#the demon in the last one is peter isn't it-

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 3. Harshness and toughness (and how Sirius Black differs from James Potter). It's long. Really long.

Sirius isn't a soft crybaby. His harshness (and even cruelty) goes beyond the silly teenage pranks we usually see in fanfiction. Sirius is often either whitewashed by newer fans or overly demonized by anti-Marauders fans. Sirius has a tough exterior but a heart of gold. He's not childish and had to grow up early, though he can still be quite fun.

‘Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,’ said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. ‘Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought ... .’

"Of all the people to go over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought" – this shouldn't be taken literally. Rosmerta saw many others regularly, Dumbledore, Lily, Remus, and many others, and out of all of them, Sirius Black was the last who could turn to the Dark side? Seriously? Did Sirius walk around with a halo and angel wings?

One trait that is always emphasized in his appearance is his haughty, bored look.

Rosmerta speaks metaphorically, not literally. She saw Sirius once a month or two when they went out to Hogsmeade to have fun and drink. In those moments, Sirius was lively, funny and noisy (especially lively after running away from home), and perhaps he even flirted with Rosmerta in a childish manner, melting the heart of the adult woman.

Sirius can be funny, although his humor is always edging towards dark:

"Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose.’ 

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset. 

‘Sirius!’ she said reproachfully. ‘Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I’m sure he’d respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he’s got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –’ 

‘So, what are Umbridge’s lessons like?’ Sirius interrupted. ‘Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?’

Moreover, he interrupts Hermione, not letting her finish her point. He sharply outlines if he doesn't want to listen.

"the stuffed elf-heads on the hall wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards"

Dark humor.

‘Kreacher is cleaning,’ the elf repeated. ‘Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black –’ 

‘And it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy,’ said Sirius.

Here he responds with a clear "Black" shade. His mother also loved to talk about filth.

‘Sirius – it’s me ... it’s Peter ... your friend ... you wouldn’t ...’ Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled. ‘There’s enough filth on my robes without you touching them,’ said Black.

And again. And here’s his mother:

‘Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –’ 

‘Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ...’

Sirius desperately wants to be unlike the Blacks, but he is still Sirius Black.

‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius's humor isn't the only harsh thing about him. Even though here he has a reason – after Azkaban he met James's traitor – his way of speaking reflects his overall personality. The way one speaks is a mirror of personality, even if Sirius has PTSD, it only exposes even more vividly what he might control in a calm state.

‘Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.’ (Peeves)

At the same time, yes, he can be cheerful and infect everyone around him with his cheerfulness. If he's in a sombre mood, he creates a quite oppressive atmosphere around him that everyone feels. Just as with a good mood – everyone feels it.

Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas. 

-

Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak’s room, singing ‘God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs’ at the top of his voice. 

-

Sirius’s delight at having the house full again, and especially at having Harry back, was infectious. He was no longer their sullen host of the summer; now he seemed determined that everyone should enjoy themselves as much, if not more than they would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with their help.

But the ability to be cheerful is in no way connected to being very harshn at the same time. This is precisely the case with Sirius.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous (the author wrote about him, “The best-looking, most rebellious, most dangerous of the four marauders”). James was also a bully, but he's not harsh, despite the fact that it was he who pulled down Snape's trousers. Why? I think Sirius was already aware of what they were doing. James – not. Without awareness, it's too early to speak of any harshness and cruelty. Sirius had this awareness and still continued to do it.

Let's consider the reactions of Sirius and James in comparison.

‘Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?’ 

Sirius did not smile. ‘My whole family have been in Slytherin,’ he said.

‘Blimey,’ said James, ‘and I thought you seemed all right!’ 

Sirius grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?’

A small note: Sirius didn't even react to James's "I'd leave", even though he knew his whole family was from Slytherin, and he was likely to go there too.

James lifted an invisible sword. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!” Like my dad.’ Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

‘Got a problem with that?’ ‘No,’ said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. ‘If you’d rather be brawny than brainy –’

It was Snape who starts the confrontation on a personal level. James in his insults in this memory refers to moral qualities. "Who wants to be in Slytherin?" Only bad people. He is prejudiced against Slytherin because Slytherin is evil. Voldemort is gaining momentum. The first Muggle-born Minister was recently ousted. Attacks are happening here and there. Dark forces are growing. More and more of the pure-blood society talks about "Mudbloods" not belonging in this world. And "amazingly", they all turn out to be from Slytherin. James sees himself as a noble knight "James lifted an invisible sword", and he is against Slytherin not so much personally as against the moral component of Slytherin.

‘Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?’ interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. Lily sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

Sirius immediately strikes at Snape's personality. Sirius is sharp-tongued, self-assured, and likely accustomed to considering others below himself. He probably assessed James as his equal right away. Brave, cheerful, sincere.

'Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment.'

'Oooooo...'

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice; James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

'See ya, Snivellus!' a voice called, as the compartment door slammed...

James tried to trip Snape. James most often uses physical/magical force. He trips Snape, he pulls down Snape's trousers, he uses most of the spells on Snape in SWM. But it's Sirius who goes after Snape's personality. It looks like James has concocted a "noble justification" for his behavior and attitude and punishes Snape for existing just as he is.

Sirius, on the other hand, hardly uses magical/physical force in memories; he finds painful points in Snape's personality – from character to appearance, intentionally demeaning his personal traits.

Moreover, it was Sirius who focused on Snape's appearance. No one, except him, places such an emphasis on Snape's unattractive appearance and his untidiness.

'Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,'

Very vivid epithets. Sirius is very eloquent when it comes to demeaning someone he dislikes.

Moreover, it's James who's the attention seeker. It's James who plays with the snitch, drawing attention, glancing at the girls by the lake, and ruffling his hair to show everyone how cool, strong, brave, and awesome he is.

After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn’t tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. Harry noticed that his father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

While Sirius, likely, isn't much interested in societal validation. Sirius is more reserved, with firmer boundaries, he's not as interested in public adoration as James might be.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

This is a typical expression for Sirius – bored and haughty. He spent nearly five full years in Gryffindor alongside James, and the bored and haughty expression is still with him. It's not just a random trait in his character – it's one of the pillars of his personality, reflecting his attitude towards random people around him.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

As I've said, Sirius cuts with his words without a knife. They've been studying together for five years, been friends with Peter, and he jokes about Peter like this. I think they all joked about each other in the same way, just James's "jokes" are blunt and probably he just says whatever comes to mind, whereas Sirius's are more subtle and hurtful.

Moreover, when people say this is the only episode we know of bullying by James and Sirius and that it's the worst in their history, that's not correct. This episode is the worst in Snape's life. And not because they pulled down his trousers. But because he lost Lily forever that day. This episode, likely, was quite typical for the Marauders. They were in a good mood, had finished exams, Snape just happened to pass by, there were no obvious reasons for this bullying. Harry sifted through their detention records, and there were many, very many, and how many more when they weren't caught?

Sirius got bored, and there they decided to "have some fun."

‘I’m bored,’ said Sirius. ‘Wish it was full moon.’ 

‘You might,’ said Lupin darkly from behind his book. ‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here ...’ and he held out his book. 

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

I won't discuss The Prank here, many have written about it. In general, Sirius doesn't show empathy in everyday interactions even with Remus. Sirius has a heart of gold, but his shell, especially as a teenager – tough, harsh, sharp, and cutting. The grown-up Sirius interacts with close people much more politely, though he still occasionally shows his harshness (for example, with Hermione).

‘This’ll liven you up, Padfoot,’ said James quietly. ‘Look who it is ...’ 

Sirius’s head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit. 

‘Excellent,’ he said softly. ‘Snivellus.’

I don't want to justify Sirius and James, but for context – Snape is fascinated by the Dark Arts, hangs out with future Death Eaters (= fascist), and they have mutual dislike from the first year. No, the act is immature, but James justifies it in his head exactly like this – Snape is bad for him, so anything goes, and anyway, "so what?" Sirius doesn't need justifications. He's just bored.

Even when James uses all the spells on Snape, he still glances at the lake:

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

Why look at the girls by the lake when you're humiliating someone, if you know you're doing something really bad? James genuinely sees himself as a noble knight, deserving of admiration. Moreover, many do admire him (''Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Several people watching laughed''), and Lupin mentioned several times that James was popular at school.

‘How’d the exam go, Snivelly?’ said James. 

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’ 

Again, Sirius harshly targets Snape's personal traits, including his appearance.

‘You – wait,’ he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, ‘you – wait!’ 

‘Wait for what?’ said Sirius coolly. ‘What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?’ 

And again – Sirius strikes with words.

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

‘Wash out your mouth,’ said James coldly. ‘Scourgify!’

And James responds with a spell to what? Snape's insults. He says ‘Wash out your mouth.’ He appeals to the moral side of the issue.

‘I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!’

‘Apologise to Evans!’ James roared at Snape, his wand pointed  threateningly at him. ‘I don’t want you to make him apologise,’ Lily shouted, rounding on James. ‘You’re as bad as he is.’ ‘What?’ yelped James. ‘I’d NEVER call you a – you-know-what!’

This also proves that James is sure he's doing everything right. James is like a volunteer in the allies' army against the fascists, a brave Gryffindor, and his sword is to cast spells on anyone he deems not fitting his moral standards.

‘Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can – I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.’

And from the outside, it looked like this.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

And Sirius understands it all too well. Who he is, who James is, and what Lily thinks about it all. Sirius knows about James's crush on Lily and finds it even funny that she rejects him. Likely because Sirius understands that they often cross the line. I don’t think Sirius could have stopped Potter. I don't even think Sirius wanted to stop Potter. He found it all funny. Azkaban, on the other hand, softened Sirius in his interactions with others. It knocked down his pride and arrogance. Showed him that life can be unfair and you don't need to act like a haughty jerk who thinks the world revolves around them.

At school, Sirius was more about psychological bullying, while James was about the physical. Given that James and Sirius were very popular at school and within their house, their bullying was likely directed mostly at Slytherins or at arrogant jerks like themselves who they just "didn't like."

And the adult Sirius understands that they were “arrogant little berks.” And he’s “not proud of it,” but his next words speak for themselves:

“ I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts.”

Sirius justifies James while simultaneously praising him. Justifications always imply a partial denial of guilt. Someone fully aware of their guilt doesn’t seek to justify or be justified. Of course, Sirius said this for Harry's sake too. To ensure Harry didn’t think his father was just a bully for no reason. His father was actually “on the side of good,” is what Sirius wants to convey. About himself, he remains silent. But he doesn't miss the chance to insult Snape again “little oddball.”

Even Remus, as an adult, sincerely justifies James.

‘She started going out with him in seventh year,’ said Lupin. 

‘Once James had deflated his head a bit,’ said Sirius. ‘And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,’ said Lupin.

 ‘Even Snape?’ said Harry. ‘Well,’ said Lupin slowly, ‘Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?’ 

‘And my mum was OK with that?’ 

‘She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,’ said Sirius. ‘I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?’

Lupin finds a genuine justification for James. The concept of “violence in any form is bad” isn’t fully grasped by them. They follow an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Lupin even was ready to kill Peter, and he insisted that war is not a playground and that killing is sometimes necessary in war. Remus, though gentler and kinder, and preferring not to engage in conflict, genuinely wished Sirius and James hadn't bullied anyone at school, but yet, he still reconciles with all they do and even justifies James.

In Sirius's mind, James may have acted like a fool, but Sirius doesn’t genuinely condemn it. He just thinks they were too arrogant. And Sirius’s behavior after Azkaban (how he became gentler with others) indicates he truly realized – you don't need to belittle everyone you dislike or even like. Yet, Sirius’s harshness, even after Azkaban, didn’t disappear; it was just redirected towards what he genuinely hates.

‘Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me –’ 

Black made a derisive noise. 

‘It served him right,’ he sneered. ‘Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to ... hoping he could get us expelled ...’

Remus's reactions are much softer, but Sirius’s reaction, even years later, is harsh and even a bit cruel. ‘It served him right.’ Because it's an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

However, Sirius’s harshness still occasionally breaks through even towards his close ones when he slightly loses control over himself after Azkaban.

‘You’re less like your father than I thought,’ he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. ‘The risk would’ve been what made it fun for James.’ 

‘Well, I’d better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs,’ said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. ‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’

Sirius calls themselves “arrogant little berks,” but the peculiarity of Sirius’s arrogance is that it's due to his personal qualities, not external “glamour”.

 ‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you?’

He despises Peter for groveling, for weakness, for the same reasons he despises Regulus, considering him a soft idiot. Sirius’s arrogance was never built on finances or blood purity, on popularity, on playing Quidditch, not on his name, although the family dynamics undoubtedly influenced his pride. But overall, his arrogance is of a different level – that of a rebellious spirit, a very strong person, not like the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy is intentionally depicted as the complete opposite of Sirius Black (in character – the most rebellious of their pure-blood circle and the most sycophantic, and in appearance – black and white).

Sirius and Kreacher's story demonstrates that Sirius does not forgive those he hated and can carry hatred through the years. People usually soften over time, but Sirius has an excuse – Azkaban. Nonetheless, the behavioral pattern remains unchanged. Azkaban does not change the essence of people, it makes certain traits more vivid and pronounced. Sirius became calmer towards the people around him who help fight against evil, he toned down his arrogance and pride (even towards Snape, he no longer hurls insults first, it’s Snape who insults Sirius first), but Sirius became even harsher towards those he hates.

‘Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. I’ve said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did ... and so did Sirius.’

Harry had no retort. As he watched Kreacher sobbing on the floor, he remembered what Dumbledore had said to him, mere hours after Sirius’s death: I do not think Sirius ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human’s ...

And he himself demonstrates this repeatedly:

At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione’s protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

Dumbledore believes Sirius showed cruelty to Kreacher through his indifference and neglect. That is, Sirius could shut off his empathy towards a being, despite generally being friendly towards house-elves.

‘He (Sirius) regarded him (Kreacher) as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike… Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.’

Sirius was not evil. But the neglect emanating from him was very cruel, harsh, and cold. Sirius can shut away all the good within him towards anyone he despised – “And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier –”

‘– comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too –’

‘Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!’ said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

However, Sirius likely never killed anyone, even while serving in the "Order."

Regarding his family and even Regulus, Sirius is also harsh. Even if he, like any child, deep down loved his family, it doesn’t matter because his real words and actions are very harsh and aimed at severing ties. The possible love for them deep down only further highlights his harshness and readiness for confrontation.

“I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them”

Likely, he’s ashamed of them, and his hatred also builds a wall between them and himself.

‘Does it matter if she’s my cousin?’ snapped Sirius. ‘As far as I’m concerned, they’re not my family. She’s certainly not my family. I haven’t seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D’you think I’m proud of having a relative like her?’

And at the same time Dumbledore about James:

‘I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry,’ he said gently. ‘He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it.’

I don’t know how true this is (though likely, the author speaks through Dumbledore here), but considering that Harry himself is a character whose main traits include the ability to understand and forgive others, perhaps James had this to some extent too. But Sirius lacks the ability to forgive, and this is deliberately shown in the book – that he suffered precisely because of his excessive harshness.

In conclusion, Sirius's harshness and toughness is not just teenage arrogance; it's directly a trait of his personality, something that cannot be overlooked when talking about the canonical Sirius, not his sugar-coated substitute in fandom. Sirius had to grow up very early, and all this left its mark on him.

Of all the Marauders, only Sirius is really harsh and can be truly dangerous.

But Sirius was not cruel in a moral-ethical sense, or more precisely – ideologically. There's no reason to believe Sirius is constantly drawn to the dark side or that he's amoral. His constant fight against his family suggests instead that he formed high ideals within himself. No, Sirius is not amoral; he has difficulty with empathy (especially in childhood), a tendency towards aggression and cruelty (mostly in childhood, he controls himself quite well as an adult. Well, for Sirius Black quite well), arrogance, but he very well understands what is right and what is wrong.

‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

[thankssteveditko]

An overly-simplified introduction to the "Marvel Method"

As I begin to cover Amazing Spider-Man, it's probably worth explaining the basics of this up front for anyone who isn't aware. Over on Thanks Ken Penders, I talk about comics generally made the "traditional" way. A writer writes a detailed script, and then it's handed off to the art team to draw what the script says, with perhaps a bit of interpretive wiggle room. That's what you'd expect, right? But back in the '60s, Marvel developed their own creative method that came to be known as... well, the Marvel Method.

It varied from team to team, but the steps of the Marvel Method (or the "plot script" method) are basically this:

The "writer" comes up with a basic synopsis of the story - not a full script

The "penciller" takes that synopsis and draws up the full story, determining the specifics of what actually happens

Finally, the art is handed back to the writer, who comes up with the dialogue based on what the artist has decided to draw

The argument for this process is that a comic artist should be a strong storyteller as well, and that the artist may know how to break the action down panel-by-panel better than a writer would. In reality, the actual explanation is that Stan Lee was working on way too many comics at once in the '60s, and so he offloaded some of the burden of storytelling to artists Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko because... well, they were Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko.

It should probably not be surprising that the Marvel Method created a lot of problems.

For one, before long, Kirby and Ditko were basically just plotting whatever they wanted for Fantastic Four and Spider-Man, then letting Stan fill in the dialogue... but Stan was still getting full credit as writer, making it seem like the stories were all his doing. (He would eventually start giving them credit for plotting.) Even when Stan did give them plots like he was supposed to, sometimes they'd go do something wildly different anyway. Stan intended to make the Green Goblin an ancient Egyptian demon found in a sarcophagus by a film crew, but Steve basically went "I'm not fucking doing that" and made him a human villain instead. Can you imagine a comic artist going completely rogue like that in this day and age? It's nuts! (But also, Ditko made the right call there.)

Because Stan had the final say when it came to dialogue, this also meant he could directly contradict the intent of the artists. Hilariously, I've found anecdotes about Stan both watering down Ditko's later attempts at giving Peter increasingly Objectivist views and also removing references to the ideology from a Kirby story seemingly intended to make fun of Objectivism. But while these examples are funny when juxtaposed like that, on the whole it's easy to understand how frustrating it is to have Stan Lee swooping in at the last second and completely changing the meaning of your story, then taking the credit for writing it.

Is it any wonder that Kirby and Ditko both felt they weren't being given their proper due at Marvel and left for other companies? Is it any wonder that the Marvel Method isn't used much in the modern age? But, basically, this method and this history of improper crediting are why it's difficult to determine exactly who did what for a lot of these early Spider-Man comics.

[97keanu]

"ˣ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ

ʷᵃˢʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵗʰʳᵒᵒᵐ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵈˢ"

Dave Lizewski x demonic!Reader

Premise: In this chapter, Dave takes Katie to Melody Lane Tavern, along with You and the rest of the group because somehow, he isn't really sure why, this has turned into a group outing. When you see Dave and Katie chatting it up, you decide to get a little revenge by dancing with Todd on the dance floor before the real concert starts. Unfortunately, Dave seems inspired and begins dancing with Katie. You find out how far your heartless mean girl soul is willing to go to get revenge for the jealousy you feel.

Later, you find out what happens to bad girls who decide to double down and get interested in the lead singer.

Tags/CW: Dark Fic, Dark Themes, Morally wrong choices, Nerdy!Dave, Jealous!reader, Jealous!Dave, DRAMA, a lot of miscommunications, semi-sex crazed!reader, reader who is a mean girl who likes to fuck her feelings away, wrong person wrong time, right person is just out of reach, refusal to admit crushes, mutual pining, revenge sex, aggressive, doggy, blowjobs, soul connection, red string of fate, soul connection sex, public orgasm, hidden orgasm, dubious consent on that one, semi-mentions of drugging, blood, gore, canon typical gore, reader is taken advantage of via demonic spell, reader is kidnapped, cliff hanger but there are a lot of dark themes in this one so needed a little break where we stop.

A/N: This chapter is packing a LOT. We are going to start out pretty fun and I'm throwing the Todd Haynes girlies a bone (if you forgot who he is in Kick Ass, he's Evan Peters <3). Later in the chapter we meet the creep, Nikolai, and unfortunately there is horror and angst once again. Our two lovers are in for a long night.

Read part one here, and read this part on ao3 here read part three here

words: 7.2k

Likes/reblogs/comments inspire me to keep going!

Early spring has a chill in the air that makes Dave's bones shiver. Winter still hasn't unleashed her grasp on the small town of Devil's Kettle, and Dave is pulling his jacket closer to his body for warmth as his breath trails in front of him. He has a strange feeling that the chill isn't just from the cold. No, there's something off about tonight, he just has no idea what.  Besides that, he had horrible dreams all last night. He can't remember much of them, but what he does remember involves blood running down stone, the rushing sound of water, and for some reason, your voice screaming out for him. Speaking of you, Dave is currently following your puffy jacket silhouette in the dark as the two of you walk up to Melody Lane Tavern. He sees you shoot him an interesting look over your shoulder, he wishes he could ever get a real read on what you are feeling. Even though he finds himself knowing you so deeply, anticipating your needs most of the time before you even voice them, he never knows how you truly feel. Which is to say that right now, you're shooting him a look that he can only describe as repressed anger, but he has no idea why you would be so angry with him. He hates when he thinks you’re angry at him the most, he can’t help but feel like everyone else who thought you two made an odd pair might just end up being right about it not working. That's another thing, he has no idea why you of all people would ever give him, world-class nerd, the time of day. Yes, you two have been friends ever since you plucked him off the playground and proclaimed best friends forever in front of all the other five-year-olds there, but this fairytale should have ended a long time ago for him. He was so sure that by the time you two reached middle school, you would see the truth, hear all the mean things the other kids would say about him, and walk away like his mom did his dad.  But no, you actually stayed, and on top of that, you never even made him feel like a loser. You never said anything about him liking comics or being obsessed with superhero movies. Even when Dave told you that he wishes he could be a superhero, like a real-life superhero, you just listened and told him that you 'found him pretty super'. It was one of your rare tender moments with him. Not to say that you two aren't extremely close, but it does feel like half the time he never really knows what you actually think of him, beyond being a best friend and someone you can depend on. 

For a while, especially when puberty hit and his hormones went crazy, he wondered if he could ever actually be with you, in more than a friend way. But Dave also knew that every other boy in school was hounding for you, and you confided in him that you hated how it made you feel like an object. Your adamant denial of boy after boy really made Dave believe he had zero chance with you. In fact, he tried so hard not to see you as a romantic interest so as not to ruin the lifeline friendship he had with you, since at the time you were his only friend. 

No, Dave learned years ago to keep his feelings for you hidden deep, and by now it's as easy as breathing not to act on them. Even if sometimes you drift through his mind while he gets some much-needed release at night, he feels guilty after, knowing to his core that you would never love a guy like him more than a friend. And he was content with that just to be near you, but he also knows if that's the case, then he needs to move on to someone actually in his league. 

That's where Katie Deauxma comes in. Todd and Marty have been hounding Dave for years to find some girl, any girl to talk about with them. While they have been lusting after anything feminine and that walks, he's never chimed in. In fact, they're not as close friends as he wishes he could be because of that. It makes it so awkward. Not to say Dave isn't a man with needs, but he is not a total horn dog the way they are. 

This was a point of contention between the three boys. At first, they actually tried to get Dave to admit to secretly fucking you all these years, or at least being some sort of cuckold to your obviously promiscuous ways. You're one of the most popular girls in school, of course, you're a whore, right? Well, Dave knows for a fact that you've never had sex. You would have told him that, he's your best friend. Even though that information would have hurt him, despite his constant refusal to accept or admit what's under the surface for you, he believes he would know if you had had sex. That's what best friends do, tell each other stuff like that. 

After Dave finally had a break and stopped talking to Todd and Marty for a week, they didn't bring up their suspicions that something had to have transpired sometime between the two of you. Instead, they moved on to trying to get interested in any girl at school that wasn't you. 

That's when Dave finally noticed Katie. She sat next to him in Biology III and for the whole semester, Dave never gave her a second glance. When she and him were partnered on a project last week though, he learned she was actually really nice, and he kind of liked her laugh. She wasn't as beautiful as you, not by far, but she wasn't not pretty. No, she had her own charms, and in fact, she was much more in Dave's league than you would ever be, and that was a more pressing fact. Along with the other fact that Dave was a Certified Virgin, who had never had even a kiss before, Katie seemed like a safe bet. Obtainable. 

And now here he is going with you to see her at this concert tonight, which he still can't quite believe was an accident on your part for turning it into a group outing. He just doesn't get why you would do that to argue anyways. So now the two of you are meeting Todd and Marty here, while Katie brings along her friend Erika. 

Dave feels you grab his hand and pull him into the bar as Marty and Todd have a senseless game of pool in the corner. He allows you to pull him to towards them, and he catches a glimpse of you two in the mirrored backsplash of the bar. For a moment, it almost looks as if you are the one bringing Dave to a date, the way you’re pulling on his hand and biting your glossy, juicy lips with a smile. He can’t help it, his heart flutters around his ribcage, and he has to close his eyes for a moment to make it stop. He knows he can’t think like that, especially when he’s trying to have a date with Katie right now. 

Todd and Marty stop their goofing around to welcome Dave and you, and you can see a twinkle in Todd’s eye as he looks you up and down. That’s something else, Dave knows for a fact that his friends, Todd more so than Marty, are totally obsessed with you. They think it’s awesome they get to actually hang out with a popular girl when it once in a blue moon happens that all of you are put together in an outing such as this. And Todd isn’t even subtle about how badly he wants you, he gets hard just seeing you enter with a low-cut top and mini skirt. Oh yes, Todd is going to have the most wicked thoughts about you tonight when he’s in his bed alone, Dave can practically see the scenes play out in his mind right now. Dave isn’t sure why the idea of Todd having such a hard-on for you angers him so, but it does. If Dave were a different man, he would knock Todd out just for looking at you the way he does. But he doesn’t have that kind of authority, Dave isn’t entitled to worry about who drools over you are not. 

“Dave! You finally made it, are you ready to totally woo Katie tonight?” Dave could audibly groan from how loud Todd is saying it, and as Todd does, Dave notices your eyebrow twitch out of the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah, sure dude, hopefully it goes over well as a group thing…” Dave says half-heartedly, honestly feeling a bit lost right now in the decades-old bar, not really sure why he is here in the first place.

He knows why, of course, but something about tonight just feels totally off. Honestly, his muscles feel so tense, like he needs to run, get out of here. He also has this deep feeling to take you with him, something tells him you’re not safe here tonight, none of you are. He wonders if this is what the unknowing teens of a B-list horror movie feel at the start of the night, this heavy cloud over their heads that they keep denying is going to surely drown them if they don’t take action. Just like those teens, Dave chooses to ignore the feeling and sit down at a table with the group. 

As he does, Katie and her friend Erika come through the doors of the bar, Katie getting up onto her tippy toes to look around for Dave. He immediately jumps up from the table, knocking his knees against it like the dork he is, and trying to not acknowledge the pain, instead waving Katie over the best he can through gritted teeth. God, he hopes he doesn’t look like a complete loser right now. He feels terribly insecure at the moment. 

“Katie! Over here!” Dave calls out, and Katie finally spots him, pulling Erika over with her. 

They fit into the booth with ease, Katie sitting next to Dave, who is sandwiched between her and you. Dave can't see you seething while he chats up Katie. 

No, instead he leaves you next to Todd and Marty who are arguing over which girl in whatever video game of the week is the hottest. You cannot believe how head over heels nerdy Dave is for Katie. Your heart sinks, and the burn it leaves is practically radiating off of you, even Todd notices your reaction. 

"Hey, you alright?" His geeky voice asks nervously. Even though he and Dave were good friends, he hardly ever got to talk to you. You really didn't give him the time of day either, but he couldn't help that he thought you were one of the hottest girls in school. He often wishes that Dave would give up the details between you two, there's no way there's nothing going on between you two, right?

You ignore Todd for a moment, focusing on how Katie just made Dave laugh instead, and that's when a wicked plan began unfolding in your pretty little head. You turn to Todd. 

"Yeah, I'm just peachy, Todd." You put on a fake smile and bat your long lashes at him. "Actually, would you like, totally come dance with me?"

Todd's face goes red, his words unable to come to the surface for a moment, then he nods, excitedly. 

"Y-Yeah, I'd, I'd love to!" He looks back over at Marty who seems in disbelief that Todd is getting to dance with you. 

You turn to Dave who is blushing and asking Katie all about her day, and scooch. 

"Hey, Dave, can you let us out of the booth? Me and Todd are going to go dance." You say it so sweetly, so innocently, and yet Dave's blue eyes go bigger than usual, confused. You continue to move towards him so he and Katie have to get up. 

When you and Todd are out, Dave says something he can't help himself from. 

"Why? Why would you do that?" He knows you don't like Todd, not even really as a friend, why would you ever go dance with him? Todd's face looks at Dave angrily for his comment. 

"Because why not?" You say with a smile and take Todd's arm, leading him more towards the dance floor. Dave is speechless. He sits back down with Katie. 

He has the hardest time keeping his eyes off you and Todd. Katie begins to pick up the conversation from before, but Dave's interest is split. He sees as you rub your body into Todd, Todd at first looking like he might faint, then gripping into your hips and actually helping you! How could he do this to Dave? 

Katie tries to grab Dave's interest again, she was actually having a pretty good time before this. She glances at Erika, who is next to Marty as if to say 'What the hell?' to Dave's reaction. Erika shrugs and now Marty is trying to invest her in a conversation about Star Wars that she's surprisingly not uninterested in. 

"Dave? Do you want to go dance too?" Katie finally asks him, and he has to blink and rethink what she just said to take his attention off of you, where you're grinding your ass into Todd's crotch. 

"What? I mean…" He glances back to where Todd looks like he might just cum in his pants right there and then, and his own anger starts to drift somewhere inside him. He knows he has no right to be angry with you, you're not his girlfriend, and you're way too good for him. But if that's the case then why the fuck are you dancing with Todd? 

Dave looks back into Katie's eyes and nods, his brow furrowed. 

"Actually, I'd love to dance, Katie. Let's go." It's the most confident thing he's spoken all night, and for a moment Katie is wooed by how bad he seems to want to dance with her. 

Dave leaves the booth with Katie and begins to take to the crowd where you and Todd are dancing. He hopes you see him as he puts his hands on Katie's waist, not quite bold enough to dance as provocatively as you are, or sure of if Katie would enough that. 

You're still dancing to the pre-concert music, your eyes closed and feeling weirdly excited that Todd's cock is hard against your ass. You never really wanted to talk to him since he's such a geek and way too much of a loser, but he isn't ugly. No, you always thought it was strange how Todd was actually pretty good-looking, but his personality was never really your cup of tea. It doesn't matter much anyways, you're doing this to make Dave jealous. Speaking of, where was he?

You open up your eyes and spot the seated Erika and Marty with no Dave insight. You scan the crowd immediately, and your eyes land on Dave and Katie dancing, your jaw tightening. Did he really wanna play this game with you? For some reason, tonight you're feeling like you'd risk it all to make a point. You watch Dave until his eyes catch back to you, and you hold his gaze while you bend all the way down and show Todd your ass. You're surprised that some of the crowd goers are even watching, a few cheering when you do your filthiest moves. You can see as Dave's mouth falls open for a moment, and you can't help but smirk. You wonder if that's what set him off because suddenly he's leaning in towards Katie, and it looks like he's going to kiss her. 

You could scream, the only blessing being that if he did kiss her, you missed it as the crowd gets more encircled where you and Todd still dance. You can't see Dave, but you hope he can see you. You flip around and face Todd, where he's totally head over heels for the whole experience. He has a totally goofy grin on his face, and he looks you in the eyes and does something you're surprised by. He brings you in and crushes his lips against yours. 

Now, you know you could have done it to him, as revenge for Dave kissing Katie, but something had stopped you. You're not sure if it's because the switch that made you attracted to Todd hadn't flipped or something else, but when he kisses you, you can't seem to find it unpleasant. In fact, you close your eyes and lean into the kiss. 

You've kissed a few of the few boys at school you every so often found some fun in, but Todd is actually a pretty good kisser in comparison to anyone else you've kissed. You feel like your lips are tingling when they're pressed to his, and somehow your hands are up and twisted in his messy mousy curls. You can almost hear Todd moan if it wasn't for how loud the music was. As you pull away, Todd only becomes more eager for you, kissing down your neck, somehow hitting all the spots that turn you on. You can't help the heat that spreads down your back and between your legs. Maybe you can do something to really get back at Dave, but would it be too much? 

You have no idea if Dave can even see you anymore, but you feel so compelled to drag Todd to the restroom right now. He wouldn't be your first, and your sex drive has never been low. Besides, maybe a good fuck would make this night easier, and make your heart less tender. You know somehow you will regret this later, but here you are, whispering your plan into Todd's ear. He looks at you like he's dreaming, totally into it and dazed by the fact that you actually want to fuck him. It's more of him who's dragging you to the restroom instead of the other way around. 

You quickly find a single-stall bathroom, opening it, and closing it behind you two. Todd already has his hands on you, he wants you so bad. He doesn't even know if he should tell you he has never had sex before, but god he is so lucky that he gets to do it with one of the most popular, sexy girls in school. He is halfway through getting your skirt down when he stops to look you in the eyes, none of this makes sense.

"Are you sure you really want me to…?" He starts, his breath heavy from how much he's been kissing you. You grab him and pull him in. 

"Yes, I know, it's weird for me too how badly I want to fuck your nerdy cock, but can you do me a favor and just bend me over already?" You don't know what's gotten into you, tonight has been so strange, but you oddly feel like it's meant to happen this way. You can't deny how horny you are either. 

Todd doesn't even need to hear anything else, he's ready to take all of your commands. You bend over the sink and look into the mirror with a slightly bitchy smile, and Todd needs to fuck that smug look off your face right now. He drops his jeans and grabs your ass, wrenching your panties down, the moment making him bold. 

His cock is so hard against your ass, and you can't believe he has the audacity to tease it between your ass cheeks. You almost gasp when he does though, surprised at how big he is. You never took him for having that big of a cock, but it's moderately girthy and long. The feeling of it against your bare skin excites you, and you feel his precum painting your ass. You look into the mirror and give him a look that lets him know you're done being played with, you need his cock right now. He obliges happily, spreading your legs and lining himself up, wetting the tip of his cock with your own wetness. 

You jump from how quickly he slams into you, not expecting this energy from such a dork. You gasp from the feeling of being so full so quickly and look at Todd, seeing how satisfied he is with your reaction. God, is this nerd really going to fuck you like this? You were used to being more dominant, but you bite your lip and cry out as Todd continues to move inside of you, his cock is just so hard. 

You hope Dave can tell how much you're enjoying this. Something tells you he can feel it, you don't know why, but it's as if you can almost feel your energy centered on sending itself to him. 

Todd lifts your leg up with ease, again surprising you with his strength. He leans that leg onto the sink countertop, and you cannot believe how deep he's getting in your pussy, the feeling making you forget about Dave for the moment. Todd pushes your body until your face is practically against the mirror's glace, your breath making condensation against it. Todd is totally lost in the feeling of your tight pussy, his breath husky and his muscles tight. 

"Fuck….you like this you little whore?" He says, almost to himself, quietly like it's a kink he's not sure he can have with you. For some reason, the fact that this loser had you so vulnerable and was fucking you so hard was turning you on. When he called you a 'little whore' you couldn't help but feel your pussy tremble. 

"Oh yeah?" You say, breathy and looking back at him. "Why don't you tell me how you like fucking this slutty cunt?" 

Todd seems emboldened once again and picks up the pace, his thrusts almost hurting but you find the sensation to be amazing. 

"I can't believe you're such a filthy girl that you'd let a loser like me fuck you without a condom." He almost growls out, and you remember that you in fact did forget to use protection. The thought sends a mixture of fear and pleasure through your body. The idea of how dangerous this is somehow makes it better. God, what is with you tonight, you never thought of yourself as someone who would do something like this.

Todd continues you fuck you, and you can clearly feel him getting closer. You decide you do something before he fills you up with his cum. You pull back from him, and he looks confused for a moment before you turn around and drop to your knees. He down at you with a lazy, lust-filled grin like he's won the lottery. 

"Oh my god…" He whispers out, looking down as you look back up at him and take hold of his cock. 

You stroke him gently, placing your perfect lips around it and tasting yourself. You reach down to your own clit between your legs, your knees on the dirty bathroom floor. You can't believe what such a slut you were being, but it didn't matter. What mattered was getting Todd's cock down your throat in a way that turns you on. 

You feel Todd placing a hand on the back of your head as you get into the rhythm of it. You glance up and see how much he's enjoying it, as well as a look on his face that tells you you're never going to live down letting him fuck you. You can also tell by how he starts fucking your face like he's been waiting for this, likely dreaming about the chance to get in your pants. And now he's a bit smug about it, sending his hips thrusting deeply til you're practically choking on it. Something about that makes your pussy clench as you rub tight and fast little circles on your clit. You can taste his precum seeping out onto your tongue. He's getting so close. You close your eyes and enjoy him face fucking you, getting lost in how dirty you feel for doing this. 

"Keep those eyes open for me…" He breathes out, half commanding, the other half letting you know that he needs it to cum. He needs to be able to see those pretty eyes while he drains his cock into your mouth. 

You look back up at him, your eyes almost watering from how he's fucking your throat, your breath so hard to keep. Holding it turns you on more, the asphyxiation of it making your brain and pussy go crazy for it. This nerds cock really has you completely dumb for it right now, you feel like such a whore. You keep eye contact with Todd and feel that as you do, you are getting closer yourself. 

You actually have to back off stimulating your clit, so close to the edge that the littlest movements keep bringing you almost there. You can feel your eyebrows worry and as you look up at Todd he is throwing his head back and slamming his cock down your throat, cum drenching the inside of your throat, it's so hot. You let yourself join him as he does, and you cum, your legs tightening so hard you shake. Your moan is muffled and gurgled by his cock in your throat, and you can feel your own eyes close as you get lost in the sensation. You force yourself to swallow even though it's difficult, and Todd slowly comes out of it. 

He looks down at you, his breathing heavy and his eyelids tired. He slowly pulls his cock from your mouth, and it's like a switch flipped. He's leaning down to help you up, even though he feels like a total king for being able to do what he just did. Todd also feels like he needs to take care of you after something like that, he had no idea he would end up being so aggressive. He gently pulls you up and helps you bring your skirt and panties up to cover your dripping pussy.

“I-I, I can’t believe you let me do that…” Todd is trying to keep his hands on you where ever he can, and it’s already irritating you how clingy this nerdy no longer virgin is. You move your hands to keep him off you. 

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal Todd.” You say snarkily, and turn from him when you think you’re finally ready to leave the tiny bathroom. At the very least, your heart feels better. You feel centered, and ready to enact anymore revenge tactics you need to if it will get to Dave. 

“We, we probably should’t tell Dave about this…” Todd mumbles, messing with his curls with anxiety. You turn back for a moment, and smile widely. 

“No! You should tell him, let him know what he’s missing out on.” You can’t help how energized you feel right now, you give Todd a wink and leave the restroom. As you do you think he mumbles something else about Dave actually having feelings for you, as if. If that were true, he wouldn’t have brought Katie fucking Deaxuma here tonight. He would have already confessed his real feelings…right? 

✧✧✧

Dave stopped dancing with Katie when he noticed you and Todd had gone from the crowd. He tried to keep it up with Katie, but his focus was just totally elsewhere. What really surprised him was when Katie actually stood up for how Dave was treating her. She took Dave’s face right in her hands, and looked him in the eye and asked if he was here with you or her tonight. Dave knew the answer in his heart, but his mouth confirmed that he was here for Katie. She seemed satisfied, and took him deeper into the crowd, her body moving against Dave’s in no way a girl ever has. Maybe Dave can get his mind off you and actually enjoy this if he tries. And he does. He really does try to lean into her soft skin, holding onto her hips as they sway to the music. But as time goes on, and you’re out of sight he suddenly feels so strange.

It’s almost as if he can sense you, but he can’t see you. And what he sense right now really doesn’t make any sense to him, but it is making his cock hard right now. Fuck, and now Katie thinks it’s because of her grinding her ass into Dave, not this weird feeling Dave has about you. It’s almost like he can sense your pleasure, like he can feel how good it feels for you. He has no idea that you and Todd are having an excellent time in the restroom right now, but he can feel it so clearly, it’s almost driving him insane mixed with Katie’s grinding. 

Dave can’t help himself, the feeling of pleasure is washing over him in waves. He is already a horny man, it doesn’t help that he has all the friction of his dance partner and this strange connection with you. The weirdest part is he has felt this before, late at night, when he was alone in his bed. He still doesn’t know that the reason he gets so horny at night for you is because you’re likely touching yourself thinking of him in your own bed. The connection is something he has felt for you for so long it is as easy as breathing, he doesn’t even question why he knows where you are, what you’re feeling, and when you touch yourself at night. It actually makes Dave’s brain melt a bit if he thinks too hard about it, he doesn’t really want to admit to how much he feels for you in all these different ways. 

The other pressing matter right now that he feels is Katie’s ass, which he is getting so excited for he could almost ruin his jeans. He prays that he won’t, he couldn’t handle the embarrassment, but as the feeling builds he starts sweating, breathing heavier and heavier, and trying to come up with a game plan for what he’s going to do if he blows his load right here and now. He can hardly think though, it’s so hard when he can feel you coming closer to climax yourself. He can almost see you as he closes his eyes. 

He imagines you right now, on your knees touching yourself, he can see it, I mean really see it. He has no idea who you are with, or if this is even real, but God does it feel real. It feels so real he can imagine you sucking on his own cock, taking it down your pretty little throat and moaning into it from how much you love the feeling. Dave has completely forgotten about Katie, who is oblivious to the fact that her date is caught up in another woman’s pleasure. Dave grips Katie’s hips and imagines it’s your hair, pulling you deeper into his cock, until he can barely fit anymore. He can sense you coming closer and closer now, and his cock is raging against his jeans, ready to explode at any moment. 

That’s when he feels it, so suddenly, you falling over the edge, and his own cock is twitching, leaking out the longest orgasm he has ever had. Dave tries everything in him to not cum right now, but he can’t stop it, it’s happening and now Katie is getting thrust into his cock. He has to hold his breath to not moan out, but here he is cumming in his pants while you have some kind of spell over him here. Katie turns around when she notices how weird Dave is acting, and Dave’s eyes fly open when she yells his name over the music. 

“Dave?” She looks at him confused, the dim lights in the bar are helping the fact that a wet spot is forming on his jeans, and Dave can hardly speak, his mind still stuck with you, in the afterglow. 

“I…I’m sorry Katie, I have to run to the bathroom real quick.” Dave blurts out, and doesn’t really wait for Katie to respond. Katie is left there feeling totally confused, but has no idea what just happened. 

Dave is working his way through the waves of the crowd, which keeps seeming to get thicker and thicker as everyone waits for tonights band, which Dave has zero interest in really, but he knows you are some what obsessed with the boy band. Right now, he isn’t really worried about that however, right now he needs to clean himself up in the bathroom. 

When he reaches one of the single stalls, he is surprised to bump into you, his voice leaving himself, his eyes looking at how your hair is tousseled and your clothes are dishevled. A sinking feeling starts pouring itself right into Dave’s very soul. You look at him with a smirk and leave to go see the band, not even saying a word to Dave. In fact, he can almost feel you roll your eyes at him when your back is turned to him, which hurts more. 

He goes to open the door and finds Todd in the bathroom, trying to fix his own clothes and hair, extremely surprised to see Dave right now. 

“Dave! Hey…hey man, uh, how–” Todd tries to come up with any words that will make this situation less awkward for him right. Dave cuts him off before he can even continue. 

“Please don’t tell me what I think just happened, happened Todd.” Dave’s possessiveness of you can’t help it, he knows you’re allowed to fuck whoever you want, but he needs to know you did not just fuck Todd fucking Haynes. 

“Um…No man, no, she just asked me for some help with something, it’s not…” Todd is struggling to come up with a lie, it’s almost insanely clear, but Dave’s heart can’t take it. He just nods and leaves the restroom, deciding the let his jacket cover up any spot on his jeans by wrapping it around his waist. 

He leaves and begins walking with no real direction when he spots you again. This time you look like some sort of nymph, or succubus, sitting on the edge of the stage, watching the band set up. Dave can see you chatting with the singer, that raccoon looking fuck. The singer looks up and actually locks eyes with Dave as he parts through the crowd towards the two of you, and Dave immediately feels a cold chill run down his spine. This man is bad news, he has to get you away from him, it’s almost instinctual how badly he knows that this man wants to hurt you. Even if you potentially just fucked one of his buddies, the feeling Dave has right now is more urgent than that. 

Dave finally makes it to the stage, and you turn to him, and Dave knows something is wrong. You have this look in your eyes, it’s unnerving how empty you seem. You don’t even really acknowledge Dave, you are so busy trying to get this weird, older singer’s attention. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dave grabs your arm, trying to get your attention, but the singer steps in, dipping down to speak to Dave since he’s so much taller on the stage. 

“I don’t think it’s any of your business, besides, she was just heading out to grab us some drinks at the bar, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” The man stares at you with a viscous, disgusting grin, and Dave can feel all the anger of the night welling up inside of him. Before Dave can speak, it’s like you’ve been commanded by the man, hoping off the stage and getting ready to go grab drinks. 

“Oh yeah…” You say, your voice totally devoid of real thought, almost drunken already, though Dave is sure you haven’t really had anything to drink tonight, not to mention you’re only 18 anyways. “You just have to try one of these 9/11 tribute shooters, but you gotta drink it fast or else it turns kinda brownish!” 

You giggle as if you’ve told one of the funniest jokes, and before Dave can stop you, you’re slipping through the crowd to go get drinks. Dave is totally lost on what to do, but the band members seem to be going about on their own tangent now, and what Dave catches pisses him off even more. 

“So, Nikolai,” One of the bandmates start speaking to the singer. “Do you really think she’s a virgin? I mean she seems kind of…” 

Dave interrupts, slamming his hand onto the wooden stage, a few people besides Nikolai and the bandmates looking at his outburst. 

“Listen to me you fuck.” Dave has no idea where this spirit is coming from, but he rolls with it. “You bet she is a virgin, and a girl like her would never give it away to a loser like you, not to any kind of fucking loser, so just leave her the fuck alone!’

Dave can feel his face go hot, he knows deep down that after seeing how you were with Todd, you probably aren’t even a virgin, but he is projecting his anger onto the men infront of him. Along with the belief that he is saving you from some scummy 23 year olds who don’t deserve to prey on you at all, he feels righteous in his outburst. His shoulders drop when the bandmates almost laugh at him, then continue to ignore him. God, maybe he really is just a loser who is obsessed with you. He isn’t even supposed to be feeling this strongly about you like this, you’re his best friend, why should he care if you hook up with someone? The pit in his stomach still tells him he should protect you from these men, though. 

After a moment, you’re back with a tray of red, white, and blue drinks, totally oblivious to Dave standing right there, still in that strange state Dave doesn’t know what to do about. He feels so helpless right now it hurts. Dave watches as you climb back on stage and gawk, twirling your hair and biting your lip to talk to Nikolai. 

“I think we should go…” Dave says to you, and you look back at him with the cruelest look you’ve ever given him. 

“Don’t you have a date tonight, Dave? Why don’t you go find Katie…” You completely disregard him, and Dave is devastated. The way you speak to him hurts in a way that he didn’t think you would ever do. Dave is speechless, and Nikolai is taking you now, moving you somewhere backstage. Dave is lost in the crowd, his feet somehow moving him and he finds himself back at the table where Erika and Marty have gotten to know each other, Katie sitting totally lonesome with her cheek on her hand. 

✧✧✧

Dave stopped dancing with Katie when he noticed you and Todd had gone from the crowd. He tried to keep it up with Katie, but his focus was just totally elsewhere. What really surprised him was when Katie actually stood up for how Dave was treating her. She took Dave’s face right in her hands, and looked him in the eye and asked if he was here with you or her tonight. Dave knew the answer in his heart, but his mouth confirmed that he was here for Katie. She seemed satisfied, and took him deeper into the crowd, her body moving against Dave’s in no way a girl ever has. Maybe Dave can get his mind off you and actually enjoy this if he tries. And he does. He really does try to lean into her soft skin, holding onto her hips as they sway to the music. But as time goes on, and you’re out of sight he suddenly feels so strange.

It’s almost as if he can sense you, but he can’t see you. And what he sense right now really doesn’t make any sense to him, but it is making his cock hard right now. Fuck, and now Katie thinks it’s because of her grinding her ass into Dave, not this weird feeling Dave has about you. It’s almost like he can sense your pleasure, like he can feel how good it feels for you. He has no idea that you and Todd are having an excellent time in the restroom right now, but he can feel it so clearly, it’s almost driving him insane mixed with Katie’s grinding. 

Dave can’t help himself, the feeling of pleasure is washing over him in waves. He is already a horny man, it doesn’t help that he has all the friction of his dance partner and this strange connection with you. The weirdest part is he has felt this before, late at night, when he was alone in his bed. He still doesn’t know that the reason he gets so horny at night for you is because you’re likely touching yourself thinking of him in your own bed. The connection is something he has felt for you for so long it is as easy as breathing, he doesn’t even question why he knows where you are, what you’re feeling, and when you touch yourself at night. It actually makes Dave’s brain melt a bit if he thinks too hard about it, he doesn’t really want to admit to how much he feels for you in all these different ways. 

The other pressing matter right now that he feels is Katie’s ass, which he is getting so excited for he could almost ruin his jeans. He prays that he won’t, he couldn’t handle the embarrassment, but as the feeling builds he starts sweating, breathing heavier and heavier, and trying to come up with a game plan for what he’s going to do if he blows his load right here and now. He can hardly think though, it’s so hard when he can feel you coming closer to climax yourself. He can almost see you as he closes his eyes. 

He imagines you right now, on your knees touching yourself, he can see it, I mean really see it. He has no idea who you are with, or if this is even real, but God does it feel real. It feels so real he can imagine you sucking on his own cock, taking it down your pretty little throat and moaning into it from how much you love the feeling. Dave has completely forgotten about Katie, who is oblivious to the fact that her date is caught up in another woman’s pleasure. Dave grips Katie’s hips and imagines it’s your hair, pulling you deeper into his cock, until he can barely fit anymore. He can sense you coming closer and closer now, and his cock is raging against his jeans, ready to explode at any moment. 

That’s when he feels it, so suddenly, you falling over the edge, and his own cock is twitching, leaking out the longest orgasm he has ever had. Dave tries everything in him to not cum right now, but he can’t stop it, it’s happening and now Katie is getting thrust into his cock. He has to hold his breath to not moan out, but here he is cumming in his pants while you have some kind of spell over him here. Katie turns around when she notices how weird Dave is acting, and Dave’s eyes fly open when she yells his name over the music. 

“Dave?” She looks at him confused, the dim lights in the bar are helping the fact that a wet spot is forming on his jeans, and Dave can hardly speak, his mind still stuck with you, in the afterglow. 

“I…I’m sorry Katie, I have to run to the bathroom real quick.” Dave blurts out, and doesn’t really wait for Katie to respond. Katie is left there feeling totally confused, but has no idea what just happened. 

Dave is working his way through the waves of the crowd, which keeps seeming to get thicker and thicker as everyone waits for tonights band, which Dave has zero interest in really, but he knows you are some what obsessed with the boy band. Right now, he isn’t really worried about that however, right now he needs to clean himself up in the bathroom. 

When he reaches one of the single stalls, he is surprised to bump into you, his voice leaving himself, his eyes looking at how your hair is tousseled and your clothes are dishevled. A sinking feeling starts pouring itself right into Dave’s very soul. You look at him with a smirk and leave to go see the band, not even saying a word to Dave. In fact, he can almost feel you roll your eyes at him when your back is turned to him, which hurts more. 

He goes to open the door and finds Todd in the bathroom, trying to fix his own clothes and hair, extremely surprised to see Dave right now. 

“Dave! Hey…hey man, uh, how–” Todd tries to come up with any words that will make this situation less awkward for him right. Dave cuts him off before he can even continue. 

“Please don’t tell me what I think just happened, happened Todd.” Dave’s possessiveness of you can’t help it, he knows you’re allowed to fuck whoever you want, but he needs to know you did not just fuck Todd fucking Haynes. 

“Um…No man, no, she just asked me for some help with something, it’s not…” Todd is struggling to come up with a lie, it’s almost insanely clear, but Dave’s heart can’t take it. He just nods and leaves the restroom, deciding the let his jacket cover up any spot on his jeans by wrapping it around his waist. 

He leaves and begins walking with no real direction when he spots you again. This time you look like some sort of nymph, or succubus, sitting on the edge of the stage, watching the band set up. Dave can see you chatting with the singer, that raccoon looking fuck. The singer looks up and actually locks eyes with Dave as he parts through the crowd towards the two of you, and Dave immediately feels a cold chill run down his spine. This man is bad news, he has to get you away from him, it’s almost instinctual how badly he knows that this man wants to hurt you. Even if you potentially just fucked one of his buddies, the feeling Dave has right now is more urgent than that. 

Dave finally makes it to the stage, and you turn to him, and Dave knows something is wrong. You have this look in your eyes, it’s unnerving how empty you seem. You don’t even really acknowledge Dave, you are so busy trying to get this weird, older singer’s attention. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dave grabs your arm, trying to get your attention, but the singer steps in, dipping down to speak to Dave since he’s so much taller on the stage. 

“I don’t think it’s any of your business, besides, she was just heading out to grab us some drinks at the bar, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” The man stares at you with a viscous, disgusting grin, and Dave can feel all the anger of the night welling up inside of him. Before Dave can speak, it’s like you’ve been commanded by the man, hoping off the stage and getting ready to go grab drinks. 

“Oh yeah…” You say, your voice totally devoid of real thought, almost drunken already, though Dave is sure you haven’t really had anything to drink tonight, not to mention you’re only 18 anyways. “You just have to try one of these 9/11 tribute shooters, but you gotta drink it fast or else it turns kinda brownish!” 

You giggle as if you’ve told one of the funniest jokes, and before Dave can stop you, you’re slipping through the crowd to go get drinks. Dave is totally lost on what to do, but the band members seem to be going about on their own tangent now, and what Dave catches pisses him off even more. 

“So, Nikolai,” One of the bandmates start speaking to the singer. “Do you really think she’s a virgin? I mean she seems kind of…” 

Dave interrupts, slamming his hand onto the wooden stage, a few people besides Nikolai and the bandmates looking at his outburst. 

“Listen to me you fuck.” Dave has no idea where this spirit is coming from, but he rolls with it. “You bet she is a virgin, and a girl like her would never give it away to a loser like you, not to any kind of fucking loser, so just leave her the fuck alone!’

Dave can feel his face go hot, he knows deep down that after seeing how you were with Todd, you probably aren’t even a virgin, but he is projecting his anger onto the men infront of him. Along with the belief that he is saving you from some scummy 23 year olds who don’t deserve to prey on you at all, he feels righteous in his outburst. His shoulders drop when the bandmates almost laugh at him, then continue to ignore him. God, maybe he really is just a loser who is obsessed with you. He isn’t even supposed to be feeling this strongly about you like this, you’re his best friend, why should he care if you hook up with someone? The pit in his stomach still tells him he should protect you from these men, though. 

After a moment, you’re back with a tray of red, white, and blue drinks, totally oblivious to Dave standing right there, still in that strange state Dave doesn’t know what to do about. He feels so helpless right now it hurts. Dave watches as you climb back on stage and gawk, twirling your hair and biting your lip to talk to Nikolai. 

“I think we should go…” Dave says to you, and you look back at him with the cruelest look you’ve ever given him. 

“Don’t you have a date tonight, Dave? Why don’t you go find Katie…” You completely disregard him, and Dave is devastated. The way you speak to him hurts in a way that he didn’t think you would ever do. Dave is speechless, and Nikolai is taking you now, moving you somewhere backstage. Dave is lost in the crowd, his feet somehow moving him and he finds himself back at the table where Erika and Marty have gotten to know each other, Katie sitting totally lonesome with her cheek on her hand. 

✧✧✧

You have no idea how you got to the back of stage, but here you are, doing rounds of shots with Nikolai, the lead singer of Low Shoulder. The whole in the very center of your being where jealousy and Dave usually housed was fading away after each drink and giggle you had with the band. You feel totally out of it, somehow only a few drinks have you feeling drunker than ever. Everytime Nikolai catches your eyes, the way he looks so deeply into them makes it feel like he is the only man in the whole world. You feel almost proud of yourself for keeping up with these older boys, you don’t feel like they are treating you like a child for still being highschool at all, in fact you feel like they are totally into you. You feel so popular right now, it makes you ecstatic. Dave slowly keeps slipping your mind, more and more. You keep talking with the band, until they finally tell you they have to go on and perform, but you’re their special girl for the night so you can stand off to the side, backstage if you will, and watch where no one else can. The thought sends you over the moon happy, you feel so inclined to do whatever Nikolai says that you can’t do anything else even if you wanted to. 

The band leaves and begins playing, the crowd excited and ready for some real live music after all the recorded ones. You spot Dave and Katie in the crowd for a moment, Dave’s eyes on you, and you surprisingly feel nothing at the sight. Why would you when Nikolai is standing there, so completely better than anyone in this room. You can practically feel the hearts lasering out of your eyes at him, you vision feels like a vignette around him, he seems so bright, you are simply a moth to the flame that is a dirty 20 something boy. The idea that this makes no sense doesn’t even come to your mind at this point. They just continue to play on, their song singing of a lost friendship, and you are sure that Dave’s eyes are boring down on you, that’s the one thing you can feel, that grounds you. 

It isn’t enough though, you are so entranced by the band that you don’t even smell the smoke. The flames are practically licking at your back like the devil himself is trying to get a taste of your tender flesh before you notice. And when you do, you just stare at those orange flames as they begin taking up the curtain of the stage. The band is now dropping their instruments, and the next thing you feel is Nikolai grabbing your body, pulling you away. The crowd is screaming, the horror is hitting everyone who is trying to claw their way out. You don’t even think your heart is beating faster than normal, this is no normal reaction to such a thing. 

You are pulled from the building, the smoke rising and rising, a few people getting out, but you can tell there are many still stuck inside where the flames are engulfing the structure. You look dazed at it, still being taken farther away from the disaster. 

Just before you are pushed into the bands van, you see Dave, he’s sprinting towards you like his life depends on it. He is screaming your name, reaching out for you. He has soot and dirt on his face, like he had to claw his way out. Katie is trailing behind him, and the sight of her makes that pit open up inside of you again. You turn from them, and allow yourself to be pulled into the van, Dave’s hands hitting the metal side of it, his screaming continuing, he is running after the van as it pulls away. 

The last time you see Dave with your own eyes is through the back window of the van while he desperately tries to keep up.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Small fun fact about me:

My mom is neurodivergent too! And not only that, but

Me and my mom share a special interest.

[A short post about me, my mom, hyperfixations, and how acceptance can help you grow]

For the last ten years, both me and my mother have had a hyperfixation on Marvel movies and Superhero movies in general.

And if anything, she's more fixated than I am.

This started at the same time, despite my mother never picking up a comic in her life. It happened when we first saw the Avengers in theatres in 2012.

Since then me and my mother have seen every Marvel movie on the day of release, or even a day before release.

When I was in high school, I remember her specifically pulling me out of school early to take me to the marathon premiere of Thor 2 and The Winter Soldier.

She's seen every Marvel media to date outside of the Netflix series. She's already finished Secret Invasion.

In recent years, we've gotten Unlimited movie memberships, and because we live in NY we can often see movies the Thursday before the Friday release, so we go to the movies almost twice a month, and we see movies repeatedly.

I saw ATSV three times in theatres while she saw it twice, and saw GOTG a second or third time. We recently saw Blue Beetle the day or two after release. She keeps me CONSISTENT.

The reason why I theorize about Marvel media and Spider-man media is largely because of her.

For years she was the one I theorized with. I've spoken to her about whether or not Peter set Miles up (she isn't convinced), or argue with her about whether or not Khonsu from Moon Knight is cool (he is).

She watches more Marvel fan content than me and inhales all the essays, reacts, and Easter egg videos on YouTube.

She's the same with recent Star Wars, she's seen Andor and Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, and currently working her way through Asoka.

And she knew about my past fixation on Loki in specific. She even knows about Hobie and Diane.

I told her I want to go to NY ComicCon as my spidersona and she was like "... You'd have to work on your roller skating" and I was SHOOK she remembered that about Diane because she's right.

But yeah, we've always been REALLY REALLY close over marvel stuff, and it's amazing having a parent who has the same fixation as you. It's like a natural thing, and I can speak openly about my theories or interests and she'll be like 'Oh yeah I noticed that incredibly niche moment where Hobie did that one specific thing, what of it'

I'm never treated weird for my fixation. Cause hers is stronger. I told her I didn't want to see GOTG again and she was like HUH and I was so heartbroken that I went and saw it anyway 😭😭

Some of my favorite moments with my mom are in movies theatres. And because we share this niche interest and neurodivergency, we're able to have these in-depth conversations about these characters we've formed bonds to together.

When Loki the show came out we'd been waiting literal years for it - like literally since 2013 talking about it. And I had a lot of mixed feelings about it.

But I could talk about those feelings and thoughts and characterizations with someone I know wouldn't ostracize me, knows the material as well as I do - if not more, and cares about these characters.

Because of that, my theorizing skills were able to grow all throughout my teenage years.

Because my hyperfixation was nurtured instead of demonized.

And I just think that's SO COOL.

Just wanted to share. Here's a photo of Miguel because I hate consistency [this is a hobie household]

Bye.

[gods-graveyard]

Incorrect Marauders/Royal court as quotes from my DND group (Part 10) (also my creative writing class)

Lily:“He’s a handsomer, better version of you, and his dick is pretty big” Her ex:“You discussed this”? Mary:“Oh absolutely we did” Remus:“I'll allow you to talk- or I will accept an answer in the form of interpretive dance”  Remus:“Allegedy his in laws hate him so I feel that should be discussed” James:“I would prefer it not” Sirius:“There is no alleged, he's a fathers nightmare” Peter:“You have a dad”? Marlene:“The hook- the girlfriend lore so to speak” Regulus:“Boba isn't good for you” Lily:“One day I will be in the ground, and Boba won't be what put me there” James:“When they embalm me I want them to find boba in my stomach-” Evan:“I am a benevolent god, so I say yes” Lily:“Maybe the real villain was boba itself-” James:“The bubbles tempt me, I am a weak man” Barty:“You do so much damage and just get the biggest erection-” James:“I do this for you- but i'm rapidly reaching my limit” Regulus:“Literally just quit your job-” James:“I would but your bougie-” Pandora:“He’s just big and fleshy” Barty:“He's waving a red flag” Dorcas:“Honey no- his whole ass uniform is blood red” Barty:“Mmmhmm my favorite color” Marlene:“I'm the chad YOU'RE The soy boy” Pandora:“The Chant? It makes no sense but the forks are vibing and they come out dancing”   Dorcas:“Nothing that happens here is funny- that's what makes it hilarious” James:“Well maybe i'm just being petty...” Remus:“I for one know i'm petty” Sirius:“I didn't go ONE TIME-” Remus:“You literally never went back” James:“Guys your giving me trauma from the gym” Regulus:“Get Cupped idiot-” Sirius:“Keep that in mind- because in 8 years you will completely forget” Remus:“Well I don't have dementia like you”  Barty:“I'll be a little bit of a demon here” Regulus:“Do you mean devil's advocate” Evan:“Same thing.” Dorcas:“Just fuck me I guess” Marlene:“Yeah fuck you-” Barty:“None of my fireballs have done shit- and it's really pissing me off” Dorcas:“He is meant to be used” Regulus:“Last words are for fools that never said enough” Barty:“Grovel before me virgins-” Remus:“I'm going to aim not to hit my friends” Sirius:“Who are you and what have you done with Remus”?

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Pranking Miguel

You thought stealing his serum would be a good idea. You were very wrong.

Idea: @theegoldenchild

Last one of the night you guys!!!! How y'all doing? Thanks for hanging with me this month 💕

Tags: Anger-bang, dominance, watersports

"SOMEBODY GRAB THAT NIGGA," you shout, barreling by a grouping of Spidermen. "GET HIM!" You're zooming at your top speed through the halls of Spider Society HQ. "Oh my God. He's gonna kill me."

Miguel is on your ASS, tearing through like a beast in pursuit. He's PISSED.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME," he growls, palming two foreheads and crashing them together.

You hear bodies thrown and shit breaking behind you, but you don't look back.

You hear him grunting. People drag from his ankles and throw themselves around his waist to stop him, but if 30 or so Spiderpeople can't tackle, stop, contain him, or AT LEAST slow him down, you can't afford to look.

"GET BACK HERE," he yells after you. He almost claws into the back of your suit.

You feel that touch in the middle of your back and find a new gear, hyperspeed!

"STOP RUNNING!"

"STOP CHASING ME!"

You're too afraid to stop. He didn't see his own fuckin face morph like a gotdamn vampire demon. WHY were his eyes so red?! WHERE did he get fangs and claws?! WHY WAS HE SO ANGRY?!?!

"GET THE FUCK BACK HERE," he grits, chillingly.

All you hear is If you stop, you're dead.

Stealing his serum as a prank seemed like a good idea at the time. You'd laughed with Miles, Gwen, Peter, Hobie, and Pavitr about it. Now, where were they? Stuck in holding cells like the anomalies. He only got madder and madder like he was sick or going Hulk.

"AHhhHHhh," someone yelps before you hear another crash.

"Dear God, SOMEONE GET HIM," you scream. Fearful of stopping, you ditch the serum and keep running.

"DAMMIT! You little-"

You don't stick around. You turn the corner, locking yourself in one of the labs to collapse and breathe. Your chest heaves because it's the fastest you've run in your life. Thankfully, he's not behind you. When you catch your breath and open the door, he's not there. You calmly make your way back, finding an HQ full of Spiderpeople but no Miguel.

He took that serum with him though, fuckin druggie.

"He is the most cracked out Spiderman I've ever met," you complain, freeing the others from their cubes. "You'd think it was insulin or an epipen. No, it's freaking drugs. May as well be crack."

Miles sighs. "I didn't think he'd get that mad."

All of you were surprised.

"He's probably embarrassed," Gwen says after a beat, "Someone should probably check in on him."

Silence.

You all look at each other, waiting on someone else to volunteer.

"What about Jessica," you suggest. She's like the pet to his teacher.

"It should be one of us, someone who was behind the prank."

"I vote you," you stare, since Gwen seems to know who ought to go. She glares back.

"Technically, it was your idea," Pavitr says, looking at you.

"Shutup, Pavitr."

"Show of hands, who says Dawn should go," Peter blurts, raising his hand. Everyone but Hobie raises their hand.

"Personally, I dun think we've done anythin' wrung."

Silently, you thank Hobie for having your back. Still, the majority has spoken and continues to push.

"Ugh, fine."

You don't want to, but you go where you know he is hiding, in his office.

"Miguel?"

"What do you want," he sneers, not even looking at you. He's delved into working on yet another gadget. Work, work, work. It's freaking Halloween!

"Why are you SO mad? It was a joke."

"No! It isn't a joke. As it so happens, I need that serum, and guess what? It's expensive as hell. Alchemax is already having trouble keeping it in stock. I don't have the money to replace it."

"Okay, well, I gave it back. It was a prank, grouchy. What was all that creepy shit? You were on demon time."

"Oh, you don't know?" He crosses his arms. "It's called a MUTATION. It happens when you get hit by a radioactive spider."

"No, THAT shit ain't normal. THAT shit was giving exorcist."

"I'm done with this conversation," he turns. "I can't keep allowing myself to be interrupted by an immature brat who thinks medical theft is a prank."

"Brat!?" You stare at the back of his head.. Maybe so... "Well, you are the ANGRIEST, CRABBIEST Spiderman I'VE ever met."

"And you're the laziest and most immature. Are we done?"

"NO," you approach. "I'll tell you when I'm done."

He ignores you, set on making the arm cuffs he's been working on electrify the webbing. Even you can see that his mind is distracted because YOU could make it work given a good 15 minutes.

"You're so jealous of Miles," you blurt, causing him to cease his tinkering.

"Ex-cuse me???"

"Miles has lightening," you say like it's a no brainer. "You don't, and he's also too fast for you." You didn't stutter.

He turns around slowly, walking closer and towering menacingly over you.

"You know, you ought to tread carefully because that neutralizing cube? I left one specifically for you."

"Ohhh, I'm SO afraid of the cube. You'd better HOPE I don't put YOU in a cube. Stupid ass cubes..." You knock over a hunk of junk that he calls a creation. It's easy to rebuild, 5 minutes, but it's the principle. He'll have to do it over is the point.

He hems you up like you knew would happen.

"Do you get off on antagonizing me?! Is that it?"

"Maybe," you admit, watching his face turn to stone.

"I will tell you this once and once only. I do not LIKE games. I do not LIKE you. Leave me alone now, before I MAKE you."

He releases his grip on the front of your top.

"Looks like you're gonna have to make me," you tease, fixing the wrinkles flat. You nearly yelp as he lifts you by the neck and pins you to the nearest wall by your throat.

"Don't.. Test me."

Submissiveness flashes in your eyes as you grip his thick wrist so as not to choke. This rage filled Miguel is kinda sexy... violent and hateful, but attractive. "Look at you channeling the Hulk."

He leans in closer to your face, staring down, his glare cold and sharp.

"You really enjoy this, don't you?"

You bite your lip, intrigued by his boxy dark brows and darkened features. "Maybe..."

He scoffs. "You don't enjoy it, maybe. You crave the abuse, don't you? Look at you squeezing your thighs together. You enjoy it too much."

You're already folding, clinging for more with a deep sigh that you don't have it in you to communicate. You have too much pride to say you want to be slutted out, but you're thinking it and hoping.

"You little vulgar animal."

'I am. It's me,' you think. You don't resist when he brings you down to your knees by the neck and gets out his dick with the rosy tip, shoving it into your mouth.

"That alone is enough for me to know how to use you." His hand palms the back of your head as he uses your mouth like a toy, hearing you slurp and gurgle. "This what you wanted? You feel like a slut yet? Come here," he pulls back with a controlled smack against your cheek.

He pulls you up by the hair, watching you assist by climbing up to your feet. He tosses you over the high-tech work table triggering a hologram, which he instantly disengages.

Was that Spider Byte? Did she just see y'all? It was only a second, but still. Can't NOBODY know this shit. You're ready to lock the door now before some bullshit like the Spider & Spider Mystery Agency busting in happens, but Miguel has already found a path past your mom jeans and bikini briefs. He's been busy back behind that wagon.

When the backshots begin, you can feel how much you be pissing him off by how tight he has your arms pinned behind your back with no mercy on his stroke, just straight dick ravishing your insides. No protection, no warnings, no warm-up.

"Fuck yeah," you moan taking it all like the good girl you're being forced to be.

"Yeah? This what you want?"

"Yeah," you mewl, your cheek pressed to the cold surface as you let yourself be used.

When he pauses, it's to spread your cheeks and spit between them on your ass letting it drip down to his dick to add lubrication, not that you aren't wet enough. He fucks you just like that with an asscheek spread in each hand before releasing them with a quick smack.

You feel a sudden urge to pee, not squirt, pee. You start to push away, but he grabs you, thinking you're trying to run. Fuck it. It feels too good to stop.

His next grip is your hair. You grip the edge of the table, being shaken by his simultaneous pulling and thrusting as he delivers jolting strokes you feel in your stomach.

"Fuck," you pronounce sharply, drizzling onto the table, your thighs and him.

"What was that?" He stops completely. It was warm and too much for a simple squirt. "What the- Did you just pee?"

"It snuck up on me. It felt too good to stop, and I couldn't hold it."

"...How old are you???"

"Come on!" You keep your position having already done it. There isn't any going back now.

He steps back to think about wtf just happened.

"You nasty, nasty, NASTY little-" He sighs, hesitating. "The hell with it." He steps forward again, sliding back in to finish the job leaving you completed over the table. "Now get yourself cleaned up and get the hell out of my office," he growls, dismissing you with a slap on the ass.

You look at the mess you left.

"I should probably clean that up first."

"Just GO," he points to the door. "If anyone asks, you were just apologizing to me in detail for that show of stupidity you call a prank."

"That's not technically a lie," you admit, changing quickly into the Spiderwoman suit you always have on you. It came in handy BIG.

"How'd it go," Hobie asks as soon as you walk out. You flinch, already guilty. He starts sniffing around you, so you put distance between the two of you.

"Pretty well, I guess. He was mad... Very mad. Yeah, he hated everything, BUT we worked it out."

"Hm."

Hm? What Hm? You feel like you're getting paranoid, but you don't wanna ask or say too much, or you'll look guiltier.

"Well, ya might wanna stop by Spider Byte's station, yeah? I'd be quick."

"Uh, yeah. Sure." You do not pass go. You just get there, and nothing seems wrong initially. Everyone else is normal. No one's acting weird.

"So," you fold your arms on her tech station.

"So," she deadpans.

You don't know what you're supposed to say to her exactly. You drum in quick 3-count and step back. "Anything going on?"

"Nope. Something I should know about?"

"Eh, guess not." Smirking, you start to walk away.

"I knew y'all had to have something going on, all that fighting."

"I knew it, you piss ant. How much to keep you quiet?"

"You think I'd blackmail you?" She clutches her pearls. "Gross. I barely saw anything, thank God."

You sigh in relief.

"I did see enough... Replacing my headphones could make it alllll go away."

"How much," you glare.

"I paid $300, so you pay..??"

"$400." You wire it to her on the spot, and she checks for it, having received it.

"What were we talking about??? Hey, how are you today! Happy Halloween!"

You have a sarcastic smirk in your eye. The price of being seen with Mr. Demon Hulk. You'd say never again, but that's a lie. Pissing him off has been a rush, and now that you know you can get under his skin, you're gonna do it.

... You need a shower now.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 13 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Peter teaches Honey a lesson.

words: 9.5 k

chapter warning: smutty dubcon spicyness (masturb*tion), references to drug use, manipulation, more john walker, graphic but brief reference to animal cruelty

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. sexual situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss. Please. For real.

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but butterfly hair clips and stretchy plastic chokers are not a new trend and if you did not know that, this isn't the right time for you.

Back to Part 12.

Part 13

A vibration stirred Honey awake. She had been sitting on the floor of her room, back against the bed, and must have fallen asleep. Still wearing the bathrobe from the night before, she rubbed the drool from her mouth, only feeling slightly better than the first time she’d woken up that morning. 

Slowly, more pieces of the previous night were clearing up. She couldn’t remember the details or the context of what was said, but what she could remember terrified her. And that’s before she saw Peter shooting up in his office like a heroin addict. The sight deeply frightened her. Considering she was trapped in the penthouse with no one else, she did the only thing she could think of. 

Hide.

Another vibration jolted her into action. The sound itself made her panic, as she thought she had silenced any possible notifications coming into her contraband phone. She didn’t get texts often. Most of the conversations were one-way, her divulging sensitive information so that John could steadily build a case against Peter. Or maybe even get him killed.

It made her sick to think about. 

Even worse, if John was texting her, that only meant one thing. He was angry.

She dug her fingers beneath the mattress, in the gap inside the box spring. Once she pulled the device out, she glanced down at the screen. Her eyes were alert, blinking through the blurriness.

> u up?

She scoffed. “Gross.”

Before she could toss the phone, another message popped up on screen.

> someone had a wild night last night.

A chill shot down her spine. Instantly, her list of fears was renumbered, threats reprioritized in the correct order. John Walker was always at the top.

> of course i know. don’t be so surprised, peach. I know everything

> you looked like you were having a good time.

She swallowed back shards of glass as she gazed down at the taunting blue and white screen. 

> don’t forget. you have a job to do. 

Her eyes burned. Tears built up behind her eyelids. ‘A good time,’ he called it. It was an amazing experience, unlike any she’d ever had. She couldn’t remember a time she had ever felt so carefree. She recalled the blissfully warm memory as an overwhelming sense of peace. A feeling of euphoria. Of power, even. 

What a joke. She had no power. Never did. 

> where was eddie brock last night?

A knock at her door almost threw her into cardiac arrest. “Honey?” 

She dropped the phone immediately, the device clamored to the hardwood floor. She shot up, coming to a hurried stand, as the doorknob twisted.

The door opened. Peter was in the gap, having changed clothes into a different suit. 

He looked better than he did earlier when she spied on him in his office. ‘Better’ meant he didn’t look demonic. The whites of his eyes were visible again. The ‘tattoos,’ or whatever they were, had vanished. However, he didn’t look healthy; his skin was dull, an unusual milkiness to it, save for the dark shadows that carved out his eyes. His cheeks were sunken in, like he’d hadn’t eaten in days. The once-amber hue of his irises was faded, charred into blackened ash.

The sight of him pulled a slight gasp from her lips. She could’ve played it off as simply being startled. Truthfully, she was horrified; the mad fluttering of her heart gave her away. Not just at his presence, but at the phone hidden behind the bed, resting on the hardwood at her feet.

She clenched her fists as her sides. He eyed her with confusion. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?” he asked.

Rigidly, she dared not blink or avert her eyes. “Um... I... I don’t feel good.” That much was obvious, based on her appearance. Red-eyed, dehydrated, skin clammy. She fretted at her nose, finally breaking her unblinking stare. “Sorry, I... I’m still, um, I’m a little hungover. From last night. I think.”

When she looked back at him, a deep crease formed between his brows. He looked away, chewing his lower lip between his teeth. Nodded silently. “You need anything?” he asked, still not really making eye contact.

“Um... no,” she said, shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’ll be fine. I think I’ll just—” 

“Need you downstairs,” he replied with a flat tone. It was like all of the affection she felt budding between them had disappeared. Sprouts frozen and stagnated by a cold snap overnight.

“Oh.” Her stomach felt like it was made of rocks. 

His eyes were fixed on the doorknob, ever once reaching hers. “Get dressed. We have to talk.” Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared from the doorway, the door vibrating as it slammed closed again. 

It felt like she was 12 years old, being told that if she couldn’t keep up with her chores she didn’t get to eat with the rest of the family. Or to eat at all. 

Physically, the reaction was identical. She bit down to keep her lower lip from wobbling, dread twisting her insides. A loud rattle at her feet spooked her. It was louder than a cymbal crash in her anxious state. 

She dropped to the floor again to silence her phone, getting a look at the two new messages waiting for her.

> stop me if you’ve heard this one before...

> what sound does a bitch make in the microwave?

Heart thudding steadily, she gazed at the phone with confusion. “What?” she whispered, beneath her breath. Brows furrowed. Is this a joke? What kind of weird joke—?

> give up?

She had no time to reply. But that was the point he was trying to make.

> poor old mrs. nimitz could tell you.

It took less than two seconds for her to derive his cruel meaning, and her stomach lurched at the implication. She slapped her hand over her mouth, feeling bile crawling up. A shiver racked her whole body, budding tears spilling down her cheeks.

Peace. What a joke.

Walking through the penthouse was eerie. All of the motorized blackout shades outside of her room had been drawn shut, turning the day into night. The entire space was cast into a dark shadow with only dim lamp lights to guide the path. She had the urge to tiptoe, like she was sneaking around a funeral home.

As she approached the doorway to Peter’s office, her stomach began to clench with trepidation. She could hear two voices.

“You keep forgetting,” she heard a deep voice that was not Peter’s say, “the Rand name still holds weight. Now you’ve got the Meachums coming after you. They already had the club shut down, got the alcohol license revoked in record time—”

“I don’t care about that,” Peter’s voice responded, heavy with guilt. “I care about what happens to Miguel and Jessica. I didn’t know there was a gun.”

Creeping closer to the door, she spotted two figures in the lounge area of the dark office. 

Peter stood with head lowered and arms crossed, eyes downcast. Across from him, seated on a nailhead leather sofa, was a suited, brown-haired man wearing rounded sunglasses. The sunglasses were an odd choice to her, considering the room was so dark. As soon as she spotted the white cane in his left hand, it made sense.

Honey didn’t recognize the man, but Peter looked comfortable in front of him. The man wore a wine-colored, slim-fit tailored suit (Ralph Lauren, Purple Label, probably—she was getting better at this) with a black skinny tie, and a champagne silk pocket square.

“We can argue it was self-defense,” the blind stranger replied. 

“It was self-defense,” Peter answered firmly. “Miguel’s not a killer. Not like—” He swallowed hard, dropping the sentence. “They wouldn’t have fired unless they were firing back.”

“Doesn’t matter, Pete,” he answered. “There was a shooting inside of a nightclub packed with people, the sound of which triggered a crowd rush. People got hurt. One of Rand’s bodyguards was murdered. DA’s not gonna see it any different. He’ll try to come down hard on this. Not to mention, you have a friend at the police station with a personal vendetta—”

Peter spun on his heel, simmering with rage. “If he wants it, he can come and take it!” he boomed like a crack of thunder. His voice echoed in the large office, and she gasped beneath her breath. The blind man stayed quiet despite the outburst. 

Cooling his temper, Peter paced anxiously in front of the man. “Alright, what’s the hold up on the bail situa—”

The man on the couch gently lifted his free hand, bringing up his outstretched palm. Peter observed the gesture as ‘stop’, and he ceased his conversation. And then both men could hear it.

Her heartbeat raced just outside the door. “S’alright,” Peter announced, his back to the doorway. “Come in, Honey.” Her limbs locked up immediately, unsure how he could even see her. Regardless, her feet were already carrying her forward through the threshold, as if a whistle had been blown. 

She might as well have a collar around her neck, she thought. She crept in, tail between her legs, her eyes flicking anxiously between her master and the stranger. 

Peter looked up at her for the first time, and she had to fight to keep herself from shaking. “This is Mr. Murdock. He’s a good friend of mine.”

A pleasant smile had replaced the stranger’s grim expression as he came to a quick stand. “Call me Matt, please,” he declared, dripping with suaveness. He gracefully extended his open hand in her direction. She stared at it blankly before quickly moving across the room to return the gesture.

“Um, hi...” There was a squeakiness to her own voice that she loathed.

Matt nodded warmly, taking her hand and giving her a firm handshake. “Very nice to meet you, Miss.... uh...?”

“—Honey,” she answered, muscles rigid. 

Peter’s head tilted in her direction, and she briefly caught a glance of his eyes before he turned away. She clarified, feigning confidence, “‘Honey’ is fine.”

Matt raised his brows with surprise. “Honey,” he repeated, considering the response with curiosity. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Matt’s a lawyer,” Peter muttered, pocketing his hands, as he faced his body toward the window shades. “Best in town.”

Matt blushed at the praise. “Please. We at Nelson, Murdock & Page have been fortunate, that’s all.”

Nelson, Murdock & Page. She recognized the name from the billboards. Subway ads. TV commercials. And the 52-story building on 8th Avenue, overlooking Hell’s Kitchen, where the names of the partners were lit up by 25-foot letters. The name was synonymous with success, she had once overheard someone say so while working at the coffee shop. 

If Peter was a friend, all the law firm’s success came with a cost. Matt Murdock looked like he could afford to cover the bill and then some.

“What happened to Miguel?” Honey questioned warily. “Is he okay?”

Matt pursed his lips. 

Peter answered her, “He’s fine. He and another friend of ours... just had a little misunderstanding with the cops.” 

Honey spotted the way Matt shifted at the response. 

“But we’re on it,” Peter added. “Nothin’ to worry about. He’s safe.” 

Matt twitched again, gripping the head of his cane firmly. Honey didn’t need to see this action to know it was a lie. 

She glanced between the two men, unsatisfied. “What’s going on?” she asked nervously. “Is this about last night? About... that guy?” 

Tight-lipped, Peter looked away, pacing towards the window. Honey dug her thumbnail into her palm, wringing her hands anxiously. “If-If he wants me to apologize or something, I can—” 

It was like he was shocked with a cattle prod. Peter snapped his head in her direction, eyes stern. 

“I-I mean, if he’s pressing charges or something,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to-to make a fuss.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” He spat out each of his words like rotten fruit, glowering at her.

The irate tone of his voice was familiar, but not from him. She wanted to swallow her tongue, staring back at him with wide eyes. “I... I don't want anyone to get in trouble—”

Brows pinched together, he stared incredulously at her for what felt like forever, jaw clenched tight. Subtly, she began to squirm under his hardened glare. “Matt,” Peter said softly, “could you excuse us?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, buttoning up his maroon suit jacket. He turned to Peter, “I have a car waiting for us outside. I’ll be ready when you are.” With a friendly bow of his head towards Honey’s direction, he took the cane and strode out of the room. 

Peter was dead silent until long after he disappeared from view. Moments before, he couldn’t (or wouldn't) look at her. Now, he roasted her with his gaze.

“Um,” Honey cleared her throat when the tension was too much. “Look, I-I want to say—”

“What do you remember about last night?” The question was thrown at her like she was in an interrogation. 

There were flashes of memories, some vivid, others blurry. Most of the words were cloudy. But the emotions were there, and they terrified her.

She gulped. Took a few shallow breaths. “I-I… I remember having a few drinks. And… and then I made Eddie give me something to-to take the edge off because there were so many people... and-and too many sounds, and I just don’t—I mean, I’m not making excuses. That’s—It’s my fault. Eddie didn’t want to, and I made him—”

“I’m not talkin’ about the drugs,” Peter snipped her sentence short, an edge of agitation returning. “I don’t care about the fact that you got high. I don’t care about any of that.” He fixed her with an intense gaze. “What do you remember about what happened next?”

She blinked, her heart beating hard enough to feel in her throat. 

What happened next? 

A hurricane of blurry images, punctuated by heartwrenching emotion. Like the fading outline of a nightmare. 

Which nightmare did he want to hear about first?

Was it her overwhelming guilt from spying on Peter? Was it the terror, like she was walking a tightrope across the Grand Canyon, every time her phone buzzed? Or the urge to run to the nearest church and pray away whatever evil possessed him when he stuck that needle in his arm? 

Was it confusion about what her heart wanted, one hand reaching out for him while the other sought to stab him in the back? Half wanted to dunk him in holy water, the other half of her wanted to reach out and touch—

A gasp caught in her throat. Another distinct memory came to light. 

Lust. Heated, unapologetic debauchery. It left a filthy sensation, a film congealing on her surface, like she’d spent a week locked in a room watching nothing but porn. Sin oozed from her brain, spinning her dizzy, bending her over, and presenting her cunt in the air to be fucked hard by any willing passerby.

She had wanted it to be Peter. 

Her face felt like it was on fire. He must have noticed because he broke his gaze, eyes suddenly downcast. A tidal wave of shame crushed her. 

“Do you remember,” he asked, more gently, “when you were assaulted?” She blinked, observing the concern in his gaze when he looked back at her. “When Rand put his hands on you?”

She blinked a few more times. Yes, she remembered that. Clear as day. She remembered the sudden urge to scream, cry and vomit all at once. She remembered Peter punching Danny and how scared and disgustingly satisfied it made her feel. She remembered Peter ordering his crew to protect her like she was Helen of Troy—not a slutty, mob mistress fucked-up on a little THC.

Her lower lip began to quiver. “I… I shouldn’t have been in there. I-I was out of my mind, and if I hadn’t—”

“Don’t,” his voice cracked like thunder. He sucked in a breath to silence himself, face contorting into a grimace. “Don’t finish that sentence. I swear to god, if you tell me that nothing woulda happened to you if you hadn’t been in there—”

“I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?!” 

His voice echoed, crackling with ire. She flinched at the noise, tears welling up in her eyes. He fumed, and as if he spit acid in her face, he sealed his mouth with his palms. Spun on his heel and paced madly. The wolf was back, hackles up, canines dripping with aggression.

Her heart thrummed in her throat, her eyes like saucers. When he looked back at her, his face was twisted sourly. Exhausted. Heartbroken. He dragged his fingers through the scruff of his beard, and stepped towards her. 

“Why don’t you get it, huh?” he said, quiet and grim. Eyes desperate. “Why can’t you see it?”

As he leaned into her, she instinctively leaned back. Tears budded at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t—I don’t know what—” 

He held up both hands, silencing her. She hiccuped in distress. “Honey,” he said, calmly attempting to bite back his frustration, “when are you gonna learn that you’re worth fighting for?”

Her breath hitched. His dark gaze was fixed on her. 

“Why can’t you understand that there’s nothing on this Earth that I care more about? That I would do anything to protect?”

She stared up at him, wordlessly. He inched closer until she was within arm’s length. 

“I’ll fight for you. I’ll protect you. But Honey…” he sighed heavily, “I can’t save you from yourself.” Pity marked his features, eyes glistening. “I can’t fight the bad guys and the voice in your head. The one that tells you it’s okay for some prick to grab you and get away with it. For some asshole boss, your crazy mother, or anyone else to talk down to you. To make you feel unworthy of common fucking decency.”

Despite the affection of his words, all she could focus on was the way he hissed at the end of the statement. 

Her eyes fell to the floor in shame. Hot tears pooled behind her lids. “Did Miguel shoot someone?” she murmured mournfully. 

He nodded. “Yes.”

Wiping a tear from her cheek as it fell, she sniffed back her anguish, voice lined with disdain. “Because of me? Because I freaked out?” She sounded so small. Powerless. She hated the sound. “I don’t even remember what happened. Maybe nothing happened at all, maybe he didn’t even touch me—”

Like a thunderbolt, Peter slammed his fist on the edge of the couch. She let out a squeak as the pine frame cracked beneath his hand. She jolted upright and then ducked her head immediately. He fumed silently. Glared down at the floor. Nostrils flaring. Rooted in place for ages.

The sound of his heavy exhale compelled her to peek up at him beneath her lashes. He lifted his chin, eyes cast downwards, and tensely declared, “You can lie to yourself all you want. But I told you. Don’t ever lie to me.”

She hugged herself tightly, restraining a tremble. Mouth agape. Tongue twisted uselessly. He didn’t wait long for a response.

“I-I gotta go,” he said. Peter rubbed the back of his hand across his chapped lips. He looked disoriented, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. He tugged on the edges of his slate-gray sportcoat, eyes focused on everything but her. “Won’t be back for a while. M’goin’ to the precinct.”

She tensed, eyes wide. “You’re going to the cops?”

Still, he kept his eyes down. She wasn’t sure whether it was defensiveness or disgust that prevented him from looking at her. 

“Don’t wait up for me.” 

Without any room for discussion, he marched out of the room. Stopping for nothing. Leaving her alone. 

Stupefied, she stood in his office feeling like the ground was trembling beneath her feet, and she’d be sucked into a sinkhole at any moment. 

Despite this, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

They were supposed to have a date.

Peter felt like he was sweating all over. Never mind the fact that it was a bitterly cold day. He shuffled from the elevator towards a blacked-out SUV idling in the underground garage. Every step was shaky, like he was balancing upright on a plank in the middle of the Atlantic. An ache radiated from his organs. Could’ve been starvation or salmonella. Never in his life had he ever been so ravenous and so wrecked by nausea.

One of his guards was already at the back passenger door, opening it for him as he approached. With little more than a tense nod, he crawled into the backseat where Matt was waiting.

“You feelin’ okay?” Matt asked. His tone was light amidst the heavy circumstances. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like a gym locker room.”

“M’fine.” The car lurched forward. Bile scaled up his tongue. Peter crouched in on himself, eyes fixed on the window.

“Yeah,” Matt scoffed. “Sure.”

He murmured coldly, “You let me worry about me.” 

“Hey, you called me,” Matt frowned teasingly, tossing his hands gently in surrender. “And for the record, I advised you not to go through with this.”

“Not gonna leave them to rot—”

“I’m saying we need to be strategic, is all. Chances are, we can get Jessica released today. Miguel is another story.”

Peter acknowledged that Matt was very good at his job. He could smell guilt. He could hear the pulse pattern of a lie. There was no hiding anything from the man, and it created a completely transparent relationship that Peter clung to. It was rare.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Peter contemplated his reflection in the glass. 

The lawyer spoke after a few moments, clearing his throat. “So. That’s her, I assume?” 

There was an ominous inflection in his voice. The idea of Matt’s attention being called to the woman in his penthouse made his skin prickle. Felt clammy. He squirmed in his seat, rolling his neck and shoulders. 

“Yeah.”

A pause. “She seems sweet.”

“She is.”

“That’s good. Great.” 

Another stretch of silence followed with Matt holding his tongue between his teeth. They both could sense each other’s distress, in the air and in their ears. Peter debated further attempts to conceal his fluctuating heartbeat. He needed to save up his energy. 

It was hopeless cause anyway. Matt saw everything.

The lawyer let out a heavy exhale, weighed by grim reality. “You know she’s hiding something from you, right?” 

Peter didn’t react. Brows furrowed, he simply stared into space. 

Matt was very good at his job. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Honey was making lists again. Montgomery. Juneau. Phoenix. Little Rock.

State capitals. Alphabetical by state. Sacramento. Denver. Hartford. Dover.

Fifty cities for fifty states. She counted to fifty and repeated the action, over and over, until she could sing them to a tune she composed.

It didn’t do anything to ease the dread in her belly.

The rest of the afternoon since Peter left her alone went by agonizingly slow. She purposely avoided her bedroom, where her phone was well hidden. She avoided the bed she shared with Peter. Avoiding any intimate space whatsoever.

The standard crew contracted to clean and maintain the condo came and left, as they did three times a week. Though she tried, the language barrier made having a conversation with anyone impossible. 

The more she thought about it, she wondered if the staff was capable of conversation all along, but they’d been instructed not to talk to her. The guards certainly didn’t, even as they lurked in the hallways like ghosts.

The best conversationalist in the entire house was Rex. 

She spent a good deal of time cleaning and rearranging the bearded dragon’s terrarium, despite the task having already been completed by a housekeeper. 

Honey felt like she’d seen him grow a few inches since she arrived. Peter explained that it was unlikely, he probably reached full size years ago, but she felt strongly about it. The reptile’s length spanned her entire forearm, from tip to elbow, and she was certain that it was an improvement. 

She needed to believe that something had been made better by her prescence.  

Rex was having an emotional time as well. He had always been on the large size for his species, but he had put on a few grams in the last few weeks, no doubt caused by the stress in their household. 

Honey wasn���t there to judge. She helped him get some exercise outside of the tank, letting him explore her arms and lap. His scaly embrace brought tears to her eyes. Rex was the only one she could actually care for. The only thing she had the power to protect. Perhaps the only unconditional love she’d ever experienced. 

Maybe the only love she deserved.

On a lighter note, Rex was a real riot once you got to know him.

That evening, Honey and Rex were enjoying a late night snack in the kitchen when she heard a crashing sound echoing from another part of the condo. She paused for a moment, trying to determine the source of the noise, curiosity stirring her chest.

Putting Rex safely back in his terrarium, she padded up the staircase towards the source of the noise. Just as she was ascending the stairs, one of the faceless guards rushed past her without a glance. Another one followed soon after, and she got the feeling that they were running from something. Like how rats scurry away before a train passes by. Or right before an earthquake.

Another sound—this one was just as sharp, but different. More animalistic. A roar. She tensed mid-step, jaw clenched tight, as she realized where the noises were coming from. 

Peter’s office.

Her instincts told her to run and hide, and incomprehensively, to go forward. Whatever it was, it was in pain. Or it was causing pain. Was Peter in pain? 

Bracing herself, she crept to the solid oak door and gently pushed it open. 

Like much of the penthouse, Peter’s office had floor-to-ceiling views of Lower Manhattan’s breathtaking skyline. Typically. On this night, the only thing outside the window was a terrace, which stretched around the condo, and a solid wall of fog at its border. Beyond the rain-streaked glass, it was nearly impossible to see through the black cloud. The haze made her feel trapped, suffocated. Blindfolded when an atomic monster could be lurking just outside of the windows.

The probability of a monster outside was steadily increasing. Despite the sounds she’d heard, concerningly, the inside of Peter’s office was empty. 

Swallowing hard, she wandered inside with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She approached the center with bated breath, eyes darting towards each corner. 

She jumped at the sound of a clamour coming from the terrace. Searching from edge to edge, she couldn’t see the source, but didn’t need to wait for it. She glanced around the office, narrowing in on Peter’s desk. She darted behind the asymmetrical, functional piece of art, searching frantically for something that could be used as a weapon. 

Her fingers roved around the furniture, pulling open hidden drawers and extending pieces in search of something sturdier than a Bic pen. As she slid her fingertips beneath the table surface to search for a handle of some kind, she brushed over a latch.

A pressurized spring popped open to reveal a sliding compartment. Hidden. Secret. 

She stilled, mind struggling to comprehend what she was looking at. 

She obviously recognized that it was a handgun. A pistol built of black soulless metal. It looked fully assembled, as far as she knew. Another thing that holds bullets—a magazine?— was nestled tightly next to it.

Her fingers twitched, curled into balls. Her cells urged her to reach out and touch. With arms firmly at her sides, she gazed down at the weapon. Swallowed hard. 

This was a tool. A gift, perhaps. A new puzzle piece. Biting her lip, she debated how to use it, and if she even could, and fuck I don’t know how to hold a gun much less shoot somebody, and are you ready for that? Would you actually shoot someone?

As quickly as she could, she slapped the hidden compartment closed, obstructing the weapon from her view.

“Somethin’ I can help you find, kitten?”

She snapped her head around to see Peter standing near the windows, concealed in shadow. Her breath caught in her throat, and while her mind was spinning because where did he come from how did he get in here how did he get up here how long as he been there—

—and what the fuck did he just call me?

When Peter stepped out of the shadows, he looked like a different person. He was wearing the same face, even the same clothes (although they were drenched and clung to his skin as if he’d just come in from the rain). He looked alien to her, a skinwalker. Like his body had been stolen by an otherworldly entity that puppeted his movements as he prowled towards her.

Instinctively, she took a step backwards. He crept like the drizzle outside—languid, chilly and deceptive of the violence capable within. 

Honey opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.” The lilt in his voice made her shiver. Peaceful rage. Gentle malace. It was like an unharmonius song to her ears, full of opposites and contradictions.

She had no idea when her lips started moving. “I... I... was...um... I-I heard...” 

“Why is it every time I come home I catch you creepin’ around in here?” he replied, like words whispered between lovers. He loomed closer. “Curious little kitten, aren’t you?”

Cold sweat beaded at her brow. Her voice was thin. “I-I... don’t like that.”

“Don’t like what?”

“I don’t like you calling me that.”

“What would you like me to call you then, huh?”  He sauntered nearer, a few strides away from her rigid stance. “You were never clear on that.”

She stood helplessly, frozen in the lights of his gaze, as he stalked towards her. She tensed her muscles, bracing for impact, expecting to be splattered across the floor. In a split second, she lunged forward.

Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she pulled him into a tight embrace. Heart thrumming loudly, she held him close to her body. The wet clothes soaked through her sweater. His fluttering heart tapped against her cheek.

Holding him was exhilarating and terrifying and terrible all at once. He went rigid underneath her touch, and she couldn’t see whether it was from rage or shock. She pressed her cheek firmly into his chest, stifling tears. 

“I’m worried about you,” she whispered. His body was tense and his skin cold, corpse-like. “’M’afraid, Peter. Afraid something bad is gonna happen.”

It was like embracing a statue. She couldn’t even feel him breathe.

“What happened to you?” she trembled with despair, her lip quivering. Despite the overwhelming confusion in her heart, her concern was genuine. She was afraid for him. She knew that. It just wasn’t the only thing she was afraid of.

After several more moments of silence, she finally felt him soften. Her shoulders slumped, feeling the slightest relief at the gradual rise and fall of his chest. With his next breath, his muscles loosened a bit more. Soon, he felt human again.

His Adam’s apple bobbed against the top of her head. “Y’know I’ll protect you, right?” he said. The sentence was feather-soft. And just as hollow. “From anything.” He didn’t embrace her in return.

Her eyes burned and glistened. “I know.” 

She pushed away from his chest, staring up at his face. The action forced him to meet her eyes. The color was missing from his irises, giving them an inky black appearance. But other than that, there was a glimmer of the man she knew looking back at her. 

“I... I want to protect you too,” she said, biting her lip. Clenching her jaw tight, she let her hands travel up the wet fabric of his shirt. She ran her fingers gently over the expanse of his chest, gulping at the feeling of marble beneath. 

When she met his eyes again, torment was etched onto his face. He was in pain, and he’d let her see it. That glimmer of vulnerability opened a gateway to the shy boy beneath her fingers. The charming young prince who stumbled over his words, and whose bright smile magnetically yanked her feet out from under her.

While she gazed up at him and felt his defenses slip away, a voice in the back of her mind drew crosshairs in her eyes. She looked at him like peering down the scope of a rifle. The devil on her shoulder urging her to go in for the kill.

Her whisper was breathless. Soft, like a butterfly teasing a flower. “Tell me what I can do... to help you feel better.” The lilt in her voice carried a suggestiveness that she watched spread like an ink stain through his mind.

He stared down at her intently, turning her inside out, pulling her apart in his gaze. His scrutiny unnerved her, but she forced her body to remain calm. To charm. She ran her fingers across the scruff of his beard, bringing her hand gently up to rest at his cheek. Felt the cords in his neck tighten as he resisted the urge to nuzzle her palm. She gazed up into the darkness of his eyes, heart aching, and vowing devotion.

His expression was hard to read, even for her. Regardless, she felt the air around her get inexplicably colder. 

“Yeah?” he breathed, his eyes glazing over. His mind was drifting somewhere else, listening to more voices than just hers. Unsettlingly, he stared down at her, inches from her face, and yet she got the feeling that he was simultanously looking at her from an outside window. “You wanna make me feel good?” 

The sound of him shifted. The sinfully-deep timbre of his voice sent heat rushing to her core. Ebony eyes half-lidded, swirling with lust, he trapped her in his gaze. Pinning her with just a look. She steeled herself timidly, restraining a tremor. Tension stretched her belly, as she pinched her lip and nodded.

“Say it.” 

The heat of his breath, combined with his scorching eyes that explored hers and suggested wicked thoughts, made her dizzy. Body and voice both firm against her. 

“Say you wanna make me feel good.”

Her mouth felt dry. She gulped. “I... I wanna make you feel good.” 

As he peered down lechorously at her lips, she kept herself from buckling beneath his gaze. He was panting, lips slightly parted, projecting lewd images of that mouth into her brain. 

His lips curved into a slight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Go put on that pretty dress I got ya.” 

He said it suggestively, although it was far from a suggestion. Her heart began to beat faster. “Um... which—”

“You know exactly which one.” 

It was a declaration. A challenge. A warning. She swallowed dryly at the intensity of his stare. 

“Go on.” 

Her instincts screamed at her again. Begging her to turn around and run. Instead, she stepped away slowly. Her retreat was tense, controlled and calculated, like walking on a tight rope. She willed her muscles to move, forcing herself to turn her back to him.

“Good girl.” 

She stopped. Trembled in the heat of his stare. Then, she complied.

When she returned to his office, she was wearing the lavender babydoll set, with the matching lace bikini-cut panties beneath. The open fireplace had been lit, casting him in a flickering, orange glow. When he glanced up from his desk, the look he gave her stripped her naked. 

Her body shook. Biting her lip, she felt heat pooling between her thighs. 

Despite how much she disliked his new nickname, she regrettably saw how it fit her in this circumstance. Tight-lipped, she tiptoed through the threshold like a frightened cat. His gaze hunted her figure as much as it admired her, studying her every move.

On his part, he looked just as sinful. His slate-gray, houndstooth-plaid patterned blazer had been discarded somewhere, leaving only the wrinkled, damp, white dress shirt behind. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbow, collar loose with the top buttons undone. His hair was still damp around the edges, wildly sticking out in a rogue style. 

It wasn’t just sinful. He was the Devil incarnate, hiding behind an angelic face and doe eyes.

He lounged back in his chair, knees shoulder width apart, glass of bourbon in hand. His posture spawned just as many lewd thoughts in her mind. He peered at her sideways, his eyes roving unabashedly over her body. It was almost too much when she connected with his eyes, her face heating with embarrassment. He shamelessly smirked, as if boldly daring her to object to his ogling. Challenging her to deny him access to whatever he wanted. 

“There she is.” He sounded gentle. Sing-song.

She stopped several paces away from the desk, but it was all posturing. 

There was no amount of distance she could put between them that he wouldn’t cross. No obstacle. No line. No mercy.

She gulped anxiously. “Wha-what... What did you, um... need help with?”

He watched her silently. Intensely. “You said that we were interested in the same hobby,” he said with a dry tone. “Figured I’d get back into it.” Setting the glass down on the table, he came to a stand. He sauntered around the desk towards her, a hidden object in his grip.

His old film camera.

Her stomach dropped out at the sight. Images of the ethereal blonde woman in Peter’s photos, strewn out salaciously in pornographic poses, flooded her mind. She knew nothing about Gwen. Except that she is the woman of Peter’s dreams, and Peter didn’t want to lose her, and now he keeps her hidden in a box. 

At least they had that in common.

“No better way to learn about photography than to experience what it’s like to be on both sides of the lens.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as he stalked towards her, his gaze crawling across her small form. “Want you to be a model for me.”

The blood drained from her face, weighed down by dread. It must have been recognizable, because after a moment, Peter’s voice softened. “It’s okay to be shy,” he said placatingly. She peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “But you don’t have to be. Just me here. Nobody else.” His eyes lingered as they brushed up her thighs, dragged across the curve of her breasts, and caught her mousy gaze. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The kindness in his voice would’ve been soothing in any other circumstance. In this scenario, she felt like she was basking in the warm glow of an angler fish hunting prey. 

“I... I don’t know, Peter, I can’t— I’m-I’m not a model.”

“Nonsense.” 

“I’m... I’m nervous,” she explained with a pleading voice. “I don’t even know what to do—”

“You do exactly what I say,” he answered, matter-of-fact. The words were soft but made the imprint of a demand. “We had a deal. Won’t even touch you. Not unless you want me to.” 

She blinked several times, shrinking at his dominance. A warm smile stretched his lips. 

“Just relax,” he cooed, a hot knife slicing through butter. “Now come on. You wanna help me relax, don’cha? Be a good girl. Stand over by the desk.”  

Her muscles felt stiff. Like a rusted axel on a locomotive lurching forward, she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she padded towards the front of the desk. He glided away from her, backing into the shadows.

“Put your back against the edge.”

Hesitantly, she did.

“Palms flat.”

She pursed her lips. Wiggled into position. Awkwardly. Slightly leaning her weight back on her palms, so her chest protruded outwards.

“Look at me.” As if there was a choice.

Click.

His gaze was ravenous. “That's it...”

Click. Click. Click.

“Perfect—”

Her mouth felt cotton dry as she glanced idly at the doorway. 

Click. Click. Click—

The rattle of the shutter ceased, and her eyes darted back to him. He stared at her through slitted lids. Suspicious, but pointedly unconcerned. He paused the photo session and drifted to the doorway. She looked on apprehensively as he reached for the door, closed it, and locked it tight.

The sound made her stomach clench. “There.” He looked back at her, self-satisfied. “No more distractions.” Her breaths came out short, teetering on panic, as he loomed closer with the camera raised. “Now—”

She sucked in her lower lip. “Peter, just wait, I can’t—”

Click. Click.

“Do that again. That thing with your lip.”

Click. Click. Click.

She swallowed hard. Whimpered. “Peter, please stop. Please, I—I’m scared.”

Either the phrasing or the vulnerability in her voice nudged him out of his trance. He glanced up at her outside of the viewfinder, observing her state. Her shoulders were straight, back like an iron rod, with white-knuckled fingers that clawed the wood veneer. 

“What’s the matter?”

She sniffed, trying to steady her voice. “I-I’m afraid.”

He tilted his head curiously. “Why are you afraid?” He spoke delicately, like chanting a nursery rhyme. “You think something bad is gonna happen to you? I told you. I’ll never let that happen. You believe me, right?” 

“It’s not that—”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Please—”

“Please, what?” His sentence was punctuated with force, the last of his patience worn thin.

She gazed at him, wide-eyed and flustered, babbling like she spoke a different language. His expression urged her to just speak, to tell him what she wanted. 

All she wanted was to tell him the truth. She wanted to take a knife to the suffocating balloon of lies that bubbled up in her lung, letting it all spill free. But she didn’t speak. Couldn’t. She held her breath. Held his gaze. Hung her mouth open uselessly. 

He pursed his lips, letting out a frustrated huff. “Just say what you’re gonna—”

“I’m afraid of you, Peter!” 

He leaned back at the small outburst, a crease forming between his eyes. She fought to steady her breathing and control her volume. 

It was the truth, and the truth should feel good. But all she felt was trepidation. 

“I’m-’m afraid of what you’re capable of. Afraid... I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me. Just like—”

She bit her tongue to stop it from moving. Terror sealed off her throat.

Peter gazed at her expectantly, brows pinched. 

She drew her lips into a hard line, jaw locked tightly in place. “Just like everyone else.”

He studied her closely and silently, until his shoulders slumped. When he broke the silence, his tone was firm. “I’m a lot of things. I’ll admit that.” He fixed his contemplative gaze on her. “But I promise. I’m nothing like everyone else.” She swallowed, gulping at the implication. “Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Heart thrumming, she eyed him back. Never before had the words ‘trust me’ been so ambiguous. The two sides of him were in clear view. Two lives. Two halves. Two wolves staring right back at her. 

One of them was desperate for her affection. Had an evolutionary imperative that drove him to win her over, to court her, to provide for and to protect her. To make her want to be his for life.

The other looked like he wanted to eat her.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered, in a tone low enough to slide beneath her skin. It was soft, secretive. The way he crawled into bed with her at night. “Don’t be ashamed. Don’t be scared.” 

He said that, but the sound of his voice had the opposite effect. His words chilled her, she felt her stomach tumble with trepidation. Simultaneously, the heat of his voice roasted her alive. She must have been melting from the inside out. Dripping into a puddle. That could be the only logical explanation for the sensation between her thighs.

He leaned into her, and his proximity alone could be felt. Gooseflesh broke out across her body. As if his presence could touch her without lifting a finger, with eyes that probed her flesh, breath that licked over her curves. Desire that radiated from him and forced its way through her supple lips.

“Relax,” he said. “Just let me take control of your body.”

She went light-headed. Fell down a rabbit hole and was now hypnotized. Under his spell. Her breath caught in her throat, and her stomach fluttered as if she were freefalling through the atmosphere.

She saw him step away from her. Physically, he put distance between them, she was sure of it. But being locked in his gaze felt like being restrained in his grip. Pinned in place. He licked his lips, and his hands brought the camera back up back up to his face, finger on the shutter-release, and fuck how would those fingers feel wrapped around her throat—

“Just like that,” she heard him murmur darkly, voice heavy with desire. “God, you look so pretty like that—”

Click. Click. Click.

The shuffling of the shutter faded into a rhythm. A hypnotic drum beat matched only by the fluttering pace of her heart. Entranced, she set her fear aside, just as he’d wanted. The soft crooning of his admiration, gentle gasps between giant gulps, drifted into her ears like a sacred chant. She was enchanted, swaying to his song. Enraptured, guided by his words alone.

Lift your chin... lean back, all the way... show me your throat... that’s it... good, bend your elbow... sit up on the desk...turn your hips the other way... bring up your knee... put your hand right there....

She was a puppet. Maybe she had always been. He pulled her with soft demands and invisible strings, making her dance for him. But unlike a marionette, she didn’t feel hollow. She felt whole. 

It felt good. Maybe it was a residual high from the drug taken the night before. Maybe she was cured. Maybe she was broken. 

She was a rose blossoming beneath his lens. Bathing in his praise.

Fuck, that’s perfect... so good... such a good girl... lie on your stomach right there, bring your arms up... yeah, just like that... fuck that’s it... gorgeous... look at me... yes... arms above your head... so good for me... so good at this... lie on your back now, bring up your knee, spread them apart just a little bit... hmm, you look so precious... your body was made for this...

Time passed. She had no idea how much. Could’ve been a few minutes, or a few hours. Under his lens, she felt microscopic and rare. A new species waiting to be discovered. A strange fruit waiting to be tasted.

Slow it down, leave your fingers soft... good, good girl... yeah, just a gentle touch... curl your fingers...  feel that?... so perfect... 

He drew in air steadily, slightly increasing, and soon they were both breathing in short, soft gasps. 

Eyes on me... That’s it, that’s good... that’s—

They both froze, but his gaze was fixed on her shoulder. She followed his line of sight until she saw that the right strap of the lingerie had fallen loosely across her upper arm. Her hand darted towards it, compelled with a modest urge to fix the strap.

“Leave it,” he said with a throaty whisper and ragged breath. She stilled, a startled fawn. Slowly, he shifted his position to a different angle, this time entranced on a view of her chest. The lace brushed across her cleavage innocently. He licked his lips at the sight. “Look at me.”

She did, and oh— 

He could not look at her that way.

He wasn’t going to eat her. He was going to devour her.

She wouldn’t be mated. She would be bred.

Her flesh was burning hot. Scorched. Melting beneath that look. 

And in the back of her mind, over his soft demands, his gentle orders—arch your back... so beautiful... spread your thighs, wider... that’s it... god, so sexy, so perfect—she was also aware of the sound of her own breathless gasps and sharp, rapturous exhales. 

She felt the tickle of delicate fabric sliding back up her legs the more she angled her body. The French Chantilly lace of the skirt—treacherous snake—teased a view of the tops of her thighs. She felt her bare legs prickle in the cold air, despite the sweat beading on the nape of her neck. The hem of the dress drifted backwards into her lap, and his artful eye roved across her body, admiring the masterpiece of her form. 

And when she heard his breath hitch, she knew exactly where his gaze had landed.

The paper-thin, lavender lace covering her core was now darkened a deep plum color. The delicate fabric was slick with her arousal, clinging to her flesh. She was dripping wet, moreso than she’d been in years. She didn’t need to look down to see what he was seeing. She knew. She could feel it. Smell it. Taste her tangy sweetness on her own tongue. 

The way his ravaged-red lips parted as his eyes darkened, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

She gasped, tension building, “Peter...” 

He looked down at her, eyes dazed as he braced himself on the edge of the desk. Possessed. A man driven mad by hunger. A rabid wolf, muscles tense, mouth watering at her scent.

No one had ever looked at her the way he looked at her. Like he was prepared to worship her and defile her in the same night, every night, for the rest of eternity. 

His gaze was intoxicating, his wrecked appearance was exhilarating. She was drunk off of it. High off of it. Basking in it, with caution thrown to the wind.

Unbidden, her left hand sailed across the sea of fabric, smoothing over the lace, until it reached the hem of her panties. He watched her, eyes blown out with lust. Her hand drifted down past her waist. Fueled by an electric arousal and drugged with desire, her fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of her panties, slipping through her wet folds.

He clenched his teeth, swallowing hard, eyes fixated on her hand as set a pace with her fingers. He snapped his eyes shut for a moment, as if processing what he was seeing. Or debating what to do about it. 

She watched his face intently, eagerly waiting for his eyes to open back up. She wanted to see the look in his eye as she came undone.

Every time the pads of her fingertips brushed over her clit, sliding shamefully through her slick, her chest fluttered in short gasps. The melody of her gentle whimpering was too much to handle, and he ripped his eyelids back open to look. The lewd sight matched with wet sounds twisted his insides into a thin wire. His dick jolted at the debauchery.

“Perfect,” he breathed, ravenously addicted.

Licking his lips, his eyes found hers. The heat of his gaze was relentless. 

“Y’like that?” he whispered with a ragged, open-mouthed pant. He was quiet, like a secret. One meant for the two of them. “You like playin’ with yourself?” She stifled back a moan, biting her lip to seal them shut. “Betchu do. Like playin’ with me, too, yeah? Playin’ filthy little games...”

She heard the clink of metal. The sound of his belt unbuckling. Her mouth fell open in scandalized shock while her neck and chest flustered with heat. Momentarily, she was stricken with fear that he would facefuck her right there on the table, thrusting his cock through her lips with abandon. At the same time, the crude thought made her quiver with excitement, and she bit down into a desperate mewl.

He locked his eyes on her. She heard the rustling of fabric, but the sight was dreadfully obscured by her position on the desk. He poured his gaze over her, coating her completely. Everything from the hypnotic flick of her wrist to her twitching thighs.

He ground his teeth. “You think I can’t hear you through the walls?”

She gasped, her hand going still. Her chest heaved from the growing pressure in her body, thrust into vertigo from her humiliation and sinful hunger. 

“Naughty girl. You think I can’t hear you when you touch yourself? But I can.” 

Her cunt fluttered at his words as her fingers reached to soothe the ache. She clenched her jaw, dragging in each breath like crawling across a coral reef. 

He grinned lecherously, a challenge buried in his eyes. “I hear it. Every time.”

His shoulder jerked as his arm jolted into a steady pace. He winced painfully, grunting into each thrust. The sight of him pleasuring himself could’ve been her undoing. Like being struck by lightning, her wrist sprang to life, rubbing tiny circles across her clit.

A guttural groan rose out of his chest, darkened stare darting between her glistening hand and her dizzied, shimmering eyes. 

“Drives me crazy, y’know,” he hissed as his jaw fell open. “Like p-pheromones... Like-like you're taunting me...” 

Tight lipped, he moaned beneath his words. She mewled at the sound. He clenched his jaw, picking up the pace. His hips jerked of their own accord, beginning to drive each thrust into his palm. 

“Like you’re daring me... to come in and take what’s mine.” His breaths were ragged and dry, dragging behind the pace of his hips. 

Her jaw fell open at the sight, the coil in her belly twisting up. She was close. 

“I can’t help it,” he groaned, jaw tight. “I touch myself every time I hear you.”

His words ravaged her womb further, pulling her strings tight. She cried out at the ache. A hundred pornographic and sacrilegious pictures flooded her mind, corrupting her thoughts. Peter was tied to every one of them.

“S’that it, huh, baby? You want me to fuck you like an animal?”

Her blood raced towards her core as she edged over the peak of the rollercoaster, dangerously near the drop. It’s like he knew exactly where she was, and with one raspy whisper, he pushed her over the edge.

“That’s it, baby. Come for Daddy.”

The cable snapped as she hurtled over the peak, plummeting through the air at breakneck speed. She cried out, back arching, tears budding in the corners of her eyes. Her climax shattered her. Wrung her body out as euphoria gushed from her center. She writhed desperately, a slave to the newfound pleasure spilling through her folds. 

Needing it. Willing to work for it. To sell her soul for it. 

Over the disembodied sounds of her orgasm, she could hear him breaking down inches away from her.

“fuckfuckfuck that’s it, that’s it—”

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. 

The door rattled. Everything came to a grinding halt at the sound of a heavy-handed fist pounding on the door. “Sir! Are you in there?”

Brakes squealing, sparks flying, everything stopped. Peter jerked at the sound of the guard’s voice, like a dog whiplashed at the end of a leash. Honey gasped in horror, face filled with humiliation. He bit back an agonized cry, his finish ripped away from him by harsh reality. 

“Sir, we have an urgent situation that needs your immediate attention.”

Peter squeezed his eyes closed, as the words collided with him like a bucket of ice water. Chest heaving, he heard Honey scramble to sit up, while he remained doubled over with a painfully hard erection. 

“Sir!”

“Yes!” he snapped, his voice taut with anger. He stepped away, pulling together his pants, stomping towards the door. Concealing himself and obstructing any view into the room, he tore the door open, nearly ripping it from the hinges.

His face was flushed with rage. “Swear to god—”

“It’s O’Hara, sir.” 

Peter went still, brows pinched together. 

“He got ambushed in lockup. He’s in an ambulance as we speak.”

At once, his body went numb. Flesh made stone. Limbs into rigid, frozen steel. 

Peter said something wordless to the guard, and closed the door. As soon as it snapped into place, his head fell forward against the grain. Weariness and exhaustion overtook him. His legs felt like rubber, threatening to buckle beneath him. Limbs shaking. 

When he turned back towards his office, he was shaken by the sight. It was Honey, but now his vision was sharp. Cleared of the fog of lust. The thrill of limitless power.

The young woman he kidnapped trembled up on his desk, legs pressed tightly together, her dress askew. She folded her arms around herself, shame filling her eyes, sweat cooling her skin. Her thighs caked with her cum. Next to her, a roll of film in Peter’s camera was filled with images of her that he forced her to take, leading up to, and including her finger-fucking herself in front of him while he crudely jerked himself off.

He sealed his eyes closed, feeling his stomach turn inside out beneath his ribs. The back of his eyes burned, pain contorting his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice nearly breaking beneath the weight. He swallowed hard, feeling more dead than alive. Empty. Soulless. Hopeless.

Mournfully, he locked glistening eyes with her for as long as it was possible. “I need you to go back to your room.”

Continue to Part 14

[back to masterlist]

A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And if not, CALM YOUR TITS they FUcK WheN I SAY THeY'RE READy 2 FUCK OK???? leave me a note, comment, or anonymous ask! I can't tell you how incredibly grateful I am for everyone's support, not just of this fic, but of me as a person, and I thank you wholeheartedly.

Remember, to be added to this series' tag list, all you have to do is REBLOG. Only reblogs will be tagged in the future!

love you!!! 💜

[goldshirtleia]

Hello yes it is that time of year again, I am listening to the 1970 OG recording of JCS on vinyl and have decided to finally make a list my rankings for every role and aspect of this show. For the record I am a pagan whose only real knowledge of the Jesus story is from this show so forgive my unhinged takes.

Characters:

Jesus:

Ian Gillan (OG album/broadway)

Ted Neeley (1973)

Ola Sålo (Swedish 2014)

Jack Hopewell (North American Tour 2022)

Morgan James (all female cast 2022)

Judas:

Carl Anderson (1973)

Brandon Victor Dixon (2018)

Murray Head (OG album)

Shoshana Bean (all female cast 2022)

Peter Johannson (Swedish 2014)

Honourable mention to Colm Wilkinson (it is a CRIME that there isn't a full recording of the Irish cast)

Mary Magdalene:

Yvonne Elliman (OG album/broadway/1973)

That's it, no one else even comes close

(Maybe an honourable mention for Gunilla Backman)

Pontius Pilate:

Barry Dennen (OG album/1973)

Filippo Strocchi (Vienna 2018)

Orfeh (all female cast 2022)

Caiaphas:

Bob Bingham (OG broadway/1973)

Norm Lewis (NBC 2018) I will ALWAYS stan Norm

Victor Brox (OG album)

Simon Zealotes:

TIE - Larry Marshall (1971)

TIE - Eric Grönwall (NBC 2018)

John Gustafson (OG album)

Tony Vincent (2000)

Herod:

Alice Cooper (NBC 2018)

Mike D'Abo (OG album)

Chris Moyles (Arena Tour 2012)

Overall - staging/set design/costumes:

1973 Movie

NBC 2018

North American Tour 2022

Arena Tour 2012

Honourable mention to the OG broadway production -- I haven't seen enough footage to accurately rank it but I LOVE Jesus's cape in Superstar.

Best overall rendition of Superstar (incl. staging, costumes, etc)

1973 Movie

NBC 2018

Arena Tour 2012

Swedish 2014

Best facial expressions:

Carl Anderson during Simon Zealotes

Carl Anderson right before he engages in respectability politics to slut shame Mary

Tim Minchin when the priests take his joint lmao

Best Superstar costume:

Carl Anderson's white maxi fringe jumpsuit (come ON)

Peter Johannson's shirtless #lewk (I have a whole thing about how Judas should not look like a demon but the sparkly red pants and the Legolas hair are too fantastic)

Brandon Victor Dixon in the full silver fit

Best WTF moments:

That bit in the 1973 film where they all form The Last Supper for a quick second and no one comments on it

When the 1973 crowd says "won't you die for me?" in Hosanna and it just FREEZES on Jesus's face

The Swedish cast pushing Jesus into Jerusalem in a shopping cart

The fighter pilots swooping at Judas after Blood Money in 1973. What WAS that. How did they get that.

That is all lol. Every time we watch even a clip of a new production my mother and I spend 2-3 hours discussing how it fits into our rankings, so this could change.

[svtskneecaps]

qsmp ghost investigator au dump

here is everything i spitballed into my sibling's texts. apparently their discord was "thriving on it". i'll divide this into categories and attempt to format it as reader friendly as possible. god almighty i hope the keep reading below this paragraph works

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

there's a main investigative squad formed by roier, cellbit, fic, pac, and tubbo

roier is in charge of their social media accounts

mike is their former college roommate who they constantly bring up and declare has died, except every time he comes up the way he died was different. he's actually a really successful movie producer (or something) so one time they do a live stream for a milestone celebration and in the last ten seconds mike comes flying out of the left side with ghost stage makeup and tackles pac off the side of the screen and they never address this publicly. any time someone asks what happened to pac they answer "who's pac" including pac

cellbit gets extremely disappointed when the perp isn't supernatural

roier is thrilled when the perp isn't supernatural because the peter parker in him loves taking the piss on a billionaire publicly

fit has photographic memory (à la canon screenshots)

pac is extremely good at breaking and entering

cellbit is an old fashioned polaroid kind of guy bc digital cameras don't capture ghost evidence as clearly

roier swears by digital photos bc he likes photoshop (he carries rolls of film with him in case cellbit runs out)

fit has an auto shop. tubbo and ramón work in this auto shop. this is a headache for everyone involved but at least the auto shop was already a thin disguise for experimenting with homemade pyrotechnics so things exploding isn't a big deal

whenever the team has to do a distraction, the only two options are 1) manipulation 2) explosion

when they get caught in a bad spot, pac plays on sympathy, roier plays dumb, tubbo plays along, cellbit pretends to belong, and fit uno reverses

they commissioned jaiden for their logo. she also beta reads the scripts

richarlyson works for mike. sometimes he joins the investigation crew as a cameraman on loan. fans have learned to recognize when richas is behind the camera because the camera doesn't shake when the monster of the week appears because homeboy does not fear death. cellbit knows mike will end his bloodline if anything happens to richas (and would probably end his OWN bloodline) so he tends to be double stressed when richas is behind the camera

the team has a house, courtesy of mike, because god knows a ghost hunter's salary probably can't pay for one

bagi belongs to a "rival" investigation group. she and cellbit talk MAD shit every time they're in the same room. they are also both incredibly fucking smart and often end up working together to crack the tough cases while continuing to smack talk each other

bad is also in the rival investigative group. he is very clearly a demon. this is never commented on.

skeppy is a ghost except bad is the only one who can see him. anyone who calls skeppy imaginary is shouted down by bagi. bagi also believes skeppy is imaginary

tina is the safety net / brawn for bagi's team. she trains in hand to ghost hand combat with etoiles because she is Not Human and can punch ghosts. bagi does not know this and she just thinks tina's super cool and super talented and super badass. tina definitely thinks bagi has realized she is Not Human but they haven't like had a conversation about it but bagi's super smart sooooo

dapper is the "guy in the chair" for the rival investigation team. bad tends to ask a question into a radio (or seemingly to thin air) and immediately get the answer via text. sometimes cellbit will wonder something aloud about various ghost types or signs ("they heard scratching in the attic, so that could be caused by--") and almost immediately get cut off by bad's text tone as bad reads aloud dapper listing off three paranormal options as well as potential structural problems and rodents having an extremely fun night, at which point bad cuts himself off with "LANGUAGE" or "OUT OF POCKET"

the main team thinks dapper is just short until they realize that no, dapper is actually like 14. bad's like WHY DO YOU THINK THEY STAY IN THE VAN???

baghera makes and posts music and consults for bagi's team. cellbit is scared of her and also desperately wishes he could poach her for his own team but she only answers jaiden's calls

pomme has a ghost gun. it was a gift from etoiles. she accidentally took foolish's head off with it one time. his head grew back and that was how they learned he was Not Made of Meat. this was not particularly surprising, because bad is still her part time dad. it still scared the crap out of pomme the first time it happened because the ghost gun SHOULD only work on ghosts but foolish is in a weird enough state of undead that he qualified.

foolish was thrilled to have a spare head, hence "the first time"

vegetta is a famous architect. he calls foolish to ask which paranormal team he should consult on whether a property is haunted, because vegetta trusts his partner of unspecific relationship's judgement, considering foolish is Not Human. foolish's answer usually depends on how spiteful he feels towards tina and bad at the time of the call

bonus, i really want maximus involved in one team or the other but since he hasn't interacted with bagi yet i can't decide his role or anything concrete. but just know that's in my brain.

EPISODES (in no particular order:

foolish summons bad during a sleepover with tina and then thinks it'll be funny to summon paranormal investigators (bad also thinks it's funny). they decide to play a game of "can the investigators figure out who's the immortal". it is revealed to the audience in the end of the ""episode"" once all the investigators have left that all three of them are immortal. bad and foolish devolve into yet another argument over which one of them won based on a win condition they somehow came up with and agreed on without ever consulting each other. tina was actually the winner. roll credits.

NEXT:

quackity owns a casino. he hires the team to look into some demonic activity his patrons have been reporting. he spends the entire investigation and episode demanding they find the demon and exorcise the demon and generally shittalking the demon. they spend the entire episode questioning more and more how quackity's casino stays in business as everything they learn about it and him does not inspire confidence. it is revealed that ironmouse is the demon and is also singlehandedly keeping the casino in business because she fucking loves gambling. quackity immediately changes his tune.

NEXT:

antoine calls the team because he's KINDA worried by the latitude and longitude he keeps finding on the walls at the company he works at, written in what looks suspiciously like blood. unbeknownst to them, bagi's team was ALSO contacted, by baghera. they eventually discover the recipient of the messages is etoiles. after an incident at his previous employment he is half ghost and can now fight ghosts. the messages were from an entity that attacks things when it gets bored and it may as well fight etoiles because etoiles is the only one who has beat it so far. they meet in various back alleys and restaurant parking lots to go at it and get drinks afterward. the entity has no idea how to speak any modern languages but Fighting is Universal.

NEXT:

pierre is a wine baron and claims there's a unicorn who watches over his family's vineyard. it's been part of the brand since inception and it's taken mostly as propaganda and old legend until people start actually catching glimpses of a unicorn around the vineyard and the rumor starts to spread until roier "investigative journalist and old money hater" drags the team to go on a tour of the production line in hopes of blowing the case wide open. fit, pac, and tubbo are in charge of distractions while cellbit and roier sneak away to explore the vineyard and track the unicorn.

the unicorn is pierre. roier ends up finding this hilarious and while his journalistic spirit cannot allow him to NOT expose that the unicorn is fake, he ends up calling it "a white horse with a taped-on horn" instead of the face of the company in a fursuit. pierre sends the team wine periodically as thanks and also because roier still has a picture of him in a unicorn costume in the woods.

fit and pac do a wine tasting together.

NEXT:

wilbur contacts them because ghost slime has taken up residence in the guest bathroom and while his daughter insists slime is part of the family, phil is coming with his son (chayanne) to stay with them for a festival or something and wilbur doesn't feel like getting roasted by the middle schooler who is his brother because the bathroom smells like algae and wet dog so he needs the team to babysit slime until phil leaves town. slime spends the entire time going through windows and walls with no warning and scaring the piss out of everyone. one time he was in the cabinet when cellbit was going in to make his midnight coffee and his scream sent everyone in the house into emergency mode. roier would have FULLY put slime through the wall if slime were corporeal. lucky for slime, and their wall, slime is not.

NEXT:

jaiden works at an escape room and her boss reaches out to the team because he is FED UP with some paranormal entity that keeps drawing on walls and moving shit around and throwing things and tripping him and he wants it GONE. jaiden is extremely fond of bobby and bobby is extremely fond of HER, so she reaches out to the team and asks them to NOT do that and just pretend or something. so the team goes in and pretends to investigate and stuff. roier and bobby feud in the background. by the end of the episode they're besties.

the episode concludes, shockingly, with the boss and bobby gaining grudging respect for each other. somehow. the boss threatens to reveal bobby's existence to the internet at large as a publicity stunt every time bobby trips him in the hallway but never actually does. bobby stops throwing things at him (as much). the themeing of the rooms shift so the drawings and moving objects fit in. the boss is mariana.

from this episode on bobby periodically appears in the team's house, because it's my au and i make the ghost rules

END OF SEASON:

the end season villain is a guy who ran the biggest corporation in the world who died under mysterious circumstances. the corporation has a duck mascot for no reason in particular hahahaha. they're a company like nesquick or aquafina or amazon or something yknow REAL assholes.

the team is contracted by the billionaire's nephew (forever) who took over the business when he died and is extremely overwhelmed by 1) running a business on this scale and 2) all the paranormal bs happening in his office (which is where the former CEO died). he also happens to be cellbit's ex. this is highly awkward.

because i hate billionaires but like forever, let's say forever was contacted by the villain solely because the CEO does NOT want any of his immediate underlings to get the company and thus only reveals his blood relation to forever IN HIS WILL. except forever is A Good Dude and is trying to grasp the full scope of the company's corruption and dismantle the shitty practices while still keeping the employees paid, despite his only business experience being his current position of running a boardwalk/beach. this ends up being the cause of the paranormal activity: the CEO is panicking now that forever is trying to 'ruin his company'.

the episode ends with the CEO briefly succeeding in possessing forever, and the combined forces of the ghost teams bring him back and send the CEO to hell.

somehow the billionaire is involved in or mentioned during previous episodes.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

About your idea of Norman keeping for months at Lambda to the memory of Isabella's last hug. I have better:

Little AU where everything is the same except that, while Isabella hugs Norman to say him goodbye…

For a second, just three little seconds, she let her mask fell and said, in a whisper, a "I'm Sorry" in his ear. Because Norman was her little boy, she has raised him for 11 years. And she knows that this Peter will send him to a slow and painful death, rather than a quick one like all her other kids. She didn't want that to happen to him. She knews he'll suffer, so much, because she heard about Lambda. Maybe norman's shippment to Lambda was planned for months (for his 12th birthday, maybe) and has just be advanced.

For a moment, just a little moment, she feels her heart cracks. So she wisphers "i'm sorry" in his ear. Peter didn't hear her, he was letting her saying goodbye, he thought she was saying "goodbye".

Then he took Norman.

For 15 months, both the hug and the words stay in his mind.

"I'm sorry"

She was really sorry?

"I"m sorry"

She had no reason to tell him that, considering that he was sent to a slow death and that she would never seen him again. She told him she was happy and then….she said she was sorry.

It makes him cry. He hates being emotional about it. Does this hug and those words were geniune? Did she was really sorry? Did it mean that she wasn't happy?

At a point, after the evasion, he asks Vincent.

"Do you think she was really sorry?"

Vincent has no answers. He didn't have someone like Isabella. He wasn't betrayed until the very last moment. He was not as close of her than Norman was of Isabella before learning the truth.

"If she wasn't sorry, why would she tell you that?"

It's all Vincent can say.

A little part of Norman is sure that she wasn't lying, that she was really sorry, thisq litrle part of him hopes so much her love was real and that she was truly sorry, but his ressentment is stronger at this point.

It's kind of hard to pinpoint exactly when Legravalima made the push for Norman to be sent off to Lambda instead of the demon god.

(Chapter 152)

The way I interpret this sequence is that she'd been eyeing him up for years, her gluttony and avarice festering, knowing that he was supposed to be served at the 2046 Tifari after he reached full Grace Field maturity.

(Chapter 7)

And then this could just be early series weirdness because Shirai wasn't 100% sure what reasoning he wanted to provide at this point, but to make up for the extremely lackluster harvest of the other Grace Field farms, in October 2045 Norman's shipment was bumped up to just a few days before the 2045 Tifari in November. Yverk says "that will certainly please The One" in response to Isabella saying the trio's shipments can occur as planned, or "whenever [the demons] like."

He could be lying to pacify the rest of the noble court at Legravalima hoarding the highest grade meat for herself, but it doesn't sound like he's aware of there being another plan to send Norman off to Lambda at this point, and it doesn't seem like Isabella is aware of any other alternative path for Norman and Ray either until she's given the letter and suitcase on the first of November.

(Chapter 20)

There could have been other Grace Field children sent to Lambda, but with how we don't see them among any of the rescued children in the paradise hideout, Adam focusing specifically on Norman's identification number, and how the narrative wants to highlight Norman is special and isolated during this time partially because of how he interprets and internalizes that perception of himself, it seems like a safe bet he was the first Grace Field child to go to Lambda in its less than fifteen years of existence.

(Chapter 72 | Chapter 73)

I have a difficult time seeing Isabella say sorry to him in this moment given how pointed her saying she's happy just a few minutes earlier is with how it's just as much a lie to herself as it is to Norman. If it isn't true, then all the cognitive dissonance she's maintained up until now was for naught, and she had to fight so, so hard to kill the hope she had at opposing the system as a little girl.

(TPN Light Novel 2: Moms’ Song of Remembrance - “The Starry Sky and Leslie’s List” Chapter 9)

Her commitment to maintaining that facade in such a tense moment at the expense of providing the son she's raised for ten years a concession of any sort of sentiment that what he's experiencing is wrong is more interesting to me in how it adds to the emotional climax of the arc.

Vincent and Norman interactions, though, my beloved,,,

It throws a wrench into the carefully cultivated persona of an ice-cold emperor he maintains (like mother, like son), but I do very much enjoy the thought of Vincent being able to provide Norman support outside of his competency in all matters related to the technical side of their plans with how similar they are and Norman losing all the older siblings he had at Grace Field.

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: A TPP HADESTOWN AU

PART 8

so this one isn't in sequential order BUT it's important context that helps explain the twist at the end of part 7 and also some other things that will come up again later :)

HEY CREW IT'S FUN TIME @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini

“Hey, Mista Steel?”

“Yes, Rita?”

“I got a question for ya.”

It was closing time at the bar, the last few customers finally beginning to trickle out into the arctic night air, and Juno and Rita were cleaning up empty glasses, stacking chairs, and wiping down tables. Buddy had come down from her room to “supervise” them, doing what was also known as “having her nightly shots of whisky”, and Peter was sitting with her.

“Shoot, Rita.”

“But I can’t shoot, Mista Steel! I ain’t got a gun!”’

Juno sighed heavily. “I know, Rita, it’s a figure of- nevermind. Ask your question.”

Rita swiped shot glasses off the surface of a table that had recently housed some particularly drunk travelers. “Where did that song come from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know!! The song!! The pretty one you sing and make the flowers and stuff show up! Where did it come from?”

“I-” Juno paused mid-lifting a chair. “You know, I’m not really sure. It feels so familiar, like I’ve heard it before, but I’m not sure from where. I just came up with it, I guess.”

“Oh, but you have heard it before, darling. Have you ever heard the story of Hades and Persephone?” Buddy called, finishing one of the several shots lined up before her.

“Hades and Persephone? Like the gods?” Peter asked, his brow lightly scrunched in thought. “I thought that was nothing more than an old fairytale.”

“Exactly so, Pete. But sometimes fairytales can hold valuable information regarding one’s current situation.” Buddy slid a shot across the counter to Peter, who caught it expertly. “I told you their story once a while back, Juno, dear. Why don’t you recite it to us?”

“Uhhhhhh……” Juno had all the eagerness of a deer with a gun at its neck. “Can I say no?”

Buddy sighed dramatically before taking another shot. “I suppose I cannot force you. Very well then. If Juno will not tell it, then it appears I must take matters into my own hands. Gather round, children. It’s time for a story.”

Rita stopped working and happily trotted over to Buddy’s chair, taking a seat on the floor as eagerly as ever, and Juno slowly and reluctantly made his way over behind her. Buddy tended to tell stories about the old times, stories of gods and heros and monsters, almost like she had actually been there. She hadn’t, of course. But she excelled in acting like she had. 

“Now. Once upon a time, there was a god who was the king of the Underworld. His name was Hades, and he lived in Hadestown, way down under the ground, where the air is hot and the souls are many. Whether the town was named after him or he was named after the town is a fact that has been lost to history, my dear, but that is besides the point.

“He was rather lonely, this king, despite all his glorious wealth and all the souls living in the underworld. So, he made the decision to look for a wife. He went up to the surface to find the other gods and discuss his plan with them, but as soon as he made it up, he saw her there. Dancing in her mother’s garden in the sunlight and fresh air. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her name was Persephone, darlings, the goddess of spring and rebirth.

“He saw her standing there, alone against the great blue sky, and was overcome with a feeling he had never known before: he was in love.” At this, Juno and Peter, who had been holding hands beneath the table gave each other a look, and Juno squeezed Peter’s hand tightly.

Buddy continued: “He spoke with her a while and convinced her to come home with him and be his wife. Persephone’s mother threw a fit, of course, but we can never rely on the opinions of our parents to be the correct ones. They were married and lived quite happily after that, with the exception of Persephone having to spend six months away from Hades to ensure a successful spring and summer back on the surface. It was believed that this cycle between them is what created the seasons and the rhythm of the earth.

“The point of the matter is this, Juno dear: the song you sing to bring the flowers back now is the same song Hades sang for Persephone at their wedding, the same song they both sang to keep the rest of the world in harmony. At least in the version I’ve been told.”

Juno looked suddenly thoughtful, chewing on his lower lip. “Ohhhhhhh. So that’s why it can do all of that stuff. It was already connected to the seasons even before I-”

“WAITAMINUTE!” Rita cried, nearly bursting in her excitement. “If those old gods ‘n stuff really made the seasons happen, then why did they stop? What happened to Persephone? Is she okay? ARE WE GONNA HAVE TO GO ON A HEIST TO SAVE HER??”

Buddy chuckled warmly and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not, Rita dear. You see, Persephone doesn’t exist anymore.”

“‘Doesn’t exist anymore’? Whatever do you mean, Ms. Aurinko?” Peter asked, tilting a head.

Buddy raised an flaming red eyebrow and tossed some of her long hair over her shoulder. “I believe I told you to stop calling me Ms. Aurinko and start calling me Buddy.”

“My mistake. It’s a force of habit Ms.- Buddy.”

She smiled then, all neat white teeth and gentle affection. “Thank you, Pete. And to answer your question, I mean to say that the original Persephone is dead. Has been for centuries.”

“She’s- she’s- she’s dead?” Rita whispered, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Whatdaya mean she’s dead, Ms. A? She can’t be dead! That means spring is neva comin’ back eva again and we’re all gonna die and-”

“No, no, no, Rita dear. I said Persephone was dead. I never said the goddess was dead. You see, the gods, as much as they would like to be, are not entirely immortal. Sometimes, they get into situations where they die, whether by man or by each other, and their positions in the pantheon are left open. Those gods will then be reincarnated with new names, and allowed to resume their place in the pantheon. The original Hades and Persephone died quite some time ago and have reportedly had a few reincarnations since then. It seems that perhaps the reason the seasons are so wrong now is because something has happened to Persephone’s reincarnation.”

An uneasy silence fell over the table. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and figure out that whatever had happened was clearly very, very bad for the world to be in the state it was. Maybe they were stuck somewhere. Maybe being held captive. Maybe even actually dead, with no reincarnation to follow. The gruesome possibilities were endless.

“Well. I must say, that was a cheerful note to end the evening on. Let’s liven up the mood in here a bit, shall we?” Buddy said, shattering the silence and standing from her seat. “Finish the rest of these shots for me, darlings. And then, Juno, would you be a doll and play us a tune on the piano? I feel a bit like dancing tonight.”

Juno grinned. It was going to be a long night.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax pt 3

Last time we came to the conclusion that she's either dead or she's not dead. Much like Schrödinger's cat. Shlessinger's Lady Frances is in a state of superposition and is both dead and alive at the same time. However, the purchase of a coffin for what appears to be an entirely legal burial does suggest that she may not be in quite as much of a superposition as we might like.

It was opened immediately, and the figure of a tall woman was outlined against the dim-lit hall.

Does she have the eyes of a ferret? And if so what happened to the poor ferret?

“I'd be very glad if you could tell me where that lady may be,” Peters answered coolly. “I've a bill against her for a nearly a hundred pounds, and nothing to show for it but a couple of trumpery pendants that the dealer would hardly look at. She attached herself to Mrs. Peters and me at Baden—it is a fact that I was using another name at the time—and she stuck on to us until we came to London. I paid her bill and her ticket. Once in London, she gave us the slip, and, as I say, left these out-of-date jewels to pay her bills. You find her, Mr. Holmes, and I'm your debtor.”

Look, the guy is a murderous dickhead who makes overly complicated plans to commit crimes that are essentially just theft, but you've got to admit he's a competent murderous dickhead. He's cool under pressure. He has a full prepared and plausible explanation for his ownership of the stolen goods. If the woman isn't found then there's literally no evidence to disprove his statements.

I do like it when a villain is competent, y'know.

“Where is your warrant?” Holmes half drew a revolver from his pocket. “This will have to serve till a better one comes.”

There was a whisk of feminine skirts down the passage, and the hall door was opened and shut.

May I take this moment to say how ahead of his time Watson is as he specifies that the skirts are feminine. Very progressive of him. How the sound of feminine skirts differs from masculine or non-binary skirts I am unsure, he clearly has impressive hearing.

"We ordered her funeral to be carried out by Stimson and Co., of the Kennington Road, who will bury her at eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Can you pick any hole in that, Mr. Holmes?"

Oh come on, Mr Peters. You're better than this. Don't start gloating now. You've got to keep up the pretence as totally as you can. Asking provicative questions like that might be tempting, but you should be acting as though you're horrified by this man disturbing the peace of the dead woman. You should be confused that he could have any possible reason to be acting like this. Even Holmes himself should have a doubt in his mind that you've done anything wrong.

👏Commit👏to👏the👏bit!👏

“We know where to lay our hands on this gentleman if he is wanted,” said the sergeant majestically, “but you'll have to go, Mr. Holmes.”

Majestically is such a strange adverb to use here. I'm not even sure how you would say that majestically. I guess Watson is just talking up the police because they helped them out.

So ended the day, save that near midnight our friend, the sergeant, called to say that he had seen flickering lights here and there in the windows of the great dark house, but that no one had left it and none had entered.

Demons. Clearly it's demons.

Look, obviously the pair of them have gone to great lengths to procure a body that died of natural causes in an irrefutable way. Clearly they're intending to swap the bodies because once the body has been checked once, no one's going to check it again. And Lady Frances will be buried under the identity of... Rose Spender and the woman they are claiming is Rose Spender is going to be weighted down and thrown in the Thames... or something like that. Or maybe they'll just put two bodies in the coffin. idk.

“What time was the funeral? Eight, was it not?” he asked eagerly. “Well, it is 7.20 now. Good heavens, Watson, what has become of any brains that God has given me? Quick, man, quick! It's life or death—a hundred chances on death to one on life. I'll never forgive myself, never, if we are too late!”

Given that you wasted time by giving this case to Watson in the first place and could have cleared everything up far more quickly if you had remembered that Watson is not good at investigating things, then yes. You shouldn't forgive yourself if she's dead.

With a united effort we tore off the coffin-lid. As we did so there came from the inside a stupefying and overpowering smell of chloroform. A body lay within, its head all wreathed in cotton-wool, which had been soaked in the narcotic.

Soaked in chloroform in a coffin?

Chloroform does not fuck around. Sure, you can't just knock someone out immediately by putting it over their mouth. But she's been in there for a while, I assume, and she's getting a concentrated dose that's wrapped around her entire face? No ventilation. Yeah, she's dead. Or she's at least got liver failure.

What with actual suffocation, and what with the poisonous fumes of the chloroform, the Lady Frances seemed to have passed the last point of recall. And then, at last, with artificial respiration, with injected ether, and with every device that science could suggest, some flutter of life, some quiver of the eyelids, some dimming of a mirror, spoke of the slowly returning life.

Zombie Lady Frances! The miracle of modern science strikes again.

Get the woman some brandy!

"It is new to me in the annals of crime. If our ex-missionary friends escape the clutches of Lestrade, I shall expect to hear of some brilliant incidents in their future career.”

Super weird note to end on. But I guess hurrah she lived... for however long before the combined liver and kidney failure killed her. But she wasn't dead when they left her, and that's the important thing!

And our villains may or may not escape. Shlessinger's villains to join Shlessinger's Lady Frances, I guess. ACD can't have been making a Schrödinger reference because Schrödinger's cat wouldn't be thought up until decades after this story was published, but it's all very Schrödinger.

[seramilla]

So the idea of an overlord Sera has made me wonder what showing up in hell is like for a normal sinner. I imagine she wakes up on the ground somewhere last memory being whatever it last was on earth so probably getting shot by whoever was after her. I assume after the shock of realizing she died but now isn't dead notices the whole new body and the surroundings and probably concludes she's in hell. My guess is Hell doesn't have a doorman like peter you just show up. I think the most striking thing at first is it probably isn't as bad as she expected like it isn't great but there isn't say a demon actively torturing her for her sins it's more the that the environment is pretty hostile and the people aren't friendly but it could be a hell of a lot worse. Once she gets on her feet and confirms Emily didn't somehow end up in hell she goes wondering around trying to figure out what to do. In life she had a purpose of protecting her sister and a business to run now she doesn't have her sister her or a business to run so is bouncing around without much to do maybe she starts trying to live a little she was too busy working and or dealing with her parents to ever really party, date or do most of the fun stuff so she tries it out at first for a bit. Eventually a few months into her damnation she finds Emily and is horrified because it means Emily died and shocked that Emily somehow didn't get into heaven. She does however have a purpose now which is to keep Emily safe and now doesn't feel so alone.

I think you're right. Spawning in Hell seems to be pretty random. You just wake up in some part of Pentagram City itself, somewhere on the outskirts, etc., maybe close to the type of environment in which you died. Sera was probably killed in one of her warehouses back on Earth, so she wakes up in a similar setting in Hell, and probably doesn't realize she's dead until she really takes everything in. She's not surprised about where she ended up, but she is shocked that no one is there to greet her; she's just alone, in a brand-new place, and no one even seems to care that she's there.

I think she spends some time bouncing around, working odd jobs around Hell, but that proves very difficult to ensure her survival. Eventually she runs into Zestial, and he sees some potential in her. Sometimes he chooses not to make a contract with a soul, if he sees some innate potential he can guide. He could easily make a deal with Sera and mold her into what he wants her to be, but there is something about her that gives him pause. He decides to take her under his wing, and see what she does. Eventually, Sera makes a name for herself being the only one stupid (brave?) enough to start harvesting angelic weapons during the next Extermination, and that quickly leads to her making a name for herself.

When Emily shows up, thankfully, Sera's just getting established, and has her own place to house them both. Secretly, Emily went to Heaven when she died, but immediately made the choice to fall to be with the sister who saved her. It is many months later that Sera learns this truth. Emily hid it from her for a long time, because she didn't want Sera to go through that type of pain, knowing she'd saved her sister, and died for it, only to end up being the reason Emily chose to go to Hell anyway.

[tomorrowusa]

Republicans won't stop at abortion. They want to be overseers of all reproduction. They won't be happy unless they are able to monitor every bedroom and doctor's office in the US.

We recently saw how the Republican Alabama Supreme Court ruled against IVF. That ruling was peppered with copious references to Christian fundamentalist beliefs.

Now Republicans are turning attention to birth control. The unhinged MAGA crank Charlie Kirk ranted about this recently.

Charlie Kirk, the head of the MAGA propaganda behemoth Turning Point USA, recently unveiled a novel theory as to why young women tend to vote for Democrats. Unwilling to admit that women can think for themselves, Kirk floated the theory that birth control pills cause brain damage. "Birth control like really screws up female brains," he falsely claimed before a crowd at a recent church event streamed on the far-right site Rumble. Claiming the pill "increases depression, anxiety [and] suicidal ideation," he then blamed women's voting patterns on hormonal contraception. "It creates very angry and bitter young ladies and young women," Kirk argued.

I would argue that Trump and his followers are the ones with screwed up brains. There is a strong tendency of misogynistic patriarchy in the GOP. They feel a need to control women – possibly because of their own feelings of sexual inadequacy.

But of course, Kirk is not sincerely mistaken and he certainly isn't concerned about the wellbeing of women, which all reputable research shows is dramatically improved by having control over their fertility. Kirk's doctor cosplay is part of a much larger and semi-coordinated strategy among right-wing leaders to demonize birth control and train the GOP base into believing that restricting, or even banning, contraception is justified.  As the Washington Post reported last month, right-wing activists have been flooding social media with the same lies that Kirk was echoing in this video. It's a well-financed disinformation campaign, getting a major boost from MAGA billionaire Peter Thiel, who has aggressively financed teams of messengers to falsely claim that hormonal birth control "tricked our bodies into dysfunction and pain." Doctors report that the tidal wave of misinformation about birth control is creating a health care crisis, including women who "come in for abortions after believing what they see on social media about the dangers of hormonal birth control." 

Female empowerment is anathema to many on the far right. And the right to control one's body is part of that empowerment.

At heart, Republicans are anti-freedom.

Of course, the real reason MAGA leaders don't like birth control is they oppose the freedom and opportunities that it has afforded women. Kirk barely bothers to hide that this is his real agenda. In the very same talk, he also tries to threaten women who hold out for Mr. Right instead of settling for Mr. Incel: "In their early 30's they get really upset because they say the boys don't want to date me anymore because they're not at their prime," he claims, echoing the unevidenced revenge fantasy that dominates misogynist message boards. 

Roe v. Wade had been the law of the land for over 49 years until the Trump-Bush Supreme Court rescinded it in 2022.

Birth control medications have been around since 1960. Despite that 64 year precedent, don't think that Republicans won't try to find some way to ban them if given a chance.

[starry-eyed-never-satisfied]

Get to Know Me and My Obsession with KISS 🎸

Thanks for the tag @sluttery-withoutshame

1. Who is your favorite member?

Paul

2. Who is your least favorite member?

MSJ

3. Best album?

Ooh this is hard cause my favourite changes depending on my mood, but Revenge is usually up there.

4. Worst album?

I'm so sorry, I don't wanna be one of those people, but Monster

5. Favorite song?

Love Gun

6. Say one nice thing about each member.

Ooh only choosing one thing is hard! I love these guys soo much!

Paul- Only one! Okay, the soul of KISS, there would be no KISS without him

Gene- sweet lovable demon teddy bear!

Peter- energetic crazy idiot (positive)

Ace- baby girl

Eric C- such a sweetie

Vinnie-talented songwriter

Mark- ummm? Filled in the gap between Vinnie and Bruce

Bruce- the loveliest guy on earth

Eric S- friendly and fun

Tommy- loyal, sensible, stepped up when he was needed and has taken shit for that he didn't deserve

7. What do you dislike about each member?

Gene- Can take the obnoxious act too far sometimes.

Paul- Paul, my love, please stop being so critical of what you've done in the past. The Elder is a great album, let it go!

Peter- He was really bitter for a while (seems okay now though, hope that is reality)

Ace- Sorry Ace moots, but I really despise his attitude rn

Eric C- I wish he had been able to conquer his insecurities

Vinnie- a bit pushy in some of the interviews, answering questions that Paul or Gene should have been answering

Mark- yeah, I don't need to go into that

Bruce- too nice

Eric S- I've heard he talks a lot and i don't usually like people who talk a lot, so maybe that

Tommy- he's not Bruce! Sorry Tommy, I know it's not your fault

8. How did you get into KISS?

Sorry to anyone who's heard this story before! When I was 10 or 11 I saw the Crazy Crazy Nights music video on tv, and loved them!

9. Have you been to a concert?

3! (shoulda been 4 😡) 1997, Reunion, Auckland, 2008 Wellington, 2015 Auckland

10. Do you have any merch?

All the albums, too many t-shirts to count, books, figures

11. Unique thing you have related to KISS?

I don't know if I have anything especially unique. I have two of Paul's guitar picks, from the 1997 and 2015 shows and a copy of the Kiss my ass cd that is signed by Paul, Gene, Bruce and Eric (no they didn't sign it for me, I won it on a radio competition.

12. Who is/are your favorite lineup?

Paul, Gene, Bruce, Eric

13. What's your favorite era?

Revenge

14. What are your opinions on Tommy and Eric?

I love them! They stepped up, kept KISS going through the 21st century, and in all honesty I reper them to Ace and Peter. I would hae cried (not for joy) if they had been kicked off the stage in the last show to bring those two back

15. A question you would ask the band if you could?

I don't know that i can think of anything. I'd probably fall to my knees Wayne's Word style and go I'm not worthy!

16. What other bands/artists are you into?

Iron Maiden, Metallica, Led Zeppelin, Alice Cooper, Judas Priest, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath

17. Do you have a KISSona?

I'm not sure what that is

18. Who are some of your favorite blogs?

@ladyshandioftheendless @namelessbutters-doodles @elrohare @insanityisdivine @loveherallican-blog @tanookikiss @therockywhorerpictureshow @doctapuella @spacefoxy

19. If you could spend a day with one member who would it be?

Paul of course!

20. How would you explain the band to someone who isn't familiar with KISS?

I'm not good with verbalising my feelings, these guys are, after my family, my everything. People who dismiss KISS are missing out on a helluva lot.