#still more things coming tomorrow and also worse rain

[jedi-bird]

The irony of everything I've ordered over the last two weeks arriving on the days we're having torrential downpours and possible flooding isn't lost on me. I have impeccable timing apparently.

[basichextechml]

Wet Braids and Ribbon Ties

Wednesday Addams/Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen // 2.4K Words // No pronouns used for reader, but implied Fem, Soft as hell, Teen for graphic jokes and it being somewhat suggestive at the end, Wednesday being someone emotionally vulnerable, Makeout sesh 

A storm brings you closer to Wednesday than you’d ever thought it could.

---

     Pattern recognition was a necessary trait of human evolution, and essential for the continued survival of any species. Those that came before you had used it to scavenge food, tame animals, create languages, and form communities. Sure, you were still doing these things, but it was less urgent, society collectively pushing past those base instincts to refine such senses. Vaguely, you wondered if your ancestors would be a bit disappointed that your brain’s neocortex was being used to psych yourself out over the sight of braids. While they were trying to figure out what berries and fruits wouldn’t kill them, you were worrying about Wednesday Addams and her twin braids that seemed to haunt you. Though, you guess it wasn’t their fault that you had pavlov'd yourself into associating the hairstyle with pretty brown eyes and a penchant to make your heart race.

     It was all made much worse by the storm that had been rapidly approaching Nevermore. Again, ancestors fighting for their lives in the elements- while you were fighting for your life at the sight of Wednesday with water droplets clinging to her lashes.

     Wednesday’s investigation into the murders around the town had all but halted, all her leads running dry. The Sheriff wasn’t responding to her evidence, and Xavier hadn’t made any moves- but she still felt a pull in her chest, like something was missing. She had requested (demanded) that you follow her to the Gates mansion to poke around once more. Enid had vehemently rejected both of your requests to follow.

     “What time are we going then?” You ask, leaning against her bed frame as you watch her fill up a bag with flashlights, rope, and a first aid kit.

     She zips the bag shut in finality, “Tomorrow night, after curfew. We’ll have to walk, so wear a jacket.” It seems she never got over the time you wore a tank top in 45-degree weather and you kept putting your freezing hands on the back of her neck.

     “Isn’t there a storm coming, though?” She raises an eyebrow as if asking ‘so?’, “We don’t know how structurally sound that place is, what if it floods?”

     Wednesday lets out a quiet huff, lips pursed in a thin line, contemplating your words. Finally, she concedes. “You’re right, be ready to leave at 4. I’ll meet you in front of your dorm.”

     Okay, yeah that seemed more reasonable-

     “4? Like four in the morning?” You questioned incredulously, arms crossed in front of your chest.

     There was a ghost of a smile at your confusion, an inherent pride to it. “I thought you wanted to beat the rain?”

     While Wednesday had pavlov'd herself into being associated with the debilitating symptoms of falling in love, you also came to associate the girl and her long, dark braids with the troubling feeling of everything going wrong at once.

---

     Stupid Pavlov. Stupid neocortex. Stupid pattern-seeking brain.

     Due to years of evolution, you were now trudging through cold sheets of rain in a forest with the girl you liked looking for clues on a murder investigation at 4:48 in the morning. Your boots making contact with the mud made terrible squelching noises as you both slowly made your way back to Nevermore, the only sound between you being that of twigs snapping beneath your weight.

     This endeavor had resulted in nothing, it was a long shot if Wednesday was being honest. She had already found the evidence once in the basement, and it had been moved when she came back. Why would the perpetrator come back to the home? She had no clue- but she had nothing else to go on, and was feeling a bit -to her disgrace- defeated. While she was in the middle of looking around the basement for the umpteenth time, the storm predicted on the forecast came early, The house, just as you had predicted, began flooding, cutting her even deeper.

     Now, with no fruits born of her labor, and your cold hand in hers guiding her through the dawn of a new day; you were slowly and surely going home.

     As the lights of Nevermore Academy shone through the thicket of the forest, you both continued on your leisurely pace, despite the pouring rain. You both were already wet, running would do you no good now. Despite the shiver that ran down your spine at the nipping cold, you were fine with staying outside a little longer.

     “I’m sorry,” Wednesday said suddenly. The apology nearly made you stop in your tracks, looking at her in disbelief. Never had Wednesday apologized to you- for anything.

     The look on your face, as if you weren’t trusting the words she was saying, snapped at the strings of Wednesday’s heart. Enid’s words come back to haunt her, tearing into her about her inconsiderate nature. She’s sure you’d been made to feel that way as well. It was confusing. She should feel overjoyed at the misery of others. But seeing you by her side, being soaked head to toe by the rain, chilled to the bone? She was just as miserable as you.

     “I’m sorry.” She reiterates, knowing fully that you heard her the first time.

     “You don’t have to apologize-”

     “I do.” The words are biting, and that does stop you in your tracks, inadvertently stopping her as well. Wiping the rain from your eyes, you look down at your interconnected hands. This was the longest you had ever touched her. The longest she’d ever let you touch her. “I have been… Selfish, as of late. And for that, I apologize. I am single-minded, I put you in danger, and I…”

     You watch with a hitched breath as she avoids eye contact. This is difficult for her. Her shoulders are rigid, her mouth tense, and her hands twitching. The rain pelts down on you both, and you suddenly feel like you’re the main characters in a film.

     “I believe I’ve hurt you, so I’m sorry.”

     She looks terribly beautiful, hair sticking to her face in waves, her lips, and her nose the brightest red you’ve seen on her, doe eyes big with her eyeliner running from the rain. You simply squeeze her hand thrice. As unhealthy as it may sound, you had already forgiven her for anything she had done long ago- and you’d continue to do so, as long as she kept dragging you around with her hand in yours.

     “Thank you, Wednesday. I accept your apology.” And, again, you mean it. Pulling her a bit closer, just so your shoulders knock together, you begin your journey once again. “Now come on, I think we should both get dry before we die horrible deaths from contracting pneumonia.”

     “I believe we have conflicting ideas on what constitutes a “horrible death”.”

     “I’m sure we do, Wednesday.”

     You both gingerly sneak through the door and through the foyer, tracking mud on the carpet up the stairs. Wednesday makes you stop once you get to the top, and take off your shoes so you don’t track the mud back to the dorms- so Principle Weems doesn’t suspect you two. Though, you think it’s a lost cause because you’re both the number one suspects for anything slightly off that happens.

     Your dorm is closer, and quietly, in the early morning embers, you usher Wednesday into your room, locking the dorm behind you.

     The single dorm you resided in was smaller than the rest, the space easily filled up by your belongings. But you wouldn’t be caught dead asking to switch, you liked having your privacy- a rarity at a boarding school.

     Wednesday is already making herself at home, leaving her shoes at the door and shrugging off her coat and scarf. “You can shower first.”

     “Are you sure?” You ask, doing the same. Wordlessly, she takes your own jacket from your hands, spreading it on the floor next to hers. The space heater you have for nights like these is already cranked on high.

     “Yes,” Wednesday confirms, sitting down in front of the machine, “I just need some time to think.”

     “Alright, I’ll be quick.”

     You’re true to your word, grabbing your pajamas and heading to the bathroom. The shower feels nice on your frigid skin, and you make sure everything is still organized for when it’s Wednesday’s turn. An extra towel is left on the sink once you’re done. She’s sitting in the exact spot you’d left her, the lines troubling her forehead just as prominent. You search through the black clothes in your closet, pulling out a pair of sweats and a matching sweater with some socks, and tapping her shoulder. “Your turn,” You mumble, presenting your offering.

     Her fingers linger on yours, the shadows and movements emphasized by the low lights in your room. The clothes are held away from her still-wet body, and she gets up, closing the bathroom door behind her. As you hear the shower start again, you put your towel on the floor, mopping up any water that had dripped off of her.

     This evening hadn’t gone as you thought it would’ve. It was like that morality test, if an oncoming train had its brakes cut, and you had to choose between crushing six people or one, what would you choose? You, of course, were all seven people- you would die either way. That made Wednesday the train, didn’t it?

     Before you knew it, the door to your bathroom opened again, Wednesday stepped out in your clothes, using the towel you’d given her to scrunch the water out of the ends of her hair.

     Your mouth felt dry like you were at the dentist getting a tooth pulled, and they had to suction all the saliva from it.

     “Do you have a brush?” She asked. Getting up from your spot on the floor, you flitted around your desk, grabbing the one you’d left next to your vanity mirror. Holding it for a moment, you contemplated your next words.

     “Could I do it?”

     Time stood still in your dorm, fingers nervously pushing over the prongs on your brush as you awaited a response.

     Wednesday felt warm. Swallowing her tongue and sitting down on your bed, cross-legged. “You may.”

     Her hair was long and thick, pitch black as the night sky, and softer than anything you’d felt before. She smells faintly of your shampoo, and you find yourself light-headed as you gingerly rake your fingers through the ends of her hair, ridding it of any tangles. Starting at the ends, you slowly brush through the damp hair, working your way up. It’s longer than you had initially thought, undone of its iconic braided style.

     Wednesday felt nearly naked with her hair unstyled and wet in your hands. The brush working against her scalp treated her so tenderly. As if you would rather walk through the fires of hell than yank against a strand of her head. She licked her lips, eyes suddenly watery. She had forgotten what tenderness had felt like these past few years. She believed she didn’t need it. Maybe she was wrong.

     Using your nail to part her hair in two, you push both sections over her shoulders, and the bed creaks as you get off to sit in front of her.

     The girl who avoided your gaze when apologizing earlier is gone, and instead wholly intent on looking at you as you finger comb through the section of hair on her left shoulder. Deftly, you split it into another three, even sections, slowly beginning to put together her signature braids. Wednesday watches as your lashes flutter while you concentrate, enamored with how you lick your lips and twitch your nose. You’re engrossed in her. Sitting here in your clothes, letting you do her hair, she must be equally captivated.

     You get to the end of the first braid before you notice an issue. “I don’t have a tie,” You announce, pouting.

     “I left them in the bathroom,” Wednesday says, already getting up. But you stop her.

     “Wait-” And you're leaning over to your desk, rummaging through the top drawer. Pulling out two strands of black ribbon, you’re back in your spot in front of her. She’d seen them in your hair before. Setting one down in your lap, nimble fingers keep her braid in place while the other positions the ribbon. Soon enough, she had a perfect little bow tying the braid together. You start immediately on the next one.

     Wednesday Addams has bows in her hair.

     Once you’re confident they’re even, you lean back, eyes immediately shooting up to her neglected bangs. Taking the forgotten brush, you lean in. Much closer than necessary for the task, but instead of pushing you away, she tries to see if she can feel your breath. Rounding off her bangs, you discard the brush for a final time, hands coming up to finger curl the longer ends, framing the hollow of her cheeks perfectly. Your hands settle on the curves of her jaw.

     Her pupils are blown wide, eyes narrowed dangerously, and you feel like a meek hare in front of a desert viper. You’re sure her venom would sting, and you’d be happy to let it flow through you.

     She lets her fangs sink into you, pulling you in until her lips connect with yours. Unlike her demeanor, she was soft against you, hands coming up to the nape of your neck to keep your lips flush against hers. The warmth of your sweater and your hands and your lips are too much and not enough, and when you finally pull away to catch your breath- cheeks hot and eyes lidded- she finds you irrevocably adorable. She understands why Anaconda kill and eat their mate. If you don’t stop looking at her like that, you’ll undoubtedly meet the same demise. Wednesday finds herself pushing you down, pillows cushioning your fall as you lazily bring her back into your embrace.

     As the clocks crawl forward, you both stay the same, warm and flush against one another. And as the clock strikes 8:30am, you’re both broken from your reverie.

     “Good Morning everyone,” Principle Weems sounds from the intercom, “Due to the storm, faculty has made the decision to cancel classes and extracurricular activities for the remainder of the week. If the storm lets up, this schedule is subject to change. Stay dry everybody!”

     A bit late for that.

     “We’ll be staying here.” Wednesday decides for you both, already pulling you back in. You kiss against her jaw in agreement, fingers pulling apart the bows in her hair.

---

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging, I'd really appreciate it! As always, my asks are always open to talk ^-^

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1CbNa8jneefleLKCK98HHC?si=1c7e5b671ae14e42

[whoistartaglia]

new year’s eve kisses

includes: xiao, diluc, al haitham. 

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff. 

notes: happy almost new years! i think i’m going to make another part with more characters tomorrow? anyways, i hope you enjoy.

xiao. 

to kiss you, or not to kiss you. xiao doesn’t know the answer to that question, but in about five minutes it’s going to be midnight and xiao’s going to have to decide. 

xiao wants to kiss you, but should he? you sit next to him, eyes trained on the television as the countdown reaches four minutes left. xiao thinks he should, especially after regretting not doing so last year. he only came to his new year’s eve party because you would be here. 

but still, xiao also doesn’t want to ruin your friendship; he couldn’t think of a worse way to start off the new year. 

xiao sighs. he shouldn’t do this. it isn’t worth potentially losing you. 

the countdown reaches its final ten seconds. xiao just wants to get it over with. 

five seconds. four. three. two. 

“happy new years,” you whisper to xiao. when the clock strikes one, the room errupts in laugher and applause, but xiao can’t focus on any of that when your lips are on his check. it’s a peck, barely even a kiss, but xiao blushes all the same. 

you pull back and smile at him. before xiao can even think about what to say back, you wink at him. “we’ll do it properly next year.”

diluc. 

diluc stands on the balcony, needing a reprieve from the very loud and very chaotic new year’s eve party inside. you find your boyfriend gazing out over the city and come to stand next to him. 

“look at them,” you say, gazing down at the city streets packed with people below. soon, steamers and confetti would rain down on them, each one with a wish for the new year. “there’s so many.”

diluc murmurs his agreement, but doesn’t say much else. you give him a sidelong glance and continue: “you don’t look very excited.”

“it’s just another year,” diluc says with a shrug. 

“but it’s the beginning of it.”

“i guess.”

down below, the countdown begins. the entirety of the city takes it up: the people below, those on balconies similar to yours, the party guests inside. 

“i don’t really like celebrating the new years, but it’s a tradition,” diluc continues. he turns to you then, and as the clock strikes twelve and the city errupts in celebration, he murmurs, “and so is this.”

it’s then that he kisses you, a sweet and gentle thing. diluc pulls away after, and you smile at each other. 

a happy new years, indeed. 

al haitham. 

“don’t… fall asleep…” you murmur to al haitham. you lean against him on the couch, your eyes heavy. you can’t focus on the new year’s eve program on the television; it only serves to further lull you into sleep. 

your eyes shift towards the clock. it’s only half after ten, and you’re both about to fall asleep. it was pathetic really. you used to pull all-nighters and stay awake until the sun came up all the time. the past you would be disappointed. 

“i’m… not,” al haitham responds with a yawn. 

“yeah… right…” you say. you close your eyes, and too tired to reopen them, you drift off to sleep. 

when you wake up, you’re confused: why are you on the couch instead of your bed? in the living room instead of your nice bedroom? and what’s on the television, and what time is it—

“hey! hey, wake up!” you whisper-yell, starting to sit up. 

al haitham pulls you back to his chest and murmurs: “five more minutes.”

“no, no five more minutes,” you say. you try to wrestle yourself out of his arms, but al haitham’s grip is tight. “it’s new year’s day! we slept past midnight.”

“oh,” he says. “so?”

“so?” you ask. “so fell asleep, we missed the celebration, and… and you didn’t kiss me.” the last words come out in a rush, and you actually a little upset you missed that. al haitham must sense that because he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“there,” he says, his voice still sleepy. “a new year’s kiss.” you blush, that kiss more intimate than any other make out session you might’ve had last night. 

[lowcosmic]

—— because nothing compares to you .

— 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : kokichi messed up , you’re temporarily gone , and he has to spend that time alone.

— 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 : angst & fluff ( hurt -> comfort )

— 𝙘𝙬 : mentions of bad eating , sleep deprivation , fighting , sad stuff ( but resolved with a happy ending )

— 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 : the request was too long to fit on here , it’d make up the entire story itself.

↳ kokichi spun a pencil around with his fingers , mindlessly thinking about yesterday. he glanced over to your empty seat. maybe he was too harsh on you. you’d definitely come back tomorrow , right?

→ the day before , you’d fought with each other. or , more like kokichi was fuming at you and you were just listening. even if you did decide to speak , he’d just slam your words down and mix them up to be an accusation. he’d said some pretty bad stuff , and he thoroughly regretted them now that he was looking back.

→ and then he’d just left you there. he didn’t break up or anything , he just left the room with the tension still up in the air. he didn’t even apologize for all the things he said and couldn’t take back.

→ kokichi had been “ blinded by rage , ” and as he’s heard before , anger can make you say things you’ll regret.

→ right after class , he messaged you immediately. no response came , even after the twentieth time. then he gave up and went to your house instead.

→ sprinting to your house , he got reminded on how you’d , after every school day , offer to take him home instead of walking the way. his heart stung even more.

→ when he got there , he pounded on the door. realizing no one was home , he went to the neighbors instead. he refrained from knocking down their door to ask for answers , but he did knock rather hurriedly.

→ your neighbor came out , and kokichi quickly pushed the question he’d had lodged in his throat out. “ do you know where (s/o) is? ”

→ �� ahh — they left early in the morning to go on a trip. they’ll come back , as it’s only a well deserved vacation i’m presuming. ” as kokichi listened , he thought to himself , “ well … could be worse. was this … what they were trying to tell me yesterday? …

→ he would be okay. you would be okay. everything would be okay. he’d apologize and everything would be resolved. it just had to.

→ things were not going well the first few days. kokichi had grown self aware to everything you did for him ; from self care like eating proper meals and comfort of having someone to talk to who wouldn’t scorn him every time he walked past , to someone to help him stay energized by driving him home on your motorcycle or even just cuddling with him when he needed it. he missed you dearly.

→ even worse — what if something happened to you? you didn’t respond at all — what if something bad happened? did your plane crash? — no , if it had , he would’ve heard something about that. maybe you just lost your phone or … maybe you were simply ignoring him out of spite.

→ he felt sick , physically and mentally. he hadn’t eaten healthily due to the sick feeling he got whenever he ate , just because it reminded him of you and some of his last words to you before you left. what if you found someone better? he deserved to be dumped. you deserved better.

→ on day six , he was flat out broke. he never found any reason to get a job yet , mostly because you’d help him with purchases. he had a cold from walking in the rain to avoid paying to go home. he felt horrible.

→ unlike his usual character , he had trouble keeping up a devious persona everyday without you , as silly and weak as it sounded. where did that “ i can do everything by myself ” kokichi go? was he fully gone? he just wouldn’t , and couldn’t , accept that yet. he swore later that he’d become more independent , and not let you dote on him so much anymore.

→ homework and tests? forget it. he forgot it often because he was busy hanging out with his dice gang to soothe himself a bit , not that it helped tons. he also forgot because you’d be there to remind him. if it weren’t for his capable mind , he would’ve flunked — but thankfully , he’s kokichi.

→ and then there was the issue of not sleeping. his thoughts were muddled with you. he’d hug his pillow and blankets that still smelt of you from when you were there to stay over for a few days. he’d listen to some of your favorite music tracks. but it wasn’t the same without you.

→ he waited. and waited. and waited some more.

→ message after message he sent everyday , nothing went through. until …

ding! kokichi lifted himself up from his pillow with a jolt. you replied. pictures and descriptions of where you were , what you were doing , why some of the messages may have not gone through … a signal issue. suddenly , his phone began vibrating consistently due to a flooding of messages to him — all about your days and such. and at the end … over the days , kokichi had messaged you with apologies stacked on top of each other. and at the end , an apology of your own waited for him. it was stupid , whatever he argued with you on. he didn’t understand why you’d apologize over that. and once you video called him , he made sure to say that.

→ he’d hold in his crying , both in relief and overwhelming stress. and then he heard that you were home.

→ it was pouring out , but kokichi couldn’t care less. he was meeting with you , even if you had to unpack still. his feet splashed against the puddles , and as he arrived to your door , he knocked once again.

→ when you opened the door , he tackled you in a hug. you were both drenched now , but he felt so warm inside instead. ignoring your warnings about “ catching a cold from you , kokichi ” , he dragged you upstairs so that he could finally , properly hug you.

→ the next few days after that , he was clingy. but he told you he could do some things himself. and he did … for the most part , at least. but he tried.

→ forget about being partners or talking to anyone else the next few days without being interrupted , you’re sticking with kokichi.

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

[ilovechuuyakjk]

well i said i would write this

I think Luz has an adult version like 18 or 19 so you will have a 20 or 21 like Hunter

You have wings

SPOILER ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

It's been more than 4 years since Belos was killed, it's hard to believe such an evil and powerful man died by rain. but it's what they always say, life is strange and there's no way to deny it.

On the day it all ended, you had no one waiting for you

No one

No one.

Simply no one because the person who cared the longest died for you

But hey you still had your lovers, willow and hunter, the ones that comforted you during that time

But over time you learned to comfort yourself and how to live like that

During those four years you built an orphanage near where Hunter worked with paslimans.

Clearly not alone because you weren't old enough yet to do everything yourself, you were just a teenager studying at hexside

Speaking of hexside, you have a lot of hexside memories, especially your first groom where you danced with hunter and willow, that one you probably won't forget

coming back to the rest, you built an orphanage for the children who didn't have parents or couldn't be near their parents, mostly they were children whose parents had died during the war

You started to have a soft spot for them, and they for you, they saw you as if you were really their parent, and you were secretly happy about it, after all you were the one who had the idea to create it

.

..

...

....

Today was the "kingceanera" of Luz, you haven't been there yet because you haven't had time, you had matters to take care of before you go and when Luz comes owlbert will let you know

But you didn't expect Willow and hunter to come with him, you were surprised when you saw them both entered the room

" You guys also came with owlbert? I expected you to be there for now "

You said with papers in your hands with a happy but amazed face

" you're not the only one with things to do darling, and we decided to all go there together so now let's get lilith so hurry up! "

Willow said approaching you and giving you a kiss on the cheek followed by hunter putting a soft hand on your back near your wings

" You can leave that for later now we have to go! She can arrive at any time! "

hunter said taking his hands off your back and making a move for you to follow owlbert and Willow

They waited for you to spread your wings and fly with them. The children stayed with one of the people who worked for you.

.

And so you went to get the others and when you arrived it was beautiful, everyone was happy, especially Luz. And so we're you but you decided to stay in a corner listening to people talk

" Hey are you ok my love? You are quieter than usual "

Hunter said pulling you to a corner further away from people

" yea I was just wondering... what would happen if owlbert never took the book from luz " You said with a calm voice but a distant look

" wait what? "

" like i know it's pathetic thoughts but sometimes i can't stop thinking about it, like it's just weird to think that this all started because of that, it's just a test to demonstrate how life is strange don't you think? "

He stared at you in amusement not knowing what to say for a few seconds but then the strange expression on his face turned into a small smile which was followed by a sigh

" sometimes it's not worth having those thoughts in your head because then you go crazy thinking about it when you can't find a solution for them. Without her probably half of us would be worse off than we were. And now what do you think about enjoying the kingceanera? Tomorrow we talk about it what do you think? "

He said grabbing your hand and going closer to the people

" Yea you're right let's enjoy it while we can and tomorrow we'll talk " You said giving Hunter a kiss on the cheek. you totally didn't forget during the whole party but the party calmed you down a bit

Willow, you and hunter were talking the whole time

After all, that night was just to enjoy

Because you had to buy food for the orphanage first thing in the morning

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

This was not a requests I just wanted to write to them

Hope you like it!!!

Byeeeee

[hillerskalibrary]

This is my first time being in a fandom so I don't really know - do you think people writing YR fanfiction will die down quickly after the end of the show? I am already super sad about the show ending but no more new fanfiction about these two might be even worse 🙃

Do you maybe have experience from other fandoms? 🧡

Hey anon! To you, as well, apologies for the late reply, especially since this question is clearly important to you - and no doubt to many others.

Now, should I have attempted to write a heartfelt answer on how the YR fandom will indeed probably slowly fade away but that's okay because the important thing is the joy it gave you while it lasted? Yes, yes I should have.

Did I spend half an hour making a graph in Excel instead? ... also yes.

look I may be a failed scientist but I'm still a scientist and you came to my inbox so...

Behold! My beautiful and not-at-all questionable graph of the number of YR posted per month since the release of S1.

Now, first the good news: as you can see, the general trend of fic goes UP! ;) I think it's been clear that S2 has drawn in lots of new fans, and that reflects in the number of fics - not only are there more writers, but more readers = more interaction = more motivation for writers.

Now, what does this tell us about fic numbers after S3?

... absolutely nothing. No, seriously, it is impossible to extrapolate any of this into the future :D. I mean, it is likely the peak will be even higher for the S3 release, and it's safe to say that then it will go down. But how fast, or how low, is hard to tell...

Now, I can see how this may make you sad. And I would like to offer two counterpoints.

ONE It's not done yet. This may seem obvious but- the time to be sad is not here yet. Suppose the sun shines today, and the forecast predicts rain for tomorrow. What are you going to do? Go out and enjoy every ray of sun while you can? Or spend the day inside, sad because you won't be able to go out tomorrow? Look - don't get me wrong, I don't wanna dismiss your feelings. It's just- we'll have time to be sad about it later, you know? Right now fandom is active: great fic is being published, thought provoking discussions are being had, ... . Let's enjoy that!

TWO Whether fandom lives or dies after the show, is partly up to you. I mean it! A fandom lives by grace of its active members. So write fic. Prompt other authors if you can't (and even if you can!). Organize events, challenges, polls, ... There are so many things you can do to keep the fandom going, but it's going to require time and effort. And no, success is not guaranteed. But it's worth it.

Lastly though, as you say yourself: this is your first fandom. A first fandom is always a little special, but after a first... comes a second. Always. It may seem hard to believe, and it may not even be something you necessarily want, but very often, that's how it goes. Fandoms come and go - and that's fine. It sucks too, of course, sometimes. But it's fine. It has to be, because the alternative is for nothing to ever change, and that would suck even harder. So enjoy this wonderful fandom we have, gush about it all with your mutuals, and trust that a new blorbo will find you ;).

[uvobreakmylegs]

Constrained

a two parter fic with slasher!Franklin. part two will be out tomorrow :D

Part 2

Warnings: fem!reader, drugging, kidnapping, captivity, dehumanizing situations, death, gore

Word count: 5.7k

The house didn't look terrible, but there were certain things about it that had you rethinking if you really wanted to go up to it in an effort to get help. Like the bits of paint that had peeled off in parts and the vines that were slowly crawling up one side.

And the bars on the windows. And the fact that to the side of the house you could see an entrance to what looked to be a junkyard that continued on behind the house, filled to the brim with the decaying remains of old, abandoned cars.

Those things especially raised some red flags about this place.

Still, you looked back to the tow truck sitting in the driveway, the main reason why you were approaching this place. Your car had broken down further up the road after you hit something and the front wheels had burst, causing the car to swerve uncontrollably on the road before you ran it into a ditch. That had been scary, and it took you a few minutes for your heart rate to calm down before you were able to assess your situation. You were in the middle of nowhere with a car that was stuck in a ditch and no cellphone service, and even if your phone was able to work, you weren't sure if you could call a tow truck all the way out here.

So you were forced to walk along the road in the hopes that you could find a phone or someone who could help you.

All you'd found so far was that house.

The more you looked at it, the more you really didn't want to go up there. If the house on its own wasn't bad enough, the junkyard also gave you a bad feeling. Everything you could see from the outside combined together to bring about a grim atmosphere that surrounded the entire area, causing you to have a sinking feeling in your stomach at the thought of getting any closer to the structure.

But you looked back to the road. This was the first place you'd seen in a while even when you were in your car. Did you really want to pass up on the opportunity for getting help now just because the house was creepy?

Something else that encouraged you to try the house were the gray clouds in the sky above you and a distant rumbling, and it seemed likely that if you chose to walk, you'd get caught up in a storm. If it took you a long time to find some other place to get help, trudging out in the rain didn't sound like the best plan. You were already pretty cold at this point, the only real protection you had being a thin hoodie while the skirt you were wearing saw to it that your legs almost felt frozen, a feeling that only became worse every time the wind blew past you.

It was like the universe wanted you to go up to that front door.

You ended up doing just that, walking up the driveway and standing on the porch as you looked at the darkened door. It didn't look like there was a doorbell, so you needed to knock on the door itself, pulling your hand back into your sleeve and into the hoodie pocket in an effort to keep yourself warm.

You didn't hear anything after knocking, and for a moment, you wondered if there wasn't anybody home. A small part of you hoped that would be the case as you really wanted to get away from the house. But you made yourself wait and not long after you heard what sounded like someone approaching the front door on the other side.

What followed was the undoing of several locks and bolts, and then the door opened.

To say that the man who opened the door was intimidating would've been an understatement. If the way he towered over you wasn't enough, the scars and stitches that went across his face only made him seem even more scary, not to mention the piercings on his ears. You couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that came when he looked you over, his eyebrow raising once your eyes met.

Still, this was the only person you'd come across so far. So after remembering how to speak, you forced out a smile as you greeted him.

“Hi, sir. Sorry to bother you. Um, I was wondering if you could help me out?”

Hopefully that wasn't too awkward of an opener.

“Help with what?” he asked.

“My car – it's in a ditch down the road,” you explained, “the tires went flat suddenly and I lost control.”

“And you want me to get it out for you,” the man said, looking over to his tow truck.

You nodded as you said “as long as it isn't too much trouble. But if you'd rather not, would you be okay with me using your phone? My cellphone isn't working out here-”

“It isn't any trouble,” he said, interrupting you, “why bother making you call for help when I can help you right now?”

“Oh, thank you!”

He just nodded in response to you thanking him, telling you “I'll be out in a moment,” before shutting the door.

He didn't seem too surprised by your request, and you wondered how often this sort of thing happened to him.

When he returned, he had the keys to the truck in hand, and he motioned for you to follow once he closed the door behind him.

“What's your name?” you asked after you buckled yourself into the passenger's seat of the truck.

“Franklin.”

He didn't really respond when you told him your name, focusing instead on turning the engine on before he backed out of the driveway. That was fair, you figured. Plus, Franklin seemed like the type to not want to bother with a lot of chit chat, instead wanting to focus on the task at hand. With that in mind, you tried to keep any conversation focused on the issue of your car.

“Oh – how much will I owe you?” you asked.

“We can figure that out later,” he answered.

“Okay. It's just that I'm not carrying a lot of cash on me, so I might need you to drive me to an ATM if it ends up being more than what I have,” you explained, “if it's a lot of trouble, I can pay for the gas.”

“Don't worry about that now. We'll figure it out later,” he said again.

Ah. He thought you were annoying, didn't he?

“Right. Sorry.”

Though you were looking away at that moment, you sensed the way he glanced over at you.

But he didn't say anything, and soon enough the two of you came across the ditch that had trapped your car.

After maneuvering the truck so he'd be able to pull out the car, he told you that you could stay inside if you wanted, then he left to begin the process of getting your car out. During that time, the sky had darkened significantly as a small drizzle of rain began to come down. Then the rain came down harder and the sky darkened further. From your position in the truck, you couldn't really see him down next to your car, but you saw when he came back to the driver's side, hopping back in and rummaging through the area behind his seat.

“Everything all right?” you asked.

“It's fine,” he said, “it's a bit dark. I need a flashlight.”

“Ah.”

He found what he was looking for, and he opened the door again. It was still pouring out.

“Don't you need an umbrella?” you asked.

“Don't have one.”

Franklin was about to hop out again when you spoke up again.

“Wait.”

This time when he looked back to you, he seemed genuinely annoyed. With as big as he was, it was more than a little scary to think that you were upsetting this man.

Still, you forced yourself to speak.

“There's an umbrella in my car, if you want to use that,” you said.

While his gaze was still harsh, it softened ever so slightly once you said that, though the gruff attitude remained when he answered.

“If you want to hold it over me while I hook up the car, you're free to do so.”

With that, he stepped out and closed the door.

After a moment, you did the same.

You couldn't see too much of his face when you went down to your car, but from what you could tell, he seemed surprised that you were actually joining him down there and doing as he'd said when you grabbed the umbrella from your car and held it over him so he could attach the chains without rain getting into his eyes. You weren't covered at all by the umbrella, so you were very quickly soaked as you stood next to him. Not too pleasant, but it was the least you could do to help him out.

It took a few minutes, but not long after Franklin was hauling your car back up the ditch and onto the road. There was a screeching noise that sounded when he straightened out your car, and he looked to you.

“What did you say you hit again?” he asked.

“I don't know.”

You joined him outside again when he went to check out the front of your car, and he shined his flashlight down on what appeared to be a wide strip that was attached to your front wheels.

“What is that?” you asked.

“Spike strip.”

“Spike...”

Looking closer, you saw that there were indeed spikes on the thing, some of which were embedded into the rubber of your tires. No wonder you'd lost control after hitting that.

“Isn't that sort of thing used by the police?” you asked.

“Usually. But anyone can buy them,” he said, then continued with “removing that in this rain will be too much trouble. I'll haul it back as-is.”

Less than ten minutes later he was driving his truck back to his home with your car attached and trailing behind him. The rain was coming down harder now, and you were glad that you made the decision to stop and ask Franklin for help, even if there were still a few things that felt kinda weird about him.

Even though you were inside the truck, you still shivered a bit as your clothes had managed to soak up a lot of the rainwater.

Ah, this wasn't supposed to be what was happening right now. You'd been on your way to meet up with some friends for the weekend. All of you had paid to rent a cabin out by a lake, and you had been looking forward to hanging out with your friends in the lakeside cabin. The only downside was that the cabin was pretty far away and would take a long time to drive there.

And of course, you'd gotten lost, and then this happened. You just hoped that the weekend wouldn't be completely ruined for you. If your car was able to get fixed up, then maybe you could at least get there on the last day. Not ideal, but you'd be happy with that.

If only that thing hadn't been left out in the road.....

“Hey, Franklin.”

“Hm?”

“About the spike thing that took out my tires.”

“The spike strip?”

“Yeah. Why was that just.... Out here?” you asked.

He shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, “someone was either careless or playing a sick joke.”

“Ah.”

You glanced back over to him as you said “I guess it's technically a good thing for you, since you got business out of it.”

“I guess.”

He was still pretty short with you, but you got the sense that Franklin wasn't too annoyed with you by now. That was something, you figured.

He only spoke again when you had returned to his house.

“I don't know if there's much I can do at the moment,” he told you, “I probably could fix it up for you, but not with the weather being like it is now. And if you don't want me fixing it, I can drive it up to a mechanic's shop for you. Your choice.”

You nodded, though you weren't sure which option you should pick.

Then you shuddered, the chill of the rain still seeping into you even after sitting in the heated truck. Franklin noticed, and continued with “for now, you can come inside and warm up before making a decision.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn't even bother answering your question as he exited the truck once again, walked over to the passenger's side door and opened it for you, motioning for you to get out. You did as he instructed and followed him back up to the porch that you'd been so nervous about approaching earlier, and then following him into the house once he had the door opened.

The inside of the house matched the outside somewhat, in that it left some things to be desired. But at least it was clean, you thought to yourself as you sat down on a couch Franklin had directed you to. He walked off further into the house and then returned not long after, a towel in hand that he then offered to you. You thanked him as you took it, happy to be able to dry off a little.

“I don't have too much in my kitchen, but I could make you tea, if you like,” Franklin said to you.

“Sure! Tea sounds nice.”

He walked off again once you said that, presumably to his kitchen. Once you finished drying off, you placed the towel to the side while you looked over the room. Your eyes ended up going to a nearby window, and you watched as the rain ran down the glass.

You also caught sight of the bars again. And while you had a pretty positive opinion of Franklin..... Yeah, the bars were still a little alarming.

But presumably he had a good reason for having them. Would it be rude to ask what that reason was?

Maybe.

Probably best to not mention them at all.

Returning your focus to the rain that was still pouring outside, you wondered how long that was going to last. Your thoughts went again to the weekend trip you were supposed to be headed to, as well as if Franklin would be able to fix up your car. The wheels were damaged, obviously, and the ride down into the ditch had banged up your car as well as yourself. It was likely that there were damages outside of the wheels that would need to be fixed, and depending on how much all that would cost, you might need to bail on going on the trip completely. Hopefully your friends would understand why.

And hopefully there wouldn't be anymore nasty surprises like that on the road, regardless of what you ended up doing.

You questioned how you hadn't seen the spike strip on the road originally, but when you tried to think back to that, all you really remembered was how terrifying it was to suddenly lose control in the way you did.

That was an experience you hoped you would never go through again.

A shrill sound suddenly came out of the kitchen before it was abruptly stopped. A kettle, you assumed. Although you were still feeling nervous and uncertain about what was happening, hopefully the tea would help calm you down further.

A few minutes later, Franklin came out holding a single mug of tea that he handed over to you. You smiled as you thanked him for it, to which he only nodded at you. He made his way over to the window after, looking out and observing the worsening weather.

The tea didn't taste all that great, but it was at least warm, something that you wanted after being in the cold for so long, and you made yourself down a few sips.

Still, the silence felt awkward to you. And while he didn't seem to care much for small talk, it seemed weirder to not say anything to the man while you were sitting in his home drinking tea.

“Do you live here on your own?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“Really? For how long?”

“A while.”

Ah.... Maybe you shouldn't ask questions that are too personal. That was definitely the sense you were getting with those answers of his. Maybe asking questions about what he did for a living was safer.

“Those cars in the back,” you began, “is that another part of your business?”

“Something like that,” he answered.

“A lot of cars get abandoned out here because there aren't that many people around,” he continued, “I figure I might as well take them and get whatever can be salvaged out of them.”

Franklin looked back at you, and he spoke again when he saw the way you shivered slightly.

“You should drink more. It'll warm you up faster,” he said.

Going along with what he said, you took another sip of tea. Looking to the window as well, asking “do you think the rain'll last long?”

“Tough to say,” he answered, “doesn't seem like it'll stop any time soon.”

“Oh.”

He glanced back at you when he heard your disappointed tone.

“Do you need to be somewhere?” he asked.

“Yeah. Me and some friends were meeting up for the weekend,” you said, “I'm guessing I'm gonna be missing most of what we had planned.”

“Did they know you were coming this way?”

“I don't think so? We were going to the cabin from all different directions, so I doubt anyone else looked into the route I was going,” you answered.

“I see.”

“Is that important?” you asked.

“Just wanted to know if there was a chance any of them would come this way to look for you,” he replied, clarifying with “to pick you up.”

“Ah, okay. Unfortunately I don't know what'll be happening unless I can get in contact with them.”

“Hm.”

You took another long sip of the tea before a thought came to mind.

“I should call them,” you said aloud, “I don't want them to worry when I don't show up.”

Setting down the cup, you asked Franklin “where's your phone? Mine still isn't working for some reason.”

You realized you were being a little bit too presumptuous, and added “as long as you're okay with me using it.”

“That's fine,” he said, glancing down at your mug briefly, “it's in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at him.

But the instant you stood up, something was wrong.

At first you thought maybe you had stood up too fast, as your legs felt unsteady and that caused you to wobble a little. But when you stayed still and you found that the feeling only became worse, alarm bells started to go off in your head.

This..... This didn't seem right. The room was spinning around you, and it only got worse when you tried to take a step forward. It was barely half a step and you felt like it was too much for you.

You were breathing hard as you tried to take another step forward, finding that your arms weren't able to move very well either when you tried to lift one up to balance yourself.

Franklin was staring at you. He didn't seem very surprised by what he was seeing.

That was a strange reaction for him to have.

“S-somethings...... Wrong......”

That was all you were able to get out before you felt the strength leave your legs.

Franklin acted then, grabbing you before you could hit the floor and picking you up. He placed you so you were lying on your back on the couch, brushing the hair out of your face after.

When you tried to push yourself into a sitting position, he pushed you back down, quietly telling you “lie down.” Undoing the zipper of your hoodie, he pulled the wet piece of clothing off of you, the long sleeves sticking to your arms briefly.

In that moment you felt badly again, worried that you only continued to cause problems for this man as he now needed to take care of you when you were struck by a sudden illness.

That was what you were thinking until he grabbed at the hem of your shirt and lifted it up to your chest, exposing your stomach. His hand came to roam about your flesh, running over it with feather-light touches as he looked over your skin.

Even in your current state you recognized that as being strange, and your eyebrows furrowed.

With what must've been the last of your strength, you pulled up your arms and placed your hands on the one that was running over your skin, trying to push him away. The only noise you were capable of making in that moment was a small whine.

“Stay still,” he told you, grabbing your arms in response and pulling them so your hands were laying over your head. You couldn't move them again, and you were only able to watch as he grabbed at your shirt once more.

This time he pulled it over your head and removed it completely, throwing it to the side before turning his attention back to your soft flesh. Both hands roamed over your skin this time, running down your arms and briefly circling your breasts before going back to the flesh of your stomach, his touch much less restrained now. Your skin was still wet, and his felt cold, causing goosebumps to form when he touched you.

You'd begun to tear up as you realized just how helpless you were: unable to move and at the complete mercy of a man who clearly intended to rape you. And if the way your eyelids began to feel heavy was any indication, you wouldn't be awake for much longer.

Would it be better to sleep through something like this? So you wouldn't know all of the things Franklin would do to you? Or would your ignorance of everything that happened make it worse?

Another whimper left your lips when Franklin pushed your skirt down your legs, and he looked back at you briefly.

He didn't seem to care much when he saw the tears that had formed, as he quickly refocused on undressing you, hands going back up your legs after and lingering on the area between your thighs.

Still not sure if it was a mercy or not, you closed your eyes as you finally blacked out.

There was something cold around your ankle.

Cold and heavy, and when you shifted your foot slightly, you heard what sounded like metal scraping against a concrete floor.

…. What?

You blearily opened your eyes, trying to blink the sleep out of them as you reached down to see what was wrong with your ankle while your mind was slow to process what was going on.

Why was it so cold?

Where were you?

Where was Franklin?

…... What had he done to you?

A vague recollection of what had happened before you passed out flashed through your mind and you sat up quickly, your heart pounding as your mind produced a clear image in your head of Franklin stripping off your clothing. Your heart only pounded harder when you realized that the room you were in was so dark that you couldn't see anything, and you had also been placed on the floor.

Confusion turned to disgust when you realized that aside from your underwear, your clothes were gone.

Though there was a lot to take in at the moment, you still remembered the cold feeling that had awoken you. Reaching down in the darkness, your hand found the thing that was clamped around your ankle:

It was a cuff.

And when you pulled your leg back, you found that there was a chain attached to it.

Your lip began to tremble as the reality of your situation began to set in.

Franklin had drugged you, stripped you and then locked you away in what must've been his basement.

What was he going to do to you from here?

As easy as it would be to lose control of your emotions and fall into hysteria, you told yourself to keep calm and try to figure out where you were. That was the first step to getting out of here.

With the way the room was pitch-black, you needed to use your hands to feel your way around and figure things out that way. From what you could tell, the walls and floor were made of concrete, and if you were to guess, you felt that you were correct in assuming you were in a basement. There was also a door that stood across from you, but you didn't manage to find any sort of handle. Feeling around further, you found what the cuff attached to your leg was connected to: a heavy table that had been pushed up against the wall. The chain itself was locked around a beam that connected the front and back legs of the table, so there was no chance of you getting the chain off without the key to the lock.

You tugged on the chain a bit before running your hands over the length of it. It wasn't that long. If the keys to the cuff were in here with you, you doubted that they were anywhere within reach.

Even so, you looked for them anyway, although you weren't successful in finding them. Nor could you find anything else in the room that was useful. He must've anticipated that you would venture around as far as the chain on your ankle would allow you to, as there was nothing you were able to grab that could be used as a way to get that cuff off of you or even as a weapon.

The only other things you were able to discern from feel alone was the other table that seemed to be in the center of the room, and the grating that was in some parts of the floor. There were also some odd smells and a hum that indicated something electrical, but nothing else.

The realization that there was nothing you could do came fast. You were stuck in here and at the mercy of Franklin.

And seeing that he wasn't here at the moment, all you could do was wait for him to come in.

So you waited for him in that corner you'd woken up in, your knees pulled up to your chin with your arms wrapped around them. If anyone had been able to see you, they probably would've called you pathetic. You felt pathetic. Looking back on the choices you'd made, you also felt stupid. Why had you so blindly trusted a complete stranger? A man who general vibe screamed “danger”? Were you just that eager to try and see the good in people, or was it really just because you didn't like the idea of walking around in the rain for a bit?

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

How much time had passed since you'd woken up, you weren't sure, but you noticed when you heard someone approaching from beyond the door that led into this room, footsteps stopping just before it.

A door suddenly appeared in the darkness, sliding open right next to you and bringing light that made your eyes squeeze shut. You only got the briefest glance at the person who had opened the door, and when you tried to open your eyes again, you were immediately punished by the way bright lights suddenly filled the room. It was too much to handle after the way your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and your eyes began to tear up.

When a few moments passed and you slowly opened your eyes in an effort to get used to the light, you looked back to whoever stood in the doorway. You needed to blink away a few tears at first before you were able to look at them clearly.

And when you were finally able to do that, your blood chilled.

Franklin stood before you, clad in a brown apron and dark gloves that reached up to his elbows. You only saw half of his face, as his mouth and nose were covered by a mask that tied at the back, and on his head were a pair of plastic goggles that you found were reminiscent of your days in high school when you would perform a lab experiment in science class.

To have a man appear before you dressed like that while you had been stripped down to your underwear was bad enough.

What made it worse was the fact that the apron he wore was covered in blood, dark stains that showed those had been there for a while.

The words “serial killer” popped into your head.

A normal reaction to the scene you'd been forced into might have been to scream at the sight of him. Or get angry and demand he let you go. Fainting upon seeing him like that also seemed like a reasonable option.

But you froze, staying completely still while your mouth clamped shut as you looked up at him.

Franklin also seemed surprised based on the way you saw his eyebrows raise.

“I didn't realize you were awake,” he said, “most people start screaming when they wake up.”

You stayed quiet.

He hummed, then entered the room, sliding the door shut behind him. You kept your eyes on him as he walked towards a tool shelf, and you became lightheaded again when you saw all of the things he had on display there.

Ice picks, hammers, gardening shears and a variety of other things, although what seemed to be most prominently displayed was the chainsaw that looked too heavy for you to lift.

In another setting such a collection wouldn't have caused you to feel such fear.

But all you were seeing right now were the ways in which he would use those tools on you. Use the hammer to shatter your bones, jab the ice pick into your eye, cut your fingers off with the shears. You also noticed a collection of knives sitting below the shelf, and how those could be used also came to mind, different ways that they could be stabbed into your body.

And as for the chainsaw....

A full-body shudder ran through you, causing the chain to rattle.

Franklin looked over to you with a cleaver in hand, sharpening it. Right next to him on the wall was a plastic sheet that hung from the ceiling. The sheet was slightly see-through, and you could spot some weird shapes that seemed to be hanging from the wall behind it.

“Trying to escape?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly.

He hummed again.

“I thought you'd be more annoying,” he said as looked back to the cleaver, “though I guess you did know when to shut up earlier.”

Now seemingly satisfied with the sharpness of the cleaver, he set it down on the steel table at the room's center.

With the weapon no longer in his hand, you managed to find your voice.

“What's..... What's gonna happen to m-me?” you asked, your voice shaking and barely over a whisper.

He didn't answer, but it seemed like he'd heard you.

His response to your question was to pull the plastic sheet away and show you what was on the other side.

….. People.

He'd stuck people onto those hooks.

All who seemed relatively “fresh” based on the lack of decomposition, and some who were missing limbs or eyes.

…...

… Too much.

It was all too much. Your poor brain couldn't handle this. Couldn't handle the casual way he'd shown you what your fate would ultimately be.

What did you do to deserve this? What could you have done to this man in the short time you'd known him for him to decide to kill you?

Why was this happening to you?

You didn't ask any of those questions, still too in shock at what you were witnessing, and also because you got the sense that now was the time to shut up.

Franklin didn't say anything else to you for the rest of the time he was in there. He brought down one of the bodies that had been hanging from the hooks, limp after presumably going through the stages of rigor mortis, and set it down on the large table that sat in the center of the room. The body was that of a man, an older one based on the gray hairs on his head. How had Franklin gotten him? How long had he been down here? What was going to happen to his body?

The answer to that last question came when Franklin took the cleaver he'd been sharpening and began to chop at one of the man's arms, hacking through flesh, muscle and bone in an effort to separate the arm from the rest of the body.

It was when he managed to remove the arm completely that you finally had some sort of response to this situation, when you watched your captor reduce what had once been a person down to a slab of meat and you were unable to cope with the situation any longer as it was too much for your mind to handle:

You fainted.

When you woke up next it was dark again. You didn't mind that this time, as it prevented you from seeing the bodies that were hanging in the room. And when you searched the area around you by blindly fumbling over the floor once again, you found that a water bottle had been placed by your feet.

While it didn't seem like a good idea to ingest anything he'd given you, after a few hours of ignoring it you became desperate enough to take the risk and drink some of it. Nothing happened after you drank it, so it seemed like he hadn't tampered with it.

But that raised the question as to why he wanted to keep you alive.

….. If you wanted to keep your sanity intact, it was better not to think about that.

[shit-enmu-says]

Phantasmagoria: Part 3

Note: This is the this installment in my as yet unnamed Drabble. Pretty heavy stuff in this one. CW for death, blood, violence, and gore. Also tumblr is telling me my account’s been terminated. If not please let me know.

Part 3

The door closed behind Enmu, leaving him alone in the small, drafty room. Well, alone except for the mangled, bloody thing on the table. He turned his gaze once more upon the remains of Hideki Sato. A large black beetle scuttled forth from the corpse’s empty sockets. Enmu doubled over and clutched his stomach, vomiting onto the floor.

What is wrong with me? he thought, head spinning as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief. He was hardly the squeamish type. After his many years assisting Ayumu in the clinic there was little he hadn’t seen. He’d been sneezed on, bled on, vomited on and worse. Yet he’d never once encountered a dead body.

Was it remorse, perhaps? It couldn’t be. He hardly knew Sato, he was just one of the many faceless patients on his roster. He would have died anyway in his sorry state. Nothing modern medicine had to offer could have saved him. That wasn’t it, no. Something nagged at the edges of his subconscious. Something he thought he had buried years ago.

It was a humid summer evening in late July, and he was six again. The air was thick with the hum of cicadas as he crept down the earthen path through the woods. The path was slick with mud from the heavy rains the week before, causing him to stumble. The further he ventured in, the smaller he felt.

How did he get there? Enmu wasn’t sure. One moment he was on the front porch reading, the next he was surrounded by trees. Only one thing was certain: he was hopelessly lost. The tall green grass seemed to shimmer in front of him in the scorching air. His eyes followed the almost languid motion of it from side to side when he caught sight of a patch of black.

His father’s old tailcoat. The same one Ayumu snapped at him for trying on. As little as he was now, it was unlikely to fit him even when he was full grown. Not that he cared in the slightest.

Their father never came home the night before. Ayumu dismissed his questions. “You’re spoiled,” Ayumu had said, “When I was your age he was barely home, always working himself to exhaustion at the clinic. With Mother gone he has to come home more often but he’s probably just busy. If he’s not home by tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the clinic to check on him.”

Enmu’s room was closest to the wilderness. He often sneaked into Ayumu’s room, complaining of hearing strange things. The night before he slept even more fitfully than usual. “I heard a scream,” Enmu had whispered, tugging at his brother’s shirt tail, “What if it’s him?”

“Father, are you out here?” Enmu picked up the tailcoat. His hand came away sticky and red.

Ayumu was shouting at him, dragging him back up the path by the wrist. “What did I tell you about going back here?” He yelled, “Do you have a death wish?”

His brother trudged up the hill at a furious pace with Enmu in tow. At that moment his brother stopped dead in his track, every muscle tensed. Enmu recalled the wide-eyed expression on his brother’s face before he broke into a run. “Promise me, Enmu! Promise me you won’t look back!”

His brother had locked him in his room the moment they arrived home. Why were his hands shaking? He returned later that evening with dirt caked under his nails and red eyes. “What about Father?” “He’s not coming home, Enmu. Not now, not ever. Promise me you won’t go looking for him.”

Enmu blinked. The storage room came back into focus. Yet Ayumu’s words still echoed in his head. He glanced back at the corpse on the table. Was something like this what his brother hadn’t wanted him to see?

[buffyathena]

Can I have 30 please, and your choice of ship 😊

Did this and @slutnetra’s together! hope you like it!

Rain pounds on the roof in time with Sasha’s heart, as she tears apart her son’s nursery looking for his stuffed monkey. Sam is screaming bloody murder, from the rain but also because he doesn’t have his monkey, and Sasha can’t find it anywhere. The only place they went today was—

Anetra’s.

Today was Anetra’s first time meeting Sam, and things had gone well. Perfectly well, which took a load off Sasha’s shoulders. The monkey must be there, and her hands are dialing the phone faster than she can think.

“Hello?” Anetra answers quickly. She’s usually up late, and Sasha just hopes she didn’t wake her.

“I’m so sorry to call this late,” Sasha says, practically yelling over Sam’s cries. “I think I left Sam’s monkey there, can you tell me if you find it?”

“Of course.”

It’s quiet on the other end, though not on Sasha’s end, as she bounces Sam while he cries.

“I got it. It fell under the couch.”

Sasha sighs. “Thank you so much.”

“Do you need me to bring it?”

“No,” Sasha says quickly. Their relationship is only a few months old. Introducing Anetra to Sam was a big enough step; Sasha can’t ask her to come here at midnight just to bring a stuffed animal. And as much as Sam is crying, taking him out in this to go there herself will only make it worse. “It’s late, it’s raining, don't worry about it. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. It’ll be fine,” Sasha says, the words cut off by a wail that hurts her ears.

“Okay. Good night.”

Sasha puts down the phone and resumes her rocking, carrying Sam around the house. Nothing works—not his pacifier, not the white noise machine, not a lullaby. Every time his cries die down, the wind blows or rain hits the roof, sending new tears.

She almost doesn’t hear the doorbell, but when it rings again, she cautiously heads over.

“It’s me,” a familiar voice says, and Sasha tears the door open to see Anetra, dripping wet and holding a tiny monkey.

Sasha almost cries herself as she brings Anetra inside.

Sam quiets as his hand curls around the monkey, and he’s breathing softly as Sasha sets him in his crib.

Sasha sags against the doorway, the exhaustion hitting like a truck. She looks at Anetra, watching Sam with a smile on her face, and her chest burns with more love than Sasha can stand.

“Thank you,” she says. “You didn’t have to—”

“I did,” Anetra says firmly, eyes soft with understanding. “He needs to sleep, and so do you.”

Sasha nods numbly. “Do you want tea?” she asks, the action too ingrained in her to stop.

“Why don’t you sit,” Anetra says, nudging her into a chair, “and I’ll make tea.”

Sasha’s eyes drift shut while she waits, safe and tired enough to let someone else take over for a while. She sips her tea when Anetra brings it, body growing heavier by the second. Her eyes are heavy too, and the last thing she remembers is Anetra’s arms around her.

When she wakes the next morning, it’s in her bed, forehead still tingling with Anetra’s kiss.

[crystalsnow95z]

This is a part 2. It was going to be longer but I'm working too much lately..

Part 1 here

Must read part one.

"[Are you sure you it's okay for all of us to be here?]"Namjoon asks, feeling guilty that him and his brothers took over their campsite.

"[Oh, it's no problem. It certainly made things more interesting. Since our friends bailed on coming with us it was getting boring. You also brought dinner for us to share. I think its an even trade. We caught zilch.]" Darryl smiles warmly, grilling the fish the members brought.

Jin walks back towards Namjoon, hanging up the phone with a grim expression. Him and Taehyung went for a walk to get Yoongi's discarded clothing, hoping to get a better phone signal with higher ground.

"You couldn't get a signal?" Namjoon guesses by his expression.

"Worse, staff won't be able to get to us until tomorrow.." Jin says, clenching his jaw.

"What? Why? Is everything okay?" Namjoon asks with a worried expression. "Was there an accident."

"No, no. The rental car broke down on their way to their hotel. They can't get a replacement until tomorrow.." Taehyung replies, rubbing Jin's shoulders. "It's okay. we can take care of Hobi-hyung until then." He tried to stay positive, but his smile didn't meet his eyes and hardly lasted more than a moment.

"[What's wrong kid?]" Derek asks Namjoon to translate when he feels the tension in the air. "[I don't speak Korean but I can tell it ain't good news.]"

"[We can't get our friend to the hospital until tomorrow. Our ride broke down..]" Namjoon was tempted to ask him for more help when he heard Hoeseok coughing, but he couldn't get himself to do it. Not when he already did so much for them already.

"[I'm sure he'll be fine. You can use some whiskey to help numb your buddy Yoongi and some cough medicine for J-hope.]" Derek says with an optimistic grin. "[You want some? Brought some just case. Darryl ends up with the sniffles every time it rains. Sensitive little f*cker.]" He says fondly, laughing when Derek throws a stick at him. "[What? You are!]"

"[That would be great. Thank you.]" Namjoon bows,weakly smiling when Derek bows back, watching him go in the tent to dig through his bag.

"[You okay?]" Derek asks when he hears Hoseok coughing into his fist. "[Hang tight I'll give you something for that nasty cough.]"

Hoseok nods, even though he couldn't understand half of what he was saying. Despite taking private English lessons, he couldn't remember. His mind was fuzzy with fever, cuddling closer to Yoongi as another chill ran down his spine.

"You aren't okay. You're burning hot.." Jimin frowns, touching the back of his hand to his forehead. "This isn't good. He's getting worse already.."

"It's okay Minnie.. i..I just need to..to rest.." Hoseok coughs, cursing under his breath when his chest tightens a wheezing sound coming when he tries to take a deep breath.

"Don't lie to me.. you aren't okay." Jimin tries to scold him, but his voice is soft and slightly trembles. His stomach churned with worry for the usual cheerful rapper, rubbing his back as a feeble attempt to help.

Hoseok grabbed Yoongi's hand, squeezing it while he swayed, dizziness engulfing him, making him shiver with a cold sweat, leaning his head against the older’s shoulder. Even with laying as still as a stone, he still felt like he was moving.

"Hoseok-ah.." Yoongi whispered his name, trying to attempt to comfort him, but his voice caught in his throat, no other words coming. His throat was too tight, having to look up and blink rapidly to stop the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes.

This is my fault.. I should've told him to go to camp when I realized how quiet he was being when we were fishing that something was wrong.. or talked him into staying in the camp all together..

Yoongi's felt his stomach knotting with guilt, feeling like he would be sick. "I'm sorry.." He breathed the words, leaning his head on Hoseoks, burying his face in his hair as two tears slipped, not wanting Jimin to see them.

Even without seeing Yoongi's face, Jimin could hear the soft sobs that the deagu rapper tried to conceal, his breath coming out as shaky gasps his shoulders trembling. "Hyung its okay..it's not your fault. You did all you could.."

"It's mine.. I should've..stayed in camp..but I was scared to stay alone.." Hoeseok whispers hoarsely between coughs, gasping for air when it finally dies down.

Yoongi nods, but he doesn't believe him, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try to slow his ragged breathing.

"[Found it!]" Derek says with a triumphant smile, it instantly dropping when he looks at his guests, becoming aware of the tension in the air. "[Woah kid, are you okay? Are you in pain?]"

"[I'm just a little bit..I'm okay.]" Yoongi lies, rubbing his face against Hoeseok's hair to try to dry his eyes to look up at Derek, giving him a sad smile. "[I'm just..ah..]" He struggled to think of the English words to describe his emotions, but his mind was still foggy with fatigue. "[Just tired and worry..]"

"[I get that. I'd be f*cken worried, too. Here. I found that cough syrup. It should knock him right out.]" Derek gives the bottle of bright red liquid to Jimin.

"[Thank you..]" Jimin bows his head, opening the bottle and pouring it into the small cup.

"[No prob. I'm gonna go check on dinner.]" Derek quickly dismisses himself from the tent.

"Hyung do you think you can sit up for me?" Jimin asks with a gentle tone, caressing the back of Hoseok's neck.. "Just for a few seconds.. then you can lay back down.."

Hoseok slowly picks up his head, keeping his eyes closed, frightened that if he opened them, the room would start spinning again. Yoongi keeps his hand firmly on his brother, having the same fear that he'd fall to the side.

Jimin slowly puts the small cup to Hoseok's slightly parted lips, just in case the cough returns, feeling a sliver of relief when the rapper manages to take it, quickly giving him some water. "Good, good.." he murmurs with a soft sigh.

"How is he?" Jungkook pokes his head in the tent. "Ah, you're up.. how are you?"

"I'm hanging in there.." Hoseok stifles a cough, trying to give a reassuring smile for the mankae. "Darryl-ssi got me some medicine.."

Jungkook bites his lip, not wanting to say he was just outside talking to Darryl and that it was Derek who was with them earlier. Hoseok was great with names, able to remember staff from several years ago. "That's good, I was worried we wouldn't have a way to get it.."

"I'm tired Hyung.." Hoseok looks at Yoongi with exhaustion written on his face. "We should go to our.." Coughs cut him off, burying his face in his arm.

"I don't think you should be walking. You're really sick Hoba.." Yoongi says softly, tensing up. He had no idea how long they'd be welcomed in the brother's camp and there was no way he would let Hoeseok walk.

"What's wrong?" J-hope asks softly, looking up at Yoongi.

"Don't worry about me,I'm just thinking. Get some rest, baby. Hyung will figure it out." Yoongi moves him and J-hope into a laying position, letting the younger rapper lay on his chest.

J-hope almost instantly falls asleep, his head growing heavier on Yoongi's chest. Yoongi felt feverish himself from the heat radiating off his younger brother.

"Jiminie, ask Namjoonie to speak to the Derek-sii and Daryll-sii about the situation." Yoongi says in a soft whisper.

Jimin nods, rising to his feet. "Rest well hyung." He whispers, gently stroking the back of Hoseok's neck before leaving the tent to where the others were.

"[Oh hey, dinners almost done. You hungry?]" Derek greets him motioning to the pile of fried fish. "[I don't have many plates so you'll have to take turns eating.]"

"[Thank you.]" Jimin bows, only understanding half of what he said. He was hungry all morning, but now the thought of eating wasn't appealing anymore. Stress knotted his stomach, the smell of food making him nauseous.

"[No problem. It was your catch anyway. We just seasoned it.]" Daryll smiles. "[Smells good too.]"

Jimin nods, taking a seat between Jin and Namjoon. "Yoongi-hyung wants to know how long we'll be allowed to stay at their camp before we have to return to our own."

"Ah, Seokjin-hyung had the same thought, so I already asked.. we have until we finish dinner. They offered to help carry him back to our campsite, but I turned down their offer." Namjoon answers.

"But it's windy out now. What if the cold makes him worse?" Jimin asks, taking a breath to try to keep himself calm.

"What if we ask them to switch camps for the night? Our tent is good.." Taehyung frowns, trying to think of the English words. "[Ah, Derek-sii..please.. could ..camp ..different?]"

"[What? Different camp?]" Derek looks at him with confusion, looking at Namjoon. "[I don't know what your buddys asking.]"

"[Sorry.. he was trying to ask if you'd be willing to switch camps with us. We have a large tent set up on the other side of the lake. He's worried about moving our brother that far.]" Namjoon explains the situation.

"[I'd love to help you out, kid, but our heater can't heat up a big tent like that, and my brother, he can't stand the cold. I'm not making my brother uncomfortable for some stranger I just met.]" Derek answered honestly.

"[I understand. You've done so much already, thank you.]" Namjoon bows. "[I'm sorry.]"

"[Nah kid, don't be sorry. You're looking out for your family. I'm looking out for mine. We'll get your friend to the camp. We'll wrap him up good in blankets, and I'll let you have the medicine.]"

"[That would be great, thank you.]" Namjoon tried to smile despite being disappointed that they had to move Hobi, his lips just barely curling up for a split second.

"We can't stay." Jin says it as a fact.

"Sounds like it.."Taehyung says with a sullen pout.

Namjoon nods slightly to confirm. "Let's at least try to eat, and we'll figure this out.."

"Yoongi, you have to eat.." Jin says softly, pushing the plate towards him. "You haven't eaten since we left Korea.."

Yoongi picks up a piece of fish the the fork, forcing himself to chew and swallow it down. The oily film that coated his tongue didn't help his lack of appetite.

"[Do you not like it?]" Derek asks watching Yoongi's reaction. "[Should I have used soy sauce?]"

"[Ah.. not.. hungry.. not feeling good..]" Yoongi explains, ignoring his comment. If it wasn't for Hoseok telling him to go eat, he would've stayed lying next to him. He could hear Hoseok coughing from the tent, making him try to eat faster to appease his worried hyung.

"[Take some medicine and rest when you get to your camp bud. You don't gotta eat it if you ain't hungry.]" Daryll says with a sympathic smile.

Taehyung quickly finished his portion of food. "I'll sit with Hobi-hyung. [Ah, thank you for food.]" He bows when he gets up, scurrying off to the tent. "Are you awake Hobi-hyungie?" He whispers.

Hoseok twitched at the sound of Taehyung’s voice, but his eyes remained closed, his body not awake enough to reply to him.

Taehyung takes a seat next to him, gently rubbing the back of Hoseok's neck. "The medicine didn't help with the fever.."He murmurs to himself, feeling the sweat pooling at the base of Hobi's neck. "I really don't want us to have to move you.."

"I'll..I'll be okay.." Hoseok's voice comes out as a weak,hoarse whisper, pausing to suppress a cough. "Don't worry.. I'm feeling a little better.."

"I'll make you some ramyeon for me and you to share when we get back to our camp. The broth should help soothe your throat and maybe you could get a little bit in your stomach.." Taehyung didn't get his hopes up, seeing Hoseok's face twist at even the mention of food.

"I'll see..how i feel.. then.." Hoseok says with a wheezing cough. He had absolutely no appetite, and the idea of eating made his stomach queasy.

"It's okay if you can't, Hyung. I don't want you getting sick." Taehyung says soothingly, gently scratching Hoseok's back. "You just rest okay?"

Yoongi entered the tent with the others following behind him. "Ah Hoba you're up."

"Are you feeling any better?" Namjoon asks, dropping to Hoseok's side.

"A little but 'm still freezing and..it hur..ts to bre..athe.." Hoseok answers honestly, coughing between words.

"I'm sorry Hoba.. I wish there was more I could do to help.." Namjoon says softly, feeling useless. He was tempted to go against Hoseok's request to wait to take an ambulance to the hospital. The idea of being surrounded by people who he could hardly understand made him feel anxious, and he didn't want to make him feel any more stressed.

"It's not your fault..you're doing all you can. I'm doing better.." Hoeseok tries right comfort him, but the crack in his voice from holding back a cough doesn't convince him.

"We should move to our camp before the sun starts setting, it'll only get colder.." Yoongi urges gently. "I'll carry him first.."

"No, you won't. You can hardly move your shoulder hyung. You aren't carrying him at all." Namjoon says bluntly.

"It's feeling better now.. As long as I support most of his weight on-"

"Yoongi. Namjoon said no, and so do I. I know you feel like it's your fault and want to take responsibility, but it was an accident. It could've happened to any of us." Jin uses his stern serious tone, taking advantage of being the oldest to get his way. "The five of us will handle Hoba, you can carry our things. That's it."

"Yes, Hyung.." Yoongi leaves the tent, gathering up their belongings from outside, taking a deep breath to try to calm his nerves.

Namjoon picks up Hoseok bridal style blanket and all, slowly rising to his feet. "I'll carry him first."

"Alright. I'll take over when you get tired. Don't push yourself." Jin warns tucking the blanket tightly around Hoseok's body, pushing the ends in-between his side and Namjoon's abdomen. "That should keep the wind out."

"Hyungie can wear my beanie too.." Jungkook takes off his hat, putting it on Hoseok, pulling it as far down as possible to cover his ears.

Namjoon tenses when Hoseok starts coughing again, Jungkook putting his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders to keep him steady.

Hoseok wraps his arms around Namjoon, burying his face in his chest as he tried to stop coughing, feeling dizzy as whole body rattles from his coughs.

Namjoon holds him tighter, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, watching his friend suffering. "We need to get moving..it's okay, I got him.." he moves out of the tent.

"[I'll walk with you so i can take the blanket back to our camp.]" Daryll grabs a flashlight to accompany them, but Yoongi waves him off.

"[I'll walk it back.]" Yoongi says simply.

"[Alright. You boys be careful. I hope Hobi feels better soon]" Derek says sincerely.

[snowddeong]

what you want (part 1)

Secretary Yeji au, angsty (?), just 1.4k+ words of Ryujin being very sad ig Words: 1.4k+

The rain drumming against Yeji’s apartment window taunts Ryujin, pit-patting obnoxiously and drawing her attention away from Yeji’s bedroom, from thinking about what Yeji is preparing for her behind that closed door.

She glares at the streaks of water running down the glass, wills the rain to stop so she can leave before she ruins Yeji’s day even further.

It rains harder.

Ryujin sighs, long and weary. 

A part of her knows none of this actually matters in the grand scheme of things. Yeji isn’t her girlfriend. She doesn’t owe Yeji anything beyond keeping their “relationship” a secret. 

They shouldn’t even be meeting outside of work hours, much less going out for a fancy outdoor dinner. Ryujin’s already overstepping by being in Yeji’s home, invading her space by sitting — waiting — awkwardly on her couch despite knowing she doesn’t belong in this facet of Yeji’s life.

But she's here.

Ryujin’s sure a quick text would have sufficed, has sent Yeji enough “sorry, busy”s to know for a fact that she would’ve let it slide with an equally quick thumbs up in response. But the other part of her — the more sentimental part that’s grown fond of Yeji, that makes dumb decisions like this to keep her around — told her this time is different. Told her that Yeji deserves to hear her apology in person.

Or maybe Ryujin just feels guilty. And, maybe, her need to apologise is a purely selfish wish to absolve herself of that.

She’s the one who suggested going out today in the first place. She’s the one who pulled in a favour with Chan and postponed her crucial meeting with the Sriracha group by two days so she’d have a good excuse to be seen with Yeji in public on Valentine’s Day. She’s the one that gets Yeji’s hopes up again and again and again only to disappoint her, every single time worse than the last.

So when Yeji opened the door for her, she tried her best to return Yeji’s welcome with what she hoped was a smile, but probably came off as more of a grimace.

Yeji offered her something to eat and Ryujin wanted nothing more than to refuse. Yeji should be angry at her, not trying to take care of her. 

Yeji told her to sit and Ryujin wanted nothing more than to refuse. Again. She only came here to apologise, she really shouldn’t be here long. 

Yeji gave her a container of crudely cut tangerine slices, took a while to get them ready because she originally planned to give them to her tomorrow — “just in case you forget to eat” she explained nonchalantly, as if she doesn’t have every reason to hate Ryujin for knowingly breaking all her promises. As if Ryujin is deserving of even an ounce of kindness from her. 

That’s what finally broke Ryujin’s resolve. Breaks Ryujin’s resolve again and again.

"Hwang…" Ryujin really didn't know what to say. She still for the life of her doesn’t understand why Yeji cares enough about her to not only remember her favourite fruit to snack on but also know that Ryujin will be too stressed to make sure she eats tomorrow.

"Yeji," is the reminder she got in response, because Yeji will never not insist on Ryujin referring to her by her first name.

"I'm sorry."

The silence that followed isn't the effortless, cordial quiet they always share at the office while scheduling meetings and blitzing through Ryujin's workload. It's heavy and dead. It still makes Ryujin regret ever even coming here.

"I was on the way here when Dad called me to discuss having a shareholder meeting before our talks with the Sriracha group," The understanding that dawned on Yeji as soon as she mentioned her father is forever etched into her mind. Why is it that Yeji of all people understands her so well? "After dealing with all that, the storm started. It really wasn't my intention to keep you waiting. I'm sorry."

Silence again. Ryujin held her breath for what seemed like forever. Even thinking about it now, it obviously sounded like an excuse, but Ryujin hopes Yeji knows she wouldn't lie about something as sensitive as having to talk to her scumbag father.

"There’s no need to apologise to me, Boss," Yeji said eventually, the ever present warmth in her eyes replaced by a harder, more guarded expression. "I knew what I was signing up for when we started this. You don't owe me anything."

And Ryujin knew that, knows that, has been repeating that fact to herself from the second she realised their date wasn't happening. But something about hearing those words from Yeji, something about actual concrete confirmation of how little they actually should mean to each other stays with her. 

Hurts her.

"I don't," she admitted, surprised that her voice didn’t carry any of the maelstrom of emotions she's drowning in. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't apologise for wasting your time." Which was so hypocritical to say, because coming here and looking for forgiveness is also a waste of Yeji's time. 

When Yeji didn't respond she said: "I'd like to make it up to you, if you'd let me," and immediately hated herself for it.

She keeps doing that. Keeps getting Yeji's hopes up for no reason other than her own want. 

"Just let me know when you have something in mind. You don't have to tell me now. Anything's on the table." Ryujin continued before Yeji could give her an out, because if Yeji did she couldn’t trust herself not to take it.

Yeji sighed, shook her head and met Ryujin's eyes, the jagged edges of frustration in her gaze making Ryujin falter. "Anything?"

"Yeah. Anything."

Ryujin briefly wonders why she’s always driving herself into inescapable corners when it comes to Yeji. 

"Kiss me." 

She’s not at all surprised by Yeji’s request. After all, a kiss between them isn’t a big deal. The same way that none of this is actually a big deal.

But that’s not what Yeji’s really asking for, that’s not why Ryujin hesitated.

Yeji’s selfishness has always been in the simple things — small gestures of kindness when she can somehow read that Ryujin is bothered about something, making herself busy late into the night so Ryujin doesn’t have to go home alone, rescheduling meetings with Ryujin’s father as often as she can so Ryujin doesn’t have to see him when she doesn’t want to. She rarely ever asks for anything in return and even then it’s never for anything big because she hates feeling like Ryujin’s giving her special treatment.

Ryujin almost wishes she would. Expensive gifts and extravagant meals are easy, what Yeji seems to want from her is beyond unattainable.

“You really don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Yeji’s laughter in that moment was more to relieve tension than an actual display of mirth. “But if you insist on making it up to me, that’s what I want.”

The firmness in Yeji’s tone left no room for misinterpretations. If Ryujin’s running, Yeji will stand her ground, but she’s not going to chase her. 

“Okay,” Ryujin found herself saying. 

Yeji seemed confused and Ryujin can’t blame her. She’s still not sure herself what she meant by okay, even after she kissed her.

It doesn’t take very long for things to get out of hand after that.

Ryujin definitely did not plan to ask Yeji to fuck her. As dishonest as she may be about her motive for coming here she also knew full well that giving into that impulse won’t fix the problem. Be it for Yeji or for herself, she wanted to at least do the bare minimum this time, to at least start in the direction of making things right.

But when Yeji’s lips meet hers — when Yeji pulls her close and deepens the kiss like she wasn’t completely spent of patience for Ryujin a few seconds ago, when Yeji’s tongue brushes against that spot on her own that makes her have to hold back a moan — Ryujin is overcome with an incomprehensible need that only Yeji has ever been able to sate.

“I should probably go now,” Ryujin whispered, more to herself, when they broke apart to breathe for a moment.

Yeji heard her but didn’t pull away, eyes laser focused on Ryujin’s kiss bruised lips. “Is that what you want?”

“I—” Ryujin could have said so many things and told so many lies. It’s almost funny that she’s only ever truthful about this. “No. It’s not.”

“What do you want then?”

Ryujin answered.

And then Yeji left for her room with an ambiguous “okay” of her own.

(Part 2)

[violentviolette]

can't sleep. my cats been missing since yesterday afternoon. this'll be her second night not here and the longest she's ever been away from home. its been raining all day. its still raining. my wife thinks she might have gotten stuck up a tree. she hates the cold and being wet. also heights. she doesn't like jumping up to high places. we think she fell out of a tree when she was a kitten before I found her.

I looked for her all day and into tonight. stopped once it got too dark. gonna keep looking once the sun comes up again and I know I need go sleep before that happens

ive never actually bonded with an animal before but ive also never had one as long as ive had her. its been 10 years. ive also never had one go missing. i dont like new feelings. ive had 3 panic attacks and started crying like a dozen times. ive checked all over the house, every floor every room top to bottom over and over again. pretty much once every hour. I checked outside 4 times but I didn't search the trees in the backyard. thats the first thing I'm gonna check in the morning. I want to check now but its pitch black and I dont have a good enough flashlight. but its raining. its raining and she hates the rain and heights and the cold

I dont actually know what I'll do if shes dead. not finding her would somehow be worse. id just worry forever.. I still don't know how she got out, if she got out. my wife keeps telling me there's no way she's just dead inside the house. she wasn't sick. or old. theres nothing she could eat that would poison her. if she'd fallen inside and snapped her neck we'd have found her by now. the dogs would know and be acting weird. by tomorrow wed start to smell her.. shes gotta be outside

I just want her to be somewhere. anywhere. Its driving me insane that I dont know where she is or what's happening to her or where to find her. I dont even have a clue. she just disappeared into thin air. she's not an outside cat. everywhere I look and everything I do is a guess or a shot in the dark. I dont know what to do so im not doing enough. I could look for her better if I knew where she was. if I knew anything at all other than that I saw her in the kitchen yesterday afternoon and then haven't seen her since. I hate not knowing things I hate not having information I hate not knowing what the right thing to do next is. theres too many variables and too many options and I just don't know.

I spent all day tearing apart the house looking for her. what if shes been outside the whole time. I could have been looking outside more. I could have found her by now. what if I keep wasting more time and more days go by because I just don't know

I hate not knowing. it makes u make the wrong decisions. u dont know and then u do the wrong thing and then u get the bad outcome because u didn't know. I hate it I hate it I hate it. this is why I need to know everything all the time because if I just know things I can fix it. I never have enough information to just fucking fix it

I need to go to sleep. I want my cat back.

[mossyfloss]

The Night Life of Johanna Constantine

A NSFW Johanna x Reader Imagine (Gender neutral pronouns, afab anatomy)

Summary: You know how much Jo’s work means to her. How much she’s lost, yet she wonders everyday what she did to deserve you. You are more than happy to show her just how much she means to you, but first she wants to show you how thankful she is.

NSFW may have multiple parts, idk how i feel about it yet, but I hope you enjoy :)

———————————

Johanna sighed as she set her coffee down. Rubbing circles around her temples, “Fuckin hell.” The need for exorcists has risen over the last year and going through the piles of paperwork have pierced right through her brain. Most of them were false claims like most things, but the real ones. Those get worse and worse by the day. Whatever is out there, whatever’s lurking in the shadows, is getting stronger. She could feel it.

A knock pulled her from her ominous train of thought, “I’m heading out for the night, it’s half past two.” Ric the Vic leaned against the door frame. Jo looked at the clock and her brows shot up.

“You’re right. Fuck, I’m gonna be late again.”

Ric laughed, “I’m sure they’ll understand. After all, they've got to know who it is they invite inside every night.”

“Oi, I’m not a bloody vampire.”

“Nope, just an exorcist that says out till sunrise,” The Vic shook her head and turned to leave, “Make sure you turn off all the lights before you lock up.” She left with a wave. “See you tomorrow.”

Johanna huffed and sat back against her seat, pulling at the tight collar around her neck. “Yeah, will do, if I ever make it out.” She muttered to herself.

A chime came from her mobile. Fishing it out of her pocket she read, ‘Hey babe, you planning on coming home tonight?’ It was you, checking up on her. She felt bad making you worry like this, keeping you up this late for no good reason. Staring at the piles of paper in front of her, the priest made up her mind.

Quickly, Jo shot back a text, ‘Yeah, sorry about that. Time got away from me, but I’ll be out of here in 5.’ Gathering her coat, she slid half the pile of forms into her bag. Not a day goes by where she doesn’t end up working from home.

Flicking the lights off one by one, Jo neared the front door, “Finally.” She pulled her keys out and locked up the office before heading to her car and heading home.

It started to rain as she drove through the streets, her wipers squeaking at every few seconds. The roads were eerily empty, even for it being so close to the witching hour.

Her brain overthinking and her muscle memory leading the way, she found herself pulling into her driveway. Feeling the sting of sleep deprivation as she put it in park and cut the engine. Jo blinked her eyes a few times to push it back.

Thinking about what was waiting for her behind the door; you, bed, maybe a shower. “Home sweet home,” She grabbed her bag and made her way inside.

Seeing as all of the lights were off, she unlocked the door as quietly as she could. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor of the foyer and through the living room. You had left the remains of a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Johanna smiled and shook her head, walking over to pick it up. You also left a stack of your sketchbooks, she tidied those up as well. You’ve definitely kept yourself busy, she mused.

After tossing the kernels into the bin and setting the bowl in the sink, the priest hung her bag on a chair and walked back to your shared bedroom. There was a soft glow coming from the room, letting her know you were still up. Or at least, attempted to stay awake.

“Knock, knock.” Johanna spoke softly, sleep laced in her voice as she pushed the door open gently.

You looked up from your book with a sleepy smile, “Johanna,” leaning back and stretching, you asked, “How was work?”

“Oh you know,” She came around to her side of the bed and sat down, “Sometimes it feels like it never ends. I almost feel numb to it.”

You set your book down on the nightstand and scooted closer to her. “Now that’s the sleep talking. I know for a fact you wouldn’t be able to do your job half as good if you truly felt numb to it all. You’re too passionate about it.” You kissed her shoulder.

Turning around she pulled you in by your jaw, and gave you a proper kiss. “Mmh says who?” She raked her eyes over your face.

You smiled against her mouth, “Says me,” you gave her a peck, “The great y/n, king of rules.” She rolled her eyes and smirked.

“King, aye?” Jo challenged.

“Mhmm,” Your eyes full of mischief.

“I know a few people who would call that blasphemous.” Johanna stood up and unbuttoned her uniform.

“Please,” You sat back and watched her push the dress down her shoulders and off her body, “Have they seen you?” Catching her hand you brought it to your mouth and kissed it.

“Oi, watch it.” She gave you a warning look, letting you pull her closer. “I know where that mouth’s been and I’m authorized to hold confession.”

“See, you say that as a threat.”

“I mean that as a threat.” Johanna knelt forward on the bed and pulled you into a kiss. “Mmh, I’ve missed you.” She teased her tongue against your upper lip feeling a shiver run through your body.

“I’ve missed you too,” Granting her access she teased your mouth with her tongue. “Mmh, Both of you grasping at each others bodies. The priest pulled your shirt up, exposing your stomach. Her fingers teasing lightly over the skin then using her nails to dig in harder. Red lines marking you.

“Wait wait,” You pulled away gasping for air. “I thought you were tired?”

Jo laughed and looked you up and down, “Never too tired for you y/n/n.” She kissed her cool soft lips against the angry red marks she made. “Especially since you stay up,” a kiss, “as sleepy as you are,” you felt her tongue this time, “and wait every night.” She met your gaze, “Are you too tired for me?”

“Never,” You whispered, running your fingers through her soft hair. “I need to know that you're safe.”

She kissed your belly pointedly and moved to sit on your hips, “I’m always safe.”

Scoffing, you laughed, “Yeah Johanna Constantine playing it safe?” You brought your hands up to her sides, “That’s not her style.” You gave her a look.

“Shut up. You know it’s more fun when it’s dangerous.”

“Is that so?” You squeezed her hips.

“Mhmm,” Caressing your lips with her own she kissed you deeper. “It sends fire through my blood, the power to condemn.” Tugging your shirt off your body, revealing your bare chest, bringing her lips to your neck, “It’s addictive, sometimes.”

“I’ll say,” You gasped. Feeling your body react to her ministrations and deep voice. “Talk about blasphemy.”

Johanna laughed against your skin, “Nah, this is nothin.” She nipped and sucked along your jaw, feeling your hands find her hair once again, she whispered against your ear, “I’ll show you blasphemy.”

Feeling her take your hands she pinned them next to your head, grinding her knee into your center as she wound her hips against your thigh. Both your hips now moving on their own. She lowered herself close enough to whisper, “Oh y/n/n,” The look in her eyes sent something right to your center. “Have you ever wanted to feel closer to God?”

[venusinsilk]

Also my shopping list for tomorrow and this weekend-

But first and foremost I am MAKING BILL AND HOME PAYMENTS EARLY so far i'm 4 weeks ahead and it feels amazing!! Like June was paid early last month and tomorrow I'll pay for July. Would be so cool to get to October and have the rest of the year already paid for. I think I can swing both July and August this month. First time in my life I've ever been able to get ahead like this!! Anyway here's what's in my head-

Storage bins for all our camping supplies

Bubble bath in various flavors 💅

La croix

Fruits and vegetables

Deodorant, my usual one melted when I went camping at the music festival 😫

I really want to treat myself to either a perfume, jewelry (choker or small hoop earrings) or swim suits.... I've been spoiling myself low key and I should only pick one! I feel so entitled to little gifts like this because I've been working so much and this is the most financial freedom I've ever had. It's also the most freedom I've ever had to do what I want with my appearance in terms of buying clothes, jewelry, piercings, etc. I've also been donating a lot and giving away things that no longer resonate with me.

I also need to put at least $300 of my next paycheck(s) in my Roth IRA it's no joke. My savings have been pathetic the extra job only made my spending habits worse!!! The only good thing I've been doing is paying for the house payments early!!

Car wash???? Um I have not washed my car in over 6 months, no shame idc

Maybe a stupid cover for my steering wheel? It's raining flaky black bits all over me when I drive, in addition to all the other issues my car has

Maybe a new cheap yoga mat. My older ones are so beat up and falling apart from me using them outside to workout. Would love a clean one to keep indoors.

If I have a little more money to spare I'd love another couple of pairs of period underwear...

Oh yeah we're also planning a fucking trip to Ireland, so far we only got plane tickets to London. We still need to book everything else. I'm gonna start working like 50 hours a week again soon

I also want thigh high socks from sock dreams!! I've wanted some cute socks from them for years! I want a pair in black and another in olive green or a red wine color. Maybe gray too? They'll be so cute to wear in colder weather with the mary jane heels I got earlier this year.

Ok one last thing.... I want a stand up paddle board... there's this one that costs $300 and it comes with 2 paddles and a bag, and it's inflatable! So it can fold up into a duffle bag. So cool right?

Ok while we're on the subject of exercise, I also want a fucking punching bag and gloves.... I have anger issues I need to work on and I love boxing. Maybe I'll find something on offer up

I also want to go to Catalina for my birthday. Cheapest hotel is $360/night... 😬 I need to take LSD and wander around a quaint paradise and jump in some clear water. I need this for my health!!!!!

I want a tattoo

[pbandjesse]

I had hoped to have more energy today and to actually do something. But I still needed to recover. I was still so tired. It wasn't a bad day, but I was so sleepy.

I had a ton of trouble falling asleep, turning off my brain. I would be up until almost 3am reading in my phone. Which is very stupid but I was enjoying reading. Sweetp would come chatting into the room and would stand on both of us and was being real silly. James would move him and go and turn off the light. And that let me actually fall asleep.

I woke up at 930 as James was coming in to drop off the laundry they had done. Gave me kisses on my hand. And left to go get our car's oil changed.

I would get up and felt. Fine. Kind of empty. I would wash my face and brush my teeth and got dressed and felt. Bleh.

I thought I just needed food. I would have cereal. I put away the laundry James has done. And then just got back in bed.

I would play on my phone until around 1130. But then I fell asleep.

I woke up at 130 to James letting me know they were heading home. They had gone grocery shopping. And picked up a package. And soon they would be back with me.

They were so cute. They would make me peanut butter crackers and laid in bed with me.

We laid there for a long time just watching TikToks. Sweetp joined us. We were having excellent laying around time but then James got all energetic and full puppy dog energy asking if we could go for a walk. And I'm like, gesturing at me and Sweetp and were like this is kitty nap time?

But it was beautiful out and so I agreed to go for a walk with James. I would shake off my sleepies but I did not really enjoy the walk. I liked being outside but I would end up with 4 blisters on the tops of my feet and I was so bummed. It hurts so much. And I was a little to hot and was just not having fun. I started feeling a little nauseous. We didn't make it far. We got to the park and a few minutes in but then I was like I have to go home. So we went back. And I started feeling worse and worse.

I was happy when we found a free box. Got a brand new leather journal, a Jane Austin tarot deck, and two very cute bowls. I was hurting but I was enjoying being with James and very happy to find free things, even if James was teasing me.

We got home and James brought in the package they had picked up. And it was the Roomba Jess got for us!! I was so excited. I have wanted a Roomba for literally ever but I thought they were super expensive. And they aren't cheap but they were not as much as I expected. And I love her. We have named her Ruby. I glued bows to her. I also added googly eyes but I think they are to small so I'll probably replace them ASAP.

I was having a lot of fun getting her set up and watching her go around the house. She does get stuck over by the front door. But mainly she's doing great. She also got stuck under the rocking chair. And also keeps going outside?? And also she ate a necklace but neither of us recognize the necklace??? So strange.

I was enjoying having the backdoor open even if Ruby keeps going out there. Sweetp was enjoying it too. No rats today. Just him chatting and being silly rolling around.

James made us pasta for dinner. And I mostly just hung out on the couch. My feet hurt so much. The blisters only got worse. I am not positive what shoes I'll wear tomorrow. Maybe moccasins?? Maybe rain boots? We will see.

I had asked if I could not go to camp tomorrow because I am starting my events position at the museum. But Elizabeth said that there isn't anyone to cover. So I'm going to have another very very long day. I am looking forward to all the parts of it but I'm also frustrated how difficult it's going to be to vote. But I will do my best.

Now though the sun has gone down. And I am thinking I will take a bath. And try my best to just sleep and have a good day tomorrow.

Sleep well everyone. I hope you all have a great night. Until next time.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Flawed - Chapter 3

The Undercity has no bounds.

The Lanes are a playground with few rules, fewer limits, and one in charge. A perfect system - it is not, but the overseeing Eye has held a reign for several, moreso successful years.

Silco knows exactly what he is - oftentimes using it to his advantage, or to the detriment of others.

It’s become an ultimate weapon, in a way, one he has few qualms with using. And even fewer thoughts about suspecting how things could be different… or more effectually, how someone can look at him different.

You do, though. He isn’t sure how, or why, but you do.

To your advantage, and to his willing detriment.

[Rewrite of Flawless | Extended | Silco’s POV]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 (TBA)

Current WC: 15.8K

Warnings: NSFW|MDNI Slow-Burn, tension, banter, power-dynamics, romance, drama, explicit sexual-content, pining, minor Dad!Silco, Silco x F!Reader, minor Sevika x F!Original-Character, sex-work, adult-clubs, angst with eventual happy-ending

His reign was not bloodless - foolish to think that it ever could be, but at the very least, it was a much more hands-on operation. Especially so, considering Piltover continuously wiped their hands clean of the responsibility, and the blame, for what the Undercity had become under their rule.

Leaving it's people to fend for themselves, and leaving him to take control of the nation they had left miles underground to rot.

Piltover loathed to dirty their hands with Zaun's filth. Silco, having lived among the filth all his life, relished it.

He took delight, not just in the broad sense, but also in the physical, present-sense, with every crack of his knuckles to already battered flesh. Twisted, dark satisfaction coiled deep within him when he dropped the limp man like a broken-ragdoll, but hee couldn't be entirely satisfied.

The man still breathed.

"Go," Speaking in a bored tone, as Silco slipped out a cigar-case into his blood-splattered hand with graceful ease. A perfect opposite to how his fists had rained down not a moment before. "I don't expect you to consider this as mercy, but be grateful anyways for my generosity. I gave you the opportunity to still wake-up tomorrow - pray that you will."

A moment passed, filled with agonized groans, whimpers and pitifully slow, shuffling movements, before Sevika's lighter came into view, and set the end of the cigar tucked between his thin-lips to blaze.

Relief.

Smoke felt like the coolest salve. A deep inhale sent those coils of smoke to snake, and curling down to the very-bottom of his lungs. Shimmer could barely hold a candle, to the few seconds of pure, unfiltered ease that filled him. Thoughtless, he was tempted to close his eye and allow his mind and body a rest, for just a moment, in the calming affects that tobacco offered him...

And then his knuckles started to feel cold again,, and they ached.

His eye snapped open, and was already narrowed into a slit. Subtly blowing out a wispy cloud between his lips, preventing the growing-familiar snarl from crossing his features, the Eye watched boredly as his victim made his escape - a long, painful escape.

The durability of humans, truly never ceased to astound.

"He was skimming only ten-percent, wasn't he?" Sevika speaks casually, the edge of her red poncho fluttering in the underground breeze, joining him as they played audience to the man's suffering.

Silco's quiet snort sets out a small puff of smoke from his nostrils. "Only? I've done worse for less. An example was required, nothing more."

"An example I could've given, sir."

Thud.

Ahead of the two, the man loses consciousness - mercy after-all. Stepping over limp form, Silco takes another long, deep inhale of blissful spiced smoke as he surveys the vacant street from the mouth of the alley. The Eye revels in the rare-silence in this small, abandoned corner of the Undercity, before his second comes to stand beside him.

An exhale, before he replies cooly, "Sometimes, the one who writes the message must be the one to deliver it, to ensure the exact details don't get lost in translation."

"Never worried about being the messenger that gets shot?"

"I'm actually more concerned as to where this conversation is going," He retorts dryly - death was a certainty, but the peculiar glint in silver eyes, unreadable and unexplained, was far more pressing than the logical end-point of his existence.

Sevika still straightens, braces herself - like some part of her expects she'll get shot for this, acting as a messenger, he muses. "This isn't working."

Even the smoke seemed to still inside his body. "Clarity and forwardness would be appreciated."

"Distraction doesn't suit you. Sir," It's added like an afterthought, just like the cigarette she pulls out. "Or at least the kind you have to go sniffing for in shitholes like this. Been two weeks... frankly, we're running out of double-crossers and shimmer-thieves for you to terrorize."

"Trash always builds back-up." He says flatly, watching her suck in a lung-full of smoke just a bit harsher than necessary under his glare. "There's no shortage of those requiring discipline - including in my own ranks."

Comfort, is just as dangerous as recklessness in his ranks - and he's becoming quite annoyed with how comfortable Sevika seems to have become.

She settled into the role of his second well, as was to be expected. Promising, even in youth, among the ranks of a rebellion destined for doom, but now she was getting far too comfortable in her place near the top.

Far too much, for liking, and for his sanity. Too many things had the nerve to start slipping out of his control - he didn't require his immediate subordinate in the chain of command getting comfortable, on top of it.

"How much did I spend on your arm?"

There's an audible grind of her teeth at his calm, chilly words - in a way, he's impressed she doesn't saw the cigarette in her mouth clean in half. "A lot."

Humming around the answer for a moment, the air around them is spiced, and hazy with the culmination of differing sources of smoke, before he casually holds a hand aloft.

Palm out, expectant.

Fingers shift impatiently when it takes a second too-long for his taste, but eventually, the icy-cold feel of metal burns through the dark leather of his glove, and Silco hums again as he looked over the work of the upgraded faux-appendage.

"A lot... a lot of gold. Manpower. Metal, certainly," Releasing a breath, on would mistake it for a chuckle. "I never regretted it. Even on the very edge between rising-high and crashing-low, I had no qualms with diverting resources from what remained of the original factory, to having this created for you."

"Fishing for a thank-you?" The metal creaks in time with a twitch of her fingers, but otherwise, any hint of a reaction is too muted for him to decipher. Far more preferable, her drawl than the snark.

"I was taught quite a handful of lessons, from that experience, as I'm certain you learned as well," He continues, ignoring her reaction in favor of gently turning the metal appendage, watching it glint in the light. "The stubborn nature of humans, for one, and the price of a brand new prosthetic for another..."

Bringing the cigar to his lips, Sevika watched with a tight mouth and firm line of her brows, as he inhaled deeply. Though the dark cloud he blew, the red-eye of his seemed to glow like a single piece of coal, plucked straight from hellfire.

"I, also learned," He said, deceptively soft. "It's not impossible to replace a hand... be it left or right."

The heavy metal hand resting in his palm curled into a fist. But otherwise, his loyal second didn't react, only muttering, "Be expensive as shit to replace."

"Agreed. Might not even find another like it, but if it's run out it's uses, or continues forgetting it's purpose..." Silco allowed the threat to hang in the air, while he dropped her hand, letting it swing.

Chips of icy-silver held onto seagreen and hellfire, before another cloud of smoke built between them. This time, Sevika was required to pluck out her cigarette to properly exhale the puffs - Silco averted his gaze, partially to  survey the street, ensuring it was still empty.

And to give the illusion he didn't see the brief shudder in her breath.

Silence reigned, before, gruffly, "Harbor's been barking up, whining about wages. I'll see if those assholes actually got something to say, or if they need a little reminder themselves." No bitterness, no smart-remarks - professional once more. It's a relief.

"Excellent. See what you can find, I'll deal with it... personal touch and all that." It nearly pained him to drop the cigar, grinding it underboot, but it was temporarily relieved with a vicious grind of his shoe, not terribly different from how he broke the man's knuckles moments before, under the same boot.

It didn't stop his knuckles from aching. But it was a temporary thrill, one that made the pain tolerable.

It also helped make him forget how terrible cold it was.

"When your done, take the evening off."

There's a grunt of acknowledgment, no thanks, before she too, finishes off her cigarette. This one is simply crushed in a metal hand though, with pale grey flecks sprinkling down into the dirt below, before Sevika shakes the remainder off her artificial-hand.

It's satisfaction. Not ideal, for there are few that enjoy having to remind their subordinates of the place and their duty... but the message has been received, and Silco is satisfied.

Satisfied that his version of distraction is no longer to be questioned - though it's far bloodier, it's far more satisfying, then that what was offered to him a short couple-weeks ago, in the form of coy eyes, flushed bared-skin, breathy, rasped notes of last and desired in her voice...

"Sir?"

Now his entire hand aches, and his fingertips feel like they have been dipped in ice.

Forcing the white-knuckled fists to unfurl, the Eye of Zaun shoves his hands into his coat pocket, dismissal clear in his tone and body-language. "Leave me." Sevika doesn't need to be told twice - the reminder seeming to have worked wonders, the tall woman turns, her red poncho offering a sharp snap in her rapid march of retreat.

And with that, Silco is alone.

Something that would be a relief, in theory. A chance to clear his mind, a moment of peace when the universe seems intent to give him anything but...

Then, Silco lets out a low, growling snarl of an expletive, when he finds that the peace of solitude, doesn't ease the throbbing-pain radiating from his tightly-curled knuckles.

Bruises atop bruises - it's not the pain that makes them intolerable, but the sight that makes the frown grow deeper, into the beginnings of a black-scowl.

This isn't working.

Loathe as he is to admit it, the Eye of Zaun is far from blind - he knows that, though effective his ruthlessness in recent days may have been in the social, business terms, it's not a term that would describe other matters.

Namely, physical.

A flinch actually occurs when a glove is eased off. It's twin remains on after the reaction and Silco finds himself glaring sourly at the array of yellow, splashed with both fading, and new blue-black splotches...

And red, where the tip of knuckles broke under pressure of battering against flesh and bone.

He needs a smoke.

Smoke offers a brief cessation of thoughts - proven to be both a blessing and a curse. On one-hand, there is a distinct-lacking in his mind, which is such a rarity... even in sleep, Silco believes his mind is incapable of not thinking.

However, even a single instant without thought leaves his mind open to far more vulnerabilities, then he is willing to deal with. Specifically, memories...

Hooded eyes, smoke-like fabric a film across the eyes...

Soft hands - the first in months, years, eons to run over his skin with a burning touch bordering on kind...

Mind hissing of deception, threats, risks that this  cause. Something in his chest, whispering even more devastating things...

That voice - gods, that voice - in a desiring coo, for him, of all creatures,  "Beloved."

Worst of all; a need.

The smoke burns with how quickly he blows it out, expelling the clouds from his lungs in only a short breath or two. He just lit the damn thing, but already grinding the fresh-lit cigar in it's tray with sharp movements.

Even in peace, he receives no rest.

Once, that had been an acceptable sacrifice for his role to play in Zaun's rise to glory, he mused to himself while plucking out a small roll from his desk. Wrapping it with expertise around his knuckles, it's almost bitterly bemusing to think that the lack-of respite now not only frequents from the thoughts of leadership, but of thoughts of her.

It's simply pathetic.

And, two weeks after their last union, and two weeks filled with drowning himself in papers or blood of those unfortunate, stupid enough to cross him, it's a series of thoughts that still refuse to go away.

With a sigh, tossing the wrap of gauze somewhere-organized, the Eye of Zaun eased himself against his desk, grabbing the first paper he could reach - allowing words to swim before his eyes in the form of ledgers, or letters.

Anything to fill his head, with anything other than a problem for which he had no solution. Not even time and distance, evidently...

"You've been acting weird."

That, was another problem.

One that was enough for his pen to halt in the middle of the paper, and for any recollection of the sentence he had in mind to fade away. "Enlighten me."

Jinx frowns at the ceiling - or, rather, at the ground. Her braid dangles down towards the ground from where she's hooked her legs over the rafters- swinging in a way that would give any other parent a heart-attack.

Silco had dealt with a couple years of this. His nearing-stroke is mild, but his face remains calm regardless. "Jinx?"

"Like... I dunno, weird," The pre-teenage tries to shrug upside-down, and does a decent job at it. "Not super-weird or somethin' like that... but weird for you. And you're like, never weird, so... it's just really weird."

"So from what I'm hearing," Parallel to his paper, the pen is placed carefully on the table, before he tents his fingers together loosely, looking up at his charge the with faintest quirk of his lips. "Is that you've deduced me as being somewhat abnormal."

"Nuh-uh, you're weird."

"My apologies - you consider me, in your terminology, weird. May I ask why?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you why?"

There's a challenge in her voice. Silco leans back in his chair - bemused, and also perplexed. And glad for this new, significantly less taxing distraction on his psyche.

Deciphering the adolescent-mind was not on the list of his greatest strengths, but deciphering Jinx was a different kind of puzzle, one that he took a moment to mull around his thoughts before suggesting, "Perhaps I could better explain my recent atypical behavior, if you were better to explain to me what you're noting as off?"

"Hm," Crossing her arms, Jinx scrunched up her freckle-splashed nose in thought. "You went out on a date, for starters."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A date. Y'know, a get-together, night on the town... c'mon, old-man, you know what I'm talking about!" Face slack with shock, Silco was less concerned about the unflattering nickname than the bewildering - and absolutely incorrect - assumption being made.

Jinx landed with a small grunt, but otherwise, making a flawless landing on her feet - a victory she was clearly proud of, with her crooked grin equally victorious, and mischievous, "Sooo... who was it? Were they pretty?"

"... who told you it was a date?"

"Was it?!" Eyes shining, she bounces up to his desk, propping her elbows, and propping her face in her hands as she grins, "It was, wasn't it?" It was most certainly not, but the Eye of Zaun can only blink, before, mortifyingly slowly, he finds his words again and learns how to work his tongue and mouth in a jumble of syllables.

"I...It was not a date." Sticking with the facts seemed safer. It was the truth, for starts, and it also provided ample opportunity to avoid discussing the finer-details. "Who told you it was that?"

Helpfully, Jinx shrugs her shoulders, before her grin returns in full impish force.

"C'monnn, spill the beans! I gotta know who thought their best option for a whirling romance would be Mr. Eye 'o Zaun himself-"

"Since when do you know Piltover romance-novel language?"

"I don't."

Her grin turns sharklike, like she's tasted blood in the water. "But, you aren't denying it." Heaving a small breath through his noise, bemused but tired, the man made a reach for the nearest stack of paperwork he could effectively bury-himself in for several hours, when her chipped-nail hand slapped over it, blocking his trajectory.

Silco, let out another breath through his nose, trying hard not to lose his patience, "Jinx..."

"Did you even like it?" Blinking, his gaze quickly met the wide, and the uncharacteristically-worried blue gaze of the young teenager, who looked over his pinched, tight expression with some sense of genuine concern. "Jeez. Who do I have to kill?"

"No one."

"Are you sure? I need to test new bombs."

"I'm quite sure, Jinx." Silco decides to ignore the pout, and ignore the jolt nearly stilling his heart within his chest at the thought... he convinces himself it's for the reason that Jinx is still in training, and avoids the idea that he fears the thought of harm befalling you. "It's hardly a situation that requires an accident, purposeful or not, Jinx."

"Hmph," She drops her chin flat onto the table, fingers drumming an erratic beat on his papers as he watches, patiently waiting for the girl to lose her own patience. Therefore, Silco is blindsided by her next question, "So, you gonna go out on another date?"

Silco should be used to Jinx's surprises- the very girls existence lived to blindside him, and is in fact how he met her: by complete, and utter surprise.

But even with that foresight in mind, he's still left momentarily stunned at her question, face slightly lacked from the suggestion of... another, so-called, date?

"... I'm busy."

"You work with papers all the time, dontcha even run out?" Plucking the papers straight from his desk, scattering half of them within seconds onto the floor, Jinx scowls down at the first one she sees. "Yeesh, ledgers? Yeah, old-man, you gotta get out more, or find some sorta bookworm to keep these in order." She plucked one out, pinched between fingers to emphasis her disgust for the paperwork, and waved it in the air like encouragement, "Plenty of fish in the sea, and you want to sit in here staring at slices of trees? Come on, you weirdo - you should go out and live a little."

At any other time, even with Jinx, more than a slight-surge of annoyance would be spreading though him at the situation - a child, telling him what he should do.

Bad enough Sevika had to have a reminder sharply given in the form of cool words and an even colder dismissal, but the sudden influx of others suddenly blessed with the knowledge of what was best for him was truly, and honestly starting to grate more and more on every nerve he had in his body...

But then his knuckles start to ache again, beneath the wrap, and Silco leans back into his chair, a deep hum building in his chest as he does what he's good at - thinking.

Fixating on some far-off point on the walls, knuckles mutely rapping against the arm of his chair, Silco takes stock of the fact that, though Sevika's suggestion of participating in some... physical-recreation was rendered unacceptable, the more violent rendition is equally useless, and damaging to both his body, and his image in the eyes of those employed or charged in his service.

Going back to square-one would do little good. But seeing as how neither option was working in his favor, it would be irresponsible to do nothing - not to mention, Jinx brought up the very same conclusion he had made for himself at the hasty end of the prior-meeting with you:

Anyone could give him this.

Foolish as it was to find himself relying on something, for a moment, he had gotten a taste and now seemed to crave more. That didn't necessarily mean he had to go to the same source - not to mention his pride would allow it, to crawl back into the good-graces of a Laneslady, when there were easily a thousand more like her to replace her.

This was temporary fix.

Nothing more than a business transaction, to quench a thirst and pull himself together before... whatever had possessed him over the last couple weeks, became far more obvious.

"Daaaaad..." Jinx's whine brought him back, and after giving her a raised brow, he held put his hand, expectant. An exaggerated groan, but the papers were returned into his hand a moment later.

And then, to the desk, causing Jinx's pout to smooth away into a grin.

"Got a lucky lady in mind?"

"Who says I have a lady in mind?"

"Well you're not thinking of ledgers, that's for sure," Plopping her head onto her arms, she grinned up at him. "Dinner by candlelight? Romantic walks?" A pause and she was stifling giggles that forced the man to hide his growing concern at what she might say next. "First kisses?"

Silco relaxed. Grateful, to any god that still existed and heard him, that that was all the child was imagining. Crime and revolution were monsters, but the Talk was another beast entirely - one that he was glad to waive for a few more years. "If I knew you were romantic, I would petition for more Arts instead of the Sciences in this city," He commented, bordering on a tease as he stood, pointedly shuffling the paperwork into an organized stack for later-use.

"Ick, no. But you acted... I dunno, different, after your first date. You were weird after the second one, but before that you were... different."

He raised a brow. "Different as in weird?" He guessed, reaching over to brush an erratic, and slightly smoke-singed lock of blue hair out of her face.

The tease was met only with a careful, pointed look up at him. Freckled nose scrunched slightly in thought, and for a moment, as the child gazed up at him, Silco wondered if the traits had switched... if he didn't know any better, Jinx's gaze up to him looked as if she was deciphering whatever kind of puzzle he had become.

A small part of him, silenced almost immediately, wondered if she would know the answer before he had a chance to figure it out.

"No," She said, a bit quietly as she shrugged. "Just different."

Silco didn't ask if she thought that was a bad, or good thing.

Accountability is important to Silco.

While fairness was the natural joke of life, that didn't mean he didn't believe in it at all. Fairness was what kept his operation in it's early days, and what keeps those who have lasted this long among his ranks, loyal.

Sevika is loyal - he has no doubt of it, and believes entirely that despite her slip-up, she knows the values of loyalty, even in the world in which none seems left to exist.

Despite that knowledge, accountability trumps loyalty, and he's keenly aware that the first visit to the brothel was on Sevika's suggestion. And since she seems so eager to speak her mind in regards to what he 'needs', is it not only fair he gives her the opportunity to speak once more?

Evening-off, or not.

Fingertips glide almost casually on the counter-edge of the bar, reinforced with a top of thin, gold-lined glass. Reflective, far grander then the splinter-happy hardwood it had beneath it... his knuckles make the faintest of sounds, barely even worth a description of noise.

Thieram, the fresh, new face behind the counter, heard it, and had a short glass of scotch prepared at the end of the counter by the time Silco reached it.

Control, while it was lax in other, far more personal areas, was still a smooth operation in the far larger and more important aspect. The Last Drop was a fortress - while the whole Zaun was almost entirely free of Enforcer reach, the Lanes were true, pure Zaunite territory. A melting pot of culture, of iron and glass, but despite the chaotic ingenious of the Lanes, The Last Drop acted as it's ultimate symbol of madness and control.

Control, which Silco had in spades of.

Which is why he grew still when he took note of Ran, casually sitting near the closed-curtains of a private booth, and not immediately standing at his approach. Not immediately moving aside where they were, clearly, standing-guard.

"Ran."

"Sir." Both of their eyes were wide, even the one beneath long, darker chopped-bangs.

Stiff, metal-hand creaking - he merely took a cool, long sip of his scotch as he studied what he imagined was his second's-second... Ran was a good choice. Quiet, but fierce. Often acted as muscle, but had some smarts behind it...

And loyal.

Loyal, and good at following orders.

Silco glanced towards the curtain again. "Was it on pain of death?"

Ran's flesh hand, partially covered in a fingerless-gloves, comes up to rub the space between flesh and machine on their own arm. "Something like that."

A muted sound came from beyond the curtain of the private booth - it sounded so suspiciously like a giddy little moan, that Ran winced and glanced away from the Eye's assessing glare.

The scotch filled his tongue, slipping between teeth and leaving an second bitter-sensation flowing through him. A sharp clink, and a pointed look between the uncomfortable third, and his now-empty glass, and Ran proved their loyalties once more by following the silent order to get up, return their employer's glass to the counter, and go away.

It was out of courtesy, and annoyance, that Silco raps his knuckles harshly on the frame of the booth. Muted whispers, husked and deep in conversation, stop immediately - there's a small, annoyed sigh accompanied by a rustle of fabric.

It's not a metal-hand the pulls the thick curtain away, but one that belongs to the scantily-clad woman straddling Sevika's lap, whose snarl dies with grey eyes flash wide at the sight of who interrupted them.

"Sir."

"Sevika." His duel-colored eyes flick to her... companion. "And Miss-"

"Izel," Tipping her chin up in defiance, her ochre-brown gaze is unimpressed as it roves over him - unimpressed, and looking annoyed at his temerity to interrupt. "She paid for a private evening."

"And this is my bar, not to include the fact that she's under my employment. Two points against one, irrelevant, point." The Eye points out shortly, and pointedly returned his attention to his second who had hastily dragged her poncho across a mouth smeared in the same color as her companion. "Sevika, if you would be so kind to dismiss your friend for the evening."

All three of the adults in this situation knew exactly what was going on. One was growing more irritated by the extended silence, one was extending that silence to absurd, unlike-herself levels, and Sevika's whore promptly got comfortable in her lap, looped her arms loosely around her neck, and raised a brow at him.

Clearly, she wasn't going anywhere.

Knuckles ached, but he forced his hands to relax at his side, solely resuming his attention to Sevika. "Recall our prior conversation, if you will."

"The one you told me to forget?"

"Glad to see your memory has yet to fail."

Izel snorts delicately, and doesn't so much as twitch as a metal hand grips her thigh in warning.

Silco desires nothing more than a smoke, but keeps his focus, as there will be time to temporary lose it later... "Well, I've taken such words into consideration, and I believe it would be beneficial if I took other words of yours into consideration," He says, earning a rare blink, a flicker of surprise in grey-eyes. It's not, never would be an apology, and far from a thanks for the unprovoked advice she sought to give earlier.

His tone is strictly business.

"I'm willing to take more words of yours into consideration - specifically, in the recreational department."

"I believe there's more than enough establishments along the Lanes for you to peruse to your liking on your own," Her voice is breathy, almost silvery in it's lightness, but it's a voice that's just as flat as her frosty eyes. "I also believe, you gave her the night off."

"That I did. And I also do have the power to change my mind, if her services are required," Silco said flatly, but this only earned a set of arms crossed, and one brow raised high over a skeptical eye as she mocked him - she mocked him?

"And you require someone else's services to find a new hole to fill?"

"Izel." The metal hand would surely leave behind a mark - her white dress, already short, was gathered high up her thighs, leaving long legs bare to see, but despite Sevika's growl and tight-grip, the woman didn't so much as bat an eye.

"What? It was my idea in the first place... I don't know why he thinks to ask you," The retort was hardly sharp, but still earned a glare, which was ignored as the woman turned, her long off-white hair slipping down her back with a practiced, perfected flick of her head. "I'm not sure why you're asking anyone... you could have anyone in the Undercity with enough coin, and Gods know you have enough of it."

"My sentiments exactly," Forget waiting. A cigar, clipped roughly and all but shoved between his teeth, before he lit it with his own lighter. A deep, relieving inhale before he flicked his gaze to his second - it was a chore to pull his growingly-scathing attention from the new headache known as Izel, but Silco managed, speaking in clipped tones to Sevika, and only Sevika.

"I'm going to be blunt, since nothing else seems to be breaking though. I require a distraction - one that, for this time, doesn't leave a trail of bodies," Jinx enjoyed referring to this as his business-tone, which was fitting. Viewing this as nothing more than business was easier, safer. "As stated, the last one was doable. I need the next to be better."

"You'd be looking for quite a while for someone to fit to the standards of the Eye, sir," Sevika said dryly, and shifted to sit up. The woman unmoving on her lap, followed by a hand placed on her broad chest, stopped.

"No, princess," The bright blonde smiled, and it Silco exhaled the smoke from his mouth with narrowed eyes. That smile was far from being all-sweet - there was something malicious, and almost knowing, in her dark gaze along with the curl of her painted lips. "I'll go."

"You weren't invited." Silco didn't believe in ban-lists for Drop patrons, there’s no need, when those are dragged out, they stay out. However, this woman was making him reconsider, particularly when he's ignored entirely.

Izel leans forward, catching Sevika's mouth scowling mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

Silco glances away, scowling. Considering those ban-lists again as the blonde pulls away, taken a bitten-lip with her before releasing with a pop, and some sentimental goodbye that Silco very much does not care for.

He makes this very known in the fierce glare he pins Sevika with, as Izel slides out with gracefulness unheard of to slip her arm into his - without being offered, of course - and the uppity sex-worker tugs him away.

The Eye finds his footing quickly, and remakes his control in all but storming through the front doors, dismissing any curious or concerned glances with an coolly infuriated one of his own.

"My, I knew you were moody, but this is on another level," His unwanted companion chirped, her voice akin to a song, even with a cigarette placed between her own lips, and her hand coming up to light it with...

His lighter.

He's going to demolish her.

"Quick-handed, aren't you?" Flatly, to avoid rousing her suspicions too-soon as he plots her end as she drops the lighter into his awaiting palm. Practically sucking-in smoke, Izel exhales with coiling-trails of smoke, that wave lazily around her face as she shrugs, slipping her arm from his the moment they're out of sight from The Last Drop.

"Quick-handed. Outspoken. Promiscuous-"

"You can add influential. A bad influence, if you will."

Izel glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, and for a moment, they are warm. Not with friendliness, but bemusement at his understanding. "Bad influence... Oh, I like that."

"I'm sure you do. Few...Hm, apologies, none possess the ability to get into the ear of my second-in-command," He comments, not a fool but not happy of the situation he's finally seeing in full. Silco becomes less happy as the blonde confirms, sounding almost proud as they stride through the walks of the Lanes.

"Sevika is a dear. Truly, one of my best... I enjoy seeing her happy, makes me feel a little good myself," The admittance is casual, though the small, fond glint in her smile is everything-but. "And I found out quickly, that one of the many, many ways to make her happy, is to make her happy with work. And since work is only happy when a certain Eye is, who is never happy..."

"Admirable goals, very selfless of you, but that's still manipulation that I don't quite appreciate," He says between his teeth and smoldering cigar. Fists are aching, but he refuses to let his bruised knuckles relax, but, pausing at some intersection or other, Izel takes one look at him, and scoffs. Scoffs, like he's a joke.

"You didn't appreciate someone saying nice things to you? I figure it was a win-win... they got paid a pretty penny to compliment you and give you a fun time, plus a few hours to forget how bitterly cold it is in this lonely world."

She turned sharply, and strode ahead so quickly, that a frozen-stiff Eye of Zaun actually let her walk away for a moment.

Cigar abandoned swiftly, Silco feels like a living-storm as he's quick to catch up, thin lips tugged back in a pure snarl at the audacity of this insufferable creature, "Who do you think you are?"

"Not afraid of you, that's for sure," The lady says with a scoff of dismissal as she once more takes the lead, earning an glare of icy-fury from her companion. "You give me no reason to be."

No reason to be...?

"No reason. Nothing," A pause, then Izel smoothly looks back at him during her strides, pearl-adorned hair pointedly flicked with her gaze back at him. Unimpressed, and true-to-word, unafraid. "Nothing, could make me afraid of you."

"Ah, but fear would look so good on you." So would his hands. Specifically, wound tight and pressing around her throat, but almost in a taunt, she flicks her hair back to expose the expanse of her neck... something glints in her hair in time with her eyes, and at first, Silco dismissed it as an odd, newly inventive hair-style, until he caught the glint of pearls.

Tiny, barely-visible beads, strategically woven within her hair. The woman would almost be something beautiful, if she wasn't quickly becoming an insufferable nightmare that he just couldn't quite get a rein over.

"You know why?"

"Why. What."

"I'm not afraid of you, because I know exactly what you are." Pausing, Izel slips the cigarette from her lips to balance between her fingers, tapping out access ash as they walked, and she spoke matter-of-factly. "You want, but don't want to give. Desperate, and loathe that you do. You seek control, and lose it in the process..."

"I wasn't aware you were a sort of philosopher." Maybe this is humoring him more than he realized. The utter audacity of this woman, despite knowing exactly who he is and surely, knowing exactly what he's capable of.

"Anyone could give you everything you've ever wanted, needed," A final inhale, smoke coiling around her face in her slow-exhale as she fixes him with deep, dark ochre-brown eyes. Knowing, in the more malicious ways. "But you hate the idea so much, you'll never take what's being offered right in front of your eye."

Elegantly, she flicks her cigarette to the ground below, and with a sharp pivot, turns and... marches into the building they stood in front of.

A building with bright florescent, flashing periodically in designed imagines made from their vibrant, excitement-inviting lights... it's almost painful, how bright is it, but Silco can't blink, not even with the sole-eyelid he still possesses.

It takes him a moment to move, and it's not to storm off. Not to reach for another cigar, or even to snap his fingers for the nearest available subordinate to heed...

Instead, perhaps foolishly, he steps-in after the woman.

She's sitting, laughably, like a lady at one of the semi-circle plush booths inside. Elbow propped on the table as she studies her nails with a pout, he reaches into the cleavage of her low-cut dress, and pulls out a small bottle as Silco sits across from her. Ignoring the bar, and certainly ignoring any other occupants in the open spaces, he sit, and immediately gets to the main point, "I'm informing you now that if you're found anywhere in the Lanes by morning, you won't be found ever again."

"Hm." Izel raises the bottle - nail-polish - up to light. Shaking it once to watch the bright purple color seemingly glow in the more dimmer-lighting of the open-room, she hums again in contentment, uncapping it to begin apply it onto her nails, right there at the table. "I have some folks still hanging-on around the 'coves, but I've made quite a life for myself down here. I think I'll stay."

He leans forward, speaking low. "That wasn't a recommendation. And it won't be one to be offered twice."

Blowing back a thick lock of hair, pearls and all over her shoulder, she ignored him entirely of slowly brushing in small strokes over short nails, dousing them in a fresh coat of shimmer-purple.

"You'll leave. Or you'll never be seen again."

"Counterproductive, don't you think? Now hush," Izel raises her gaze, and smiles. It's knowing, and malicious, and her eyes glow as the world around them darkens even further, the faint glow of florescent lighting outside the only memory of light. "I already paid, Eye of Zaun. Enjoy the free show... I imagine you will."

It's at this point, that Silco realizes that he has no idea where she's been allowed to lead him to. Irritation and appalment had blinded him, but thankfully, a bright spotlight in the center of the large room provides enough to take in the evidence.

Dozens of plush seating, all directed to face the center. The center-stage, with a pole centermost of that.

Members of his Nation, all eager and most intoxicated already, with a flush on their faces and eager gleam in their eyes, regardless of their inebriated status.

All attention is on the spotlighted center in the room.

His is quick to follow, when she steps out into the light. She...

She moves like a slip of fog, and his body is ignited.

A slow, coiling force that lifts on the ground. Far more sensual than sharp, snapping movements, the woman instead commands attention with slow, movements, that carry and coil like silk around a neck...

Commanding indeed. Not even the Eye of Zaun can look away from her.

From almost all of her. Both times, she'd been partially clad in their meetings... silk dresses that he never wanted to see off of her, and simultaneously wanted to rip from her body. And of course, that insufferable mask of smoke, hiding only her eyes in the vaguest sense, but still hiding too much.

Silco's throat dries up like a desert, as he takes in the fact that he sees her eyes for the first time. And the fire inside, blazes at the way they glitter, hooded and diamond-like in the gleam of bright spotlight above as she works around the pole in movements far-too elegant for the establishment she's in...

Others surely wouldn't agree. On-par for course they might say as she moves methodically and sensually to the deep-brass tones of the music around them, but Silco feels like the world is in hypnosis as he watches the beauty before him...

He breaks out of it, at the sound of a low, rolling chucking of knowing from across form him.

The world comes into focus, and another fire burns at the realization that she knew. The coy gaze of Izel didn't come from some misguided, foolish sense of arrogance... it came from knowing who this was.

More importantly, knowing who this was for him.

And knowing exactly where to find her...

Izel's knowing gaze, came from knowing she was leading the Eye of Zaun unwittingly into a trap.

And the only offense he has left, the sole weapon he has in his arsenal as he can only sit here and watch, is a simple set of words, spoken in a choked, devastated promise, "I could kill you for this."

Izel's defense comes in a sweet smile, and in three words, of a question spoken in the upmost innocence as she brushes on the next coat of her shimmering nail-polish. "Isn't she pretty?"

She still plays innocent, even as she smiles with glittering, dark satisfaction at how quickly her words force his eyes back to you.

"Lovely." He loathes to admit it aloud, but it's fact. You are.

Terrible, beautiful, intoxicating, unneeded, and he's surely losing his mind everytime your eyes shine under the lights, your hair catches a breeze with every turn, and the very  but -

"She's absolutely... lovely."

And now, she's a sight for everyone to see.

He needs a drink, desperately. Silco indeed feels murderous at the thought, those breathy-smiles, unheard of over the rhythmic, establishment-shaking beats of song as you twirl, slow in your steps around the pole...

Anyone could give him this... did he not convince himself of that, weeks prior? Did he not remind himself of that very concept, today?

A physical transaction, that anyone in Zaun could provide... that's what Silco believes, and he still does. But with that belief, that logical, sound and sane viewpoint, Silco failed to realize one flaw in the system of that belief...

His skin crawls at the sight of lips, pursing in an air-kiss she blows to some other bastard in the crowd. Flesh is flailing at the memory of that same mouth along his skin, and madly, he wonders if it still blazes though him like it sears...

And it's not for him.

Anyone could give him what he wanted... and she was able to give it to anyone.

Her back arches, breasts pushing against the thread-thin slips of fabric straining slightly as she holds her self-up by one, delicate hand on the pole...

There's a whistle, from somewhere. A jeer from another as she lets out a breathy-sound, one that's muted by the music but everyone has a good imagination in this building. Her free-hand hooks onto the strap of her panties, sliding down her thighs in a dance as mesmerizing as the one she does on her legs-

He wanted her.

The realization doesn't come with fire, or with a chill that freezes him in place - it shocks him, enough that he jolts, flat-palm faintly smacking the table-top. In the crackle of static, deep within his ears and mind, and as he watches the woman do a job she's probably done hundreds if nights before, for any other number of eyes before, Silco knows he only wants her watched under the Eye of one.

He wants her.

And it's with her palm sneaking slowly up to her mouth, pressing her lips delicately to her palm before blowing out a kiss with hooded eyes, Silco decides to take a page out of the knowingly-grinning Izel's book, and take, what's being offered before his very Eye.

"She only works here weekends. Works the brothel every other night."

"Has she taken new clients?"

"No. Working desk, or something pretty on the lines."

"Will she take permanent clients?"

Izel hums, lifting her hand - her nails glow in the dim lighting of the strip-club, her trap for him. "Depends on the coin. Depends on how much."

He could afford it, but Silco still narrows his eye, and has to drag it away from his lovely wisp of fog and fire on the stage, to the most insufferable, and sly woman he has ever met in his life. "How do you know so much about her?"

Izel shifts her hand from her studies, just enough to smirk at him. Knowingly, and this time, for the first time, free of malice.

Not for him, but for the woman on the stage, who Silco now sees she holds just as fondly as Sevika... not like Sevika, no. There's a hooded feature in her eyes, one that's familiar, a coy glint in her smile that Silco knows could very well be the twin of the one he's seen from the woman on stage.

Izel is a sister, in all but blood, to a fellow Lady of the Lanes.

And whose happiness she cares very, very much for, as seen in the way her smirk grows as understanding flashes in his duel-colored eyes. "Who do you think taught her how to dance?"

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