

“Yes,” you promised. 

Michael leaned down, his lips right by your ear. “You’ve been granted a spot at The Sanctuary.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe it. 

He smiled, placing his index finger over your lips. “This is our little secret.”

His finger lingered on your skin for a moment before he reluctantly released you. Smoothing out his coat, he gave you one last look, before leaving you there speechless. 

…

The complex multi-level underground structure of Outpost 3 was prone to creating strange moving shadows. It wasn’t dark figures following you in your peripherals. The fire and candle light that lit up each room and passage were unable to reach all the far corners. 

It was eerie at the beginning, constantly feeling like you had to look over your shoulder, but eventually you got used to it, like you did with the cubes, the complicated clothes, and the same song that played every damn day. It just became part of your reality. 

But lately you began to feel as though you were being followed by more than just the usual shadows, this new dark figure seemed more real, more solid. 

At first you blamed your mind, thinking it was playing tricks on you or mistaking the shadows for a real person. Since you weren’t getting much sleep, because of the vivid dreams and the horrendous headaches, it didn’t seem unreasonable to suspect that you might be hallucinating. 

You couldn’t shake the feeling, however. Unlike the shadows, it seemed to have more mobility, slinking along the walls or even the ceiling, watching you, but you were never able to get a good look at it. A few times, in the middle of night, you had jolted awake swearing that you had felt someone in bed beside you. 

You felt like you were losing your mind. 

Walking past the large fire in the atrium, you hoped that things would be better at The Sanctuary, less dreary and hopeless like the outpost had become. The change in scenery alone would be a welcomed change. 

You sighed thinking about what Michael had said about it just being you and him, you wished he had elaborated. 

Out of nowhere, you saw a dark figure move above you, against your better judgment you followed it, going up the stairs to a vacant room. 

You stood there frozen as a shadowy figure stood across from you. It tilted its head, staring at you. Its body was covered head to toe in latex. 

“Who are you?” You asked. 

It didn’t answer. 

“Michael?” You took a step closer, observing it more closely, wondering who or what it could be dressed like that. Your eyes wandered over its body, the tight fitting material left little to the imagination. 

It moved forward as well, extending its hand and caressing your cheek similar to how Michael had done earlier, but the texture of the latex on your skin made your skin crawl. It lacked the warmth and comfort Michael’s touch had brought you. The same touch that had excited you earlier, the same touch you craved to feel again. 

You squirmed as it laid its other hand on your waist. Desire radiated from its body as it pulled you closer. 

Fingers drifted up towards your chest. Your heart began to race, panic settling over you as you speculated what the strange creature would do next. 

The hand that had caressed your cheek trailed towards your neck. You inhaled sharply as its large fingers wrapped around your neck. 

Firmly you pushed it away from you. 

It tilted its head the other way, watching you attentively. For a moment you were worried that you had upset the person or creature, but it simply walked past you and out the door, seemingly satisfied. 

You stumbled backwards until your back hit a wall, releasing a shaky breath you had been holding in. 

The interaction was so odd and brief, that you couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. But something deep down told you it was a test. That Michael was testing you. 

Breathing in deeply, you tried to regain your composure. You knew it didn’t have any sort of malicious intent, it was more that you felt repulsed by the idea of anyone other than Michael touching you like that. 

You hoped you had seen the last of it. 

…

You were in the library when you heard that Evie had passed. You sat there for hours, in silence, as you tried to process the news. 

Gallant was at least courteous enough to find and tell you that she had died, emphasizing that she had died peacefully in her sleep. He held a somber expression, trying desperately to appear upset, nodding his head as he expressed that she had lived a long and fuller life than most. Too bad the crocodile tears he managed to muster were wasted, you were so despondent that you weren’t really listening anymore as he cried.

You weren’t sure how to feel about the situation, she had been a friend to you when you had no one, but you weren’t blind to her boasting and egotistical nature. You sure that in life she had more enemies than friends, even her own grandson barely seemed to tolerate her. 

There would be no funeral, no ceremony celebrating her life or to mourn her, everyone would just move on without a second thought. 

Your head shot up as you felt the couch dip beside you. 

Michael crossed his legs and propped his arm up on the back of the sofa, resting his head on his hand, as he turned his body towards you. 

“You’ve heard the news, I assume?” He asked, in a gentle tone.

You nodded as tears finally streamed down your face. Suddenly it all felt more real, now that Michael was here. Evie was really gone and your world seemed smaller now because of it. 

He rested his free hand over yours as you cried freely, his thumb caressing circles on the top of your hand. It took several minutes before you were able to compose yourself. 

“I know she wasn’t anyone’s favorite person,” you sniffled. “She rubbed people the wrong way, made everything about her, but Constance was my-“

You stopped speaking as you realized your mistake. 

Constance? 

The name had slipped from your lips so easily, like you had said it many times before, but that made no sense, you didn’t know anyone by that name, or did you?

Michael paused, his entire body becoming stiff as he peered at your face. 

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “I don’t know where that came from. I’ve been getting these headaches and having the weirdest dreams.”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Perhaps, it’s your mind preparing itself for when your memories return. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

You wiped your face, and inhaled deeply, “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Of course,” he murmured, shifting in his seat and taking the hand he was holding and moving it to his lap. He reclined his head on the back of the sofa as you scooted closer to him, laying your head against his shoulder.

Michael stared at the chandelier, watching flames on the candles flicker with a pensive expression, his hand holding yours tighter as his thoughts drifted back to memories he had forbidden himself from revisiting. 

He had changed and grown so much over the past couple of years, but having you back by his side invoked so many emotions and memories. You were always there when he needed you, when he wanted you. 

He felt like such a monster after Grandma’s death. It left him wondering whether people were incapable of loving him because he was so wicked, evil. But you stayed with him, comforted him, loved him. You had knelt down beside him on the wooden floors, letting him cry upon your shoulder as you held him close... 

Michael blinked a few times, holding back tears. “You should get some rest,” he managed to say in an even tone. 

You stretched your arms over your head and nodded. Your entire body felt heavy. Once you arrived in your room you collapsed on your bed, passing out, too tired to dream. 

… 

Michael closed his laptop and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t focus on his work. The events from earlier had opened the floodgates, leaving him feeling like he was drowning inside. 

It was becoming such a struggle to keep you at arms length. Even without your memories he could see that you were still drawn to him, that you still cared for him, and it was taking all of his self restraint not to take advantage of that. 

There was nothing he wouldn’t give to have things like they were… to listen to you talk softly as you played with his hair or to reach out and hold your hand whenever he needed to.

But it was still too soon, he still had to keep you safe. 

He glanced at the trunk that held the few belongings he brought with him to the outpost. Laying on top was a book of yours, your favorite book. You had read it to him so many times that he grew to love it as much as you did. 

Closing his eyes Michael could picture the last time you read it to him, as clear as day, back in the old mansion. It was the middle of the afternoon, his head was resting on your belly as both laid together in his room, your nails were scratching his scalp. He had fallen asleep before you reached the end…

For nearly two years he tried to read it, but he never got very far, it was only a good book when you were reading it. 

Michael was sitting in front of the fireplace, head resting against his hand as he gazed into the flames. A worn book sat on his lap, forgotten. Just a few more days he kept reminding himself, he had worked so hard to get to this point, but soon he’d have everything he wanted. 

He turned his head as you opened the door and peeked in. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“That’s right,” Michael nodded, rising from his seat and taking a few long strides towards you. “I’ve heard you’ve read most of the books available in the library.”

“Not much else to do,” you smiled slightly, shutting the door behind you. 

“Would you like a new book to read?” He asked, looking down at you. “I have a feeling, you’ll really enjoy this one.”  He dangled the book that had been on his lap in front of you. 

You tilted your head, giving him a wary look, but as soon as you reached out to accept it, he pulled it away with a smug grin. 

Micheal tutted, shaking his head. “Not so quick, there’s a catch,” he teased, holding it over his shoulder. “If you want to read it, you have to read it to me.”

“Read it to you?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, getting closer to you.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered.“Why?”

“So many questions,” Michael chuckled. “If you really don’t want to, I could ask one of the others, Gallant, maybe? Or Coco?”

“I’ll do it,” you blurted out, the thought of him asking someone else smacked you with a bout of anxiety, making your heart jump into your throat. Again you made a reach for the book, and this time he allowed you to take it. With a smile, he relinquished the hardback book to you, and headed back towards the fireplace. 

Gracefully, he shucked off his black coat and laid it on the back of one of the chairs. As you were about to sit on the other armchair, he stopped you and offered you his hand, guiding you to the rug on the floor. 

You knelt down on your knees first, before trying your best to get comfortable on the floor. The tight bodice and large skirt on your dress limited your mobility.

You were caught off guard as Michael joined you, resting his head upon your lap as stretched out on the carpet. His face looked up, his attention all on you as he waited for you to start. 

Clearing your throat, you opened the book to the first chapter and started reading. Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his arms laying across his chest as you read in a soft and steady tone. 

Michael was right, you immediately became engrossed in the story and attached to its characters. Time passed comfortably between the two of you as if this were a regular occurrence or activity. Absent-mindedly, you played with Michael’s hair, casually twirling the silky strands around your finger. He slowly opened his eyes gazing at the fireplace with the same vulnerable expression you had briefly seen before. 

He snatched your hand, curling his fingers around your palm, with a firm grip he placed your hand on his chest holding it there with both of his. 

You stopped reading, and looked down at him. His head was still turned away from you, long blonde locks covering the side of his face. You could feel his heart beating under your touch. Your fingers slowly grasped the front of his shirt. Laying the book down, you reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear. 

Michael closed his eyes and gave a long drawn out sigh before immediately sitting up. 

“Michael?”

He didn’t answer as he got to his feet. 

Just then, two grays abruptly slid the large black doors open. Ms. Venable appeared heated, her lips forming a scowl as she stared daggers between you and Michael. 

“It’s time for dinner,” Ms. Venable reminded sharply. “You’ve already missed cocktail hour.”

Michael stepped in front of you, protectively, blocking Ms. Venable’s view of you. 

“My apologies,” he said, though his expression said otherwise.

Ms. Venable pursed her lips, her hand balling into a fist. Michael narrowed his eyes, standing tall, almost daring Ms. Venable to say something else with him present. Finally, she averted her gaze.

He lifted his coat from the chair and slipped it back on effortlessly. “I’ll escort her down.”

Michael waited until she left, before he helped you up. He still appeared irritated over the intrusion, acting unusually quiet. 

You placed your hand on his upper arm, guiding him to face you. Michael raised his brow as he looked down at you, a faint smile forming on his lips. 

Offering you his arm, he led you downstairs. 

…

Ms. Venable gathered everyone in the music room, purples and grays, under the guise of an emergency meeting. All eyes were on her as she began to speak of the hardships endured by all during the past months. 

“I believe now what we need is a moment of celebration,” she announced. “Which is why this weekend, as a gesture of goodwill, we will have a Halloween soirée.”

Gallant and Coco were the only ones to react with notable excitement. The rest of the purples seemed to question the real purpose of this masquerade.

You couldn’t help but notice the lack of Evie’s big personality in the room, the other purples seemed so dull by comparison. You missed her witty comments and humor. She probably had some interesting stories relating to Halloween. 

Gallant, perhaps reading your expression, added how it was a shame his grandmother wouldn’t be present. However, he did a piss poor job of pretending to be sad. You wanted to roll your eyes at the comment, but resisted.

With everyone present in one room, with the exception of Michael, you were reminded that you had been selected for The Sanctuary. You were curious about who else Michael had chosen. 

You glanced briefly at Ms.Mead, if it were up to you, you would pick her to join. She was far more useful and resourceful than the others, and could handle stressful situations with a cool head from what you had witnessed. To you she was simply one of the best this Outpost had to offer. 

“I encourage you all to use your imaginations, to create what I am sure to be exquisite costumes,” Ms. Venable continued. 

Once again the only ones who appeared happy about this whole ordeal were Coco and Gallant. It seemed strange for Ms. Venable to be acting so out of character, for her to care about something as frivolous as Halloween or making amends to anyone. There had to be more to it all. 

Before dismissing everyone, she stressed, “Attendance is mandatory.” 

The day of the masquerade, you had spent most of the day primping and preening hoping to look your best for the night. Even though it seemed unlikely, a part of you was holding out hope that you would see Michael tonight. 

You did a little twirl in front of the full length mirror in your room. You were wearing a full length dark purple gown with an off -shoulder neckline made of silky ruffles. 

Arriving in the music room, you spotted Ms. Mead who entered with a cart carrying apples. You felt a flutter of excitement, watching as she started to add them to a a barrel of water. They looked so appetizing. The others began to gather around, stunned that there was fresh fruit. 

Looking at their faces as they stood around the barrel, you realized that you had left your mask upstairs. While they were all distracted with the fresh apples for the party, you snuck away and headed back to your room. 

Lifting the skirt of your dress, you hurried back up the steps, but slowed down immediately when saw Micheal standing on the landing. His hand was resting on the bannister, as he gazed down at you. 

“Are you heading downstairs?” You asked as you made your way up. 

Michael chuckled, “Afraid not.”

“Oh,” you said with a sad smile, trying to hide your disappointment. 

He offered you his hand as you took the last few steps up. Michael’s lips curled into a sneer as he examined you and your dress.

“Such an ugly color,” he criticized, his finger grazing over the dark purple fabric. “Doesn’t suit you at all.”

You glanced down at it, “There’s not much variety when it comes to color in my closet.” 

He hummed, his hands undoing his scarf. He held it up to your face, before wrapping it securely around your neck, “Now red,” he murmured. “Red looks good on you.”

You could feel your face heat up over the small compliment. 

Michael sighed as he took a moment to admire you, then leaned down, his lips close to your ear. “I bet you’d look even better in black.” 

He pulled back. “Come with me,” he invited. 

You bit your lip, looking back towards the stairs leading down to the music room. 

He shook his head and reached for your hand. “No one will even notice you're not there.”

“But Ms. Venable said attendance was mandatory,” you whispered, playing with one end of the scarf. 

Micheal frowned, his grip on your hand tightening, “I thought you’d want to spend time with me.”

“I do,” you said quickly.

“Then why are you hesitating?” He inquired, his voice steadily rising. “I can give you whatever you want, they can’t.”

You cupped his cheek, you hadn’t seen him become so emotional before, “I just wanted to try an apple, that’s all, but I’d rather be with you.”

He examined your face, his eyes practically staring straight into your soul. “That’s all?” He asked softly. 

With a deep breath, his calm and confident façade returned. Lacing his fingers with yours, Michael led you to his room. 

He motioned for you to have a seat on his bed, before he bent down and unlatched a black chest that was on the floor. From the chest he produced an apple. 

Michael held it out towards you, it was a deep rich red color and unblemished. It looked perfect. You only hoped it tasted as good as it looked. 

“Go ahead,” he urged, sitting by his desk and watching intently as you brought the apple to your lips. 

You moaned as you bit into it, savoring the satisfying crunch and the sweet taste as juice dribbled down your chin. You took several more bites, giggling a little as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

You suddenly felt self conscious as you realized Micheal was still watching, his gaze firmly fixed on you. 

“How is it?” He asked, shifting forward as he moved his elbows from his chair onto his knees. 

You hid your mouth behind your hand as you swallowed, “Delicious.”

“Is that right?”

“Best thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“I can think of something that tastes better,” he leaned forward, tilting his head and stroking his hand against your cheek and down to your neck as he pulled you closer. “It’s time for you to come back to me, y/n.”

His soft lips brushed against yours, before parting. His tongue lightly trailed over your lower lip, tasting the juice from the apple. You melted against him, your apple slipping from your fingers and falling to the floor as you held onto him. You closed your eyes, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling. 

Who would’ve thought a kiss would be so powerful? 

***flashback***

Micheal sat by the window, anxiously awaiting for your arrival. When grandma had shared that she was going out for the evening, and that you would be the one coming to watch him, he immediately perked up with excitement. 

“How much longer grandma?” He whined.

“Not much longer,” she replied, patting the top of her grandson’s head. 

Constance felt like she had hit the jackpot when you started sitting for her. After the last few babysitters, who had unfortunately met their demise here in her house, she feared that she’d never be able to go out alone or get a moment’s peace without having to add one death on her already guilt ridden conscience. But after that first night, when she entered her home and saw you alive and well with Micheal beside you just as happy as he could be, she honestly felt like the luckiest woman alive. 

“Now remember to behave yourself, Micheal,” Constance started. “We both like Ms. y/n very much, don't we? It would be such a pity if she wasn’t around anymore.” 

Micheal nodded his head, “I’ll be good.”

Now, Constance was no fool, she had her suspicions as to why her grandson made an exception when it came to you. The little dear had a crush on you, his first crush. It was truly sweet, watching him moon over you, almost made Micheal seem like a normal boy. 

“She’s here!” Micheal shouted, jumping out of his seat to greet you at the door. 

“Hi, Micheal,” you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your middle, squeezing you tightly. 

“I missed you,” he mumbled, face pressed into stomach. 

“I missed you too,” you rubbed his back as he squeezed you even tighter. 

Constance smiled, grabbing her purse, “I’ll be back at 10. Have fun you two!”

“We will!” You replied, waving as she headed out. 

You crouched down, onto your knees, looking Michael eye to eye, “Why don’t you go pick out a movie, okay?”

Micheal nodded, rushing into the living room, and grabbing the TV remote before flopping onto the couch and scrolling through the channels. 

Micheal was by far the easiest kid you cared for, he followed your instructions, never had a tantrum or fussed, and always seemed so happy when you were around. 

There had been rumors circulating around the neighborhood that made you hesitant about accepting the position. Everyone had heard about the deaths in the house, of course, but rumors were now spreading about how those nannies and sitters were actually murdered. However, after getting to know Micheal and Constance, you were glad you took the job. There was no way this sweet little boy could’ve hurt anyone. 

He may have had some odd interests, but he just seemed so innocent. 

“What movie did you pick?” You asked from the kitchen as the popcorn finished popping. 

“The Omen,” he answered. 

“Are you sure you want to watch that one? It’s pretty scary,” you warned. 

“I’m sure.”

You shrugged, curling up on the couch beside him with a big bowl of buttery popcorn. You didn’t mind his interests, no matter how strange they might be to others. In your opinion, watching a horror movie was way better than watching The Wiggles or whatever else kids were into these days. 

After a while, you grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered your legs. Michael’s eyes were glued to the screen, but he managed to snuggle closer to you as you shared the blanket with him. 

You winced as the nanny jumped, the noose successfully snapping her neck. It had been a few years since you’ve watched this particular horror classic. Usually you weren’t so jumpy, but it took you by surprise. 

Michael shifted in his seat and looked at you. “It’s not his fault, right?” He asked in a small voice. 

You raised your brow, and sat up, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down. “What Michael?”

“Damien and the stuff that’s happening, it’s not his fault, right?”

You looked back at the TV screen and thought about it for a moment. It was an interesting question. Damien is the son of the devil, but he’s still a child after all, and children are innocent and still learning about right and wrong. The contradictory nature of Damien’s existence is part of what makes the film so captivating. Makes the viewer wonder about all the evil people in the world and where it all went wrong for them. 

How much of Damien’s circumstance was his fault? He didn’t ask to be born, he had no control over who his father was… Does he understand that his desires are evil? Is he compelled to act on these impulses without choice? Does he have free will?

You could feel Michael’s gaze on you as you mulled it over. His eyes examined every little feature and movement your face made. His small hands gripped the knees of his pants as anxiety built up within him as he waited for your answer. 

“It’s complicated, I think,” you said. “It’s not all his fault but some of it is.”

Michael laid back on the couch as he processed what you said. “I’d never hurt you, y/n.”

He didn’t want you to end up like the others before, they didn’t come back and he was fine with that, but he’d feel terrible if that happened to you. The thought of you being gone forever made him feel a lot of things, sad, angry, lonely… he would never hurt you. 

…

“Well, don’t you look nice,” Constance complimented as she opened the door and invited you in. “If you had other plans, dear, you didn’t have to come.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I wouldn’t call being stood up plans.”

“His loss, Honey,” Constance reassured you, giving you a small pat on the arm. 

You had been waiting alone at the restaurant when Constance called you, you immediately accepted. You figured speanding time with Michael was better than going home alone to mope over some dumb guy anyways. 

“Where’s Michael?” You asked, surprised he hadn’t already bulldozed you with a hug. 

Michael peeked his head from around the corner, he was blushing bright red the moment he saw you. You never looked so pretty before. You were dressed up like a princess. 

You tilted your head and smiled, “Why are you being so shy, silly?” You knelt down with your arms wide open. 

Michael rushed over, looping his arms around you. 

“Sorry again about your date, dear,” Constance consoled you as she grabbed her coat. 

“I’ll be fine,” you laughed as she headed towards the door. “I’ve got Michael to cheer me up.”

He pulled away from you beaming, “I can do that.”

You smiled back at him and winked, “Why don’t we start our night with some ice cream?”

He nodded eagerly following you to the kitchen.

“So you were on a date?” Michael asked, hopping onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook. 

“Sort of,” you shrugged, getting ice cream out of the freezer and setting it on the counter to soften. “It’s not really a date when the other person doesn’t show up.”

“Is dating like getting married?” He inquired, swinging his legs back and forth. 

“No, not exactly,” you answered without missing a beat, juggling your conversation while opening the fridge and grabbing the chocolate syrup and whip cream. “Dating is more of a step towards getting married, people date to figure out if they want to marry the person.”

Michael nodded, “What do you do on a date?”

“Oh, all sorts of things,” you grabbed bowls from the cabinet. “Watch a movie, go out to dinner, walk in the park, just any activity where I can talk and get to know the other person.”

“Are we dating?” Michael asked with an earnest look. 

You paused, still holding the bowls, as you turned around to face him. The question caught you completely off guard. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, we do all those things together,” he explained. “We eat together, watch movies, play at the park, talk…”

You laughed, “you’re right, we do do all those things together.”

“So we’re dating?”

You sighed, fishing through the drawer for the ice cream scooper. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but we’re not.”

“Why not?” He asked, concern written all over his face. “Don’t you like me?”

“Of course I do,” you murmured, handing him a bowl and a spoon and ruffling his hair. “But when it comes to dating, you should pick someone that's the same age as you.”

“Grandma doesn’t,” he said bluntly. 

You bit your lip, trying hard not to laugh or smile, he wasn't wrong. You took a moment to think about your next words carefully. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you have to be an adult.”

Michael sighed and nodded, picking at his food. He hated all those ‘when you're older’ things. “So will you date me when I’m an adult?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind dating an ugly old lady,” you teased. 

“Don’t say that,” he declared, his blue eyes fixated on you, full of determination. “You’ll always be beautiful.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead, “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

…

Michael was overjoyed, his prayers had been granted overnight. He had gone to bed wishing, begging, to be older, to be an adult. He was so desperate to be with you, he never wanted anything so badly. 

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his fingers examining his older face, he turned his head side to side, wondering if you would still think he was cute. 

Constance was still so rattled from the shock of finding a full grown Michael asleep in his small bed, that she hadn’t been able to stop shaking all morning. 

Michael couldn’t wait to show you the new him. He bounced downstairs to find grandma, she needed to call you, invite you over right now so you could see. 

When he first asked, she made up an excuse saying you were too busy, but as days passed he began getting more and more irritable, throwing tantrums, whining and crying for you to come over. 

She disconnected the phone. That pushed him over the edge. He screamed, yelling that he hated her, while yanking the phone and cord off the wall. 

But she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk Michael calling you or you calling the house. 

Constance was worried for your well being, how could you accept what she couldn’t, if you refused him after what he did for you, how he grew up just for you, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to end your life. In a strange way, you represented the last small piece of humanity that Michael had. It would be a shame if he snuffed it out. 

He couldn’t sleep, he was still so angry, why was grandma doing this to him. Why was she being so mean? He balled his fists, breathing fast. He didn’t want to listen to her anymore or follow her dumb rules or do anything she says…

Michael seemed to have blacked out after that, because the next thing he knew his hands were wrapped around his grandmother’s throat. He gasped, tears falling from his eyes as he finally let her go. 

He didn’t mean to. 

The next day Constance called the priest. She had no other alternatives. She had never in her life been so afraid. But when that fell through, and she saw the priest dead on the floor, she finally snapped. 

…

All morning you kept looking at your phone, thinking any minute it would light up and ring. When you hadn’t heard from Constance, you became concerned. Typically you watched Michael at least three days a week, if not more. But by the time the afternoon rolled around, and you still hadn’t heard a thing, you decided to call. 

You tapped your foot anxiously as you held your phone to your ear, but your stomach dropped when a robotic voice informed you that the line was no longer in service. 

Dropping the phone, you immediately bolted out the door. Fortunately, you lived nearby as you began to sprint towards their house. Your mind was racing, as you assumed the worst had happened. You prayed that they were both safe. 

You came to a sudden stop, as you stood across the street from their house, a young man emerged from the front door in a hurry. He seemed completely distraught, walking barefoot, tears streaming down his face, eyes bloodshot. 

You jogged towards him. “Are you okay?” You asked, voice laced with concern. 

He lifted his head at the sound of your voice. “Y/n?” The man gasped, immediately reaching out for you. 

You took a few steps back, the poor boy looked like you had just punched him in the gut. 

He started crying harder, “Don’t you recognize me?”

You narrowed your eyes, gently placing your hands on his cheeks, directing his face side to side, so you could get a look at him. He was beautiful, gorgeous even, with a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and clear blue eyes. 

“Michael?” You whispered. Looking into his eyes, you knew it was him, even though it was impossible.

“Grandma’s mad at me,” he wailed, his hands clinging to your shirt as he buried his face against your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, stroking his back.

“Will you take care of me, y/n?” He sobbed. 

“Of course-“ you stopped talking as Constance came outside. 

Her face was hard and stoic as she watched you and Michael before she motioned for you to come into the house. 

“Let’s go inside,” you murmured, brushing his hair away from his eyes. 

At first Michael didn’t budge as he looked over his shoulder back at Constance. 

“It’s alright,” you encouraged him, taking his hand and walking back to the house. 

Constance forced a smile as she greeted you, “You’re taking this better than I did.” 

She gave Michael a cold look, who immediately looked down at his feet as he shuffled into the house.

Once inside, the reality of the situation sunk in as you sat across from a full grown Michael, who was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. He stared up at you full of adoration. 

“So you’re older now…” you began. 

He beamed, “Yep! I did it for you.”

“You… did this for me?”

Michael nodded, his eyes still red from crying. 

“How?”

He shrugged, “I just wished for it really really hard. I never wanted anything more.” His face turned serious, 

“So what do you think?” 

“What do I think?” You repeated. You were still trying to figure out why he did this for you. You glanced at him and saw his hopeful expression. “I think… you look very handsome.”

“So you like it?”

“Of course, I do. You did it for me.”

The next day Constance invited you over. Michael was still in his room when you arrived. She seemed tired, distant, expressing that she wasn’t up to going out. 

“Y/n, dear,” Constance laid a hand on your shoulder. “Mind taking Michael out for a bit? Could do him some good to get out of the house.”

“Sure,” you nodded, before heading upstairs. Outside Michael's room you could hear the TV, the sound effects gave away that he was busy playing a video game.

“Hey Michael,” you said, leaning against the doorframe to his room. “Want to go out with me?”

“Like a date?” He perked up like a little puppy, dropping his video game controller on his bed. 

“Sure,” you laughed. You had never seen him move so fast as he scrambled to his closet and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes and a jacket, putting them on in record time. 

“I’m ready,” he said eagerly, taking your hand in his and practically raced down stairs with you stumbling behind him. “Bye Grandma!”

It felt odd, not in a bad way, just different. 

Michael was obviously adjusting to his older body. He wasn’t used to being so big or strong, and he was still behaving with the same amount of energy as a boy would, like holding your hand with all his might. 

He blushed as you explained that he had to loosen his grip a little because he was so strong now, but you still found his enthusiasm endearing. 

“So what would you like to do today?” You asked him. 

“Let’s go to the park, then have milkshakes,” he said animatedly. 

The two of you walked to the neighborhood park, taking a small stroll around the pond watching the ducks swim. Suddenly Michael bolted towards the playground, dragging you behind him. 

“The swings are open!” He shouted. 

“Michael,” you half laughed, half shouted, trying to keep up with him. 

“Come on,” he said, letting go of your hand and grabbing the swing chains. “I’ll push you!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, embarrassed. 

“Please,” He rocked the swing side to side. “It’ll be fun!”

You shook your head as you finally relented, unable to resist his puppy dog eyes.

He grinned, holding the swing steady as you sat down. “Hold on tight,” he whispered in your ear before he started pulling the swing back. 

You giggled as you swung forward then back again, his hands catching you each time and pushing you higher and higher. Michael was busy enjoying himself, listening to you laugh as he pushed you harder, he forgot to pay attention to how hard he was pushing you and accidentally pushed you too hard. 

You fell forward, landing on your hands and knees. Hissing, you moved so you could sit properly. You bit your lip, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you tried to bend your knee to get a better look. You had a large gash that stung.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he whispered, kneeling in front of you. Michael’s heart was hammering in his chest, he had never seen you upset before… your pain, your tears, hurt him more than the angry words his grandma had shouted at him yesterday. 

“I’ll be alright,” you said, mustering up a smile for him. 

Michael winced watching the blood drip down your calf. He thought about how the other nannies and sitters bled when they made him mad, they didn’t come back after that. Would you leave him now too? 

You scanned the area, hoping there was a bathroom or drinking fountain nearby so you could at least wash some of the blood off. 

“Here,” Michael said, taking a hold of your leg as he thought of a way to fix it. “I’ll kiss it better.” 

“You don’t have to-“

But he pressed his lips to your knee before you could stop him. The kiss lingered longer than the quick peck you had expected him to give. His eyes were closed, deep in concentration. Lifting his head, he licked the smear of blood off his lips. 

“All better,” he chirped. 

You ran your fingers over your knee, the cut was gone leaving your knee looked as good as new. “Michael, how did you…” 

You dropped the subject as you looked up at him, golden hair shining in the sunlight as he sat back in the grass. It seemed stupid to ask, healing your knee was probably easy compared to changing his age or any of the other strange things he had accomplished. 

“Can we go get a milkshake now you?” Michael yawned. “I’m hungry and tired.”

“Sure,” you replied, still dazed. 

He held out both of his hands to you, helping you up off the ground, and immediately laced his fingers with yours as he started leading the way. 

Michael insisted on sharing a milkshake with you, explaining he had seen couples doing that on TV. The two of you found a table near a window by the corner. 

“Want the cherry?” You asked Michael, using the tip of your straw to push it to his side. 

Right away he plucked it from the cup and popped it into his mouth with the exception of the stem. “Thanks,” he grinned, still chewing. 

“You’re very welcome,” you leaned forward taking a big sip. 

Michael bounced, “This has been the best date!”

You chuckled, “It really has been great.”

Out of nowhere, he leaned across the table and kissed your cheek. It was a quick and innocent little peck, but his face was beet red when he sat back down. You bit your lip thinking about how cute he was acting. 

Walking home, Michael smiled, a full genuine smile, his eyes lighting up as he gazed down at you. “I like being taller than you,” he laughed. 

You smiled back at him, your hand clasped together with his, swinging them between you. As you entered the house, you immediately noted how quiet it was. Something was wrong. 

“Constance, we're back,” you called out as you closed the door. You waited for a reply, but all there was was silence. 

“Michael,” you said softly, turning to him. “Wait right here, I’m going to go upstairs. Your grandma is probably just taking a nap.”

Michael watched you as you went upstairs, he didn’t understand why you seemed so distressed. He tried to wait like you had asked him to, but Grandma was probably just next door. She did that sometimes. 

He looked out the window towards the vacant house then back toward the direction you had gone. He could be back with Grandma before you’d even realize that he had left. 

“Grandma?” Michael called wandering into the large old house. He furrowed his brow, running towards the couch when he saw her. “Grandma?” 

His heart sped up when he saw her. 

“Grandma,” Michael crumbled to his knees. “Hey, wake up.” With shaky hands he held her. 

She didn’t move or breathe, her heart had stopped beating… Michael knew a dead body when he saw one, she was gone. This was all his fault, he drove her to this. There was something wrong with him. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried, hugging her lifeless body. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh God,” you covered your mouth as you finally found Michael and Constance. “Michael,” you stumbled towards him, immediately taking him in your arms and cradling him against you. 

“This is all my fault,” he sobbed, curling his knees to his chest, hands clutching your arm. “I’m a monster.” 

“No, you’re not a monster,” you soothed. “You didn’t do this.”

You rocked Michael in your arms, your eyes surveyed the living room, there was an empty pill bottle left discarded on the nearby coffee table along with a glass of liquor. You couldn’t understand why she would kill herself.

“I-I should call someone,” you said, trying to hold yourself together. 

“Don’t call the police,” a man’s voice advised seemingly out of nowhere. 

You snapped your head around and stared wide eyed at the dark haired man who just appeared out of nowhere. He was sitting in one of the arm chairs, legs crossed with relaxed posture. 

“They’ll just take Michael away. You don’t want that do you?” He asked you in a calm voice. 

You shook your head, your sweet Micheal had been through enough already, “Who are you? I thought this house was vacant.” 

The man blatantly ignored your questions and continued, “You should go pack Michael’s things, He’s going to be staying here with us for a while.”

Michael’s hands gripped you tightly. “Will you stay with me?” He croaked.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you, observing your reaction closely. Gently, you wiped Michael’s eyes, then tilted his head up. “Of course, I’ll stay with you.”

Michael sniffled, “Forever?”

You swallowed, glimpsing at Constance’s lifeless form then back to Michael. “Forever.”

The man stayed with Michael as you went next door. You felt like you were on autopilot as you folded his shirts and packed them into a duffle bag. 

Your life was about to change drastically, but you couldn’t refuse him. You couldn’t just abandon him when he needed you the most, especially not after the only family he had killed herself. 

You knew Michael was different, very different, but he still needed someone, someone that could accept and love him even with all the terrible and strange things that came with him… he needed you.

It didn’t take you long to piece together that Ben and the others in the house were ghosts, or perhaps they preferred spirits. 

Living in a haunted house took some getting used to. Michael adjusted faster than you did, you were secretly grateful that he wanted to share a room with you, so at least you weren’t alone at night. 

It was unnerving seeing them from the corner of your eye, only for them to disappear when you turned your head. Ben was the only one you had officially met so far, but you were aware that his family along with many others were trapped in the house. 

Michael quickly began to view Ben as a father figure. They spent a lot of time together playing games and having long conversations. 

You were happy that Michael was opening up to someone. From what you had gathered Ben was a psychologist, you hoped that he’d be able to help Michael, especially with the trauma of losing Constance. 

… 

You were doing laundry and other little chores around the house while Michael was busy with some father and son bonding with Ben. 

As you were getting clothes out of the dryer and into a wicker basket, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Looking up, you saw a young man with blonde hair like Michael’s staring at you from the doorway. 

Clutching Michael’s yellow t-shirt, you stared back at the man, who then sneered and simply vanished. You stayed planted there for several seconds as you wondered who he was. 

“Don’t let him get to you,” a woman’s voice said gently. You whipped around to see a woman with long strawberry blonde hair. 

“He won’t do anything,” she explained with a half smile. “Probably more curious than anything else.”

You furrowed your brow, “Curious about what?”

“You,” she answered. “And about why you’ve stayed.” Her eyes traveled to the shirt in your hands. “Guess some of us are just surprised you’ve stuck around.”

“Because Michael’s different from everyone else?” you questioned.

“That’s one way to put it,” she sighed and leaned against the washing machine. “He’s… he acts differently around you. You mean a lot to him.”

Looking at her sorrowful expression, it seemed like there was something she else wanted to say. You jumped as a baby began to cry. 

“I have to go,” she said, excusing herself. 

You sighed, shaking your head, living with ghosts was like having a bunch of eccentric roommates sometimes. You dropped Michael’s shirt with the rest of clean laundry in the basket, then knelt down to lift it up. Walking into the living room, you found Michael and Ben. 

Michael sprung off the couch and darted towards you. 

“So what did you and Ben do today?” You chuckled. 

“We just talked,” he replied, taking the basket from you. You waved to Ben before you and Michael headed up stairs. 

“Oh, about what?”

Michael shrugged, “Just stuff.” He paused mid-step and cleared his throat. “You look really pretty today.”

You bit your lip, face heating up a bit. Despite all the compliments Michael gave you daily, he had this way about him that made you believe every little one, even on a day like this where you were dressed in just joggers and a tee. 

“Thank you, Michael.”

…

Ben was gone. 

Michael sat there between the bodies, crushed as another parental figure abandoned him. Questions ran through his mind. Why did everyone leave? What was wrong with him? How could he do these things?

Sniffling, his eyes widened as you stepped in. His pulse spiked and he began to panic. He didn’t hear you come back to the house.This wasn’t part of his plan, you weren’t supposed to see this. 

You were quiet, so quiet with a vacant look in your eye as you stared at all the blood on the floor. 

Ben, Tate, grandma had all yelled at him, they called him a monster or a freak or a coward, but you didn’t say a word. 

You had seen what he had done, seen the bodies for yourself. You looked at him with a sadness in your eyes that Michael couldn’t bear. You simply retreated back up to the room you and him shared. 

Tears spilled freely down his face as he sat on the floor. Michael had never been so scared in his life. Were you in there packing your belongings? Were you going to leave? What would he do without you?

That’s why he had to kill them in the first place, because he didn't want to be separated from you. There was no other way. The new owners would call the police once they found out you and him were living there, and the police would take him away from you.

Michael had noticed how stressed it had made you too. He could sense your worry, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. From the very moment the realtor took the for sale sign down, you and him both knew everything was at risk. 

He just wanted to keep that from happening, he was happy here with you, happier than he had ever been. So he killed the new owners and got rid of them for good, this was his home now. 

He curled into himself, hands over his head as he wailed. 

“Michael?” Your voice was so soft that he didn’t hear you at first when you returned. “Michael, you should change.”

He peeked up, surprised you came back. You kept your distance, not crossing the threshold as if there was an invisible barrier. “Y/n?”

“You should change out of that,” you said again, looking at the black latex suit he was in.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he nodded, slowly getting to his feet. 

Going into the bathroom, he noticed you had set out some clean clothes for him to change into. 

Even though you were waiting for him in the room, the fear of you abandoning him hadn’t left. Michael hadn’t expected it when his grandmother left him. Were you just waiting for an opportunity to leave him? Lull him into a false sense of security then abandon him when he least suspects it?

Michael shook his head, you wouldn’t do that. 

“She’s not going to leave,” he whispered to himself before he pulled the clean white t-shirt on and the pair of pajama bottoms you had picked out for him. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed when he emerged from the bathroom. You weren’t acting like yourself and it worried him. He noticed you hadn’t moved a muscle since he went in, you had just been staring at your hands the whole time. 

Michael’s fingers curled and uncurled as he awkwardly stood there. Wishing he knew what to say or do to make things right. 

“I’m sorry,” he started suddenly, falling to his knees in front of you. “I just didn’t want to be taken away from you. I didn’t want to leave this house.” He took your hands in his, looking up at you with genuine concern.

You nodded, you were able to piece that much together. Michael was scared and he handled the situation the only way he could, the only way he believed would keep you and him together. It was just a lot to process. 

Michael was your sweet boy, you never would have believed he was capable of something so terrible, but what was even more frightening for you was how you seemed to just accept it so easily. You weren’t mad or upset at him. Logically, you should’ve wanted to be far away from him after seeing those bodies on the floor, but looking at his face, you still cared for him, loved him. 

“We should get some rest,” you suggested. 

Michael swallowed thickly, climbing into the bed beside you as you turned out the lights. 

He couldn’t sleep, he was afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d take the chance and leave him in the middle of night. You felt both of his hands grip the back of your nightgown as he pressed his forehead against the center of your back. 

His mind kept returning to the fact that you had seen the truth, what he was capable of. Why did things have to change?

“Michael?” You could feel him tremble against you as he started sobbing again. When he didn’t respond, you tried to sit up, but that only made him cry harder while his fingers curled tighter, trying to keep you from leaving. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whimpered. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. 

He finally loosened his grip. 

You rolled over onto your side. Laying face to face, you brushed away his tears. 

Even in the dark, Michael thought you were the most beautiful person in the world. Always so kind and loving, he wanted to keep you forever. 

“Come here,” you said, opening your arms to embrace him. He rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 

“I’ve hurt people, not just the ones from earlier,” Michael admitted, swallowing thickly. “And I think I’m going to keep hurting people.”

Your fingers soothingly scratched his scalp as you held him close. He took in a deep breath, working up the nerve to finally ask the questions that were truly bothering him. 

“Can you still love me?” He asked in a small voice. “Even though I’ve done bad things?”

“I don’t think I could ever stop loving you,” you answered without pause. “It’s a little scary for me to think about, that’s all.”

“You’re scared of me?” He asked, hurt evident in his voice. 

“No, I’m not afraid of you,” you reassured him, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s just that loving someone this much is scary.”

“I love you the same way,” Michael explained. “I’ll never stop loving you, y/n.”

…

The house was unbearably warm.

The heat left you drained, barely able to lift a finger, even though you just woke up. You kicked the sheets off but remained in bed, even that small action left you feeling exhausted. 

You laid there, still, listening to the hoarse caws of the crows that seemed to appear overnight. They lingered around the house, circling it at night. 

“Y/n?” Michael called. You usually didn’t sleep in so late, it was almost the afternoon. 

You smiled weakly at him, “Morning.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” you stretched your arms over your head on the bed. “And warm.”

Michael didn’t seem bothered by the strange heat that seemed to smother you. The air from the basement all the way to the attic was hot, there was no escaping it. 

“Can you get me some water?” You croaked.  

Michael nodded, heading downstairs and quickly returning to you with a glass of ice water. You shamelessly drained the glass, droplets rolling down your chin and neck. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, handing him the empty glass, before falling back onto your pillow. 

He stood there for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he could do. You looked so miserable, strands of your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, your nightgown hiked up to cool your legs. 

Going into the bathroom, he prepared a washcloth with cold water. The bed dipped as he sat next to you, tenderly he dabbed the washcloth over your face. You hummed appreciatively, extending your neck as he moved it lower. He stroked the cloth over your collarbone, then down closer to your chest. 

He watched it rise and fall, hypnotically, your skin looked so soft, so tempting. Ben had talked to him about these kinds of feelings, about men and women and romantic love. He had said this was the kind of talk all fathers should have with their sons. He has seen Michael wanting to be closer to you, his desires to feel your skin against his. Ben assured him that it was natural and a completely normal part of growing up. But Ben had also made it clear that there were lines Michael couldn’t cross, lines that if he didn’t follow, he would end up hurting you. 

Michael sighed, pulling his hand away. Folding the wash cloth, he laid it on your forehead before leaving. 

…

Michael headed downstairs when he heard the front door open. You were still in a deep sleep as he tiptoed out of the room. He paused, finding three uninvited guests were standing in the entryway by the staircase. 

“I am in the presence of my Lord,” the man gasped and bowed. The two women behind him followed in suit. 

“Who are you?” Michael asked, tilting his head and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I am Anton LaVey, Black Pope of the Church of Satan,” the man introduced himself, then turned to his colleagues. “And there are my cardinals. I faked my death to prepare for this day.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Michael walked slowly down the steps. “What’s going on here?”

“We followed a dark start from the west,” one of the cardinals explained eagerly. “The signs were impossible to miss: the temperature in this house, a home built over the portal to Hell, and the crows worshiping from above.”

“The omens are complete,” the other one added. “You’re the chosen one.”

“The time has come to remove the scales from your eyes, to show you your true power,” Anton stated.

Michael smiled, full of excitement, “Alright, just make sure you’re quiet, y/n is sleeping.”

…

You woke up to the sound of hail falling on the roof. It frightened you at first. Instead of the typical soothing sounds of rain or hail, this was louder, more violent, like large stones crashing from the sky. 

You wondered if the storm was the source of the strange dreams you had all night, now you could only recall the screams from them. 

Slipping out of bed, you walked to the window drawing the curtains. The night sky was a strange color, dark red clouds hung above the house coupled with a full red moon. You watched the bizarre weather outside, red rain mixed with rock sized hail. The storm seemed to at least alleviate the constant heat in the house.  

Turning around, you noticed Michael’s absence from the bed. Wrapping a white sheet around your shoulders, you wandered downstairs to find him. Reaching the dining room, you found Michael with three strangers wearing black and red cloaks. 

There was blood on the table and floor, but no body. 

Michael beamed at you and offered you his hand, “y/n, I’ve got something to tell you.”

The Antichrist, it should’ve come as more of a shock, but with all the insane things that have happened lately, it made sense. It also should’ve changed how you felt, but it didn’t, Michael was still Michael. While there was no doubting the evil he was capable of, you still saw all the good, all the love. 

How could you hold it against him?

Michael laid there, eyes wide open as you slept beside him. He knew his mother was coming, that she planned on ending his life. 

The woman hadn’t bothered to speak to him, see him, and just like the rest of his supposed family, she was going to hurt him too. Sadly, he was no longer surprised by any of this. 

He could feel her approaching, a knife held tightly in her fist as she prepared to bring it down and end his life. Without having to move a muscle, Michael conjured up flames that ignited around Vivien’s feet. 

Her screams jolted you awake. Another spirit, the one you had briefly seen before, saved her while you tried to stop Michael. 

“She was going to kill me,” he argued. 

You saw the knife discarded on the floor for yourself. This house was no longer a safe place for Michael or yourself. The same day you and Michael left the old mansion. 

…

Living with Ms. Mead wasn’t what you had expected. It was surprisingly wholesome with meals shared at the dining table and family outings every weekend. If it wasn’t for the satanic altar, you’d probably forget that she was a satanist altogether. 

Ms. Mead treated you both well. Welcoming you into her home as if you and Michael were family. At first, you had been worried that she wouldn’t accept having you around, but she was just as warm and friendly with you as she was with Michael. 

“What do you think?” Michael asked as he emerged from the bathroom in a black t-shirt and black jeans. Ms. Mead had taken him shopping for clothes. Michael was excited to show you what they had picked out. 

You sat the nail polish on the nightstand as you sat up, giving Michael your full attention. 

“Black looks good on you,” you approved, looking him up and down. The outfit definitely suited him, much better than his old clothes. 

He smiled, obviously proud of his choices. “What were you doing?” He asked as he joined you on the bed, criss crossing his legs.

“I was just painting my toenails,” you shrugged. 

Michael gently touched your calf, his fingers tracing over your skin down to your ankle, while he admired your freshly painted toes. 

“Want me to paint yours?”

He yanked off his boots and socks, tossing them on the floor and causing you to laugh. You rearranged yourself so you were sitting on your knees. Michael’s pale boney feet rested on your thighs. 

“What color do you want?” You asked. 

“Black.”

He laid back on the bed, feet on the head board as he wiggled his toes while he waited for them to dry. 

“Read to me,” Michael requested in a whiny tone. “Please,” he added quickly as you lifted your brow.

You grabbed the worn book, opening it to where you left off, but before you started reading Michael interrupted you. 

“Here, lay next to me,” he offered, wiggling to the other side of the bed to give you room. 

You stretched out beside him, side to side, and started reading. It didn’t take long before Michael’s head was on stomach and his arm draped over your hips as he cuddled against you. He closed his eyes listening to the sound of your voice as it lulled him to sleep. 

You tucked the bookmark back into the book and sat it on the bed. Absentmindedly you ran your fingers through his hair. 

Over such a short time, he had changed so much, and not just physically, he was acting older, demonstrating maturity and restraint, although he still had his moments like this where he wanted to be held and babied. But, you figured, everyone had moments like this even if they never ask for it. 

You perked up when you noticed Ms. Mead standing in the doorway. How long has she been watching? 

“Let him sleep,” she said softly. 

Carefully you moved Michael and covered him with a blanket, then followed Ms. Mead into the kitchen. She had the tea kettle on the stove. 

“You really do love him, don’t you?” Ms. Mead asked, looking at you curiously. While she had been courteous towards you, she was curious about the true nature of your relationship to Michael. 

You tilted your head, wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden. 

“I’m just surprised,” she explained. “Not many people could accept him for what he is, even more so, someone who isn’t a follower of his father. But I’m glad to know that you truly care for him.” She motioned for you to have a seat at the table, and placed a cup of tea on a little saucer in front of you. 

You thanked her, before gently blowing on the hot cup and taking a sip. 

“He obviously adores you, which is why I allowed you to come with him,” she continued, taking her seat across from you with her own cup. “Guess I just feel protective of him already, wanted to see for myself if you were just stringing him along.”

You laughed slightly and shook your head, “I know what you mean, I was worried about you too. But you treat him just like a mother would, and I know he loves you for it.”

You and Ms. Mead smiled at each other while you finished your cup of tea. Your smile grew wider as a sleepy Michael slowly staggered into the kitchen. 

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Can we have pancakes for dinner?”

“Of course, dear,” Ms. Mead obliged. 

…

Michael had been arrested, leaving you a complete mess waiting at the station with Ms. Mead. The police 

refused to let you see him no matter how much you begged and pleaded. 

You were sitting in the lobby, staring at the assholes who wouldn’t let you see Michael, when a man dressed in a fine suit with a black hat came in, he strode right past the officers and straight to the holding cells with one of the guards leading the way. 

A few minutes later the well dressed man and Michael were heading directly to the exit. You immediately followed them out. 

You cupped Michael’s cheek, thumb caressing the red swollen mark by his eye. “Did they do that to you?”

“It doesn’t hurt too much,” he reassured you, placing a hand on your waist. 

Ariel cleared his throat, standing next to a black vehicle, “Michael it’s time for us to leave.” His gaze landed on you, a small sneer forming on his lips. 

Michael nodded, opening the car door for you. 

Ariel’s eyes went wide, “I’m afraid she can’t come with us. Our school is exclusively for warlocks.”

“Then I won’t be going,” Michael stated flatly, slamming the car shut.  

Ariel’s jaw dropped, “I saved you… I’m offering to take you to a place where you can flourish… where you can reach your full potential. You’re going to throw that all away for some woman?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “I’m not leaving her, ever,” he stressed. 

Ariel scowled, grinding his teeth, he was considering using magic to force Michael in the car, but if Michael truly is the Alpha, like he suspects, then it would be suicide. His eyes darted to you, if he attempted to do anything to you, it would be safe to assume that the consequences would be even worse than death. 

“It’s not like you’ll never see her again. A boy’s school just isn’t the right place for a young lady to be,” Ariel reasoned. 

“The only place for her is with me,” Michael said, raising his voice. The two men stared at each other, it was clear that Michael wasn’t going to budge on the matter. 

“Fine!” Ariel relented, yanking the car door open and getting in. It wasn’t going to be easy to get others to go with this foolishness, but he couldn’t afford to let the Alpha slip through his fingers. 

Michael pulled the door open and waited for you to slide into the backseat before he scooted in after you. He placed his hand over yours, possessively, eyes fixated on Ariel as cold anger radiated off of him. 

The school wasn’t what you had expected. The underground structure was large and warm, but despite the size and construction, you couldn’t help but compare it to a cave. Already, you missed fresh air and sunlight as you followed Ariel, Michael still holding your hand for comfort. 

When Ariel introduced Michael to the group, he didn’t say a thing about you, just sort glazed over the fact that you even existed despite the puzzled gazes of the male students and staff. 

After a short tour, you and Michael were led to the room you both would be sharing in. Once inside, Ariel finally addressed you, giving you a few simple rules, as he put it, to follow. 

You were never to wander the school without an escort. You had to keep your distance from the other students and take your meals at different times than everyone else. Finally you had to wear a uniform, it was similar to the boy’s uniform, but instead of slacks, you had a full length skirt. 

Ariel left the two of you to get settled in and gathered the others in his office to explain the situation. 

“So,” John Henry mocked. “Our supposed Alpha, the one who will overthrow The Supreme and lead us to the top, can’t be without his little girlfriend?”

Ariel huffed, “I understand the girl is an inconvenience, but she’s just a minor obstacle. Michael won’t need her now that he’s here with his brothers.”

“Doubt it,” John Henry muttered, taking a quick puff of his cigarette. “Did you see the way he looks at her? She practically walks on water in his eyes.”

“We just need to separate them, wean him off her slowly,” Ariel explained. “Then he’ll discard her.”

“I don’t know,” Behold said, shaking his head, “Love and devotion is a powerful thing.”

John Henry rolled his eyes, “Right, because the 4 of us know what that’s like… none of us have ever cared about anyone but ourselves.”

…

You helped Michael straighten his bow tie, then brushed his hair out of his face. 

“Perfect,” you chirped, taking a step back to admire how handsome he looked in his school uniform. 

He smiled, fixing his lapel before his hands ran down the front of his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Ariel and the others are expecting me,” he started. “But they haven’t told me what we’re doing.”

It’s been only a month since your arrival, but from what you had gathered, Michael took to magic like a duck takes to water. Everyday he surprised you with a new trick or spell. Just the other day he surprised you with a beautiful white rose turning the petals pitch black right before your eyes. 

“I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll be amazing.”

“Wish they’d let me bring you,” he muttered, pouting a little as he looked at his reflection. 

You shook your head, “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

Michael brought your hand to his chest, Ariel had been keeping him so busy with classes and studying that he felt like he barely had time for you lately. 

He didn’t appreciate being treated like a fool. He knew what his ‘brothers’ were up to, trying to keep him busy as if he’d just forget about you because he has homework. None of them could ever perceive the depths he’d go for you, hell, not even Michael fully knew how far he’d go to keep you by his side. 

Grudgingly, he released your hand, he didn’t want to have to listen to some lecture about tardiness from Ariel. And knowing Ariel he’d figure out a way to put all the blame on you, while making some snide comment about women and their inability to be punctual. The whole battle of the sexes between the warlocks and the witches was getting old. 

Later that day, Michael returned to you with a bloody nose and his body completely drained of energy. You rose from your seat at the desk as he collapsed on the bed still dressed. 

First, you went to the adjoining bathroom, retrieving a damp washcloth. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you gently dabbed the dried blood from his face. 

“How did the meeting go?” You asked. “What did they want?”

“To evaluate me,” he explained, his eyes half lidded. “I passed,” he smiled weakly. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you said, scooting you to the end of the bed and undoing the buckles on his shoes, before slipping them off his feet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and snuggling against his pillow. 

…

You watched Michael, his body was completely tense, stockstill, except for the hand that was drawing rapidly without pause. It was like he was in a trance, listening to a voice that you couldn’t hear.

Michael couldn’t let the witches leave. Ariel and the others were useless, unable to convince the council, but Michael could, he would prove to them just how powerful he is. 

He gasped suddenly, taking you by surprise. Looking down, he admired his work, the Hotel Cortez, the gaping mouth of hell. 

Michael turned to face you, “I have to leave, but I won’t be gone long.” He smiled triumphantly, “I found a way to show them I’m the Alpha, that I’m the next Supreme.”

It was easy for him, of course, like taking a casual stroll through the park. One of the benefits of being the Antichrist, he figured, having dominion over hell and all evil places born from it. 

First he rescued Queenie, freeing her from the hotel, then they made a trip to Madison Montgomery’s personal hell. With his proof in tow, he returned to the school. 

Watching Cordelia pass out from the shock brought him more satisfaction than he anticipated, but hearing her admit that he could be the next Supreme was even sweeter. 

He stood there holding his head high with you at his side. While Cordelia addressed the group, sharing her vision. It was ironic that a vision warning her of the end, was the final straw, finally convincing her to allow him to attempt the Seven Wonders. 

“In two weeks' time, at the rise of the blood moon, you will take the test of the Seven Wonders,” she announced, eyes locked with Michael’s. “That is, if you still want to.”

Everyone turned to face him, awaiting his decision. He glanced at you, squeezing your hand tightly before letting it go as he approached Cordelia. 

“I do.”

Myrtle Snow knitted her brow, it hadn’t escaped any of their attention that there was a woman on the side of the warlocks. 

“My dear,” she began, getting your attention. “Why are you here? You’re not a witch, are you?”

“I’m not,” you shook your head with a polite smile. 

“She’s with me,” Michael stated firmly, hands clasped behind his back as his gaze pierced Myrtle’s. 

“Of course, he’s got a girlfriend,” Madison rolled her eyes. 

Cordelia inhaled deeply as she returned to the matter at hand. “No male has ever made the attempt,” she warned, redirecting the conversation to the matter at hand. “And if you succeed, you will be the next Supreme, and it will change everything.”

On the cusp of the blood moon, the warlocks gathered to celebrate Michael. He almost threw a fit when Ariel informed him that you weren’t permitted to attend, adding that attendance for the ceremony was strictly warlocks. 

Ariel’s hands balled into fists as you talked Michael down, convincing him that for this type of occasion it was polite to respect tradition. 

Ariel was displeased that his plan wasn’t working. Michael’s attachment to you was still strong, the same as it was when he first arrived at the school. What good would it be to have an Alpha that bent to the will of a woman?

Michael insisted that tomorrow night you were present for the Seven Wonders, going as far as threatening to not perform if you weren’t there. 

When Ariel finally relented, Michael followed him downstairs for the ceremony. 

John Henry fled after the blessing. The following day when the witches had arrived to observe Michael’s abilities, John Henry still hadn’t returned. None of the other warlocks questioned his absence, instead they were focused on the daunting task at hand, hoping Michael could accomplish what no warlock had ever done before. 

Michael passed each test with ease to the dismay of the witches and to the satisfaction of the warlocks. 

Telekinesis, Concilium, Transmutation, Divination, Pyrokinesis, Vitalum Vitalis… Michael made them look like child’s play. With each challenge Michael impressed you more and more, accomplishing magic that you had never imagined. His eyes would lock with yours and he’d smile triumphantly after each task as you cheered and congratulated him with the rest of the warlocks. 

Descensum was the final test and the most perilous. Michael was the only one who didn’t seem worried about the outcome. 

Unexpectedly, Cordelia added an additional condition, Behold was the first to object, the others soon followed. She requested for Michael to retrieve someone from the depths of hell, someone who failed this exact test.

“That’s impossible. Those who don’t return from Descensum are gone forever,” Behold defended. “Property of the underworld.”

“No other Supreme’s been made to this, ever,” Baldwin added. “This is not only unfair, this is suicide.”

“Enough,” Ariel spoke up with some urgency. “Cordelia, I need a word.” The Supreme and the Grand Chancellor retreated into his office for a private discussion. 

You tugged on Michael’s sleeve to get his attention, then guided him to the corner furthest from everyone in the room. 

“What is it?” He asked gently, immediately noting the anxious look on your face. 

“This sounds dangerous,” you started, fingers clutching his jacket sleeve tighter. “And now they’re making it even harder…”

He stepped closer to you, his hands cupping your face. “I can do this.”

“But what if you get trapped there like that other girl,” you whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’m stronger than she was,” Michael assured you. “Trust me.” He dried your eyes.

Taking your hand in his, he led you towards Ariel’s office. The doors opened revealing Cordelia and Ariel inside. 

“It’s okay,” Michael smiled. “I’ll get your friend back.”

Returning to the music room, Michael prepared for the final test. 

“Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum it salutaret inferi,” he chanted laying on the floor. You were right beside him, on your knees, while everyone else stood in a circle around him. “Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum it salutaret inferi, Descensum.”

You stayed seated by Michael as his eyes closed and his spirit descended to the underworld. The others got comfortable, finding seats and idly conversing with each other. 

Time seemed to slow down as you waited with bated breath for him to come back. The thought of losing him scared you more than anything ever had. Your whole life revolved around him.

Michael gasped, drawing in a deep breath as he sat up immediately. You pulled him into a tight hug, relieved that he returned to you. His energy obviously spent as he rested against you like a rag doll. 

The others gathered around. The witches automatically taking note that Misty hadn’t returned. 

“Well that’s that,” Madison said, crossing her arms. “C'est la vie.”

“This was not a fair test,” Ariel objected, concerned more with having lost the opportunity for a male Supreme than the harrowing task Michael had just been through. 

“What happened?” Cordelia asked. “Where’s Misty?”

Michael gave her a sideways glance, his face partially resting on your shoulder as you held him close, he looked at her disinterested before he buried the rest of his face in the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t it obvious, darling?” Myrtle spoke up. “She’s right where she’s been.”

Suddenly dust manifested in the form of a woman’s body. Cordelia fell to her knees as Misty was revived. 

As the witches tended to their sister, the warlocks helped a weary Michael off the floor. He leaned against the table for support, still catching his breath from his recent excursion to hell. He reached out for you, placing his hands on your waist, as you stood between his legs with his head on your stomach, he drew comfort just by being near you. 

Michael straightened up as he felt Misty’s eyes upon him, his hands still lingering on your waist. His jaw tensed, noting her fearful expression. But before Misty could say anything, Cordelia stumbled back and her nose began to bleed.

“Oh my God,” Cordelia whispered. 

Misty went straight to her side, “What’s happening?”

“What always happens when a new Supreme rises,” Ariel interjected. 

“The old one fades away,” Behold explained. 

“We demand what’s ours,” Ariel added. 

Myrtle scoffed, “You’re a pompous ass.”

Michael stepped forward, an air of confidence and power about him. “I did everything you asked,” he started. “I descended into Hell, and I did what you couldn’t. I brought her back. I passed the Seven Wonders. Unless you want to add another one?” He challenged. 

“No,” Cordelia answered. “There can be no doubt. You are the next Supreme.” She collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness again. 

…

The staff and other students were beaming with pride over the accomplishments of their brother. Michael was elated, he was one step closer to fulfilling his purpose. 

In celebration of the return of Misty Day and the rise of a new Supreme, everyone gathered in the music room. While you were on your way to join the rest, Ariel stopped you. 

“Y/n,” He called. 

“Grand Chancellor,” you greeted.

He smiled, but it was obviously forced just like the tone of his voice, too pleasant. “I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”

You raised your brow, “I suppose.”

“We’re all so proud of Michael and what he has achieved,” he began, hands clasped in front him. “It’s truly a major turning point for our kind, to finally rise out of the shadow of our counterparts, the witches.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” you muttered, hearing music play from the room and a woman singing.

“It has been such a struggle to get to this point,” he stressed.“It would be a great setback for warlocks should Michael be unable to focus on his duties as Supreme.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” you took a step back.

Ariel sighed, losing his patience, “You are a distraction. You are not the person Micheal needs to concern himself with, you’re not a warlock or a witch, you’re just some girl.”

“But I-“

“Don’t you see,” he interrupted you, getting heated. “He’s with his people now, he no longer needs you.”

You closed your mouth as his words sunk in. Maybe he was right. You hated to admit it, even just to yourself, but it was as if he was speaking your own fears out loud. You weren’t sure how you fit into all this, and for the last couple of months, you worried that Michael truly didn’t need you. 

Standing on the interior balcony, Michael’s eyes narrowed as he watched Ariel enter the music room late. Michael had been waiting for you to join him but you were nowhere in sight.

The two warlocks nodded in acknowledgement at each other as Michael waited a few moments longer, he could care less about the performance taking place below. Concerned about your tardiness, he went to find you. Ariel shook his head in disappointment as he watched Michael leave. 

Michael headed upstairs and entered your room. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” you answered, taking a seat on the bed and mustering a smile for Michael.

He could tell you were lying, you were visibly upset and on the verge of tears. “Don’t lie to me,” he said firmly. 

“Michael,” you started, your eyes finally meeting his. Looking up at him you couldn’t help but think of all the things he had accomplished lately, developing his powers, passing all these tests, he was doing so many great things, so why were you here? “Do you still need me?”

“Of course, I do,” he responded without pause. He then shook his head. “Even if I didn’t need you, I want you.”  He wondered where all this was coming from, was this because he wasn’t spending enough time with you? Was Ariel’s idiotic plan affecting you?

Michael sat across from you at the desk. “Are you thinking about leaving?” 

“I don’t want to leave,” you said softly. “But are you sure I’m not distracting you?”

“Is this Ariel’s doing? Did he say something to you?” Michael pursed his lips, jaw clenched. The Grand Chancellor was really pushing his luck. Michael figured it might be necessary to remind him who was the Alpha, the future Supreme.

Getting to his feet, his brow lowered as he thought about what to do. His hands curled into fists that were shaking out of anger. 

“Michael,” you pleaded, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you. “Stop, please.”

“He wants you to leave me,” he snapped angrily. “I won’t let that happen.”

You rushed after Michael as stormed out of the room. The sliding black doors of Ariel’s office slammed open with a flick of Michael’s wrist. 

“Michael-“ Ariel started but was immediately flung to the wall. 

Your eyes widened, watching as Ariel’s hands grasped at his neck, his nails puncturing his skin as he scratched while desperately gasping for air. His legs were kicking and flailing about as he was being suffocated. 

“Michael,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. “Micheal, stop,” you begged.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him. “And Ariel finally understands.” You looked at Ariel who managed to nod. “See,” you said, rubbing his arm. “You got your point across.”

Ariel fell to the floor, landing on his hand and knees, panting. 

“What’s going on in here?” Behold questioned wandering into the office. 

“Nothing,” Ariel croaked, slowly rising to his feet.

Behold didn’t look convinced. He was figuring out that Michael couldn’t be trusted, wasn’t what he had presented himself to be. John Henry was missing and the witches had their suspicions as well. 

“Michael lost control, just for a moment, he’s been under a lot of stress,” you explained calmly. “He’s due for a break.”

Behold lifted his brow, Michael just looked straight up pissed in his opinion. “Alright,” he muttered, the last thing he needed was for Michael to turn that anger on him. He stood there watching as you and Michael left, before asking Ariel if needed anything. 

Returning to your room, Micheal immediately embraced you, hugging you from behind as he buried his face into your hair. You two stood there for several minutes, his arms holding you firmly in place. 

“I should speak to my father,” he murmured finally. 

You nodded. 

Michael’s hold loosened, “I should go alone.” He sighed, touching your hair gently. “I won’t be gone long.”

…

When the witches, Bubbles and Myrtle, arrived, you were tasked with entertaining them until Ariel and Bladwin returned. They had no trouble making themselves at home while you served champagne and Myrtle played the theremin. 

When Ariel and Baldwin entered the music room, the two witches insisted that you join them and the warlocks for the dinner they had prepared. 

“Bubbles, you’ve exceeded your promise,” Ariel complimented. “This is a meal fit for a Supreme.”

She chuckled, “Oh, thank you so much.”

It truly was quite a spread, platters of food you probably couldn’t even pronounce, sat on the table presented in a most lavish way. It seemed excessive that there was so much food for just 5 people. 

“Where is our dear Michael?” Myrtle questioned looking at you. “I was hoping he could join us.”

“In the wilderness,” Baldwin answered for you, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Literally. Michael has decided that he needs to be completely alone.”

“I’m surprised you’re not with him dear,” Myrtle stated, her eyes still on you. “The two of you seemed attached at the hip.” 

You could feel Ariel watching you closely. “He just needed some time to himself,” you shrugged with a smile. 

“Cordelia had a similar awakening,” she shared with you, before offering Ariel more wine. 

You listened attentively to Myrtle’s story about the amazing little shop in Madrid where she attained the bottle of wine. You didn’t know much about wine, but from what you gathered from her story, this was most likely the nicest and most expensive wine you’d ever try in your life. 

“This has been such a delight,” Myrtle announced. “I knew, if we could dine together, we could find commonality and, dare I say, friendship.”

“Oh, my. It’s getting late,” she added with a slight yawn.

“Oh. It is.” Ariel agreed, laughing weakly. “Very late. But I feel like we’ve finally gotten to know each other.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Bubbles said, gesturing to the full table. “We’ll clear everything up.”

You offered to stay and lend a hand with cleaning to the surprise of Bubbles and Myrtle. How a kind girl like yourself wound up with someone like Michael, seemed like such a cruel fate. 

During dinner, Bubbles had already determined that you were innocent. You weren’t involved with John Henry’s death or the plot to overthrow their coven and kill the witches. Seemed that Michael kept you out of all the seediness and corruption happening around you. 

“Thanks again for dinner,” you said, clearing the plates from the table. “You really are a fantastic chef.”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Bubbles boasted. 

“How did you become involved with our future Supreme?” Myrtle inquired, taking a sip of her glass of wine. 

“I’ve known him for a long time,” You answered vaguely, but Bubbles could see right through you, she could see directly to the feelings you harbored for Michael. 

They watched as you carried the dishes into the kitchen. Bubbles sighed, “Poor girl’s only crime is falling for the bad guy.”

“Suppose we can’t hold it against her,” Myrtle commented. “We've all been there at some point or another.”

Bubbles chuckled, “You’re right, but few can say they’re in love with the devil himself.”

“It’s terribly romantic, isn’t it?” Myrtle mused, tilting her head. She sighed, “Well, what else did you hear?”

“They murdered one of their own,” Bubbles answered in a serious tone. “And now they mean to murder all of us.” 

“Well, it’s perfectly clear,” Myrtle continued, swirling her wine glass. “It’s kill or be killed.”

…

“Ariel Augustus. Baldwin Pennypacker. For the murder of your fellow warlock, John Henry Moore, and conspiring to commit treason against this coven, I, Cordelia Goode, on behalf of this council, sentence you to death by fire.”

The coven guards doused Ariel and Baldwin in gasoline.

“Our people have long stood by an agreement that no witch may kill a condemned warlock,” Cordelia added. “Only your brother may light the flame. I do not intend to break that tradition today.”

John Henry emerged to the surprise of Ariel and Baldwin, gracefully, striding between the stakes to join the witches at Cordelia’s side. 

He scanned the area, eyes moving from stake to stake. He furrowed his brow, “Where’s his girlfriend?” He turned to Cordelia, “We need to destroy her. It’s the only way we can really hurt him.”

“We’re not burning an innocent girl on the stake,” Cordelia defended. “She wasn’t involved in your murder, Bubbles verified that already.”

John Henry shook his head, they were all blind to the facts, he didn’t want to kill her, but he could see it just like he could see what Michael truly was. “She’s his weakness…” he argued. “I’ve seen how he is with her, he’d fall apart.”

“No,” Cordelia stated firmly. 

John Henry tsked, snatching one of the gasoline cans, dumping the contents all over Ms. Mead. 

“Any last words?” He asked, returning to Cordelia’s side as he faced his brothers and murderer. “Ah, right,” he teased, motioning to his mouth. 

“You think death is a punishment?” Ms. Mead shouted. “I do not fear the fire. It cleanses me, as it will cleanse this world. I’ve seen the end. I bear witness to the darkness.” 

She looked up to the blue sky, “Father! Take me in your arms. Your kingdom is nigh.”

John Henry and Cordelia shared a look. She nodded to him signaling that it was time. With a wave of his hand, John Henry ignited the torches. The guards, then, set the lit torches at the feet of the condemned. In a matter of seconds flames engulfed Ariel, Baldwin, and Ms. Mead. 

…

Michael’s hand cautiously reached out towards the last corpse, after he identified the first two as Ariel and Baldwin. He stumbled backwards, hands shaking, as he saw his Ms. Mead being burned alive. 

An emotional and raw scream erupted from him, as pain and sadness filled him. With a hand over his chest, he wailed, it felt as if he couldn’t get any oxygen to his lungs and like his heart was being constricted by a snake, its tail coiling tightly around it as if it was a weak little mouse.

“It’s over,” Cordelia said, appearing behind him. “We know who you are.”

Michael turned to face her. 

“Your allies are all dead,” she announced. “You failed.”

“I’ve already proven that I can defy death. I’m just gonna bring her back,” Michael retorted. “And when I do, my Ms. Mead will stand by me as we watch you die.”

“You can certainly go to Hell, but you won’t find her there,” Cordelia warned. 

“What have you done?” 

She explained that Ms. Mead’s soul was hidden away and that the spell was one only she could break. As Michael realized that he’d never see Ms. Mead again, he dropped to his hands and knees. 

“You’re alone,” she added.

“I’m never alone. I have y/n and I have my father,” he snapped. 

“That poor girl deserves better,” Cordelia said coldly. She took several steps toward Michael. “And where is your father? Why did he let this happen?”

Michael looked up at her as she knelt down. 

“You don’t have to follow this path your father laid out for you. You can write your own destiny. You can still turn away. There’s humanity in you. I see it,” she stood back up and offered Michael her hand. “If you come with me, maybe we can find it. Together.”

He accepted her hand, but aggressively moved closer, his eyes burning with hatred towards the witch. “Somehow, some way, I am gonna bring her back. And then I’m gonna kill every last one of you.” 

As the threat left his lips. A thought crossed Cordelia’s mind and images flashed in Michael’s head. His eyes widened, staring at Cordelia in disbelief. 

The witches had revived John Henry, back from the dead, and he and Behold were returning to the school. Michael’s hands began to tremble, releasing Cordelia’s hand, as he could hear the words John Henry had spoken to her during the execution. John Henry had made threats towards you, expressed that he wanted to dispose of you to hurt Michael, to stop him. 

Michael made up his mind at that moment, he wouldn’t allow John Henry to have the opportunity, he’d kill them all to protect you. He couldn’t believe they’d stoop so low, would the witches be the next to try?

Without time to waste, Michael left towards the school. 

He sat there panting, the lifeless corpses of his brothers laying all around him. Michael had no one except for you, he had no Ms. Mead to guide him, he had no support with his magic anymore, no followers. And the witches were still a threat. 

He felt like he was crumbling beneath the weight of it all, but he had to make sure you were safe. He may have been able to keep you safe and massacre the warlocks, but what if the witches went after you next?

Taking in a deep breath, Michael stared up at the staircase towards the direction of your room. He would do anything to keep you safe. 

Rising to his feet, he slowly made his way to you. 

“Michael?” You asked, sitting up on the bed as he entered the room.

He wished that he could just crawl into bed next to you. But there was so much that needed to be done. He had to kill the witches, avenge Ms. Mead, and fulfill his purpose. 

He crouched down beside the bed in front of you. “The witches, they killed Ms. Mead,” he said quietly, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, leaning down to embrace him. 

Michael placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling away from you a bit, he wanted to get a better look at you. He stared at your face, committing every detail to memory. 

“I need to put you under a spell,” Michael started to explain. “I have to hide you from anyone who’d want to hurt you.”

You furrowed your brow as his words sunk in. He was going to leave you behind. Your lips quivered as you started to cry. 

“Who’s… who's going to take care of you?” You hiccuped, cupping his face, your thumbs gently wiping the tears from the apple of his cheeks. 

Picturing Michael alone, without anyone to turn to, no one to make sure he was okay, was literally breaking your heart. You couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t let him do this. You had promised to stay with him forever. 

He placed his hands over yours. “I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to put on a brave face. “But I can’t lose you too, I can't… you're all that I have left.”

Your shoulders shook as you cried harder. 

“I’m going to take care of you this time,” Michael promised. “I’ll figure it out and then we’ll never have to be apart. You’ll be at my side forever.”

Micheal closed the distance between you and him, his lips finding yours with ease. His first real kiss was an emotional kiss goodbye, one in which he desperately wanted to convey his devotion for you. Your eyes fluttered shut, his hands squeezed yours tighter, you pressed your lips to his tenderly, returning the kiss. 

He casted his spell before pulling away, and watched as you fell into a deep sleep like a princess in a fairy tale. As an extra precaution he wiped your memories as well. 

***Present***

“It’s alright,” Michael comforted, tucking your head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around you.

It was a lot to take in at once, an entire lifetime coming back to you in a matter of seconds. Michael waited patiently, hand drawing circles on back, as you composed yourself. Having you back made him feel whole again, the one constant in his life. He was never letting go of you again. 

“What is it?” He asked as you sat up and cupped his cheek. 

“You’ve changed,” you whispered, gazing at him. He looked older, more mature and refined, his long golden hair somehow made him even more handsome than you remembered. He now exuded confidence that almost bordered on conceitedness. 

He lifted his brow, “Have I?”

You nodded, causing him to smirk, you were always so honest. 

“In what ways?” He teased, titling his head, and holding your hand to his face. “Am I more attractive now?”

You shook your head, laughing lightly, “Not sure how you managed it, but yes you’re more handsome than I remember.”

“So,” he murmured lowly. “You like the new me?” Michael turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Tell me,” he said against your skin. 

“Didn’t we have this conversation earlier?” You questioned. 

“But that was before you remembered,” he challenged, looking at you from the corner of his eye. 

“My answer is still the same, everything, I like everything about you.” 

“I believe you,” He closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath, and then opening them again. He examined you for a moment, just like before it was as if he could see right through you. 

“You haven’t changed,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s comforting.” His lips tickled your fingertips as he returned your hand to you. 

Michael may not have the typical image of home as most, but he suspected that being reunited with you, is what it felt like to come back home. 

He leaned forward, hands firmly on your thighs, as his lips lightly grazed against yours. You felt the side of his nose caress yours, your hands slowly raised up from your lap and clung to him. 

Suddenly he groaned in frustration as the bedroom door opened. 

“Ladies, I’m a little busy right now,” Michael muttered, breaking the kiss as he glanced at Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead who entered the room uninvited. 

Ms. Venable gave you a cold look, she couldn’t say she was surprised to see you here. She long had her suspicions, this only confirmed them. “This won’t take long,” She addressed Michael, walking further into the room. 

Michael sighed, exasperatedly, his touch leaving your form as he straightened up and turned his chair to give Ms. Venable his attention. “What’s this?”

“We’re making the selections now, Mr. Langdon,” Ms. Venable stated, standing tall across from Michael. “And I’m afraid that neither of you made the cut.”

Michael bursted out laughing. “I’m sorry, I wanted to let you have your moment, but I just couldn’t hold it in,” he gestured to himself. 

“You think this is funny?” Ms. Venable pressed, obviously unamused. 

“I think I’m impressed, Ms. Venable,” Michael 

“I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Gracefully, Michael rose to his feet. “You passed the test. You’re perfect for The Sanctuary.”

“Mrs. Mead,” Ms. Venable ordered. 

You scrambled off the bed, moving in front of Michael, the moment Ms. Mead drew the gun out from her jacket. You didn’t understand what was going on, or why Ms. Mead was following Ms. Venable’s orders. 

Michael looked at you fondly, with a slightly amused expression. His sweet y/n ready to protect him, to defend him, even knowing that he could literally kill people with a snap of his fingers. 

Of course, you weren’t in any real danger. He knew Ms. Mead would never hurt you, just like she was programmed to never hurt him. He placed his hands on your shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he warned Ms. Venable before glancing towards Ms. Mead and giving her a silent command.

“Ms. Mead,” Ms. Venable repeated, her tone irritated as she turned to face her co-conspirator. 

Ms. Mead, with some unwillingness by the look of her face, went from pointing the gun at Michael to directing it toward Ms. Venable. Without hesitation, Ms. Mead fired. 

You flinched at the sound of the gunshot, drawing back against Michael, who reassuringly squeezed your shoulders while smirking with satisfaction over what just transpired. 

Ms. Venable dropped to the floor gasping as she started to bleed out from the wound in her chest. 

Michael’s hands slid down your arms, walking around you towards Ms. Venable.

“I don’t know why I did that,” Ms. Mead questioned, sadness laced in her voice. “I was always loyal to her.”

“It’s all right,” Michael spoke calmly, crouching down, his arms resting on his knees as he watched Ms. Venable die. “You were obeying commands, like you’re programmed to do,” he explained. “My commands.”

You knitted your brows together finally piecing together what was going on. You had been so invested on your and Michael’s reunion, that you hadn’t ask how he was able to revive Ms. Mead. 

“Did you enjoy executing the poison apples plan as much as I enjoyed coming up with it?” Michael asked Ms. Mead, standing back up. 

“You wanted everyone dead?”

“I’ve never been a fan of getting my hands dirty,” he reasoned. “Learned that from my father.”

Ms. Mead’s lips trembled as she processed all the new information and her grief. 

“Always more fun to entice men and women to do dirty deeds. Confirms what I’ve always believed,” Michael mused.

“What do you believe?”

“That all people, if given the right pressures or stimulus, are evil motherfuckers,” he declared. “All except for y/n, of course,” he chuckled, looking at you before returning his attention to Ms. Mead.

“I’m having trouble with this,” she shook her head. “I know I’m just a machine.”

“Never say that,” he said forcefully. “You’re not just a machine. Not to me. When I tasked The Cooperative’s R&D department to have you constructed, I gave them a prototype to model.”

“A prototype?” She asked, hanging on to each and every word Michael said. 

“Someone from my childhood,” he shared, approaching her slowly. “Someone very dear to me.”

Her expression changed as realization struck her. “The beautiful boy.”

“That was me,” Michael answered, his eyes glossy as he held back tears. “But I had to keep the most important part of you hidden from your mind, just like I had to with y/n.”

“Why?”

“To protect you and the plan,” he said. “But now it’s time to remember it all.“ His eyes flickered to the ground for a brief moment, head shaking slightly as he continued to speak. 

“I lost you and I couldn’t bear it. And after that, I had to hide y/n to keep her safe.” His heart ached recalling all the pain, misery, loneliness he felt after losing the only people who loved him. “I can’t imagine a new world without you both by my side.”

Her eyes darted to you, “So that’s why I felt connected to you, like I needed to watch over you.”

You smiled at her and nodded, “You’ve always been good to me.”

Michael embraced Ms. Mead tightly. He finally had the only people who mattered back. The only people who ever showed him love and kindness. The rest of the world could burn now. 

Pulling back, Michael smiled at you and offered you his hand. His thumb caressed your knuckles lovingly while his other arm lingered around Ms. Mead. “You both are the only people I never stopped trusting or loving.” 

His eyes narrowed as he noticed the blood splattered on your dress. “There’s a dress for you in the armoire,” he motioned towards it. “Go change, I’ll catch Ms. Mead up on things.”

In the adjoining bathroom, you stripped out of your purple dress, letting it fall to the floor. Looking at your reflection, you fixed your face, wiping away the streaks of mascara from under your eyes. 

The dress was more contemporary than the purple attire you had grown accustomed to. The black fabric was smooth and luxurious. Pulling it on, it fit you like a glove, hugging the curves of your hips and thighs.

You frowned as you found that you couldn’t reach the zipper on the back. You cleared your throat as you emerged from the bathroom. “I can’t zip it up.” 

Michael strode towards you and stood behind you, his fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your back as they traveled down to the zipper. Taking his time he pulled it up. 

His eyes traveled up and down your figure as he admired the dress on you, “A perfect fit.”

Michael tensed suddenly, eyes darting to the side, standing still as if waiting for something to happen. 

“What is it?” Ms. Mead asked. 

“I sense a powerful presence,” he responded, eyes shifting as he concentrated on whoever just arrived. 

“What do you mean? Everyone’s dead,” she said, looking concerned. 

“Not anymore,” Michael answered. He extended his hand out towards you, fingers curling around your palm. “Let’s greet our guests.”

Ending 1

Ending 2

[mikelogan]

ttpd thoughts

for the record, i'm not trying to be like. purposely hateful or anything, i'm just so deeply disappointed with her. this last year has been a mess and she's repeatedly acted in ways that, at the very least, rub me in the wrong way and at their worst have disgusted me and made me lose so much respect for/faith in her. miss americana has become a piece of performance art rather than any sort of meaningful activism.

she made a very public display of dating/hooking up with a bigot and basically said "fuck you, i do what i want" in response to valid criticism and then tried to smooth it over by working with one of the women he'd called slurs. almost every time she spoke this year, whether in an interview or through tree, she reinforced my worry that she views herself as untouchable and that any sort of negativity or criticism directed toward her should be discounted because she's an "underdog" and a woman, despite the fact that there are very real issues with her words and actions. and don't get me started on everything with football guy and his trump-loving ass.

she is absolutely allowed to do, say, date, fuck, etc. anyone and anything she wants. she can write songs about all of it. she can do damage control and pr and control the narrative however she chooses. she can run smear campaigns and drag names through the mud while maintaining she's the perpetual victim when she's arguably the one with the most power in any given situation. i can appreciate that fame presents a set of challenges that i will never experience or fully comprehend.

but i'm also allowed to have my opinions on it, especially when so much of it is so heavily publicized. there is so much we will never know and there is also so much we do know that we never should have. pretty much since eras was announced, she's become so deeply oversaturated and it went from being cool to see so much hype and getting a new album and new re-recordings to feeling like everything is about money and breaking records. it's become a machine, a content factory, and so many decisions feel rushed, incomplete, and incongruent. it doesn't feel like there's been real thought about the material itself and instead it's become about aesthetics and sensationalism.

i think that's why i'm so frustrated right now and it's highly likely that these albums will grow on me or at least some of the songs. i've been listening to the 12 songs i liked on repeat since i finished my initial run through each album and i already like them even more. but i wish that it could truly just be about the music for me. that's what's always been most meaningful to me about taylor is her lyricism and the stories she tells through her songs. but knowing everything i know and having seen everything i've seen over the past year, it's tainted my perception of the albums and the songs on them.

i think that taylor has a lot of growing to do as a person. i've heard people say that sometimes celebrities are frozen at the age they became famous and i think that really shows in taylor's case. the irony of a song being titled "so high school" was certainly not lost on me. a lot of her phrasing feels very juvenile, just as her treatment of joe and everything surrounding the end of their relationship has been. i never really had feelings about him one way or another, and as i mentioned above, there's a lot we'll never know about what happened between them. but she's been pushing her victim narrative so hard and the only thing i've seen from joe is his support of palestine. actions speak a lot louder than words. it changed so drastically from the initial news of their breakup being amicable to turning him into yet another villain. i have no doubt in my mind that taylor has been treated very poorly by a lot of the men in her life, and joe is likely not an exception. but i'm to the point where i have to take everything she says with a heaping tablespoon of salt.

at the end of the day, taylor's music is her own and i understand why she's said that she wants her work to be about the music and not about the men. i can see how it would feel invalidating to have her songs picked apart and attributed to the men they're written about. and i'm not even trying to do that here. but i can't recall a time when she's been so public about her relationships? in the past, it's felt a lot more like speculation, but jesus, between ratty and tk this past year, we've just been inundated with so much that unless i was an extremely casual fan that managed to escape her face on every news show, billboard, and social media website, i can't fathom not knowing what she's singing about on these albums. she can't have it both ways.

i still have all the music that came before ttpd, and like i said, with subsequent listens, ttpd will probably grow on me a bit, but idk man, i'm over it. and i think it's important to be willing and able to criticize or at the very least analyze your favorite media, whether it's music or tv or film or literature or whatever else. your favorite thing probably sucks in one way or another and pretending it doesn't doesn't make you a better person than someone who acknowledges it. these are complex, extremely nuanced things i take issue with and when it comes down to it, i will never know taylor personally and be able to talk to her about these things and get her point of view and her thoughts. that leaves me to say my piece, which is what this post is.

as a recovering swiftie, i'm just so very tired.

[accirax]

DRDT New Character Talent Analysis

WHO ARE THESE GUYS???? GOING CRAZY GOING STUPID

Ahem. 

As likely everyone has now seen at this point, DRDTdev made a very exciting announcement on Twitter– namely, that he’s been working on another fangan alongside DRDT! (Very relatable, once you make one fangan it’s kinda hard to stop.) Understandably, assuming this fangan is ever developed in full, it will be several years down the road, given that it would only be published after DRDT is complete.

However, we have these designs now, and I wanna know what their talents are, dammit! The blurb says that they are students trapped in a killing game, so I assume that they have been given Ultimate abilities. Thus, here’s my best shot and first look analysis. I tried not to look at anyone else’s work too much before presenting my opinions in order to get them out as fast as possible, so, sorry if I missed any major details that people have uncovered!

Notably, when I downloaded the images to my computer (so I could look at them without waiting for the website’s load time), all of them saved with weird number/letter codes. These probably mean nothing, although they do all end with “_o”, which could indicate that they were put through a code scramble of some kind. At the very least, the codes are a kind of convenient way to refer to the characters, so I’ll use the first three letters as a name. Also, I’ll be using they/them pronouns for all characters, since we don’t know how they identify.

We’ll start with the Protagonist, and go alphabetically by code from there. I’m so excited!!! Here we go:

I’m glad that this guy is basically confirmed as the Ultimate Teacher, because I honestly have no clue what I’d call them otherwise.

The main thing I noticed throughout their design was the repetition of red undertones everywhere. You can see them in two places: on the jacket, and in their hair. We know from the July 31st Q&A that characters in the Despair Time Fanganronpa Universe (DTFU) see blood as red, and that Monokuma’s color palette is black, white, and red. It’s kind of a suspicious color– the children’s hospital color theory of it all. O-or, maybe it’s just their favorite color…!

The bows in n9Z’s hair kind of remind me of the one on Peko’s sword case (sorry I didn’t put in a picture), although I doubt there’s a connection there. The gloves make me think of something fancy, the trenchcoat makes me think of a detective, the ID makes me think it’s something top secret… dude, what are you doing?

I guess there is the question of what exactly this person teaches. If we assume they’re the teacher Min mentions in A History of Hope’s Peak, it seems like the answer would be, “Ultimates.” If you want to teach Ultimates, you need to know and be able to do a lot of stuff, so that could explain the utilitarian design. They could have also initially had a background as something else, such as a government agent or employee of XF-ture Tech, before winding up as a teacher.

The fact that their eyes are always closed is also notable. Given DRDTdev’s penchant for putting important stuff in the eye designs, it’s possible there’s some important info in there that he's not ready to release yet. Like, if n9Z had black/red heterochromia or something, that would send us spinning. (Personally, I’m kinda hoping there’s an apple in there…) I also had the thought that n9Z might just permanently have both of their eyes closed, kind of like how Setsuka Chiebukuro of SDRA2 always keeps one eye closed. That would be a cute parallel to Min, whose eyes are always obstructed.

So, yeah. Ultimate Teacher, probably. Despite the fact that we more or less have their Ulimate talent, I somehow feel like we know the least about them…

My first impression of this person is that they’re definitely athletic in some regard. The ponytail that ends in a braid would be keeping the hair out of their eyes, and the athletic shoes would be helpful for running around.

About the marks under the eyes... While the comparison to my superhero design for Arturo is still a lighthearted jest, the reason for them being there may be fueled by the same reasoning. The superpower that @1moreff-creator gave Arturo was a skill that involved his vision, so I put those marks under his eyes as a natural mark that would mimic eye black. If you don’t want to read the entire link, eye black is those lines of paint (or sometimes stickers) that baseball or American football players wear under their eyes. While it’s not entirely scientifically proven, the point of the marks is supposed to be absorbing the rays of sun around the eyes to reduce the glare you would see. Thus, 0a6 may have these marks under their eyes to make it easier to see in a fast-paced situation (even though they're not particularly dark in color).

Additionally, if we didn’t already know who the protagonist was, I would guess it was 0a6. They have an ahoge in very much the same way that Teruko does, and they share an eye design with Hajime Hinata. The styling of their belt buckle also reminded me of how truth bullets are designed. However, 0a6 is NOT the protagonist, which must mean that these things mean something else. I don’t have much to say about the ahoge, but the eye design might instead imply that this person’s talent has to do with rejecting, opposing, or ending something. The bullet could be a regular bullet, and therefore imply that this person’s talent has something to do with guns.

For whatever reason, the hairstyle already made me think Ultimate Archer at first glance, so with the gun thing, I’m going to submit my guess as Ultimate Sharpshooter. This talent (and other slight variations of it) shows up pretty commonly in fangans (Kiyoka Maki of DRA, Desmond Hall of P:EG), and for good reason. It’s a talent that gives off a cool vibe, a potentially level headed yet aggressive personality, and can obviously be involved in many cool murder tricks.

My other guesses besides Ultimate Sharpshooter are in a similar ballpark– aforementioned Archer, Ultimate Bounty Hunter, Ultimate Spy, etc– but I could be way off track. I don’t see any weapons on 0a6, which would be weird for any of those talents. It could be more of a Debater type talent (with the eye symbol and truth bullet), or the blue gloves could hint at something more scientific (a la Charles and Arturo), although I don’t see the benefit to the sporty under-eye mark in either of those cases.

3Km is interesting, because they’ve got a lot going on. Hexagons, fire, zebra print– put it all together, and what does it mean? One interpretation is that their personality, too, is a lot.

I was immediately drawn to the markings on the left side of 3Km’s face, because I don’t know what they are. They could be angry veins, but… I don’t think veins really work like that in the shoulder. It’s far more than the typical anime stylization, not in the same place, and they don’t look particularly angry, so that's probably wrong. In that case, it’s probably a scar. But, what kind? Acid? An animal? Fire, like the symbol on their shirt?

Let’s move on for now and take a look at their pants. There’s a zebra pattern, which could imply a connection to animals/zoos or travel/Africa. The kind of pants they’re wearing are called chaps, which, hey, are typically ridden by horse riders! They’re meant to protect the rider’s legs from “thorny vegetation, extreme temperatures, and the animals they work with.” That definitely makes it seem like the zebra is important, as an equine animal.

Thus, my guess for this character is Ultimate Wild Animal Tamer. They wear chaps and gloves to protect them from the untamed animals they work with, yet they may have gotten a scar from a taming gone wrong. They’re strong so that they can get the upper hand, and the fire and piercings could speak to their rebellious, similarly wild personality. @venus-is-thinking also suggested that, as a Wild Animal Tamer, this character could work in the circus, which could further explain the flamboyant clothing and fire motif. They definitely seem like a character who could be putting on a show.

As for the other character pictured… that person is almost certainly 3Km’s sibling, likely a twin. However, as a fellow member of the killing game cast, we’ll get to them later! For now, let’s check out somebody else.

This character is one of the ones that I’m the most baffled about. They don’t wear a lot of symbols or field-specific clothing, so, it’s kind of a shot in the dark.

They definitely seem kind of fancy, what with the super swirly hair. Square scarves also typically seem to be worn in professional circumstances for stylish people. They’re wearing a lot of layers (including said scarf and a sweater), so it’s possible they work in a cold environment? Or maybe they just naturally run cold. There’s a lot of draping elements in their clothing, between the folded jacket and two-layered skirt, but that doesn’t really correlate to a specific location or profession.

The eyes patterns are also weird. They’re very spiky and not perfectly circular. What they reminded me of first were either an explosion, a loud noise, or a circular blade distorted while spinning quickly. Glasses are typically associated with nerdy or smart characters (like Eden and Charles), but anyone can wear glasses, so I wouldn’t use that as a huge selling point.

Anyways, the combination of fanciness, loudness, and potential nerdiness made me think some kind of talent incorporating a voice and art. I had ideas ranging from Ultimate Opera Singer to Ultimate Art Critic. In the end, I settled on Ultimate Stage Director, mostly as a vibe check. I could imagine this character ordering writers, actors, and set designers around with the goal of following their vision. A person like that who’s used to being in charge could be an interesting figure in a killing game. Again, though, I don’t have super strong feelings about this, so I’m extra looking forward to learning more.

I was going to slam dunk this one as the Ultimate Shepherd until @fuji-iri pointed out to me that there’s actually a sewing needle pattern in their eye! I’m kind of glad, because it gives me more to talk about and might explain some of the weird things I noticed if this character were the Ultimate Shepherd.

Besides the sewing needle, the eyes are definitely reminiscent of a sheep. Same with the braids in their hair– they’re arranged in a spiral reminiscent of a sheep’s horns. The cloud-like pattern on their cloak, as well as the soft-looking trim, seem fluffy and wool-like. 9lt definitely has a sheep motif, but that doesn’t mean it’s the talent exactly.

9lt’s bell hints at that concept. Although sheep often wear bells, according to google images, they’re more often regular bells than the circular bell depicted in their outfit. It seems like sheep can wear these bells, but they’re more commonly seen on cats.

There’s also a strong focus on pastel colors in the design, particularly pink. The design is very fun and childlike, it’s silhouette appearing smaller due to the large bow and lack of visible arms. (They’re also just pretty short.) The cloak, which obscures most of their body, kind of reminds me of Toshiko Kayura of P:EG. Small, cute, and childish, yet kind of mysterious and strange: that’s the vibes this design is giving me.

Given the sewing needle, it’s tempting to give this character a talent in fashion design. They do have a very specific style, which could play into their designs. However, with the strong connections to animals and fluffiness makes me think that they actually might be something along the lines of the Ultimate Plush Maker. It’s cozy and cuddly while also involving the sharp eye (of the needle) that a creator needs to have.

Now, this is a character with a lot going on. They’ve got symbols all over and a really fun hairstyle, so, let’s see how it could all fit together.

One of the aspects that first caught my eye was the flower in hwR’s hair. I’m pretty sure it’s a dandelion, which could be read in a couple of ways. The first is that a dandelion is a weed. hwR could be a character who often isn’t wanted, but manages to persist regardless. Secondly, dandelions have a lot of medicinal benefits if you consume them. So, hwR could be a character focused on health, especially in alternative ways. Thirdly, there’s the superstition that blowing on a dandelion will grant you a wish. I’d lean against this one because the dandelion isn’t… ripe(???) enough to be blown on yet, but the interpretation is still there.

The bunny symbol also has a lot of interpretations. As I listed out in the image, some options are good luck, longevity, opportunity, and adventure. The white rabbit is also a main character in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, which DRDTdev is clearly familiar with if the LGI MV is anything to go by. Generally, rabbits are also fast, cute, and known for multiplying. White rabbits seem to have generally positive connotations, which is a good sign for this character.

Other symbols include the crescent moon and sparkle type shapes, which seem to indicate nighttime or mystery. The symbol in hwR’s eyes is a spiral, which is also mysterious and could have to do with hypnosis. Apparently they also represent the circle of life, which could be suspicious…? Dying and living, killing games, and the like.

Anyways, with all this supernatural and superstitious imagery, I feel like the talent has to deal with something similar. I’m not exactly sure what to call it, or what the specific niche is. The one I wrote down in my notes was the Ultimate Alternative Medicine Practicioner, tying in the medicinal uses of dandelions and therapeutic uses of hypnotism. However, that title is a mouthful, and there are definitely other options. I sort of wanted the talent to just be someone who believes in spiritual practices, but given that a spiritualist is apparently someone who believes in talking to ghosts, the best name I could come up with for that was Ultimate Believer. hwR could also be something like an Ultimate Fortune Teller or a straight up Hypnotist, or a Lucky Student who really leans into the title. There are plenty of options, but I think it’s something in this genre.

This guy is fun! The fashion is pretty plain so there’s not a lot to work with, but I’ll give it my best shot.

As compared to 8CT (the one with the curly hair), Jfl at least has the very obvious symbol on their shirt to point us in the right direction. I’m pretty sure those are audio levels, which means that their talent probably combines something with sound with something with technology. I don’t know why they would need a lot of pockets or a hat with a visor for that, but hey, always good to be prepared.

The hat is pretty plain, but there is that green square on it. It may just be a large tab, as appears on many baseball caps to show off a logo. This one is blank, though, so it could be something else. It kind of looks like the press marker that appears on stereotypical reporter hats in, like, the 1920s, but those weren’t typically lime green, either (unless the black and white movies are fooling me hard).

The overall color scheme plus the fingerless gloves sort of make this character look like an Ultimate Hacker to me, but then I’m not sure what the connection to the audio levels are. They could also be something more like an Ultimate DJ, but the hat, jacket, and cargo pants make me feel like it’s something a little more active/outdoorsy. Thus, I’m going to go with the kinda-compromise that this character is the Ultimate Podcaster. In my mind, they would do some field reporting first (hence something that looks kind of like a reporter hat), and then come back to their home office and talk about it to publish in a podcast.

With my argument about the clothes feeling more outdoorsy, I have a few ideas for what the podcast could be about. The first is something along the lines of hunting cryptids. Jfl goes into the woods, looks around, and then reports their findings in, like, a ghost log. A little more in the realm of realism, Jfl could tail important figures around, either as a paparazzi-type person or someone who’s unraveling a conspiracy, and then release a report on them. That could also get Jfl involved in some kind of scuffle with XF-ture tech, which makes me lean more in that direction.

With the fish scales, knA is pretty obviously nautically coded. Their talent probably has something to do with water, but, in what way? Let’s look at the other details.

Just like Nico, knA has slit eyes. In Nico’s design, it was meant to make them look catlike, due to their profession as the Ultimate Pet Therapist. Similarly, 9lt has horizontal slit eyes, which are meant to make them look like a sheep. It seems like these elongated pupils are meant to make us think of animals, so knA’s talent probably heads in that direction. They also have a catlike mouth ( :3 ) and wear a collar, which (like Nico) makes them lean feline. Maybe it’s a catfish? Or maybe that’s more of a personality beat.

On the other hand, knA’s eye pattern has two circles in it, a larger one that goes around the long pupil and a smaller one that’s sort of hidden behind it. In context, this most reminded me of a sonar/radar system, which sailors use at sea to make sure they aren’t running into anything. Through that lens, the belt(?) that wraps around their leg reminded me of an anchor wrapped around a post. That’s kinda confirmation bias with the water thing, but it may have been intentional.

To be honest, I was really back and forth on whether to call this character the Ultimate Angler or the Ultimate Diver, but by the bolding, you can tell I settled on the former. I liked Ultimate Diver because it would place the character more among the fish (why they’re coded as an animal) as opposed to someone who catches them. But also, cats are known for catching fish, right? Plus, my interpretations of a sonar and an anchor would connect the character to a boat, which is less important for diving and more important for fishing.

Now this is the character that seems to be the talk of the town! And for good reason, too: they have a lot more recognizable imagery that specifically ties them to DRDT than anybody else.

First off, there’s the obvious XF-ture Tech logo, shaped like a hexagon, which appears on u1l’s jacket. That certainly connects them to the company in some way, whether they’re an employee or just someone who received some merch. This is extra interesting given that u1l wears the same pin that Min has on her design. In A History of Hope’s Peak, Min says she was sponsored by XF-Ture Tech, so maybe this guy was, too? It could be a kind of alternate company logo. Or it could have some kind of bug to listen in with. That’d be fun.

Otherwise, it’s pretty nondescript. They have regular eyes, a regular shirt, and a regular ol’ pink tie (other than the connection it may have to the Sleepy MV). The jacket is tied really weirdly at the bottom, kind of looking like a fish tail, but I think it’s a normal jacket. The boot design kind of reminded me of Xander’s, which could indicate that this character has to be prepared to run around.

Pinning down u1l’s talent is kinda hard because… honestly, I kinda feel like they’re just “Ultimate XF-Ture Tech Guy.” Like, they’re clearly connected to the company, and may be here as their representative. Thus, in my notes, I called this guy the Ultimate Technician.

A technician is “a worker in a field of technology who is proficient in the relevant field and technique, with a relatively practical understanding of the theoretical principles.” Is that vaguely tech-ish as hell? Yeah. Is XF-Ture a tech company that also does vague other things? Yeah. Ultimate Technician lets this u1l have a lot of skills yet not have to elaborate on it at all, which is something that I feel like they would enjoy. Just like how they might enjoy how all of us are chomping at the bit to learn more about them, and yet, we probably won’t hear anything for a while…

A very pretty addition to the cast! I love their vibes. Time to figure out what they mean.

There’s a lot here that signifies wealth. The crown hairpin is very obvious in that regard, as is the cape. Purple is often thought of as a color of royalty, and uBg is wearing a lot of it. Same with the cape– it’s an article of clothing often worn by kings. Their eye pattern contains a diamond within a circle. Diamonds are a jewel; wealth, royalty, etc.

This character also has some elements of promiscuity to them. Garter socks (which is what I think is what they’re wearing on their left leg?) are typically thought of as a sexually-charged thing to wear, and their other leg is fully exposed (oh my!). You can also see their bra peeking out from under their shirt, as well as some cleavage. Is this related to talent, or just to personality? I’m not sure.

While it’s tempting to go with something more along the lines of Ultimate Celebrity or Ultimate Heiress, I’m actually kind of partial to my interpretation of Ultimate Treasure Hunter. They wear a crown because it’s the treasure they’ve won, and there are diamonds in their eyes because that’s what they’re looking for! The cape could read as more of a heroic/adventurer thing, and the gloves also feel like ones belonging to someone more active. I’m aware this has nothing to do with the promiscuous aspects, but… like I said, that could just relate to personality! Plus, if you’re traveling the world searching for treasure, you might want a chance to tour the people, too.

Finally, we’ve returned to the probable sibling of 3Km, the potential Ultimate Wild Animal Tamer! If the similar color schemes and eye designs weren’t enough, the fact that their little chibis were obviously paired together makes it pretty obvious that they’re related. Assuming that everyone in this cast is the same age (18+), they would be twins.

However, I also want to propose that 3Km isn’t the only character XWu is “related” to. Remember how I mentioned that the XF-Ture logo was a hexagon? Well, the pattern in 3Km and XWu’s eyes is a hexagon. Could they also have a connection to XF-Ture tech, and thus, u1l? Maybe they’re part of the family who founded the company. It’s a big stretch, but it’s possible. Just wanted to bring it up.

Back to XWu, it’s interesting that they’re probably the twin of 3Km, ‘cause their designs are pretty opposite. While 3Km seems wild, XWu is very fancy. They have a chain, much like uBg; some boots that look sort of princely; and a very fancily-patterned vest. I didn’t notice while I was making my visual, but I think that the vest has snowflakes on it to mirror 3Km’s fire. Honestly, I don’t know if that means it’s more likely that it has something to do with their talents, or less…

I feel like XWu might have some kind of managerial talent. It could be something more business-y, related to XF-Ture Tech, or if 3Km is part of the circus, XWu could be, like, the Ultimate Ringleader. Leaning on the former, I settled for the Ultimate Business Consultant. I was thinking about 3Km going around the world taming animals or whatever, and XWu tagging along, making business connections and deals along the way. The “X” in their bangs makes me think that they might have a talent or personality that revolves around rejecting things. That could lean business leadership, so… yay?

-

And that’s that! To summarize, the cast of talents as I determined them were Ultimate Teacher, Ultimate Sharpshooter, Ultimate Wild Animal Tamer, Ultimate Stage Director, Ultimate Plush Maker, Ultimate Alternative Medicine Practicioner, Ultimate Podcaster, Ultimate Angler, Ultimate Technician, Ultimate Treasure Hunter, and Ultimate Business Consultant.

Obviously none of this is concrete, and I’m speculating based on very few details. I won’t be disappointed no matter what the talents are because, hey! We get more fangan content from DRDTdev either way! I feel like the Ultimate Winner with that fact.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and, if you have alternate interpretations or design elements I missed, I'd love to hear about them! I might make an update if we get any additional information any time soon.

[whoiwanttoday]

Today is, if you can believe it, the 12th anniversary of my blog. Which is sort of nuts because that would make me old and while my body is breaking down and I am tired all the time and it's weird how different foods bother me now that never used to, I am actually not old. My friends have largely gotten old, my family keeps getting older, yet I remain vibrant and youthful and hip and with it. It's weird. I am posting Charli XCX because in celebration of my blogiversary she announced a new album last week and released her first single and as such has been much more present in the world because that goes hand and hand with promoting a new album as a popstar. I often think about her statement that the two most important things to being a successful popstar are being young and being hot. It's that sort of thing that makes me love her, she has always had this ironic detachment mixed with metacommentary and almost satire of pop culture. Except of course, it isn't satire because it's stuff she tends to love as well. Anyway, we all know I think she's a tremendous talent and over time it seems like more and more people have come around on that, as I like to point out I got True Romance in the bargain bin but eventually I had people on discogs offering me $500 for her mixtapes. Still a cult favorite I guess but the cult is significantly bigger. Think Jonestown as opposed to those three weird dude that lived in that cul-de-sac a block away when I was a kid. Anyway, with all these anniversary I post some stats for the people who care, which is literally @femalecelebrityoftheday and @kat-eleven because he likes numbers and she likes girls, so between the two of them this picture is their ideal.

Charli has been number one since about the start of the pandemic. For years it was Kate Upton and Katy Perry changing places but what I have learned over the years is that a lot of this is a matter of, "what have you done for me lately". I didn't think it would be that way going in but largely none of us are the unique, free thinking people we think we are, we're easily influenced by the world around us and this fortunes have risen and fallen with greater popularity and to be honest with the marketing pushes around celebrity brands. Miss Mosh was pretty solidly in the top 10 once upon a time and likely still would be if she was still a working model but again, out of sight out of mind. Most of the top 20 has been in the top 10 at some point but Amber Heard was the third most posted person after the first year of this blog and guys, you might have noticed her name isn't even in that picture there and it's simply because that was a once upon a time thing that quickly cooled, no doubt in part because she became less famous for movies and more famous for tabloid drama which generates different interests. Which really is the main thing i have learned with all of this. Celebrity culture is fascinating but these aren't real people. That might get me some backlash and I am not trying to dehumanize anyone but Charli XCX is not Charlotte Aitchison and either one of those people are not someone we're seeing through anything. I think great artists indeed put part of themselves in to their work but we don't know them, we know the portion of them that they are showing us. You mix in celebrity culture, which is not art or artists but brands and marketing and you are being sold something. We are attached to an idea or an image and if you want to really examine this I would argue who and what you like says more about you than them. I don't have a greater point here I suppose, other than to simply state it. I like Charli XCX a lot, I like her work, but none of this is real in the sense my friends (who are getting so fucking old somehow) and loved ones are. It's for fun, don't lose sight of that. Today I want to fuck Charli XCX.

[ana-chronista]

Me again with some Jan/Jure for the kiss promts hehe :))

Could you maybe do …forcefully and ...out of necessity for them (either works fine as well<3)

So my hand slipped and I wrote both...

33. ...forcefully

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lying there on the hospital bed, arm already in a fresh cast and sling, Jure has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Oh, come on. It's not like I did it on purpose!” “That doesn't matter!” Jan snaps back at him, trying to take a deep breath before his anger becomes full-on fury. They may be in a private side room, alone while the nurse is off sorting out the discharge paperwork, but the door is still slightly ajar and he doubts anyone down the corridor wants to hear him shouting. “Jan, it's not that b- ” “Don’t you tell me – you're lying there with a broken arm and you're trying to tell me me it's not that bad?” He can’t believe how casually Jure is treating this. The panic he’d felt from the phone call – don’t freak out, but can you give me a ride from the hospital? – is still gnawing at the edges of his mind, even though no permanent damage has been done and Jure appears to give precisely zero shits about what’s happened. “Who are you, my mum?” Jure scoffs. “It's really not, it barely hurts – ” “That’ll be the painkillers, which seem to be messing up your take on this.” “Look, if I’d wanted a lecture, I would have called Kris – ” “Yeah, I’d love to see how you’re going to explain this one to him.” Jan says snidely. He wants a front row seat to that show, for sure. “What are we supposed to do with the gigs coming up?” “I don’t know, Rick Allen manages just fine.” Jure shoots back. For a moment, Jan stares him down, hands on hips, until suddenly Jure sighs, flippancy draining and leaving him deflated. “Get a session musician, I guess. I know a few people, and I’m sure Nace has a few connections.” Jan shakes his head, insisting, “That’s not the point, Jure.” “Yeah, OK, I don’t want to let the fans down. Maybe I can still be on stage?” “Also not the point!” He can’t help raising his voice. How does he not get that there are a million and one different scenarios still running through Jan’s head, each worse than the last? “What if you’d landed on your head or something? You could have been hurt way worse!” And just like that, he can see annoyance flooding the other man again. “Yeah, but I didn’t, and I wasn’t! Honestly, I don’t get why you’re making such a huge deal – ” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He darts forward, his hands landing on either side of Jure’s jaw to hold him in place and crushes his mouth against his. He pours every last scrap of fear and frustration into it, cutting off every last what if and what now chasing through his head. There’s a spark of satisfaction as Jure shifts his head the fraction he can, mouth falling open beneath Jan’s teeth and tongue. It only lasts a moment before footsteps echo in the hallway. They’re both breathless and panting as they break apart. “There!” Jan hisses, still holding on to Jure’s face as the drummer stares back at him. “Do you understand now? A knock sounds on the door. “Mr. Maček – ” “Jan – ” Jure sounds as dazed as he looks. Jan can feel his jaw clenching as he shakes his head and lets go of Jure. “Later. We’ll talk later.” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to the window as the nurse comes in clutching Jure’s file.

49. ... out of necessity

“So, the time has come!” Jure announces, startling Jan out of pretending to check his texts to look up and see their new drummer grinning up at him. “For what?” he asks, wondering if he’s missed something. The music and chatter of the party is like a wall of noise blocking off what’s actually happening, and he’s been lurking here in the corner for a good ten minutes trying to recharge his social batteries, beer in one hand and phone in the other. “For us to kiss!” Jure sounds so matter of fact, as though it should be obvious. Jan raises an eyebrow, trying to stay deadpan. “Oh, really?” Jure shrugs. “Well, I’ve already kissed everyone else... Bojan, Kris, Martin, even Matic on his way out.” He ticks them off on his fingers as he goes, leaving one raised that he prods into Jan’s chest. “That just leaves you.” “And what’s this all for? Science?” “Nah, team bonding exercise.” He can’t help but laugh at the flimsy reasoning. “You know, if you wanted to kiss me that much you could’ve just asked.” “Didn’t think I’d need to.” Jure says airily. “Thought you’d make me welcome.” Jan rolls his eyes, unable to help the fond smile tugging at his lips as he slips his phone away. “Well, if that’s how you feel, come here then.” Jure apparently doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s immediately stepping into Jan’s personal space and wrapping his arms around his neck to pull him down, leaning up and meeting him halfway. Jan lets him lead, unsure exactly what he’s going for, but Jure’s lips on his are warm and insistent as he coaxes Jan’s mouth open and then Jan – Jan decides to play him at his own game, wrapping his free arm around Jure’s back to draw him in closer, pushing back as much as Jure is. He lets Jure cup the back of his head and deepen the kiss, but nips back at his bottom lip, enjoying the smallest shudder he feels run through him. Jure was the one to ask for this, of course. He might as well make it memorable for him. It seems like he’s succeeded, because Jure is grinning when they break apart, wide and self-satisfied and very much the cat that got the cream. Jan can’t blame him – he’s feeling quite pleased with himself too, even if he restricts it to a smirk. “Will that do, then?” he asks. Jure uncoils himself from Jan, sliding his hands over his shoulders to his chest before giving him an affectionate nudge. “Hmm, maybe. I don’t know.” His tone is light and teasing, though Jan’s pretty sure he can hear some breathlessness in there too. “I might need more research – I’ll let you know.” And if Jure suggests they go conduct that research somewhere a bit quieter, Jan knows he’ll agree. This party is boring, anyway.

[oh-hell-help-me]

Day 24: Barbarous

If there was anything he learned about his human, Bowser would have said that Luigi was the least violent person he knew.

After waking up in the castle’ medical room, with Luigi sleeping at his bedside and Kamek looming over him with concerned exasperation?

It made Kamek’s rundown easier to swallow, or at least explained the killer headache he had.

Looking down at his… well, his, the Koopa couldn’t resist running his claws through the human’s soft white hair.

Figures that he misses out on witnessing Luigi kicking ass.

Even if it’s HIS ass.

Still-

“What happened to the two quacks?” He’s… not sure he wants to know if he- he…

“Scared, but fine.” The old magikoopa gives him a look. “If not for Luigi, this would have been the second time you’ve immolated someone, sire.”

He winces at that. The first time pushed public opinion to a sprawl that he still has to deal with.

He has no doubt that their deaths would have trickled into a bigger pool of metaphorical piss he’d have to wade through.

More importantly, their survival meant that he could still fix… whatever the hell started this.

“Why were they here?” And yes, he knows it’s rude to growl, but that didn’t excuse their actions in harming Luigi- intentional or not!

“As I assume they stated in the throne room: they came to take care of the cause of paranormal activity.”

“Except there hasn’t-“

“Have you read the castle reports, sire?”

Bowser stops short. “What about them?” The only significant thing he can remember are instances of Luigi’s shenani-

“Oh.”

“Yes,” Kamek sounds tired. “‘Oh’.”

“…I’ll have to make an announcement, huh?”

“AND do a public apology- the scientists may have made questionable choices-“

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“But the danger that they were put in was excessive.”

“How the hell was I supposed to react!? They come in all shifty-like and did THAT!” He was careful to not dislodge Luigi from his spot as he violently pointed at the door (it was a wonder that he still slept). “And all I knew was that Luigi was in danger- again!”

“They were convinced you were possessed- and without communicating with the public they had little chance of knowing otherwise, Bowser!”

Bowser nearly roared back that it shouldn’t be anyone’s business- that Luigi deserved some damn privacy when he was still trying to grapple with the fact he wasn’t human anymore-!

But he heard a shaky breath hitch- nearly muffled, but still painfully familiar.

He looks down, and feels like he’s been punched again when he sees monochrome eyes stare back at him in guilt.

By the time Luigi woke up, it was in a gradual state of awareness that he was reluctant to gain.

He was vaguely aware of the events that happened before, but was still confused when the voices above his head started talking about apologies.

“-were convinced you possessed- and without communicating with the public, they had little chance knowing otherwise, Bowser!”

Possessed? But there hadn’t been any ghosts-

(He remembers the times he’d seen soldiers become skittish as he explored castle walls.)

(He remembers how Clawthorne joked of sharing ‘ghost stories’ with his friends in the barracks, letting Luigi have his anonymity as he still avoided most people.)

(He remembers the way the scientists had subtly shifted toward their machine the moment he peaked above the throne- and himself thinking that it seemed so odd that they didn’t acknowledge him-)

Oh…. oh.

This really is HIS fault, isn’t it?

He was selfish in not wanting to be seen like- trying to feel normal even if everything changed- and now everyone will think Bowser-

He feels like the worst- not even two weeks into a relationship and he’s already-

He feels a large hand cup the side of his head, making him jolt back to awareness as a thumb strokes a wet cheek-

Oh, he was crying.

“-gi? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

And Bowser- of course it’s him, who else is that large- is looking at him with gentle concern. He shouldn’t- shouldn’t- Luigi didn’t deserve-

“Hey.” And his voice went soft, like that time in the garden-

The garden, it feels like forever ago-

"Focus." He's locked his head between two paws now, and anyone other than Luigi would have been intimidated but-

It's easy to feel safe, looking into his eyes.

"Don't cry." And as emotions do, it makes Luigi's eyes tear up again, but he needs to- to-

"I-I'm sorry."

"Pfft. You can knock me on my as any day, love." He's not understanding-

"N-not... That too, but-" Why is it so hard- "You sh-shouldn't have to deal with m-my screw ups..."

He feels the Koopa freeze, and he only screws his eyes shut in expectation of withdrawal-

"That is not your fault!" Bowser snarls it out in a way that's almost vitriolic -it makes him flinch, but the continuing strokes to his face at least tell him that it's not at him. "Luigi, you've trying, love. I know you have."

He leans closer, and Luigi feels exposed.

"You've been dealing with it. Hell, you've been adapting to your changes like a damn pro!" Luigi wheezes out a chuckle. It doesn't feel like it. "And while you have been dealing with it, I should have made sure that it would be safe for you!"

"B-but-!"

"Luigi." He wants to curl up into his arms and not come out, but even he knew that it wouldn't change a thing. "Wanting to understand yourself wasn't a mistake. Wanting to not draw attention to yourself is not a mistake."

They're nose to nose, and the proximity has Luigi feeling heat roll off the Koopa.

"The mistake was mine." His stare is intense, and Luigi is left shivering from it. "Not telling anyone even a half-assed lie is my mistake. Not making sure that there were minimal rumors about you was my mistake."

"So don't apologize for wanting to feel safe. Even then-" he's the one to look away, and it feels like he took all the air with it. "I feel like I've failed you with this."

"No." Luigi isn't sure of a lot of things, but the idea of Bowser failing him at all makes something in him revolt- "You haven't failed me. Bowser, you haven't!"

And he looks shaken, his big sweetheart of a Koopa is shaken.

"You've made me feel safe- I always feel safe when you're near because I know you want me to be!"

He uses his own hands to cup his muzzle and while he still couldn't accept that those are his hands, they are now hands that are giving Bowser comfort, and that might as well be ALL that he asks for his hands to be!

"You've made it feel like home- porca puttana, Bowser, you have been my home!" and there he is crying again, but he does his damn best to look at his lover in the eyes- "I feel safe because I am with you- I feel safe because I love you!"

And he loves Bowser 'the protector' as much as Bowser 'the one who looks at Luigi like he held his heart in his hands'- they are one and the same, and Luigi knows that he wouldn't have him any other way-

And even as the Koopa's eyes are soft and vulnerable, they burn just as much.

He lunges forward-

And Luigi is in heaven.

He's in heaven and burning from Bowser's touch -his hands- his lips- his tongue-

It feels like too much and not enough, too soon and still a long time coming-

He kisses back, and hopes that he never comes down from this feeling.

...Koopa tongues are barbarous but fleshy. Who knew?

[noellawrites]

Missing Persons - Yandere!Gustavo Fring x fem!reader

requested by: @ourjovialpoetrystudent & @paigerzz

summary: after being kidnapped by Gus, you see some disturbing news on television.

warnings: kidnapping, pregnancy/baby trapping, manipulation

You woke up with no recollection of what happened to you. Your head throbbed with a pain worse than a headache, worse than dehydration. You were currently on a cushy bed, hands and feet zip-tied, and a bandana shoved in your mouth.

“Ah, you are finally awake. Welcome home.”

“Gus? Where the hell am I and where the hell are Walt and Jesse?” you seethed after he pulled the bandana from your mouth.

“They’re fine. Making more product. You being here ensures their safety. It’s a win-win for everyone involved,” Gus reassured in his ever-stoic tone.

“And how am I winning, exactly?” you inquired, attempting to wiggle your arms out of the zip tie.

“You are living here, with me. In time, I will release you from your bounds. Trust me, things are better this way.”

You sighed, thinking about how you much you missed both your real family and your makeshift family. You, Walter and Jesse were an odd group, but you enjoyed every minute of working with them. You also really, really enjoyed the money. As a formerly broke college student, your old chemistry teacher calling you up for help manufacturing meth with your old burnout high school friend was a blessing in disguise.

You knew the risks of the business, and even though you were raking in stacks, you still attended college and worked your old low-paying job to avoid suspicion. It also meant that you were worked to the bone pretty much every day.

“Will I ever see anyone I love again?” you finally asked, after thinking about how the hell you’d ended up here.

“You will learn to love me,” Gus stated simply, avoiding your gaze and exiting the room.

—

It had been seven months since you’d been kidnapped and six since Gus had freed you from the zip ties, rope knots and metal cuffs completely.

Soft jazz music drifted from the kitchen to where you sat on the living room couch as Gus cooked dinner. You softly smiled, looking down at your slight baby bump. The nurse who visited weekly (and got paid heftily to look the other way) said you were about ten weeks in.

You grasped around for the television remote, tired of reading as much as you did. Gus still didn’t allow you to use a phone or computer, but you had been given TV privileges after Gus found out you were pregnant.

Some dumb game show was on when the TV came on, so you switched around channels until you hit channel 13. KRQE, the Albuquerque local news.

“Recent developments in the disappearance of UNM student (y/n) (y/l/n) points to foul play. Albuquerque police chief Ray Schultz stated that ‘evidence found at the scene has failed to provide us with any substantial leads, but we will not give up the search for Miss (y/l/n).’ You all remember the story: in February of this year, (y/n) (y/l/n) was reported missing from her dormitory. So far, no suspects have been named and few clues remain. We take you now to a special announcement from Los Pollos Hermanos Owner and Co-Founder, Gustavo Fring—“

Your blood ran cold. The news station had talked to Gus about your disappearance? And they still hadn’t found you? The only legitimate connection between the two of you is when you were awarded the scholarship Gus had founded at your school in his former associate’s name. You listened on.

“—last year, I awarded the Max Arciniega Memorial Scholarship to Miss (y/l/n). She was no doubt one of this city’s brightest young minds, and I am disappointed to hear there have not been any new leads. This is why I am gifting a donation of fifty thousand dollars to the Albuquerque Missing Persons Fund in hopes that more developments can be made in both (y/n)’s case and the cases of hundreds more like her.’”

You quickly snapped the television off, focusing on the sound of your breathing.

“Do you want green beans or carrots with the soup?” Gus asked from the kitchen.

You responded in an almost tearful voice. It was the combination of the news and your hormones, definitely.

“(y/n), is everything okay?” Gus asked, rounding the corner and sitting next to you on the couch.

“NO! Everything is not okay! You donated money to the people trying to find me! Who does that? I miss my family, my real family, and Walt and Jesse,” you cried, causing Gus to wrap his arms around you. You angrily shook him off.

“So me and this baby—“ he began, laying his hand gently on your stomach, “—are not your real family?”

“I-I guess so, but—“

“You guess so? Or do you mean it? Because you know what I am capable of doing to your former co-workers. Your family. Anyone you love,” he stated in his even-toned voice.

Suddenly, you realized you had never been as safe as you thought you were. Gus had lulled you into a false sense of security, even copulated with you to produce your child. You missed everything you had from your old life, and Gus had only tricked you into believing a child could fill that void.

[zarvasace]

🥰😍😔😭

🥰 fluff wip snippet

Shadow’s breath came quickly, a vicious thrill buzzing through his chest as he brought his weapon down from overhead. It whipped through the air with a satisfying noise, but it missed its target and slapped across the ground as Vio rolled away. 

Quickly, Shadow used the rebound momentum to strike again. This time, he hits Vio’s shoulder, which stopprd him from getting up. He pressed his advantage and leaned down to cage Vio in.

“You haven't won yet,” Vio hissed, reaching up to grab Shadow’s wrist.

Shadow smiled. Blood sang in his veins, the heady elation of a good fight. “You're so pretty when you're angry. Just admit you lost.”

He missed Vio’s foot, launched upward into Shadow’s chest. The world tipped upside down as Shadow flipped over to his back. His lungs emptied. 

Vio then wasted no time in rolling over to pin Shadow down. His cheeks flushed red, a rather nice sight that Shadow felt no shame in openly admiring. Vio pushed Shadow's shoulders down. “Just admit you lost,” he mocked. 

“Nah,” Shadow replied. “You should know by now that I never give up.”

“Okay, cut!” Blue shouted from the sidelines. He put the phone in his hands down. “Will you two quit it with the weird flirting already? We won't ever get a good take!” 

From the affectionately named Cat Shadow fic again, the bloodsuckers guide sequel :)

😭 angsty/sad wip snippet

Even if the rest of the world betrayed him, Shadow knew that Vio never would, not really, whatever his trauma-born doubts tried to tell him, whatever everyone else did. Vio was safe, and right now, he needed what comfort Shadow could offer.  “Shadow,” Blue muttered next to him, probably about to tell him to sit down.  Shadow had vague thoughts about dragging a chair up to sit next to Vio if this didn't work—and he would have—but he knew that it would work. He took two steps forward, and the world blurred and sharpened around him, and Shadow ran the rest of the way to Vio's lap on four paws again.  He settled there, the discomfort in his chest melting away as Vio’s hand rested on his back. He wouldn't move for anyone, but at least nobody tried.  “Miw,” Shadow said, as softly as he could. I'm sorry. 

^^Also from the cat Shadow fic :)

😍 piece of a published fic I loved writing

“You have to put in a time.” Malon shut the microwave and pointed to the numbers. “This one has some shortcuts, so you just need to press”—Zelda pressed the five, and the microwave lit up with five minutes on the display—“one of the numbers. Pull it out after like, fifteen seconds, and test it. You don't want to overcook it. I can imagine that overnuked blood could be way worse than cold.” “Hm.” After sixteen seconds precisely, Zelda pulled the jar from the microwave and held it under her nose to smell it. She wrinkled her nose, probably performing for Malon, but leaned back to sip at it anyway.  Malon cracked open her can of Sprite and joined her, wishing her own drink was cold, but something something biohazard, refrigerator not sterile, whatever. She sighed and enjoyed the lukewarm fizzing as much as she could.

From Vein, Artery, Aorta, a Zelda and Malon-focused companion fic to Bloodsuckers Guide, to keep with the theme. This one is insane and I love it

😔 piece of a published fic that was difficult to write

"Fine," Shadow said as the team went back to talking. He raised his head and looked Vio square in the eye. His words came out, but he barely heard them, as if he was just some badly tuned radio station announcer reading from a script. "I hate you. And I do not want to be seen at prom with a loser like you."  Vio pulled back, hurt clouding his eyes. He scowled. "I don't believe you. What's going on?"  "I've been hanging out with you for a joke." Shadow plowed on, his head full of static. His words snapped faster and faster. "It's been funny to watch how you fell for it." "Shadow," Vio said. "Stop it." "You fell hook—" "No."  "—line—"   "Shadow." "—and sinker."

From Bloodsucker's Guide itself, my current magnum opus. XD Shadow being intentionally mean to Vio after realizing that he doesn't want to be was so hard to write but it served the story so so well

(thanks!!)

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Purple Lighting

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura, Sai, Shizune

Words: 1915

Kakashi-Sensei was late.

Not just a little late, but three hours late. Sakura, Naruto and Sai had all ordered and eaten their bowls of Ramen and were just starting to really worry. 

“He’s not usually this bad,” Sakura grumbled as she drummed her fingers against the counter. “Not when it comes to food. Usually, he’s only an hour late for that.”

“He could be busy,” Sai stated. “His workload has increased dramatically since becoming Hokage.”

“That’s true,” pushing herself away from the counter, Sakura sighed. “Tsunade-sama always had piles of paperwork to do every day. Kakashi-Sensei must be stuck behind a stack of paperwork taller than him.”

Paperwork was the one thing Naruto wasn’t looking forward to when he took over the job. Just watching his Sensei drown behind the seemingly endless piles was almost enough to turn him away from his dream of becoming Hokage, but he refused. Even knowing that all that work would be his to deal with one day, Naruto persevered. There was no challenge that he couldn’t face head-on.

“I’ll go get him,” Sakura announced, standing up from her seat. “He probably hasn’t even told Shizune-san he was supposed to meet us. If he had, she would have sent him here on time.”

Naruto jumped to his feet suddenly, a grin stretching wide across his face. “Sit down, Sakura-chan,” he insisted, pointing down to her seat. “I can get there faster. I’ll drag Sensei out here before you even miss me.”

“Miss you?” Sakura scuffed and rolled her eyes. “It would take at least a week for me to start missing your loud, obnoxious voice, Naruto.” 

Anyone else would have heard the annoyance in Sakura’s voice, but all Naruto paid attention to was the time she gave. 

A week. That’s all it would take for her to start missing him. In Naruto’s opinion, that was a victory.

“Keep my spot warm,” he called back as he stepped past the exterior noren into the street. “I’ll be back quick, dattebayo!”

With that, Naruto was off. A blur disappearing into the air headed directly for the Hokage’s residence that sat in the centre of the village.

“He’s not here,” Shizune offered an apologetic smile when Naruto found her just outside of the Hokage’s office with a completed pile of paperwork in her arms. “He left about four hours ago.”

Four hours was a long time to be gone, and it meant that Kakashi-Sensei hadn’t been held back from dinner by paperwork. 

“Do you know where he went?” Naruto asked, determined to drag the older man to Ichiraku so he could enjoy a relaxing dinner with his team, just as he’d promised he would.

Thinking it over for a moment, Shizune mulled over all the places she could think of. “Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly. “He mentioned that he wanted to work on his new jutsu. No doubt he lost track of time.”

A new jutsu? This was the first Naruto was hearing of such a thing, though it wasn’t all that surprising when he thought of it. Even though they were experiencing a time of peace never seen by the five great nations before, his Sensei never seemed to forgo training. Always wanting to improve himself even when he had Naruto and so many others to protect the village.

“Thank you, Shizune-San!” He waved a quick goodbye and headed for the nearest exit. 

“Oh, Naruto!” Her voice called after him. “Don’t you want to know what training field he’ll be in?” 

“No need!” He continued forward, knowing right where he’d find his Sensei. There were a lot of training fields in Konoha for someone to use, but only one that suited the needs of someone creating a whole new jutsu.

As he came to a stop in front of the nearest window, he gave Shizune one last smile before sliding the window open and jumping outside.

‘Just wait, Kakashi-Sensei’ he thought as the wind rushed through his hair. ‘I’ll be right there.’ 

As expected, Naruto found his Sensei in training field D. The exact same field in which the older man had taught Naruto about Chakra Natures and helped him begin the process of creating his very own jutsu.

Memories flooded his mind as he stared at the familiar field. Precious moments that seemed so far away now, but still brought up a comfortable warmth in his heart as he dwelt on them. Captain Yamato’s face, so focused and stern, sitting in the centre of the field ready to take action if Naruto needed his help. Kakashi-Sensei’s voice, as soft and calm as it always was, explained everything to him in small chunks of information. Allowing him to process what he was hearing before they moved on to the next part of the discussion.

Naruto couldn’t help but smile. Growing up alone and unwanted, he’d never thought that he would see the day when he was able to stare into days gone past and think of them fondly. To have experiences with others that would leave him feeling warm and loved.

If he were to ever find himself standing in front of his younger self, he was certain he’d find it impossible to convince him that all of his dreams had come true. That he’d found the family he was looking for after all those years of being alone.

Then, as quickly as the memories had appeared to him, they vanished. In a brilliant strike of purple light, Naruto’s attention was brought back to the present. To his old sensei standing in the middle of the training field where bright purple lightning seemed to strike outwards from his feet and danced across the ground searching for a target.

Naruto had known his Sensei was talented. He’d heard all of the stories from others about Kakashi’s achievements, and had fought by his side countless times in battle seeing firsthand how well he adapted to every fight. He’d even watched as the man whipped out a seemingly endless variety of jutsu to fit every situation. 

When he was younger he’d thought Kakashi-sensei was one of the strongest shinobi ever, and watching him now as those bright strips of purple lightning extended outward once more, this time reaching out just a little bit further, Naruto realized how right he was. 

“Not enough,” he heard the muttered words of aggravation dripping from his Sensei’s mouth. Words spoken only to himself, with no thought to who might be around to overhear them. Perhaps if Naruto had been anyone else he may have missed those whispered scoldings, but he wasn’t.

He was Uzumaki Naruto, and those words fell on his ear as clearly as if he’d been standing right beside his Sensei.

“One more try.” he watched as Kakashi flexed his hands, as if willing the jutsu he was working so hard on to work. “One more try, and then dinner. I must be late by this point, but they’ll understand. They’ll-”

Realization seemed to strike at that moment and Kakashi’s attention diverted away from his current work and straight onto Naruto. Soft, kind black eyes stared at him, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Naruto-”

“Yo,” Raising a hand, he greeted his Sensei with a sweet smile. “You were late so I thought I’d come to find you.”

“Late,’ another scolding that seemed to be directed at himself, this time with a more apologetic tone to it. “How late?”

Naruto couldn’t help but cringe at such a simple question. His Sensei already seemed so upset with himself that he was certain answering it truthfully would only aggravate him more. So, with a cheerful smile and a dismissive wave, Naruto opted instead for a deflection. 

A tactic he’d learned well from listening to the man who stood in front of him. 

“That doesn’t matter,” he argued. “We just need to get to Ichiraku before Sakura gets upset,” it was a bit late for that, but Kakashi would find that out the hard way when he arrived. “Oh, but Sensei what was that?”

Kakashi stared at him, the confusion etching itself into his face even deeper than before.

“That,” Naruto pointed towards the ground and then waved his arms around a little. A poor copy of the lightning that had created such a delightful scene mere minutes ago. “That thing you were doing. Was that a new Jutsu?”

His enthusiasm couldn’t be contained. Naruto may not have been capable of learning Jutsu’s as easily as Kakashi-sensei or Sasuke, but he still enjoyed learning about them. Hearing their uses, or even just seeing them in action always sparked his excitement. 

“Oh,” Kakashi chuckled awkwardly. “That’s something new I’m trying to figure out. I can’t use the Chidori anymore since, well-” he waved a hand towards his left eye. The place where Obito’s Sharingan had been for years until Madara ripped it out and claimed it as his own. Had it not been for Naruto, that eye socket would be empty now, but with the sage of the six paths chakra, he’d been able to recover his Sensei’s original eye.

Or, as close to his original as possible.

“How long?” he asked, eager to find out as much about the new jutsu as he could. “And what’s it called? Is it powerful? More powerful than chidori?”

Holding his hands up in front of him, Kakashi laughed in a forceful, skeptical sort of way. “Now now.” he moved his hands in a gesture that Naruto knew all too well. One that he realized long ago meant ‘slow down’ or ‘breath’. A gesture he’d become accustomed to whenever his Sensei was feeling overwhelmed. 

Taking a deep breath, he took a mental step back and forced himself to relax. Though the questions still rushed through his mind he knew he’d never receive answers for them if he overwhelmed Kakashi. That would only lead to the older man making a run for it, and Naruto’s mission to retrieve him for team dinner being labelled a complete and utter failure.

“How long?” he asked once more, more calmly this time.

“Well, tilting his head back, Kakashi seemed to think on it a moment before returning his gaze to Naruto and offering a soft smile. “I’ve only just started working on it last week.”

Last week.

Only one week of work and his Sensei were already progressing far enough for lightning to extend outwards from him and surround a significant area. All of this was without the use of shadow clones, which greatly expedited Naruto’s work when he first created the rasenshuriken. 

“Amazing,” he whispered, awestruck by the progress his Sensei had made in such a short amount of time. “You know that, right Sensei?”

“Eh?” Kakashi stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “I don’t quite understand what you mean, Naruto.”

Naruto could only shake his head and chuckle. It was just like his Sensei to ignore any praise of his skills. That was yet another thing he’d learned of the man in front of him, and something he wished so deeply to change if only he would allow him to.

That wasn’t a worry for today, though. Naruto had a lifetime to convince his Sensei of how awesome he really was, and a whole lot of friends to help him with the task. For now, the more important thing was to get him to Ichiraku ramen.

There he could pester him more about that stunning new jutsu while eating his fill of delicious ramen.

[choliosus]

Happy one year to the QSMP!!!!

There’s a lot going on with the server right now that is being sorted out, but I just want to share my appreciation for every part of this project.

This server means so much to me. I used to watch DSMP and it will always hold a special place in my heart, but as anything does, it ended. It was already dwindling out but I think the thing that really did it was technoblade passing. And I’m gonna be honest I’m still not over that. I watched him more than any other creator, he means so much to me. The time in between his death and the start of the qsmp was especially sad. I was just missing a lot. Him, the server he played on, that community, etc.

I wanted to engage with the content from the people that he played with, but it was hard. Every update about him, such as technodad streaming, dream making the song about him, was a lot emotionally.

Also not to mention I was sooo hyperfixating on both him and the dream smp as a whole. So it left a big void in my life. I wanted to be wholeheartedly invested in something again.

Around the beginning of 2023, I started watching old Quackity vods and that became my new comfort thing. Just the silly ones where he was watching soap operas and stuff.

Then not so long after I had started doing that, he announced the QSMP. I cannot describe to you my excitement. That week or so before it started I was just so excited. And before that lmaoooo I was not thriving. School was crazy busy, I cut my own bangs and it looked terrible, and that pretty much exemplifies where I was at.

I remember switching to slimecicle’s perspective at some point during the first stream and I followed him, fit, roier, and Mariana as they went mining and were very silly. I smiled the whole time. And then, I watched more the next day, and the next day.

I had forgotten what it felt like to be a part of something that was actively taking place. It had been a while since that was how the dream smp was. I would go weeks or months without any updates, and I would just be by myself reading fanfics.

It felt really fucking good to be able to enjoy something new. Not to replace what I had before, but to start a new adventure. That’s what it feels like to me.

There was a lot to keep up with at first and luckily I had social media to sum things up for me.

Fast forward and the Brazilian members join, then the French. Each time I was a little hesitant to accept them with open arms into my mind palace but it wasn’t very long until I couldn’t imagine the server without them.

And from day 1 I was so impressed with the planning and story of the server, forcing people to stay interested. That’s something the dream smp didn’t have. I honestly don’t think I would need any of the events to have a good time, but oh my god do they make it so fun.

And the animatics???? Hello?????? I love it so much.

Now I’ve learned to accept any new members immediately. Korean members join? TIME TO DRAW THEM!

Quackity started this project with a clear vision. It is so clearly a huge passion project for him. I don’t doubt for a second that it will keep going no matter what happens.

This server has exposed me to so many creators I would never have even heard of and that’s the point. I only speak English. Without this server, I would not know half of my current silly little blorbos.

I can’t believe how creative and funny Roier is. I think about Cellbit Bagi’s lore all the time. I find myself saying “I am the best!” After Etoiles. I’ve tried to absorb as much of the fuga impossivel lore as I can. I adore Baghera’s chaos. Even some of the English speaking people I didn’t really watch that much, like jaiden, fit, even slimecicle, who I now watch probably more than anyone else.

The other day, I watched the stream of cellbit and roier playing hospital 666. In Spanish!! I don’t speak Spanish!!! I only understood about half of what they’re saying and I’m sure that half is because of QSMP. That’s incredible. This is something so much bigger than any one of us.

QSMP has given me so many people to start watching and drawing/writing/thinking about. It has given me hours upon hours of laughing and smiling. It has given me a new hyperfixation to occupy my thoughts before bed.

It means so much to me. Ever since it started, I’ve been so much happier. I could never have imagined something like this would come around. Honestly, there is not anything like this. It is the first of its kind, hopefully not the last 👀

A year went by fast. And I’m so glad to have been here since the beginning. But even then, new people join this community all the time. That’s so cool. This server has in just a year added so many more content creators, and by extension, fans. It’s insane.

And I am so, so excited for what the future will bring us 😊

[nickelstudy]

JLPT N1 Experience

So first of all, Happy New Year. It has been a while since I've updated this blog. I've been feeling depressed in the past few weeks, I think it's because of drawing? I feel like I haven't been performing well in art, and that it's hard to accept painful truth that I cannot please everyone- not that it matters on this blog, but it's WHY I decide to take some time to write an update here.

I was supposed to talk about my first experience with N1 but I got busy after. I caught up in many stuff, I guess, plus I was busy with my birthday and helping my family's work throughout the month. But now that it's over, let's talk shall we?

Before That

I haven't talked about my last week strategy, here's what I did.

Stopped learning Kanji and do the drills instead

Finished Shinkanzen Grammar in the first section. I had some days left, so I skimmed through the second section without doing the exercise (I did for A - D i think but- I definitely shouldn't)

Borrowed these two books (pic below). For reading, I did every bit of every question style (there were like 6 of them right? Short passage, Long, etc.)

And for listening, I tried to rush through it but I kinda gave up with the chapter III or IV I'm not sure.

I switched between two of them on the last day

FYI the blue book is actually fantastic! I think I've said it before but it has explanation for each answers. I think it's super cool.

Now For N1

Chapter 1: Before exam

For context, I travelled to the exam location alone, so I wasn't bounded by anyone and I could roam anywhere. I got out early, and arrived there pretty early. But walking from the entrance to the exam spot took a while, to the point where I doubted to myself if I was going in the right direction. There were many people there already. I think the morning peeps had already entered the room when I arrived.

I had lunch and... wander around (Typical Pikmin Bloom player). There wasn't much to do anyway. I decided to take a quick review of some onomatopoeia and other vocabs. I think at that point, nothing is more important than vocabs. It was a while before they allowed us to go up the building. Anyway, I SAW A KID in a highschooler outfit in front of the same room as mine! IM- I DON'T KNOW?? HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO BE THIS GOOD AT THAT AGE?? And of course we entered the room. I sat not so far from the entrance.

One thing that bothers me is the fact that they never announced to bring a mask but they asked everyone to wear it in the room?? Luckily, I had it on already.

Chapter 2: The Exam

Sorry for the long introduction haha. SO, starting off with vocabs, grammars, and reading. I skipped to grammar secion first because it's not too hard or too easy. It's all fuzzy now but I did okay(?)

There was あっての that's pretty easy. But there was one of them that bugged me and I was wrong on that one too. It's といたしまして... so weird, I didn't expect it to answer that. ALSO, HONORIFIC VERB CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD but i think i answered it right.

Then onto reading section because I was really scared if I couldn't finished it. It- took me a while to finish each of them but in a fair amount of time. It's like 10 minutes left that I switched to doing vocabs with a lightning speed because I FORGOT there was a fill in the blanks and not just guessing kanji's reading.

I almost got 誇張 (こちょう) wrong as こうちょう

There were 奇跡、偏り、矛盾、賄う、軽率 in which i had no problems

Filling the words is where I had problem due to hurriness. I missed the 快挙 cause I don't know the word.

見返り too, because there was a word that I thought it meant (repay) and not the first

I GOT ONOMATOPOEIA WRONG ANYwAY HECC YEA i didn't know what つくづく means so i went with きっかり or きっぱり im not sure

Also there was a sentence that was supposed to mean "His body condition was..." I thought it was "worsen" so I went with 崩れる except no it's the opposite "ほぐれる". I didn't know that word but i've seen it before it's the goodamn spirit's name from the game.

I didn't know what 尺度 means or how it is read but I got the meaning substitution right (yay) (it's standard)

Here's the fun one. デマ... THIS WORD THAT I NEED TO GUESS HOW IT IS USED WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING ITS MEANING. I tried to came up with the word this word could come from. Dermatologist? Demand? Theme??? (that's テーマ) I had no idea and got it wrong eventually. Can you guess?

It's "Demagogie", a German word meaning false rumor... WHO WOULD'VE GUESSED. I asked one of my Japanese if she knew. Of course she did. She even gave me an alternative for it too... but I forgot. I only know that's it in katakana (im sorry)

Last minute i left one Mondai randomly answered!

For Choukai, it was so goddamn fast. I am certain that if it wasn't fast, it would be manageable for me. I honestly don't know if I scored it well or not, the last listening part were as hard as ever. ONE THING ABT IT THOUGH, there was a part where they were talking in a cafe about how the shop owner use a coffee beans? I think?

ANd FOR GOD'S SAKE WHAT'S WITH THE BACKGROUND MUSIC??? My concentration was popped away, I kept glancing around wondering if what I was hearing was someone's phone or the tape's music. I don't even know what the question really was to be honest.

What's Next?

I- I don't know. I just need to wait for the result. But I'll try to slowly get back to learning a bit Korean and Japanese every day again. Probably need to brush up Memrise and Anki. At least 5 mins a day haha. Thanks for reading til here. Keep on learning! I'll make sure to do my best for learning languages this year too!

I don't have new year's resolution but I guess.. continue ASL? I got busy that I have no time to do it anymore. I doubt if I can do it, considering I'll be busy with internship next academic year.

Anyway, have a great year everyone. Hope you have a good luck and success with studying and anything you are willing to pursue this year.

[adracat]

G Witch 18 thoughts

Hello, gwitch. You have no idea how painful it's been without your sweet, agonizing content. I'm asking you politely to never leave us like that again. Isn't it enough that Suletta is suffering, why you gotta do us dirty like that too?? Since we cleared that up, let's begin

This is the face of pure copium. God, those wide eyes unwilling to look at anyone else. That dumpster platter of terrible food choices. That artificial smile as she rambles about inconsequential bs. Yeah, that's divorced wifeguy behavior right there.

And Schwarzette finally debuts! It was hinted previously Jeturk had dealings with Shin Sei gundams but here it's confirmed. The suit isn't complete yet but close enough and only revealed to Guel after its commission. Prospera is so shameless and unrepentant. I suspect she enjoys toying with Mio in particular.

But Mio isn't considering war profiteering and staunchly refuses to announce the Schwarzette as a joint Jeturk/GUND-ARM weapon. She wishes to follow the pacifistic ideals of the original GUND. She's come far from the Miorine we see at the start. Really proud of our girl!

I adore that they remind us of her core motivation. Overtly, keeping her promise to Prospera in exchange for Suletta's 'freedom'. But also her promise to protect Suletta just as Suletta strove to fulfill her promises to Mio. It doesn't seem enough for either of them, but this is the cope episode.

Prospera is really dipping her fingers in all the pots to see if one's a winner. It's not unexpected she wouldn't bet everything on one horse, though for now she has the most sway with Miorine's faction and therefore insurance. Humoring Shaddiq's wish for Gundams makes sense if Mio fails the vote. Prospera is a master at improvising.

This scene was a fav. Love they stated outright Mio is falling into the same trap as Delling by deciding someone else's life without their say. Mio is sympathetic and wants Suletta freed from everything, but crucially misses what Suletta herself wants.

Her shame and regret has become a malignancy in the wake of 17. The girl's confidence was already low but now it's sunk into a black hole of internalized self-loathing. Suletta convinced herself she was never good enough and it was her fault from the start. WOOF

Ok WTF LAUDA. Way to stomp a girl while she's down. Idk what even the point was on his side. Catharsis? Petty revenge? Guel is back, the holder again, and Jeturk is saved. This was just unnecessary. I felt close to neutral on him after his reunion with Guel and talk with Mio but now I wish him a merry misery again. Kinda cool he thanked Chuchu though. Very weird he still has a hateboner for Suletta still.

Love you Chuchu. It's great that she was tired of Suletta moping around and acting like nothing was wrong. She said what we were all thinking and now Earth House is going on a field trip to see Mio. I love her philosophy of 'what would Nika do?'

Shame about what's actually happening with Nika

Speaking of Nika, she's currently watching the sparks fly between our resident shitheel 5lan and Norea. She'll have to bury them both at this rate. This convo was so good though as 5lan shows a rare bit of insight and lampshades their similarities. They're both empty tools. We also learn how Peil functions and it seems to be a meritocratic system with the real Elan Ceres at the top.

Mio is showing her Relena colors once again. Even if a show of force could potentially open negotiations like Prospera suggests, Miorine is committed to pacifism. Admirable, but will it work? Aiding earth would be the accomplishment they need to prove themselves to Benerit.

As an aside, I'm very tickled Guel has become Mio's lackey. He's so bullied, even if they do marry (Doubt) he's destined to be furniture. Man just doesn't have Suletta's inherent wifeguyness

I wish we could get a peek at Prospera's thoughts here. Does she find this childish? Nostalgic? Bitter, after everything she's experienced with GUND and Vanadis? Her mentor would love Mio, but Dr. Cardo is dead along with their original dream. I've said it elsewhere, but there's a terrific irony that Mio, the daughter of her killer, would uphold Cardo's ideals where her students failed.

Quick bits, Bel was arrested by the Space Assembly League (interesting swerve) and Martin spilled his guts to a Haro with Secilia eavesdropping (hilarious) Will Bel spill the tea on Prospera? Will Secilia reveal he sold out Nika? Digging these little micro dramas.

OH HI KENANJI. Honestly, he was probably the last person I expected to escort Mio but it makes perfect sense Rajan would send Dominicus to protect her. HOOoo I want him to talk with Prospera. If she trolls him the entire time or finds time to murk him that would be peak. I like his design and lax attitude but he's still a dirty corpo cop.

Oh Suletta. Even though she can fill her list and go to school in peace, she isn't happy. It's all empty now without Mio by her side. It's hard to watch but you're still heartened by how much she values her. Gay yearning 🥺

Most of us knew it was coming but it feels so good to be vindicated. Repli-children sounds way cooler than clone. Gotta love nonsense sci-fi phrasing. That leaves HOW exactly this was done (I still sideeye Notrette personally) but that's one more mystery solved. Since they're all young and around Eri's age, you have to assume the failures wore on Elnora. This might explain her lack of significant emotional attachment to Suletta. After twelve iterations and only one success, you only have so many shits to give.

Damn, Eri. Everyone is taking the chance to suckerpunch Suletta while she's vulnerable. Still, she has the same motivations as Mio but they're giving Suletta everything but what she actually needs. Suletta craves validation and purpose. Freedom without those things is hell. Good intentions, terrible execution

Prospera is such a great character. You think you understand her but then she adds another facet to the mix. Whether this is a genuine sentiment or for Eri's benefit is unknown, but I like to think she's being truthful. It doesn't excuse her manipulation, gaslighting, or destruction of Suletta's family and sense of self but it's... something? An undoubtedly patronising sort of care and far from what she feels for Eri; all that's left of the loving Elnora we see in Prologue. But it makes her complex and not the mustache twirling villain you expect. Very good writing.

Stonecold to leave Suletta sobbing in space as everything she loves soars out of reach. I need her to wake up and smell the self-actualization coffee next episode. Mio might need it too if our intrepid peacemaker gets in over her head. But that is a tale for another week

That was certainly a GWitch episode. WE'RE BACK FOLKS

[streaminn]

this is chaotic sorry in advanced.

Twin anon here! I made notes while reading on my catch-up venture

Oh my god the idea that a bunch of people have to sign a contract saying wednesday can attack them if she feels threatened is so funny. Like- something had to have happened to lead to this, right? Her team realized it was the best option so Wednesday doesn’t get jailed or bad publicity but her fans just go feral anyway anytime Wednesday puts a knife to someone’s throat

Monster fucker Wednesday confirmed !!! I mean hey was it ever really doubted…

Reached monster fucker anon and that made me laugh. From a pr perspective I honestly think with what Wednesday writes her being a monster fucker would be good. I mean- that’s who she writes for, if you really think about it. Her audience is full of monsterfuckers from the normie x monster shit she writes. Sure, she has horror and what not but the base of it is still that. The question isn’t whether she’s a monster fucker it is what monster she wants to fuck her !!!

Oh my god! I got to the stalker lore stuff and I love it!!! I’m very happy to read more of it and now I have such a better understanding. I knew enid went feral but damn !!! There is no getting in the way of Wednesday and Enid. It makes me happy though that they were able to get past all of this trauma to end up in a much better place where they both can physically be together and love each other. It really speaks to how strong their relationship is like there is absolutely nothing that could ever break the two of them apart.

I have to wonder if anyone at nevermore or hell even in Jericho remember Wednesday (she’s hard to forget) and see her as this celebrity figure. Do they talk about it? Do they bring it up? Do they try to say what happened at nevermore? Are the whispers just brushed away as an old classmate wanting to hate on them? Just rumors bubbled up to ruin Wednesdays image? Or, really, would it not even be blinked at because this is Wednesday Addams after all? (some nevermore students and people of Jericho definitely have a “Wednesday Addams traumatized me” therapy group) OH or does everyone think all the old Jericho people are crazy because wednesday turned her school years into books (unknown to the public) so it just looks like they are taking what she’s written wayyy to seriously

Oh my god the short of enid in jail was heartbreaking. It cements even more how much they deserve. Like- Enid in her life has reached a state where she is so overly loved. She can play video games, laugh, smile, be jump scared and run into the arms of her *wife* at the end of it all. You did a fantastic job writing it!!!

I caught up! Only took me three hours :D

Shout out to writer anon! They’re amazing. I don’t know who you are but all the little shorts were beautiful and really well written. It’s so nice that so many people come together for fics/fandom things.

Back on my twin Enid agenda. I think my twin enid ways is just shit posting at this point. It’ll be so clear there is only one Enid and here I am in my corner tangled around in red string doubling down as if Wednesday Addams herself did not just finally announce that yes, she is married to the one and only endespair. When the Clark Kentification goes to hard smh. Doubling down by saying, you know what, actually, there is a twin and it’s just a messy triangle- No a square, because Wednesday now also has a twin. Case closed. Twin anon staying strong.

Anyway! Away from that stupidity lmao!!! Streamer enid au stays being one of my favorites! Your ideas are always so fantastic and I love thinking about these two so much. I hope you’ve been doing well!

OMYGOD TWIN ANON ITS BEEN SO LONG I MISSED YOU

i deadass thought i ran you off with how i spiralled the twin spin off into its whole thing

also no worries :) nothing wrong with some chaotic rambling so lemme read whatchu got for me

but yeah, there was definitely a scene during wednesday's early years where a fan got too overzealous and a contract had to be made bc she nearly stabbed someone

now its just normal to have these contracts if you ever want wednesday addams in your event

also clearly the monster she wants to fuck her is enid a werewolf, like cmon. Its not even a joke, the amount of wolf imagery is rampant in all her works

glad people like the stalker lore, it wont come up alot bc adult wenclair has moved past it but i wanted to use it to explain why enid is so easily strict on her boundaries esp with chat

as for if jericho and nevermore remembering wednesday? yeah no they definitely know her, with the amount of shit wenclair get up too its hard to forget the werewolf and its master staining their monuments red

they do crow abt it at times but they're so secluded its not really that noticeable. There are the occasional post from a disgruntled adult of long before but that's about it. Definitely looks like an in universe viper roleplayer though!

glad you like my short on jail enid, she's a little crazy but who wouldn't if you gone through what she did in that cell? luckily she got way better, so everything is much tolerable now :)

(also damn, you went through all that content in 3 hours?? i didn't think there was that much. Thank you so much for spending time to do so bc holyshit)

ALSO YEAHHH SHOUT OUT DEFINITELY TO WRITER ANON!! AND JD AND EVERYONE WHO HELPED ME BUILD THE AU

it was really fun :^D

ah yes, wednesday addams and her twin Viper addams. She totally has a sister who's the actor and her the author

thank you again for liking the streamer enid au so much, it was genuinely so fun building it and ot think it took like two-three months to fully build it is mindboggling!!

i'll be doing better nowadays mate, hope you have a good day aswell