#the last time i drew him i drew him more. human guy with horns which i also enjoy seeing in doc designs

[liauditore]

he is so so tired please get off his lawn

[five-rivers]

SS prompt. Someone, any character, realizes that maybe all accounts of kur being evil are heavily biased by humans who won a war & the victims of said war wanting revenge. ((I mean, Mesopotamia was the first human civilization that we know of. It didn’t seem like Kur minded humans as they evolved up to that point.))

There was no body in Kur's tomb.

Walls and murals and writing alien to human eyes, but no body. No bones.

Over so many thousands of years, it was possible that even the bones had been eaten and turned to dust. Zak did not think that was what had happened.

Deep within his bones sang a truth: Kur's corpse had never been here.

Could it even be called a tomb?

Maybe memorial was a better word, or monument.

Who built this?

Zak ran his hand over the carvings on the wall. The usual practice for ancient peoples was to make sure their hated enemies were forgotten, to strike their names, erase their faces. Or at least portray them as weak. This seemed the opposite of that.

This place had been built with care. With worship.

Zak cut off the thought. Forced himself to think about facts. About how they had gotten here, the first time. About how powerful he'd felt. About how he'd set the cryptids loose on the humans, even if they were the worst humans and it was objectively the best thing to do. About the way Argost had tricked them into getting past the guardian.

The guardian who hadn't seemed particularly frightened of Zak.

About the artifacts Argost had used. The nesting crystal, the horn, the amulet of Kumari Kandam.

The amulet...

The amulet of Kumari Kandam. The Kur-finding Naga relic. The Kur Stone.

Kur's breath, Kur's essence, Kur's s-

Kur's power.

Please, just its power.

It was like Kur had been cut up, divided, to prevent its return, shoved into whatever artifacts were convenient and scattered across the globe.

Not scattered enough.

"Mom?" called Zak. "Why did we come back here?" Straight from Antarctica, too.

"We're hoping to learn more," said Drew, shining her flashlight at the ceiling, revealing shallow carvings of serpents and stars. "We were in such a rush chasing Argost last time, trying to stop..." She trailed off.

"Okay," said Zak, quickly. He tugged on his shirt. He'd designed the logo on it himself, a shape halfway between the Claw and a snake. Did that mean anything? He'd always liked snakes. They were his favorite non-cryptid animal. "More information sounds good."

He doubted he'd find the piece of information he wanted, though, which was something along the lines of 'Zak Saturday is not actually Kur.'

Zak didn't want to be evil...

He didn't feel evil. His powers had never felt evil, even when they

But this place, this tomb that wasn't a tomb... it didn't feel evil, either. Without the bettors and bookies and abused cryptids, with just his family here, it felt almost comfortable.

"Mom?"

"Yes? What is it, Zak?"

"Are we sure... are we sure Kur was, you know, evil?"

Drew stopped. "Kur did live a long time ago," she said, finally. "It is true history is written by the victors. But... anything that lived that long ago... Gilgamesh is counted as a hero, but some of the things he did, if he did them now, he'd be called a villain. It's hard to judge morality of the past so far forward."

"Then why-"

"Because it isn't about morality. It's about power, and the fact Argost is trying to get it." She walked over to him and kneeled down. "We know you're not going to use your powers for evil. Whatever Kur did, whatever Kur was, you, Zak Saturday, are not the bad guy. Okay?"

Zak took a deep breath, then let it out. "Okay."

[bimbosupreme]

mephistopheles love post

the equivalent of a mental breakdown tangent is all going under a read more

yes believe it or not that freaky ass literally not even human clown in fgo gets love, and love from who? me and like 3 other people

first off

ok and with that out of the way,

i’m not even familiar with their lore. Reason why i stopped caring about the lore behind faust and mephistopheles is that an interlude happens that shows that mephistopheles is just some homunculi made by some mage nobody named faust. and even then the interlude doesn’t talk about the lore behind the novel, its just you helping mephy kill faust

that being said though i would hope the developers expand on their origins more and potentially even release a “true” mephistopheles (a girl can dream)

So, they’re not even the real deal demon known as Mephistopheles in the first place, and i can hear u going “well that’s lame” and like, no, we just need to redirect our feelings from appreciating a demon to appreciating a homunculi who has a weird characterization in the fate universe

Design tangent:

Fgo was actually my first gacha, and so when I came across this servant I kinda instantly fell in love with their design, I love the colors used in their final ascension and overall appearance. The hat that has horns but they're not quite horns, theyre these weird colorful pointy twisty things, the large garish butterfly ornament on their chest (which isnt ugly at all and somehow works so well with their everything on them) is cool, the tights are so cool to look at, i mean look -- a checkered pattern with golden lining on the shorts portion, the tits out look like yes we get it youre insane, the gloves??? purple and also cool, plus theyve got this gradient thing going on? and the fingers have this line going through them, thats so cool. actually the only other servant that comes close to this in terms of “out there” colorful designs is probably final ascension kama and qsh ( i love them both). Also, mephy has this scissor weapon?? thats so cool lol i dont see any other servant wielding giant scissors (for the love of god give mephy an animation update i need to see them use the scissors while doing flips) and they also have this bomb obsession going on? cant relate, but the bombs designs are so so cool i mean its a fucking centipede -- no idea if centipedes are a thing in the original faust but thats something Ill have to look up at some point. ALSO mephy is wearing heels oh my god anytime people wear heels is an automatic win. No clue whats going on with the hair but its kinda cute (dont question me on that) and it has curls and the hair colors are cool i mean its like a lavender thing with darker purple highlights? i love colorful things and i love people with wacky personalities so. Oh my god their tail how could i forget that its so cute and dumb i almost forgot it was there, like what is that even a whip? i dont.. but its got these little purple tips to them that are kinda cute/cool but more cool because tails are fucking up there alongside heels in terms of cool stuff on characters. and of course their fluffly cape -- again no idea what the designers were going for i mean look its a mess of a design i have no fucking idea what any of it means and i hope they explain it someday because that hair and the butterfly and the tail and the hat and the fluffy garb and a bomb obsession?? and this got the go ahead - yeah lets add that to the game like what

ALSO LETS TALK ABOUT THEIR EYES

appreciate these with me for a second

god.

oh and the blue lipstick and face paint god thats a cool design ugh

they can be normal too or at least as normal as possible i mean they even trimmed their eyebrow here lol but you can see the not so well hidden insanity/goofiness peaking through with the inside of the suit at the bottom being highlighter purple and a green shirt with gold accents underneath the black coat at the front <3, fuckin hate that hairstyle tho bro we gotta get that middle part hairstyle outta hereeeee--

TAKE A DETOUR AND LOOK AT THIS LINK THOUGH THIS IS THE MOST NORMAL AND BEST IVE SEEN THEM IN FANART. THE POTENTIAL IS THERE. WE CAN HAVE NICE THINGS AND THEY LOOK GREAT ITS POSSIBLE. I HAVE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE FROM THAT DRAWING.

anyways this is me going off all about why i like their design! but we haven’t even touched the nitty gritty of it all. their personality! what personality you may ask? havent they always been some weirdo laughing a lot and saying dumb shit all the time? well yes and no

Characterization:

True to their dumb little clown design mephy also acts like one.

Some servants bond 1 lines are like “fuck off” and some actually talk to you, nah this bastard mephistopheles’ just laughing. and for the second bond line it seems to imply theyre fuckin with you more (showing up and dissapearing and saying ‘afterimage’) so thats nice that theyre actually making some effort to mess with you in a way? some servants take a long time to actually interact with you so this shows theyre not afraid of interacting with you and thats just at bond 2. and of course the third bond line implies they were probably trying to betray you, its stated in more than 1 place that mephistopheles (actually isnt this a caster class thing?) will betray you or attempt to do so. So the third bond line seems to imply that their attempts have been stopped by you and that’s what they say after some failed attempts. So after stopping this freak from doing some shit their next bond line is actually doing a confession! a jester being honest who couldve seen that one coming but theyre 100% not lying, they really arent a demon but a homunculi made by faust

speaking of faust we’re going to backtrack a little into their interlude that i brought up at the start of this post, its one of those dream interludes and it starts with mephy asking you to help him plant bombs for their eventual reuinion/showdown with faust -- in the meantime faust keeps sending golems in an attempt to kill both you and mephy

When you track faust down, it’s shown that faust was your typical mage, inhumane and uncaring. It’s also pointed out that this faust killed innocents, but this typical mage behavior is boring to mephy, and they say that boring typical behavior is why they wanted to kill them

 so i really cant blame mephistopheles for being the way they are, being raised by this type of guy, even if mephy was always messed up and wacky from the beginning its no reason for faust to attempt to kill him.

Mephistopheles also shows up in salem, cu alter’s interlude, and of course the knk crossover event, and some other things im most likely forgetting but those 3 are ones that i find notable

anytime they show up theyre actually helpful, in salem mephy points out that the nature of the being responsible for the salem epic of remnant is something alien rather than a typical foreign god, mephy also tells you that time is also being sped up and in their weird way they try to cheer you up by spouting some nonsense at the beginning (guda needed some kind of distraction from the grim events that had just transpired at that point in the story), i cant quite remember what mephy did in the knk event but they were a part of your group and were helpful the whole time, actually @/zeravmeta does an amazing analysis of their role in the knk event as well as some extra character analysis here

mephistopheles is kinda cryptic in a weird way though,

like overall i mean theyre a jester homunculi in appearance so yeah its to be expected but come on i love morally gray characters, despite their supposed betrayal hints scattered around here and there

they have this one line that always gets to me

and this line is said with a completely serious face too

the rare serious mephistopheles face! its kinda grim to see that line, no laughs, no nothing, their voice is kinda serious and monotone too. of course this could be just to get you to lower your guard but its still kinda out there that they have this rarely used portrait and that line, so i like to take it as being said to you when youre by yourself and with sincerity

and at least sei (with her wacky outfit and all lol) seems to get along with mephy and thinks theyre nice woohoo

so at the end of the day you have this guy that laughs a lot and gives mixed signals

and they fuck with you

and will most likely try to kill you more than once but hey thats just another tuesday at chaldea

Before I finish last thing I want to point out is this snippet from the fgo source material book which provides more information on servants, and this specific translated bit under mephistopheles

at the core of it all this homunculi....can be your friend! you just need to not go into despair i guess

of course this entire post is an overanalysis into an underwritten character, quarantine + all online college classes have done this to me, i have a douman icon what did you expect

OH...BEFORE I REALLY SIGN OFF AND FINISH THE POST HEY CLOWN LOVERS CHECK OUT THESE FANARTS AND FANARTISTS...

THE FIRST ONE IS HASENDOW YES THE DOUMAN DESIGNER... <3

i cant believe they drew mephy

twice !

and for those of you on twitter check out @cuz_pb and @L0VEYAMA003

[dulce-pjm]

takes two to tango

word count: 3.0k

genre: fluff, absolutely tooth-rotting 

summary: hoseok solved his problems and got the girl. he’d worked up the courage to ask you out and now life couldn’t be better, living as your boyfriend. but what’s the point of dating if he can’t even kiss you?

Damn. Hoseok was a real loser, wasn’t he?

Three weeks, three fucking weeks of dating you and he hasn’t been able to kiss you once. 

He’d thought the hard part was over when he was finally able to spit out that he liked you before finals and asked you on a date. After a semester of desperate pining and you being completely oblivious to his flirting attempts, he thought the worst was over. 

But alas, no. 

Your one-month anniversary was rapidly approaching and Hoseok has yet to lock lips with you. 

Maybe it’s stupid to be so caught up over such a small thing. But Hoseok likes you and he really doesn’t think it’s too much to ask for and he’d just really, really like to kiss you. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. He’d gone through all the steps, even resorting to the cheap tricks he’d used in high school. But the timing was always shit or something stupid got in the way. It felt like the universe had it out for him, putting the chance just within his grasp before promptly yanking it away in the most inconvenient (and sometimes embarrassing) manner possible. 

Should Hoseok be grateful for the time he’s already gotten to spend with you? Yes. And he is. You’re spectacular. A joy to be around. You kept him guessing and laughing and happy. 

Actually, he’d actually kind of already gotten his wish. You’d kissed him on the cheek in joy after watching your team win whilst on an ice hockey date. You turned out to be surprisingly (and scarily) competitive, which Hoseok found all the more adorable. Despite being a small gesture born from the exciting moment, he’d found himself giggly and shy, melting from the attention. That night, while walking you home in the cold, he’d snuck a quick peck on your forehead before bidding you good night. He found himself wishing he’d done more as you disappeared behind your door, smiling to yourself.

But Hoseok was human. He was greedy. He just wanted one, small, teeny weeny little thing. And that thing was to kiss you on the lips, goddammit.

You weren’t his first girlfriend. He isn’t an amateur at this. 

So why was it so fucking hard?

His first attempt was on your second date. Which, admittedly, might be a little soon but it actually wasn’t even his attempt. It was yours. The two of you were ice skating when he kept catching you staring at him. 

“What, is there something on my face?” You’d giggled, reaching up your hand and lightly tapping his nose. 

“You just look cold. And very cute.” Despite attempting to maintain a cool facade, the compliment had Hoseok reeling. His cheeks only grew warmer as you leaned upwards, eyes becoming half-lidded. He’d grinned, ducking down to meet you halfway. 

It was perfect. 

Until your skates suddenly lost traction and you slipped, lips colliding with his shoulder instead of his face. 

Caught off guard, the both of you tumbled to the ground. In a movie, it might have been even more romantic. But in reality, falling on ice hurts like a fucking bitch. It took an entire minute for you both to get back on your feet, laughing and shouting from the pain along the way. 

Cold and traumatized and bruised, the two of you shuffled back to the entrance while clutching onto each other for dear life, kiss long forgotten. 

You both swore never to go ice skating again. 

Hoseok’s actual first attempt had been at a small Christmas party. Hoseok’s Christmas party, in fact. It was for a small dance exercise class he led every Monday through the university. It was through that same class that he met you, actually. You and several of your friends were regulars, and soon he was smitten. He wasn’t sure whether it was your laugh or your smile or your unending optimism that drew him in, only that he had fallen for you and hard. You two, along with the rest of the group, had naturally gotten close over the past semester, so Hoseok decided to give the group one last hurrah together via a small Christmas party just after everyone finished their exams. 

While everyone else was pigging out on brownies or getting drunk off of cheap beer or karaoke-ing to the best of their abilities (which was pretty god-awful), you and Hoseok were camped out in the corner, trying your best to put together a gingerbread house. 

You were failing magnificently, but that didn’t make the activity any less fun. Hoseok was in charge of holding the pieces while you piped icing, with you naturally taking every opportunity to swipe bits of the white fluff on his nose and cheeks and forehead. He’d cried out in protest, promising to exact his revenge, but he cared too much about this stupid gingerbread house to move his hands and risk the whole thing collapsing. 

But before you could even get to the decorating stage, the whole thing shattered. Literally shattered. You blamed it on Hoseok, claiming he’d been gripping it so hard that the pieces snapped in two. He, in turn, blamed it on you for being such a distraction. 

While the two of you were playfully bickering, one of your friends snuck up behind the table with a bunch of mistletoe. 

“Kiss already, ya lovebirds!” she’d cried, clearly having one (or three) too many beers. The entire class was painfully invested in your relationship, so it only made sense that they’d also tease you about it relentlessly. 

The two of you glanced up at the green leaves and then back at each other. A pitchy rendition of ‘Silent Night’ echoed throughout the room. Hoseok smiled and leaned in, muttering something about “tradition” and “giving the people what they want, Y/N.”

His eyes fluttered closed as his lips approached yours, his last thought being how nice you looked and how warm his heart felt. 

It was perfect. 

And then you wiped a massive blob of thick white icing across his entire face. He’d gasped while you and the rest of the party burst into a fit of giggles. 

“I’m sorry-” You choked on your laughter, tears sprung from your eyes. “-Hoseok, the opportunity was just too good! You should have seen your face!” He didn’t have it in him to be mad at you, not when your laugh was that adorable. 

Instead, he’d rubbed his frosting-covered cheek all over yours for revenge as you screeched and struggled against his grip. By the end of the night, both of your cheeks were aching from laughter. 

But still, no kiss. 

At your annual New Years’ Party, he’d tried a different strategy: being slick. 

The two of you were pleasantly tipsy but not quite drunk. And the alcohol gave Hoseok just enough courage to try kissing you again. 

While perched on two barstools around your kitchen island, he’d casually thrown his arm around your shoulder while you were babbling about some story a friend had told you. He’d tried to listen, he really did, but what was a guy supposed to you when you looked as cute as you did?

“I mean, what are the odds? They saw each other in standstill traffic, Hobi. Isn’t that so romantic?” 

“Mhmm.” Feeling the weight of his arm, you moved to look his way and felt your face getting very hot very quickly with the way he was gazing at you. 

“Hobi?” He was much too caught up in how soft your lips looked from here, slightly parted and inviting. Everything about you was soft and sweet.

His eyes flickered back to yours, shimmering under the mood lighting. 

He shifted forward, not loosening his gaze for even a second. He was going to relish every second of this, every second of you. 

It was so perfect. 

But in his drunken stupor, Hoseok hadn’t quite noticed the way his barstool was wobbling until it was too late and he tumbled to the floor. 

You immediately freaked, rushing to his aid. While your concern was genuine and made Hoseok happy that you cared for him, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. The mood was dead once you lugged him to the couch and, despite his protests, insisted he lie down for a while and instructed him to not touch any more alcohol, worried that he’d injure himself further. The night ended kiss-free and with Hoseok falling asleep before the clock struck twelve, missing the countdown. 

But last weekend? Now that was the final straw. 

The two of you had decided to catch a drive-in movie, some silly rom-com. You’d suggested a holiday-themed horror movie, but Hoseok was quick to shut that idea down. Not only was he a coward, but he wasn’t sure how the hell he was supposed to be romantic when there were demons threatening to jump-scare him every three seconds. 

As the two leads finally began confessing their feelings in the final act of the movie, Hoseok looked to you. He found you staring right back, as if you knew this was coming. 

His hand lifted to cup your cheek as the male lead cried “I love you!” Your hands slid behind the back of his neck as your eyes shut and the two of you grew closer and closer, lips mere millimeters apart. Hoseok could smell your lavender shampoo and cherry lip gloss, could even count your lashes from here.

It was so fucking perfect. The epitome of romance. As the two leads passionately confessed, Hoseok and you were about to share your first kiss. 

And then some idiot fell asleep on their horn, sending the obnoxious, blaring sound echoing throughout the drive-in lot. Hoseok shrieked, absolutely startled to the core. 

“For fuck’s sake!” he’d cried, throwing himself back in the driver’s seat. 

You’d found immense humor in his pouting and tried to tease him back into his old self, but the moment was long gone. Hoseok cursed the male lead for being able to get his girl when he was so clearly suffering. You held his hand for the rest of the film and jokingly critiqued it on the way home. But it wasn’t enough. Hoseok had just one thing he wanted and he couldn’t even accomplish that.

And now, he had a vendetta against the whole fucking universe. 

He was going to kiss you if it killed him. And it was going to be perfect. 

He’s chanting that thought like a mantra as the two of you are taking a very romantic stroll in the park, hands intertwined and bodies huddled together to conserve heat in the winter weather. 

“I can’t believe we only have one semester left,” you murmur, clutching your coat closer to your body. “I still feel like a kid.”

“Based on your eating habits, I’d have to agree.” You gasp in shock, slapping his arm. 

“Hey! What do you have against Lunchables?” Hoseok laughs at your offended look, finding you all too endearing.

“It’s not the Lunchables I have a problem with. Lunchables are great. It’s the cheese and peanut-butter crackers you’re crazy about. It’s disgusting.” You roll your eyes and groan, tired of this argument. 

“For the last time, I didn’t know they were cheese flavored and they taste good!” 

“Why else would they be orange, Y/N?” You shake your head, refusing to indulge him any further. “Disgusting.”

The two of you approach a quaint bridge crossing a babbling creek. The sky is colored with purples and pinks and oranges, reflected across the water. A few kids are playing by the shore, much to the disdain of their parents. Hoseok feels his chance approaching. 

You both stop and lean against the bridge railing, watching the sunset. You nuzzle against him, taking delight in his warmth. 

Hoseok studies the way the light reflects off of your face, the way a small smile creeps across your lips. You’re beautiful. Hoseok feels immensely lucky to have had you for this long. There’s a growing part of him that wants to keep you forever. 

“You’re so pretty-”

“It’s so pretty-”

The words are uttered at the same time, you staring at the sky and Hoseok staring at you. When you meet his eyes, the two of you can’t help but laugh quietly to yourselves. Timing’s always been funny for you, huh. 

As the sun peaks farther behind the horizon, Hoseok tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You can’t fight the grin on your face as Hoseok wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you in. 

This is perfect. This is the moment Hoseok has been waiting for. He’d suffered for three miserable weeks, but it was all about to be worth it. There’s absolutely nothing that can shatter the happiness in Hoseok’s heart. 

“Oh my god, is that a dog?” You’re torn from Hoseok’s embrace as you dash across the bridge. All he can do is sigh and grasp at the cold air you’d occupied seconds before. 

When he turns to see where you’ve run off to, he finds you plopped on the ground loving on a fluffy black and gold mutt. You crane your neck to face him. 

“It doesn’t have a collar, Hobi. I think it’s a stray.” The dog jumps excitedly against your chest, tackling you to the ground and licking at your cheeks and nose and mouth. Showering you with kisses before Hoseok’s eyes.

Lucky bastard.

Hoseok doesn’t have the heart to be mad. You’re too damn adorable. And the dog is pretty cute too. The puppy jumps from you to Hoseok, hopping excitedly and running between his legs. 

“Hyper one, aren’t you?” 

He begrudgingly takes the creature into his arms and hauls you to your feet, mumbling that he knows where the nearest animal shelter is. You trail after him, doting on the animal the whole way. Hoseok sighs, accepting the fact that he’s not getting his kiss tonight. But he thinks he’s okay with that, what with the way you’re talking in your animal voice and gushing over how cute this dog is.

God, Hoseok’s such a loser. But he’d like to hope that he’s your loser now.  

“I miss him already!” you cry as the two of you stumble out of the shelter. Startled by the chill, you quickly take his hand, but even that can’t bring Hoseok the joy he wants. 

“He’ll have a nice and loving home soon, don’t worry,” he soothes, ruffling your hair. He does his best to smile, but it comes off strained and fake, and you notice. Your lip immediately puffs out at his sulking. 

“Is there something wrong?” Guilt fills Hoseok’s chest at your genuine worry. But he’d been acting strangely since New Year’s, he knew, so he figured at this point he owed you an explanation. 

“Well...” Hoseok ponders the situation, trying to put together the right words. “Ireallywannakissyoubutshitkeepsgettingintheway.” 

“I- what?” You’re staring at him in utter confusion. Hoseok sighs as you lean in closer, trying to decipher his words.

“I’ve been trying to kiss you for three weeks now but it never works out!” he shouts into the cold night air, relief filling him as he finally gets his biggest worry off of his chest. 

You’re silent for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound sweet and loud and in any other case, infectious. Hoseok pouts, wondering how you always manage to find the humor in his suffering. The sun is long set but he can still make out your cackling figure in the lamplight. 

You regain your breath before pulling him closer to you, still giggling between your words. 

“Why didn’t you just ask?” It’s a genuine question, Hoseok supposes. He’s about to answer, but that’s when you say something that sends him over the edge. “It’s just a kiss, there’s no need to take it so seriously.”

“Of course it’s serious!” he exclaims, making you jump. He quickly lowers his voice, looking at the ground sheepishly. “Well- I only mean that I’m serious about you. So I just wanted it to be nice and romantic and perfect because I care about you a lot and you deserve that, okay? And I know that we’ve only been dating for a few weeks but I really-”

When Hoseok lifts his eyes, you’re whipping your head around wildly, as if you’re being stalked or something is about to pop out from behind a corner. 

“Y/N? What are you doing? Is something wrong?” After a few more seconds of your paranoid glances, you meet his eyes, a cheeky grin plastered across your face. You shrug innocently.

“I was just checking to make sure nothing could possibly interrupt us.” Hoseok freezes, jaw dropping slightly. You find the expression hilarious but decide to keep that to yourself. And then Hoseok is smiling like an idiot and pulling you close and running a hand through your hair. 

Your lips barely brush against his when you suddenly lean your head back, making Hoseok cry out in frustration. You can’t get far though, not when you’re wrapped in his arms. 

“Just for the record,” you say, lifting a single finger between your chests. “That was the most romantic and perfect thing you could have said before our first kiss.” Hoseok rolls his eyes. You choke back a giggle at his impatience. You watch the puffs of condensation leave his lips, considering torturing him for longer, but you don’t. “Now, please continue.”

With your permission, Hoseok does the one thing he’s been waiting all too long for. Despite his pent-up frustration, he kisses you softly and slowly, relishing in every second and every touch.

After a long minute, he pulls away, gazing at you happily. You stare right back, unable to wipe the stupid grin off of your face. You’re content and lovestruck and stupid together. Until a large gust of chilly wind hits you and the two of you are screaming and tearing off back to your respective apartments. 

It certainly wasn’t perfect. Maybe a little sloppy. Certainly not like Hoseok would have planned it. 

But it was with you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[fics-for-my-heart]

Newbie (s.s)

Summary: Starting a new school with the ability to see that someone is supernatural takes a crazy turn

Word count:4069

Warning: talk of people dying, typical teen wolf stuff

A/N: I was going to put this all in one part but I think it’s going to be too long. So here’s part one. I might make it a series? There’s not too much romance in this but I definitely plan to make it happen soon. Let me know what you think. Also I’ve been watching Buffy which was why it was included in this.

Part Two

Masterlist

Starting a new school always sucked. But, starting a new school with the knowledge of the supernatural you had seemed to make it worse. Plus, your ability to see when someone was supernatural made things a bit awkward. Each supernatural gave off their own color, like an aura, and that’s what you could see. There was a good amount of supernaturals in your old town, but as you walked the streets of Beacon Hills you realized there were so many more. 

“Have a good day sweetie.” Your mom said as you shut the car door. “Don’t let your sight get in your way. Make some friends.” 

“I’ll try. Love you.” 

“Love you! I’ll be at the shop if you need me.” Then she was gone, leaving you to watch everyone running around to get to friends or to class. 

After checking in at the front office, the secretary, Mrs. Elle, took you to your first class. “Mrs. Hopkins is a wonderful English teacher. If you need any help throughout the day come see me.” She knocked on the door, then opened it to a room full of people, the teacher was at the board. A beautiful purple glow surrounded her. 

Fairy. 

“Mrs. Hopkins, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She just transferred here.”

Mrs. Hopkins gave a bright smile, walking over to shake your hand. “Lovely to meet you. We are just starting on The Great Gatsby. There’s only a few seats left but you can pick wherever you want.” She handed you a copy of the book, then spoke to Mrs. Elle. 

When you looked up at the room, only a handful of people were looking at you, others were texting or reading. Your eyes scanned the seats, spotting one before the color around the boy beside it caught your eye. 

Your brows furrowed. Since coming here you’d seen many colors you hadn’t categorized yet. But this one was different. It was deep purple, with black and red, and even some blues and greens. Normally there was one color, just different shades. Never this many. 

The boy cocked his head to the side and you jumped a bit, realizing you’d been staring. With your head low, you made your way to the seat, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. To distract yourself, you plotted your classes on the little map, and when the bell rang you booked it out of the room. 

The rest of the day was as good as any first day. Lots of stuff to catch up on, lots of new colors to try and match with a supernatural. But the boy from English took up most of your mind. Why did he have so many colors? 

Your mind was racing as the school day drew to a close. The sun on your face felt so nice, and the calm breeze helped slow everything down. It gave you a moment of peace as you scanned the lot for your moms car. Then you saw him. He was at a table with two baby blues, a teal, and a scarlet. They looked like they were in deep conversation. 

There was this weird pull in your gut, and before you could stop yourself you were walking toward them. 

“It’s only taking their skin. Why?” The older looking baby blue said, he looked stressed. They all did. 

The scarlet was running her fingers down a book, biting her lip. 

The teal shrugged. “Maybe it just likes to eat the skin?” 

Little baby blue just stared at her like she was nuts before big baby blue spoke up. “If it did we wouldn’t be finding discarded skin near the freshly skinned bodies.”

Your heart stopped. No. There’s no way. 

“None of them look eaten, and the skin only has a line down their back. It doesn’t make sense. Stiles, has your dad said anything?” 

The boy from English, Stiles, spoke up. “Not really. He said they seemed to have some type of film on them. Like they had been preserved in something.” 

“Skincrawler.” You whispered, your heart pounding in your ears. 

“Y/N?” Stiles asked. They were all looking at you as your eyes widened. 

“I..uh.” You cleared your throat and tried to steady your breath. “Do they have a stab mark at the base of their neck.” They nodded and you were suddenly light headed. 

“Shit,” Stiles jumped up, gently pushing you into his seat. “Guys this is Y/N. She’s in my English class.” 

“What did you call this thing?” Scarlet asked. They were all still looking at you like you were crazy. 

“A skincrawler.” You rubbed your face. “They kill someone and wear their skin.” 

“Fuck.” Little baby blue whispered.

You shook your head. “You’re all safe. They don’t go after other supernaturals.” That earned you an even weirder set of looks. “You two are werewolves.” You nodded at the baby blues. “You’re part werewolf, part something else.” You nodded to teal. “And I’m not sure what you two are.” You said to scarlet and Stiles. 

None of them spoke for a minute. Then big baby blue extended his hand. “I’m Scott McCall.” His eyes were red, such a contrast to his coloring. 

“You’re an alpha.” You shook his hand and he cocked a brow. “I can see your true eyes.” 

His hand slipped from yours, replaced with little baby blue, Liam, then teal, Malia. Scarlets name was Lydia. Then Stiles shook your hand, his grip was firm, and he held it while he spoke. “How did you know what they are?”

“Each supernatural has its own aura, my family is what they call True Seers. I can see the auras around you, and your true eyes. I’m the first in almost a decade so I’m pretty much learning on my own. Which is why I’m not able to identify yours.” You glanced at Stiles, Lydia, and Malia. 

“I’m a Banshee.” Lydia gave you a soft smile then looked back to the book. 

“Werecoyote.” Malia supplied with a shrug. “Both my parents tried to kill me so don’t ask.” 

You looked up at Stiles but he shook his head. “Just your average human here. Which doesn’t seem like a good thing with these skin guys walking around.” 

It didn’t make sense that he wasn’t a supernatural, but there were more pressing things to address. 

“Are these like the skinwalkers? Because I’ve seen them and I don’t think they would do this.” Scott questioned, turning to look at you. 

You shook your head. “No. Walkers are non threatening. The crawlers, as you can tell, aren’t. And they are hard to locate. When they stab the person, not only does it kill them, but it seems to transfer all their memories. So even though it’s still the monster inside. It looks and has the same mannerisms as the person it killed.” 

“How do we stop it?” Malia asked, she looked ready for a fight. 

A shudder ran down your body at the memory of when you last saw this creature. “It’s not easy. First you have to know how many there are. They are stronger packs. Then you have to find out where they are staying. But even harder you have to find out who they are wearing.”

Scott rubbed his face, everyone was looking at him, waiting for his directions. “We need Derick and Argent. Maybe Parish too.” 

“I’ll go to the library and see if I can find anything out.” Lydia said, having no luck with the current book. “Where are we meeting?” 

“The loft, at seven.” Scott turned to you. “Would you come? You seem to know more about them than we do. We could use your help.” 

You glanced around at them. A group of friends who were closer than close. Had clearly been through a lot. “Yeah. Yeah. Just give me the address.” 

“I can pick you up.” Stiles said quickly, stumbling over his words when everyone turned to him. “I mean. It’s kinda hard to get to that first time. It would be easier for someone to give you a ride.” His ears turned pink as Lydia and Malia shared a look. Scott was trying to hold his grin. But Liam was flat out laughing at him. 

Before you could respond a horn honked, followed by your mom calling your name. “Here.” You tore a piece of paper and quickly wrote your address and number down. “Just let me know when you get there.”

As you walked away you could hear the low voices talking at once followed by Stiles. “You guys suck I’m going home.” 

—

You shared everything with your mom on the way home. Even though she wasn’t a true seer, everyone in her family got trained in case it appeared later in life. 

“So this true alpha has a mixed pack?” She asked, dropping the box of books on the table. 

“Yes. There’s definitely a lot of stuff they have been through. I could feel how strong their connection was.” You started thumbing through the first book, your mom following suit with her own. 

“And this Stiles boy, he said he wasn’t supernatural?” 

“Yeah. I can’t even begin to explain the way the colors were around him. It was like someone spilled a bunch of paint. Very chaotic.” You closed the book, having no luck. “I don’t think the book is in here. I think it’s with Buffy.” 

Your mother examined the books, then nodded. “I think so. I’ll give her a call. But you should probably go get it tonight if she has it.”

“Can I take the car?” You asked, slightly excited about getting to go see someone who was pretty much your Aunt but you get to drive. 

Your mom nodded. But before you could say anything your phone vibrated 

  Maybe Stiles: Y/N? It’s Stiles. I’m outside. I think. 

  You: Okay, I'll be out in a sec. 

"Stiles is here." You told your mom as you slipped into your jacket. "Just have Buffy text me if she has the box." You gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Love you."

She opened another book. "I will. I'll also keep looking and see if I can find anything. I know there was something in one of the books last time, I just have to remember which one. And I love you too. Be safe."

You slipped your bad over your shoulder and headed out where a blue jeep was waiting. Stiles was in the front seat tapping his fingers and singing to whatever was playing. He was wearing a maroon lacrosse hoodie and his hair looked more disheveled than it did at school. His tapping stopped when you opened the door and Should I Stay or Should I Go was playing. His voice died off as he looked at you standing in the door. 

"The Clash? Good choice." You said as the song came to an end, and a new one began. "Oh, and Fleetwood Mac?"

Stiles shrugged, taking your bag for you as you climbed in. "Can never go wrong with some classic rock." 

"That is very true. I think I might like you a bit now Stiles." His colors were dimmer than they had been at school, which was normal, the sun always made them brighter. They were much less distracting this way too. "So, is there anything I should know before we get to this mystery loft?"

"There's a lot you should know. But the drive isn't long enough for everything, so I'll give you the rundown." He pulled the jeep from the curb and started talking. 

He told you who Derek, Argent, and Parrish were and how Scott and Liam turned. But that was about as much as he could get in before pulling into the parking lot of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. So many questions were running through your mind as you looked up at the building. "Funny, a werewolf living in a warehouse."

Stiles laughed, then nodded to the door. "I swear the loft is so much better inside." 

He was right. When he pulled open the huge metal door it revealed a beautiful open space full of natural light and people. Four you had already met, three you had names for but not faces. 

Scott was quick to introduce you to the other three. Derek was obviously a werewolf with his baby blue coloring that matched his eyes. Jordan Parrish was the first human hellhound you've met, and his color was exactly like fire. 

Argent was the only one without a color. "A True Seer?" He asked, shaking your hand. "I've only met one other person with that ability. Welcome to Beacon. Scott said you knew something about these things?" 

"We fought a group of them when I lived in Sunnydale. I know we had some literature on them, my mom is looking through our books, but I think I think they might have gotten left at my Aunt's house. Once I know though I’m heading there to get them.”

Argent nodded, then pointed to the map. “We have a rough pattern. And based on the bodies I think we might be dealing with just one.” 

“What do you know about the people who have been killed?” You asked, noting the four red circles on the map that seemed to form a shape. 

“Not a lot.” Parrish spoke up, opening a file. “All different ages. Different builds. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern here. But we are still searching through their backgrounds. So far the only possibility is they knew each other or went to the local church.” 

You nodded. “They liked to go after people who knew each other. How often are bodies turning up?”

“Every two weeks or so. The last one was the day before yesterday.” Stiles answered, your phone buzzed. 

  Buffy: The books are here. Fill me in on what’s happening. 

  You: I’m coming to you. Be there soon. 

“My Aunt has the books. Is it okay if I take a picture of this? I think I can get some extra help.” You asked nodding to the map. 

"Yeah. The more help we can get the better." Argent said, stepping back as you angled your phone for a picture. 

"Is there anyone missing from the school?" Derek asked, looking at the others. 

Lydia shrugged. "Not sure yet. There were a few people out today, but they could have just been normal reasons. I'm keeping an eye on everything." 

"We couldn't get a scent from the body." Malia added, giving a shudder. "I think I might have nightmares for weeks."

“I didn’t see anyone there with the color for them. It’s kind of a deep grey color. Even when they switch skins the color is still there.” You looked at Stiles, his brows were pinched and he was working his thumb with his teeth as he looked at the map. "Hey," you whispered as the others discussed the body. "Could you drive me home. Buffy has the books so I need to get to Sunnydale." 

His brown eyes met yours, the concentration making him look adorable. "Huh? Oh, yeah." He looked up at the others. "Guys, I'm going to take Y/N home so she can go get the books." 

After some quick goodbyes the two of you made your way back to the jeep. 

"If you want, I can take you there?" Stiles said, his hand was rubbing at the back of his neck. 

You stopped and looked at him. "To Sunnydale?" 

"Yeah. It's late, and well, I'd feel safer away from here." He shrugged. "Plus it's late." 

"You said that." You laughed. "If you want to drive me that's alright." 

"Awesome." He jumped in the jeep, waited for you to get in and buckled, then looked over at you. "So, how do I get to Sunnydale?"

------

"Okay, wait. Like, a full, legit deadpool?" The two of you were almost there, and Stiles had started filling you in on everything they had experienced. 

"Yes. That's how we found out that Parrish was supernatural. He was on the list. Peter, is the one who put the list out. He used another banshee to set it all up."

"So, if I ever meet Peter can I punch him?" Even though you'd just met this group you felt oddly protective of them.

"He is kinda neutral right now, but honestly, go for it." He winked at you. "So is there anything I should know before we get there?"

"Well, yes. Buffy isn't really my aunt, but she feels like one. She's the slayer. Spike might be there, he's a vampire. Willow, she's like my other aunt, she's a witch." Excitement started building as you saw the sign for the exit.

He was silent for a moment, then he said slowly. "Vampire?"

"He won't try anything. He knows I can take him, but also he's fairly harmless." 

Stiles rubbed his lips. "Vampire." 

"Yes. Turn left up here." You said. He followed your directions, eventually pulling in front of the house you spent much of your childhood. "You okay?"

"Uh. Yeah. I'm still processing I think." 

You placed your hand on his arm. "I promise you it'll be fine. But if you want, you can stay in the car." 

He shook his head, removing the keys. "Lets go." 

All the lights were on as you made your way to the house, Spike was standing in the open door. 

"Hello, Little Bit." His British accent was familiar and a sudden wave of homesickness hit you. 

You ignored it though, rolling our eyes. "Shut it you loof. The skin crawlers are back, we don't have time for your shit." 

He placed a hand on his chest. "Your words wound, missy." His eyes traveled behind you. "Who's the bloke?"

"Spike, Stiles. Stiles, Spike.” You pointed at Spike. "Be nice."  You grabbed Stiles' hand and led him into the house, avoiding Spike's attempt to ruffle your hair. The others were already waiting in the dining room. 

You quickly introduced Stiles to everyone. Then jumped right into what you knew. 

“I went by the crypt.” Spike said after you’d told them the last of the information. “It didn’t look like anything escaped. Place is still rubble.”

“Wait.” Stiles leaned his elbows on the table.  “How exactly did you guys kill these things last time?”

“Blew them up.” Willow shrugged, flipping through a book. 

Stiles fell back into his chair and looked at you. “Blew them up?” 

“Buf has army connections so we were able to… acquire some top grade stuff.” You told him. You could tell he was trying to process all of this, he was really cute. 

“Argent might have some connections.” He nodded as if he was coming up with a plan. 

You let him be and flipped open a book, your heart immediately stopping. Before saying anything you looked back at one of the pictures you had taken. 

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” You dragged your finger down the page as you read. “This is bad.” Everyone was looking at you as you pointed to the diagram in the book. “A resurrection ritual.”

“Bloody hell.” Spike said, jumping from his chair, heading straight to the little bar table. 

Willow paled, pulling the book to her and muttered something under her breath. 

“Uh. That doesn’t seem like a good thing.” Stiles said. 

You turned to him, your heart was pounding. “The skincrawler is doing a resurrection ritual. Basically it’s trying to bring something back from the dead. Probably the ones we killed.” 

“Okay that sounds really bad.” 

“It says here it has to make five sacrifices around a power source.” Willow said. “But it’s not doing it over the Hellmouth so what’s in Beacon Hills?” She looked over at Stiles. You opened the picture of the map, examining it closer, trying to find the pattern. 

“The Nemeton.” He whispered, struggling to get his phone out of his pocket. After pressing around there was the trill of a call. 

“Stiles? It’s late.” Argents' gruff voice filled the room. 

“I know I know. Listen. I need you to go to that map. I need you to go to it and tell me what’s in the middle of those points.”

“A star!” You shouted. “They need five points. There are four on here. If you trace a star you can find the next dump site and the middle.” 

There was rustling on the phone, then, “Shit.” 

“It’s The Nemeton isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. It’s The Nemeton.” There was some more noise from the other side of the phone. “I’ve got a rough guess where the next dump site will be. I’ll tell the others.” 

“So The Nemeton is a real thing?” Willow asked, amazement all over her face. 

You raised your hand. “Excuse me, what is that?” 

“Short version? A supernatural ritual site created by Druids. It’s what makes Beacon Hills a beacon for the supernatural.” 

“I thought they were a myth.” Willows eyes were dazed as she zoned out. 

“So you’re telling me I moved from the demon hotspot Hellmouth to the literal beacon for the supernatural? Unbelievable.” 

"It's very real. Sometime I'll tell you the story of how it awoke and got so much power. But right now we need to get back." He looked incredibly worried. 

"It's late." Buffy said, she and Spike had been talking in the corner quietly. "You guys should stay here and sleep for a few hours before driving back."

Spike nodded. "I agree, Little Bit. There's still a few days till you should really worry. Sleep a bit and head out at sunrise."

As he spoke, you could feel the exhaustion suddenly weighing on your body. "He's right. Let the others scope out some stuff while we catch some shut eye." 

"Your room is still made up. Go sleep and I'll make you guys breakfast in the morning." 

You nodded, and silently led Stiles up the steps. He’d been quiet, worry was all over his face. He sat down in the desk chair, lip between his teeth. 

“They will be okay.” You said softly, moving the pillows off the bed. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. We defeated them once, we can do it again. Really Argent is the only one to worry about there, he’s not a supernatural. Plus they are very time oriented. They stick to the same schedule when it comes to changing.” 

After a moment he spoke again. “Uh. Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” 

There wasn’t much space in the small room so you shook your head. “You can sleep in the bed. You’re driving so better rest is safer.”

The two of you were quiet as you took turns in the bathroom, then getting situated in the bed. 

“Ya know,” you said after a few minutes in the dark. “If you had told me that on my first day of another new school I’d meet more supernaturals, find out the skincrawlers are back, and share a bed with a guy I just met that morning. I’d think you were crazy.” 

“I’ve learned to just ride out the crazy. Trust me, it’s easier to do that than to try and fight it.” His head turned toward you, voice  just above a whisper. “Why did you seem so freaked about the skincrawlers?”

You were suddenly very thankful for the dark. “They got one of my best friends. It was how we found out about them actually. She went missing for a day or so and when she came back she had this Grey color around her that hadn’t been there before. And her eyes seemed empty. Like everything about her was still her. But her eyes.” A shudder ran through you. “It used the knowledge from her to taunt us, me. Things got ugly. The boom.” You wiped the tear off your cheek, turning to see his silhouette in the dark. “If it’s just one, and we get it before it completes the ritual, it’ll be fine.”

“I’m...I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

“It’s fine. I have faith in us. With the information we take back, it’ll help. Let’s get some sleep though.” Even though you said it, you stayed awake long after Stiles' breath evened out. Images of your last run in with these nasty things running through your mind. There was no peaceful sleep. 

[underworld-of-imagines]

Darkness - Spencer Reid

Prompt: You’re blind and live with Spencer.

TW: Burns, pain, blindness

A/N: Hey guys, so this has been the first thing I’ve written in a while. I got a new job, so writing has been few and far between lately. This was just an idea of something I could write without too much trouble because I have experienced temporary blindness. I hope you guys enjoy!

A gentle melody danced through the air, the speakers of Spencer’s old radio gently cracking as the song became louder towards the chorus. Your hips swayed to the beat, a soft hum passing your lips as you mimicked the familiar tune. It was one of your favourite songs, something you played to go along with whatever you were doing, reminding you of happiness and home. You could almost imagine the colours that came through the speakers and danced along with the soundwaves.

Almost.

In reality, you had long since forgotten what colours looked like, having been many years since you had last seen them. Leaving you to your very powerful, yet also weak imagination, to imagine the colours that once dominated your life.

Now, you were permanently blind. A genetic curse that ran in your family, blinding only the most courageous of the bloodline. At least, that’s how your father explained it to you when you were only 9 years old, and almost entirely blind.

When you first met Spencer Reid, you were in a coffee shop, trying to find your way towards the counter. He blurted out random facts about blindness, astonishing you with his genius, whilst drinking coffee together.

One year later, you were officially a couple (though you had been living together since before he asked you out officially).

Now, you tried to take care of the apartment, and contribute to your part of the costs.

Admittedly, sometimes that got really difficult to manage. Like tonight, for example. Spencer had been on a case for the past week, your nightly calls with him showed how much the case was weighing down on him. He spared you of many details, trying to keep your child-like memory of humanity intact. But sometimes it got hard for him, like this case, making you feel useless to his humanity-saving crusade.

So, you decided to attempt to make him dinner. His favourite spaghetti bolognese. It wasn’t too hard to make, mostly everything was prepared, and you had taken extra time to listen to the ingredients and instructions. Everything had to be perfect.

Sighing, you desperately tried to find the diced carrot in the fridge. In an attempt to make your life a bit easier, Spencer had started to cut up the fruits and vegetables he bought – for “safety” as he called it. Honestly, it warmed your heart that he cared so much. Admittedly, yes, it was disabling, but you also didn’t care as it reduced your risk of cutting your finger off by accident.

You dumped a cup of diced carrot into the sauce mixture, the aroma of the bolognese sauce filling your apartment as you reached for the wooden spoon to carefully stir the sauce again. Not much longer and I can start the pasta, you thought as you placed the spoon gently on the side.

Holding your hand out to your side, you guided yourself around the island counter, feeling carefully for the bar chairs that were often haphazardly left out. One too many times had you stubbed your small toe on the wooden chairs, which always resulted in violent swearing, and Spencer trying to give you first aid to help with your bruised toes. To you surprise, you had yet to break a toe on a random piece of furniture you kicked, though you crossed your fingers and knocked on wood.

A loud ringing brought you out of your daze, the alarm for the pasta sauce had already gone off, indicating that it was time to start cooking the pasta.  “Siri set a timer for one minute,” you commanded as you placed the pot of cold water on to boil. Your phone beeped in response, and you could barely hear the soft ticking over the sound of the music that still emanated from the radio.

Spencer was due to be home any minute, and you couldn’t wait to hug him again. When you were in Spencer’s arms, it always felt like home, in the best way possible.

Listening to the timer go off, you smiled to yourself as you felt around for the pot, before pouring the pasta in. Setting another timer for eight minutes, you stirred the pasta and sauce quickly before going to sit back down on the stool.

Faintly, you could hear car horns and just a general bustle from the streets below, nothing really new, and a sound you had grown accustomed to over the years. A light elevator ding could be heard from out in the hallway, and your heart raced with the thought of it being Spencer. But alas, it was not as no sound of the door opening came as you waited patiently.

Once the timer went off, you toddled back to the stove, carefully turning off the knobs before grabbing the pot of pasta. Draining the pasta was always a challenge, as you couldn’t be sure of where the strainer was in the sink, and Spencer usually helped with this part.

Scalding water landed on your hand as you poured the pasta into the strainer, making you drop it out of shock.

“Fuck!” You held your hand tightly, wrapping your shirt around it to try and stop the burning sensation.

“Y/N!” Spencer yelled out as he walked in the door, you could hear him drop is bags before running over to you. “Give me your hand, you have to run it under warm water,” he urged, trying to grab the burnt hand from your tight clutch. Reluctantly, you let go, allowing him to guide you to the sink before turning on the warm water.

“Hold it there, I’ll go get the first aid kit,” he instructed. The warm water burned your hand even more, making tears well in your eyes at the pain. “Just keep holding it there for about 15 minutes, I’ve got burn cream and bandages for once it’s done. I also found your Panadol from the cabinet; I’ll get you some.” Spencer explained. Usually he was very reluctant to give you Panadol, simply due to his own experience with his addiction. But whenever he did, he watched carefully to make sure that you wouldn’t have a bad experience.

“Spence-” you croaked, your voice cracking from the pain.

“It’s okay darling, you’ll be okay.” He soothed, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I’ll finish dinner, don’t worry.”

A while later, he guided you over to the table, the plates already served and laid out for you. Your hand now wrapped in a bandage, burn cream applied thanks to Spencer’s very thorough first aid.

“How was the case?” You asked after a few minutes of silence.

“It was okay, we managed to catch the unsub before he killed another victim.” Spencer said in a quiet voice, he didn’t like talking to you about cases, it was two separate worlds, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“That’s good, she’ll be okay right?” Spencer hummed in response, one that you knew meant eventually. It always warmed your heart to know that the victims would be okay, eventually.

*****

“I hate going away,” he broke the silence as you laid next to him in bed.

“Why’s that?” You asked, resting your head and bandaged hand on his bare chest.

“Because it means leaving you. And I’m always terrified that you could get hurt, like today. Or something else could go wrong and I wouldn’t be here to protect you.” Spencer’s chest wracked as soft sobs started to fall from his lips.

“Spence-,” you soothed, rubbing your hands through his hair gently. “Accidents happen, even to people who can see. Yes, I am a bit more accident-prone than most abled people. But I can still take care of myself when you’re not here.” His head rested gently on top of yours, tears soaking your scalp. “If it makes you feel better though, I do like when you’re here to help me out. Especially tonight, I don’t think I would have been able to do any of that without your help.”

Spencer drew in a deep breath before speaking, “that does help, thank you.” You continued to run your hand through his hair, rubbing his scalp gently. His hair was soft between your fingers, his curls catching gently as you brushed them out.

“Can you read to me?” You asked once Spencer had calmed down a bit.

“Of course, Y/N, what story do you want to hear today?” Spencer shuffled a bit, and you could hear rustling from his bedside table, which was often covered with books and papers.

“Can you read some more Harry Potter to me?” Before you went blind, you loved the Harry Potter series. You had even managed to read the first book by yourself, before you lost your sight completely.

“Of course, we’re up to book 3 now, I’ll just go grab it.” Spencer didn’t read a lot of newer fictional books but kept a bookcase of them for you. Some were even in braille, so you could read them yourself. But it was your favourite when Spencer read to you.

“Okay I got it,” his soft footsteps padded through the room, back to his side of the bed. Laying down, you got comfortable on his chest again as he opened the book.

“Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.”

[obeymeluv]

Hi! May I suggested something with a little angst but fluff in the end? Where the boys see/think that the reader’s gone but somehow they’re actually alive and well. How would they react? Thank you! I’m looking forward to more of your work!

Hey there! Thanks so much for your support! I’m going to try to keep these on the shorter side because I swear I write books 🙄. I’m grateful for this prompt because I’ve been wanting to write something where the reader has a near-death experience and the boys save/find them (so it turned into more than a reaction. My b.) I just couldn’t think of what to call it  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Spoiler alert for mention of Barbatos’ powers in Lucifer’s part.

For Levi’s part: I don’t know if the Devildom has beaches or not, but let’s say they do :)

This features Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Beel. I don’t 100% have an idea for Satan, Asmo, and Belphegor yet. I’ll make a part 2 with them when I think of it.

Lucifer

To lose you was the biggest hit to his pride he could ever suffer. It hurt more than tearing off his wings when he fell to the Devildom. Maybe not as much as losing Lilith, but it was pretty close. He had not only failed himself, Lord Diavolo, endangered the exchange program, but the delicate mortal he and his brothers had come to love so much was gravely wounded--probably deceased--and that hurt most. In all your outings to the shopping center he never would’ve imagined someone would have an out of control pet. It had been so long since he’d seen someone with a pet down there!

It took three demons to pull it off of you (Lucifer being the last because he was stunned and trying to shield you instead of kill the damn thing). He’d seen you to the infirmary and gone as far as he was allowed. He couldn’t bear to break down in the waiting room so he took refuge in his study where a new mountain of paperwork demanded his attention: writing the accident report and telling your guardians the news.

And there he sat, just enough Demonus in him to spell and sign, while staring miserably at boxes that needed checking. He’d been trying to check ‘deceased’ for an hour (because you probably were). All his hope seemed small in the face of the blood and marrow and pink that he so vividly recalled. Lucifer took another hard swig--more of a chug--and let the bottle clank to the table with a force he wish he’d showed that damn animal. The eldest ignored the knock, and scowled, melting in his chair when you seemed to appear in the doorway.

“Come to haunt me, have you?” Lucifer slurred, looking so angry and empty.

“Would a ghost bring you coffee? I don’t think that’s a haunting.” you laughed as you set the saucer and cup on his desk.

Lucifer straightened a bit, eyes glassy with Demonus but bright with curiosity. “Impossible!” he breathed, the shock and rage burning in him like the Demonus had. There wasn’t a scratch on you and he knew where you’d been gashed and bitten and ripped open. He knew!

“Not when you have Mr. Time-Altering Butler.” you slid the coffee over to him with a smile, showing off your arms. Everything in perfect health. Melancholy Coffee and Demonus spilled over the report as he threw himself into your arms.

You were real. It was your smell. “Please forgive me.” Lucifer drew his wings around you both. “Please,” he buried a gloved hand in your hair. you simply touched his tear-stained face in response, rubbing his cheek.

Mammon

Mammon kicked the door to Diavolo’s palace open with such a fury someone might mistake him for Satan. He was in his demon form, wings caught somewhere between wanting to spread open in intimidation and pulled close to streamline his march towards the prince. Somewhere in his brain--the two percent that wasn’t pissed or sad--he thought he was an interesting sight right now. No glasses, full demon form, and walking like he was fixing to assassinate the prince. Barbatos tried to intercept him and Mammon had no qualms knocking him aside with his wings (right into an expensive-ass bust and column set up he’d tried to steal three months ago).

The noise was enough to alert Lucifer and Diavolo, who’d been in quiet council about your injuries. Mammon stomped up to the table, tossed aside the spread of papers, and slapped down Goldie. He took some half-folded contracts from his pocket and threw them down. Gold pulsed in his eyes, totally overtaking the blue gradient.

He was ready to bargain and wasn’t leaving until his greed was satisfied.

“Total obedience for the rest of my life,” he looked at Diavolo, his brows pinched with seriousness. “And Goldie so you never get another damn bill with my name on it.” Mammon slid it towards Lucifer. He swallowed the lump in his throat, cursing the ring of braided vine pressing against his thigh. Why couldn’t he just let you have jewelry from someone else? Why did he have such a fucking issue with seeing it on your finger?

Well...ripping it off turned out to be a good thing since it had been growing a vine up towards your heart. Some clever bastard child of a fairy and a vampire was slowly draining your life force through nature magic (which was harder for demons to detect), and had almost succeeded. Diavolo had made quick work of the guy but he couldn’t undo what had been done to you. “You’re the best bet they have right now, and I want in.” Mammon sagged into the table as he looked down, waiting for that contract magic to put that weight on his soul for eternity.

“I’m not interested.” Diavolo dared smile at him and Mammon didn’t stop to think about it being a playful smile. His hands went for the tie and he saw red. Diavolo stood up calmly, grappling easily with Mammon as Lucifer tried to physically separate them.

“How could you not be?!” Mammon was spitting at him. Trying to bite him and claw him. “They’re a human! It’s your pet project!” Mammon fixed his stance and started moving to pitch Diavolo over his shoulder like he’d seen Beel do when wrestling. “THEY FUCKING MATTERS!” he rolled with the prince, only to be captured in some sort of bear hug. He landed face-down on the stone floor and tried to slither out from under the prince, hissing and making all sorts of noises fit for a demon.

“Because I’m not dead? There’s no deal to be made.”

“Which I would have divulged, had you not tried to concuss me.” Barbatos went unheard behind you, dusting himself off. You were supposed to be resting in one of the palace rooms, and had somehow dodged the royal healers.

Mammon scratched his chin looking up at you as quick as he did. He could feel the tender spot and the blood starting to bead. You were pale and tired, but there you were. All safe and sound and giving him that ‘my lovely idiot’ smile he’d gotten used to. Diavolo’s weight finally left him, seeming to launch Mammon towards you. Hugging you close, nuzzling your face with his, Mammon breathed the greatest sigh of relief in his life.

“You’re alive! Holy shit!” Mammon cupped your head and continued to kiss it, steadying his heart. He’d calculated those odds of living after that much blood loss, and they were less than one! Does that make you lucky? Should you hit the casinos?

As if you could read his mind, you suggested good food instead. Lucifer refused to give Goldie back, insisting he try again at the House of Lamentation. You ordered in with what little Grimm you had saved. Mammon left your side long enough to unearth every hidden morsel Lucifer treasured in the kitchen and put it outside Beel’s door. Then it was right back to you, where he always wanted to be.       

Levi

He wasn’t the most athletic of his brothers--or the handsomest--but there was something charming about the beach. It called to him. It was just like the aquarium wall of his room...sort of. Being around Asmodeus and his friends made him nervous, but sitting at home with the thought of you hanging out with Asmodeus and his friends was worse. Levi wanted to look out for you but could hardly bring himself to look at you. 

You were cuter than a normie had any right to be. Almost grossly so. Levi just wanted to drown, ugh! Horns started to sprout under his hair as he envied how open and smooth Asmodeus’ friends could be when talking to you. At best, he squawked and lied or got too red to say anything coherently.

“Be a dear and take my darling Levi into the water, would you? He looks like he needs to cool off.” Asmodeus gave you a little wave and a wink. You took Levi by the hand as if it WASN’T a big fucking thing (spoiler alert: IT WAS), and led him to the water. Levi became someone else in the water; when the water touched his skin it soothed him and coaxed out his tail. It felt like a secret power-up, like he’d maxed out all his dating stats and could be suave and fast and interesting. You paddled and splashed around, played an unwinnable game of tag, and let Levi jet through the water with you on his back.

It was the craziest sensation, almost like you were skating on water! Even when he was careful and you were secure, hanging off of Levi’s back felt like holding onto a torpedo. Levi thought something bumped his tail but he brushed it off, thinking it was your legs. Suspicion grew in him, but that growth was cut short when you were ripped off his back and dragged underwater.

Ten seconds. Ten seconds AT MOST to kill that fish hybrid, but that was ten seconds traveling at crazy speed, going deeper than a human needed to, and being in teeth much stronger than your human body. He could smell the blood in the water and it made him sick. He should want to join in on the kill and take it all for himself--humans were a delicacy, after all--but that wasn’t anything CLOSE to what he was thinking right now.

Levi made sure you breached the surface first, shooting towards the shoreline as fast as he could move his tail. Someone took you from him; Levi held onto his tail as he stumbled through the sand. He vaguely remembered scooping up some clothes and his headphones as he followed Asmo to the towel you were laid on. Asmo conjured Solomon to work healing magic as one of his friends contacted emergency services to get you to the closest hospital.

Would you get taken back to RAD? Would they send you to a non-affiliated Devildom hospital? Levi cancelled the emergency call, ignored the envy hissing over the fact that he didn’t place it fast enough, and told Lucifer to stay on the phone with him as he followed behind (he might need to bring documents or something).

No way in hell was he leaving you at the mercy of demons in a non-RAD hospital! Someone might try to eat you! Centuries of raid battles and midnight releases totally prepared him to sit stock-still for hours on end. He planted himself in a waiting room chair stubbornly. Asmo joined him, trying to console him with all the things he’d left behind on the beach.

Lucifer tried to give him food but Levi refused it all. Part of him wanted to blink but he didn’t want to in case he missed a doctor. Not that someone would run by without giving an update, but they could. It felt like hours later, but you’d regained consciousness and had been patched up enough for visitors. Levi was the first in your room, practically vibrating with worry.

You took his hand, as difficult as it was in all the tubes and things, and Levi felt calm again. Just like the ocean. His little ocean. “You dumb normie,” Levi rubbed his eyes as the tears started to fall. You just squeezed his hand.    

Beel

When you said you’d come to his game, Beel thought he’d be looking for you between plays. You’d been to his games a few times now, and it was always great to see you. Beelzebub felt like he played better when you showed up. It was rare he got traded out with someone when the game was on and the stakes were high, but he relished any and all chances to say hi and steal a bite of whatever you were having. He’d never seen the point of having front-row seats until then, and he was glad Satan traded his box seat access for them.

“I told you I’d be here!” you were happy as could be in your Devildom cheer uniform, waving the pomp-poms. Beel took his helmet off to really look at you, his cheeks reddening. “Surprise! Good luck!”

There was a passing thought of ‘oh man, no snack!’ but Beel couldn’t stop the dopey grin stretching across his face. Who organized this? Who CARED?! “Thanks.” Beelzebub smiled at you, slipping his helmet back on when one of his teammates told him to. His brain was somewhere between ‘do good because they’re watching!’ and being distracted.

It was clear the Devildom girls were doing super easy cheers and trying to give you a heads up for the next one. You looked so cute throwing your pom-poms and yelling for them! Beel got lectured way more than he usually did, but he ran like the tank he was. He’d steal glances at you, watch you point at the ball, and put his brain back on track. By halftime they had a ten-point lead and the coach was adamant on making it bigger.

It didn’t get any bigger. The game came to a grinding halt when someone on the enemy team tried to intercept the ball. They crashed into the Devildom cheerleaders and Beel’s stomach dropped. You didn’t have demon reflexes and were most likely to be hit. It was bad enough for a normal demon to hit you, but one that had weight training and strength training?!

Beel ripped off his helmet and resisted the urge to pitch the demon as far as he could. Did he do it on purpose? He wouldn’t, right?! Beel grabbed him by the cleat and dragged him off. The girls were doing what they could to pull you out from under him but were obviously afraid to handle you.

Demon strength was different from human strength. More deadly.

Beelzebub wanted to vomit. You looked...you looked bad. Dented. Bruised. Broken. He could hear the blood in your mouth and didn’t know if he should pick you up or leave you on the ground. He crawled over to you, tearing up grass under his hands and somehow not kneeing you in the face as he moved to hold the hand that looked okay. Your brain hadn’t totally processed everything.

He wondered if your body knew how much pain it should be in.

Medics rushed onto the field and Beel followed them out. Beelzebub gave an aggravated groan when Satan tried to clothesline him, standing still to let his older brother spin to his side. He didn’t realize that it looked like he was going for the player who hurt you until he tuned into Satan rationalizing--pleading--with him. Tucking Satan under his arm, Beelzebub barrelled towards the medics and into the ambulance. You were rushed into surgery and Beelzebub was rushed into the cafeteria before he could stress eat anymore chairs.

Part of him didn’t want to eat (and was surprised he could) but a bigger part of his brain convinced him that eating would mean things were okay. Normal. That means you’d be okay, too, because you usually were. Belphie and Satan sat with him as he ate, his appetite coming and going.

He couldn’t spend the night and when they wouldn’t let him see you the next morning, he was sure you were dead. Beelzebub grilled Lucifer for answers he couldn’t give. Your hospital team wouldn’t talk to him unless he was Lord Diavolo. Asmo’s sources swore you were alive but Beel refused to believe it unless he could see you. His appetite had dwindled to almost nothing, Beel sulking in his room.

His brothers tried to coax him out but nothing worked. The only thing that could pull him out was your pact mark, the energy tugging weakly at him. You beckoned him and he was more than happy to answer. Beelzebub appeared in your hospital room in a flash of light and smoke, giddy beyond belief. Tears and joy shriveled at the sight of you all bandaged, some parts thick with casts and suspended by special machines.

You looked like you’d been sleeping sitting up. Maybe you had to because of your ribs.

Beelzebub cautiously approached your bedside. He started to ask if you’d summoned him since you couldn’t work your D.D.D, but you interrupted him and he let you. Hearing your voice after two days was amazing! “Can you go get me some real food? The stuff here is terrible...”

“Anything and everything.” Beelzebub kissed your forehead after a laugh that woke his stomach up. Even if the nurses stopped him, he’d probably be able to sneak at least ONE thing into your room. He was a master at hoarding food, after all.  

[dw-writes]

Krampusnaucht - The Unholy Trinity & GN!Reader

So! @whatafuckinnerd suggested “Hunting Krampus with Jesse Custer and Cassidy (featuring a very adamant Tulip that refuses to fuck with the thing because it might Ruin Christmas TM)” when I asked them for Christmas/Holiday requests and this came about!!! This IS a heavily implied Jesse Custer x Reader in this as well! :D I hope you guys enjoy this! Please let me know what you think!!!

December 5th, 20--, Krampusnacht

Tulip’s car was crowded. Really, it wasn’t meant to sit four people, let alone have them road trip in a search for God across the southern US for who knew how long. And, to top it off, her heater had broken. In December. Before a stake-out. This was Jesse’s fault, thought three of the four people in the car, because he used the Word of God too many times for selfish things and this was karma just coming back for him.

You kicked the front passenger’s seat when you saw Cassidy digging around in the brown paper bag at his feet. “Stoppit,” you grunted. Cassidy sucked on his teeth, wrinkled his nose, and swatted your foot when you continued to kick him.

“Stop kickin’ me!” he protested.

“Stop tryin’ to drink the booze!” you hissed with a well-placed kick to his shoulder. He unlatched his seatbelt and turned around, leaning between the seats to smack you back.

While you and Cassidy fought – with the occasional squeak of alarm and soft shout of protest – Tulip turned around and shoved Cassidy against the center console to get a better look at Jesse, who sat in the back with you. He wasn’t trying to hide his amused grin. “Why the hell are we out here, Jesse Custer?” she asked. Then, she huffed and drummed her open palms on Cassidy’s back. “Get back in that seat and stop fightin’ in my car!” she demanded through clenched teeth.

Cassidy swore up a small storm while he maneuvered himself back into his seat. He pulled the blanket – stolen from the last gas station your group had stopped at – around his shoulders and sulked. You, in turn, drew your feet up onto the back seat and tucked your also stolen blanket tightly around you. When that didn’t work, you tucked your feet under Jesse’s thigh.

Jesse sighed a bit when you did this. He didn’t mind too much – it was better than when you stuck your cold toes on him in the middle of the night – but he was still a little put off. You weren’t the only one that was cold in that car.

“We’re doin’ this,” he grunted as he shifted around. His (also stolen) blanket was a little thicker, and larger, and with a bit of maneuvering he got it around you both. You buried yourself into the blankets and tucked your nose against his shoulder. “We’re doin’ this,” he repeated, “Because we’re helpin’ people.”

“Bullshit this is helpin’ people,” Tulip shot back. “This is puttin’ my Christmas in jeopardy.”

“How?” chimed three voices. You popped your head out of the blankets to stare at her.

“Because if we fuck with Krampus—” Cassidy snickered, which made Jesse snicker, which made both you and Tulip take those ‘my patience is thin’ breaths. “—Then we run the risk of bein’ on Santa’s bad side.”

“You still believe in Santa?” Cassidy asked.

She jerked to face him. “You don’t?” she snapped. He started to reply. She held up a hand. “You’re a vampire. Jesse’s got the offspring of the universe’s stupidest hook up in his chest. We’ve seen angels. There’s a killer cowboy. And we saw heaven and whatever-the-fuck you wanna call God-Imposter,” she said while ticking up her fingers. Then, she added another one. “And then there’s that dog guy back in Nawlins.”

“Yeah, that made me question a few things, too,” you mumbled.

“What would you do with him?” asked Jesse, turning to you, wrapping an arm around your legs beneath the blanket.

“I mean, there’s a kink called ‘pet play’,” you said. Jesse’s mouth snapped shut. “God, I love ruining your perceptions of humanity sometimes,” you whispered.

Cassidy looked back, pulling the blanket over his head. “Oh, it’s a whole thing, Padre. There’s horse play – but not the kinda horseplay lil’ boys do, trust me – and there’s—” He tilted his head, “Dog play now, I s’pose.”

“Cat girls,” Tulip offered, “And bunnies.”

“Oooh,” Cassidy drawled, “Cat girls. Now there’s one thing the internet got right.”

“How do you know this?” he hissed after a moment.

You flashed him a sympathetic smile. “I read,” you answered.

“I’ve partaken,” Cassidy said at the same time.

Tulip clucked and sat back in her seat, pulling the sweatshirt Cassidy had loaned her tighter around herself. “I’m not surprised in that,” she replied.

“Can we change the subject?” Jesse asked.

“You started it,” you pointed out.

“I’m endin’ it,” he shot back.

“When this guy supposedta get here?” Tulip groaned. Cassidy started to rummage through the bag again. She smacked his arm with he back of her hand. “Knock it off.”

“There’s other shite in here ‘sides the fuckin’ schnapps,” he whined. He continued to dig. “Is it wrong to miss that Ratwater swill?”

“Yes,” you said, while Jesse said, “No,” and Tulip scoffed.

Cassidy sat back with a triumphant laugh and twisted open a bottle of whiskey. Jesse thrusted his hand over the vampire’s shoulder.

“Oh, there’s also those soul trading fucks,” Tulip said, adding to her previous list, “Soul harvesting?”

“I think it’s like blood donation,” you said. You moved your butt closer to Jesse’s thigh and flopped back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. “Like you can give a little bit over a long period of time.” The bottle was passed over you. “Can I have the chips that are in that bag?” you asked Cassidy.

“Don’t you dare make a fuckin’ mess back there,” Tulip warned. The bag was tossed over Cassidy’s shoulder. “Gimmie those Slim Jims,” she then demanded.

“Say please,” Cassidy taunted.

“Gimmie those fuckin’ Slim Jims before I punch you in the dick,” she replied.

Paper rustled. The bottle was passed back over you. You offered the open chips to Jesse.

“Have I told you I love you today?” Cassidy asked. Tulip sucked on her teeth, but said nothing, and Cassidy snickered. You held the bag out to Cassidy after Jesse took a handful. “You know, Padre, there’s also a kinky religion thing that I think you’d very much enjoy,” he said.

“How long are we gonna sit here ‘fore we call it a night?” Tulip asked.

“If it involves fuckin’ on an altar, then he’s done it,” you said through a mouthful of chips.

“Let’s give it another hour,” Jesse replied as he pinched your thigh. You squealed.

Something heavy smashed into the ground outside. Everyone jumped, sending chips flying and booze splashing on the windows, while screams pierced the air. Tulip fumbled with the headlights. When they flicked on, they revealed a massive creature in a dirty red suit. Its horns rose high into the air, and curled back in a slow, terrifying arch. It slowly turned its grizzled face towards the car. You four stared back at it.

Tulip flipped the headlights off. No one removed their eyes from the spot in the darkness you had seen the thing. The paper bag crinkled, and Cassidy slowly – hesitantly – pushed open his door. You heard the gentle tink of a bottle being set on the gravel, and then the door shut.

“Tulip, back up, and get outta here,” Jesse whispered.

“I fuckin’ told you,” she whispered back. The engine roared to life, and the headlights blinked back on. It was gone. You turned your eyes to Cassidy’s window, then started to anxiously pat Jesse until he swatted your hand and snagged it between his. Metal bells gently tapped the window glass as the bottle of schnapps was picked up. “I fuckin’ told you,” she repeated. Cassidy blindly reached over and pressed on her knee. The car slowly backed up, pulling away from the house it had sat in front of, and illuminating the creature one more time. She turned the wheel, corrected the car to face down the road, and gently guided it away.

You whipped around to watch Krampus disappear into the night. Jesse slumped against his seat, reaching into his pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes. The car started gaining speed.

“Bigger than I thought he’d be,” Cassidy said.

Tulip gripped the wheel. You fished around for the chips that had fallen around the back seat. “The next time you get a bad feelin’, Jesse, you better fuckin’ ignore it,” she grumbled.

Jesse lit his cigarette. The whiskey was passed back to him. You chomped on the chips. “Noted,” Jesse finally said. He dropped his face onto you blanketed knees with a groan.

Cassidy took the chips. “Tulip,” he said as he took the bag, “You may be onta somethin’ about Santa Claus.”

“I fuckin’ told you,” she repeated.

You flopped back against the seat again. “I wonder if he’ll come after us,” you mused.

“If this ruined my Christmas, Custer, I will hurt you,” Tulip threatened.

Cassidy whipped back around in the seat. “Near-death-by-festive-fuck aside, tell me about this fuckin’ on the altar, Padre,” he said. He took the cigarette from Jesse. You pulled your blanket over your face and groaned.

[youllallriseintheink]

Prison Cell, Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long- it got so long that I had to split it into two parts. Anyhow, from this point forwards, you can expect a lot of violence, so be warned. This chapter will have a lot of interpersonal stuff, and the final chapter will be pretty much entirely action.

---

Sammy unlocked the door. On the other side of it was a demon. The demon. The one that had stolen her blood.

Its body was humanoid and wearing a suit and white bow tie, but its hands were made of ink. The top of its head was covered in black ink, which spiraled up into horns and spilled down its face, leaving only its mustache, mouth and chin visible. Seeing it in the light for the first time, Susie recognized it as the bottom of Joey’s face.

“Joey?” Susie asked, her voice full of wonder and fear.

“Once,” the demon said, and its voice was not Joey Drew’s. It deep, and rough, and horrible. “But I have taken over. Don’t worry- I don’t want this any more than he does. Once I find a way to separate humans from ink, I’ll go back to my dimension and free all of you to yours.” The demon turned and beckoned Susie to follow him. “Come.”

The demon led Susie through the basement, seemingly one large room full of very strange things. Pentagrams littered the floor. Scattered iron cages contained a few emaciated, ink-covered people. Shelves full of sharp tools and unknowable ingredients lined the walls.

“I can still hear him, you know,” the demon mused, taking a syringe and a number of bottles from a shelf, “Joey. His mind. I can see into him. Learn how to manipulate humans. I asked him how to crush your insurrection, and he said that I’d need to destroy your little story.”

The demon led Susie to a door and opened it, and when he did, she lost all her breath.

It was Norman, chained to the far wall. He was wearing the same clothes he had been when he was taken away several weeks ago, but now they were hanging off of him at sharp angles. Susie ran to him, and he cringed away from her. He didn’t want her to see him like this, or to feel how thin and bony he’d gotten.

“What did you do him!?” Susie demanded.

“Nothing beyond the obvious. You see, you thought that some of you could overcome us with physical power. That was your story- that your hope and your resilience would lead to freedom. I needed to show you that rebellion only forces me to take your strength. This isn’t something I wanted to do. Strong, healthy people do better work, and unfortunately Joey’s desire to manage the studio is in me. But... you forced my hand.”

The demon then pulled Susie Campbell up by the collar, pushed her against the wall, and put the syringe to her throat.

“He can’t protect you now,” the demon explained, perfectly calm. “His ability to do so was always under my control, and you made me take it away.”

All Norman could do was bury his head in his hands and listen to her whimper. The chains were too short for him to reach her, and he didn’t stand a chance against the demon anyhow. Not like this. The demon released her blood into one of the bottles, then reinserted the needle, working at an unhurried pace. He repeated the motion several times before letting her go. She fell onto her hands and knees, faint from blood loss.

---

Utterly haunted, Sammy escorted the two sickly individuals back to the music room, carrying with him the two first-aid kits and a message that Joey had written. The second he entered the recording studio, The instruments went silent. A bassist got up from his instrument and tackled Sammy to the ground.

“Okay, someone get these two to the infirmary and look after them,” the bassist ordered, “And Johnny, get the rope. We have a loyalist to hang!”

“Wait!” Sammy cried, “I carry a message from your lord!”

“Can it! You let this happen to them. Why would we listen to your stupid ‘message?’”

Meanwhile, Jack Fain picked up the message from the ground and read it. “Guys! It says if three days go by without incident, they’ll release our prisoners! Let’s not do this. Please.”

The man who’d tackled Sammy got up, snatched the message out of Jack’s hands, and skimmed over it. “Huh. You’re right. Fine. Take him to the elevator and I’ll take this to Abby. Hopefully she’ll actually use it.”

---

Abby read over the letter.

To the upper levels,

A lot of violence has occurred between the upper and lower levels recently, so let me make myself clear: I do not want war, and no matter what level you come from, you should not want loyalists to die. Without our work, you would starve. I’m sorry to have done what I did, but I think you all needed a reminder of what’s coming for you if you keep interfering with our work. I do not wish to have to do this again.

Simply put, be peaceful, do what’s needed of you, and everything will be fine. As a final peace offering, I will release your prisoners three days from now if the rebellion stops entirely.

-Joey Drew

Abby knew the letter was full of lies. That thing wasn’t Joey, and it wasn’t forced to keep them here. She knew that the others knew that, too, and she knew that now that the upper levels had tasted hope, complete compliance would be even more impossible than before. This so-called war was going to happen sooner or later, so she needed to make sure they started at an advantage. She called on Henry to help her make a plan, and called everyone into the recording studio that night to announce it. Thankfully, it seemed to satisfy even the most rebellious of souls.

---

The door to Susie’s room opened, and Abby stepped in. Susie's eyes opened weakly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry you had to miss the meeting tonight. Big things are happening, and I thought I’d let you know about them.”

“Okay,” Susie said.

“So... Joey, or, his demon, rather, has threatened to come down hard on us if there are any more signs of rebellion- and we both know that there will be. He also promised to release our prisoners if there are three days of good behaviour. So, I’ve decided that we’re breaking out the same night that our prisoners are released. The plan is for someone stealthy to go down there in the dead of night, steal the keys, and come back. After that, we’ll leave in groups of seven in order to sneak out of the portal. We’ll do it as quietly as possible, but we’ll also be packing axes and spears made from the knives you brought up. Hopefully there won’t be too many causalities.”

“Why seven?”

“We’re expecting to have ten injured people, and we’re not leaving anyone behind. There are going to be 68 of us in total, assuming that none of the prisoners died, you know, I thought that one per group would have the least chance of really compromising a group’s chances of escape. Plus, smaller groups will be quicker and quieter.”

Susie nodded.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be better by then. And Norman is fine, too, by the way. Well, physically. We looked him over and he doesn’t have any issues aside from the obvious. He won’t talk to any of us. I don’t know what that’s about. Maybe some kind of spell.”

Susie should have felt something in regards to that, but she was honestly too exhausted from the blood loss.

“Alright. I’ll let you rest now- but tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you about everything you saw down there- especially anything that might help me plan. Goodnight, Susie.” With that, Abby left.

---

The rebellion required planning, and management. Every axe was pulled off the walls and moved into Sammy’s sanctuary, along with the knives- just in case a loyalist decided to take them away one night. Two people guarded the elevator on each floor and at all times, and not to keep loyalists out. Loyalists were allowed right through, but any especially rebellious souls had to be kept from ruining their plan. Henry and Abby were busy planning the groups and drawing up an easy-to-follow map to the portal room. Every department head struggled to keep the remaining workers to their jobs. It seemed pointless for them to work jobs they’d quickly be fleeing from, but it was essential in order to keep suspicions to a minimum.

---

It was the night before the march. Most were turning in early, knowing that tomorrow, they would have to be on their guard well into the night. Susie had tried to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much on her head. Too many factors that had to align if she was ever going to make it out. The horrifying possibility of facing the ink demon again if they failed. And her mind, despite there being there bigger fish to fry, kept going back to Norman, if they could ever have what they had once had again, and if Norman even wanted that anymore.

“Has Norman talked to you, yet?” Susie asked Grant once he entered their room. Since Norman hadn’t rejoined them, there was no real reason for them to still be roommates, but they’d stayed roommates anyhow, just out of habit.

“No. As far as I know, he hasn’t talked to anyone.”

“I saw him speak today. Wally wanted to help him carry something, and Norman snarled at him to back off. So, it’s not a spell- just mental stuff from being imprisoned. I wanna help him, but he won’t talk to me. Can you try?”

“Sure,” Grant said. “I can’t guarantee it’ll work, but I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie said, biting back tears. “I just wanna know that he’s in a place where he’ll be able to handle things tomorrow. And... I know that this is the last thing that should be on my mind, but... can you ask why he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, Susie. I...” Grant tried to find the words to comfort her. “I’ll talk to him.” Honestly, it didn’t seem like Norman was the only one who had to pull themselves together for tomorrow night.

Norman wasn’t used to being pitied. Even as a kid, after all he’d been through, his adoptive family had known that he was a problem child who needed to be set straight before he got even bigger and his aggression became more dangerous. He’d never wanted pity, either, and now that he had it, he couldn’t say that his opinion on it had improved any. He never thought he’d miss his coworkers looking at him like he was a frightening beast. Though he did cut the long, greasy hair he’d grown while imprisoned as soon as he had the chance, he’d been half-tempted to just wash it and keep it, just to somewhat retain that beastly image.

Mostly, he wanted a way to cope. He wanted to talk with his sister, or go for a walk in the woods, or somehow get out of the sight of these people without isolating himself in one room. That had been what he was doing in his off hours- both because there was little else he wanted to do and because he didn’t have the stamina he used to. It wasn’t Susie’s room. Honestly, he’d been too scared to even look at her.

Norman knew of the plan. Honestly, it had happened so quickly after he was released from his imprisonment that it was a little hard to take in. Yes, late tomorrow night, he and everyone else would end up escaping or die trying, and Norman would either reunite with his sister and put his life together from there, or it would be the end of him. It was happening, but it didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at his door. Norman pulled himself up and answered it. It was Grant. Well, out of everyone in the studio it could have been, Grant was the most tolerable.

“Hey, Norman. You... wanna play some cards?” There was a little pity in Grant’s voice. Thankfully not too much.

Norman ushered Grant into the room. They sat down on the floor, and Grant started shuffling the cards.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“I guess. Kind of hard to believe it’s happening.”

Grant’s face lit up. “You’re talking!”

Norman shrugged. “It’s easy when it’s you."

“Uh, thanks. Do you want talk about... you know, what’s happened?”

“No,” Norman said, and the two played cards in silence for a while before Norman spoke up again. “Is Susie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be strong enough to make it out, assuming the plan goes well.”

Norman’s face was unreadable. “Good." A long pause. “Y’know, she’s childish, and shallow, and stupid. But she was impressed with me because I was strong and I could protect her. And so, you know, she was pretty, and we did... things together. I thought that could be all it was, but she was sweet and kind to me and I went and caught feelings for her. Of course, shallow attraction based on one thing won’t last now that I look like starving stray dog, but whatever. So long as she’s okay. She’s a good girl. So long as she’s okay.”

Grant just stared at him. “Have you... looked her in the eye recently?”

“What?”

“Uh, sorry. It’s just that you’re usually so good at figuring this kind of thing out that it borders on the supernatural, and right now, you’re really, really wrong. This entire, organized rebellion started with her trying to put together a rescue team for you. She wanted to be the first one down in loyalist territory, for you. She’s actually the one who sent me, because she’s worried about how you’ll do tomorrow.”

With the last line, Norman’s face went from appreciation and disbelief to twisted anger. “For God’s sake! Joey didn’t cut my fucking legs off!”

“Well, she can’t know how well you’re doing if you avoid her. Look, if you aren’t up for it, I can go back and try to comfort her, tell her you’re fine.”

“No. No. I’ll do it. And I’m sorry that I’m not my most pleasant right now.”

Grant smiled. Nothing ever changed- the best way to get Norman to do anything was to offer to do it for him. Susie slept in Norman’s arms that night, knowing it could be their last chance to be together.

[izupie]

I’ve been writing a Reddie fantasy creature /  AU but I’ve got so far with it and I’m running out of steam, so instead of forcing it and not enjoying it, I’m just going to post what I’ve got so far ! I really enjoyed writing what I did though. One day I hope I’ll finish it and post it on AO3, but I might just stick it in a collection of unfinished stories at some point~

The idea was inspired by a prompt on Instagram and the old wives tale that cats can see ghosts - they say that when cats are looking really intensely at seemingly nothing, they’re really seeing a ghost. So each of the Losers would be a different fantasy creature, with Eddie being a cat that was a witch’s familiar, (but when they leave their witch they’re cursed with a human form to show that they’ve broken their commitment) and Richie’s a ghost that only he can see and touch. (He’s really just Actual Richie caught in the Deadlights, crossing partially over into another universe for a little while, which is why he’s all ghostly, but he has no memory of the world he’s come from, feels like the others are strangely familiar, and he can’t leave Mike’s bar.)

It was really self-indulgent (as all my AUs are) ahaha

--------

Eddie heaved a sigh as he all but fell onto the bar stool. It was a testament to how far he’d walked in the last few days, and how sick he was of camping, that he didn’t even care that the stool creaked noisily at his weight, and that his travelling cloak seemed to stick to the wood as he shuffled to try and make himself more comfortable. (To no success.) (No, his ass wasn’t bony, he was just going to blame it all on the terrible design of flat, hard seats that do nothing for either comfort or alignment of the spine.)

There was a man behind the bar, wiping a metal flagon with a rag, and Eddie desperately tried to not think of the rapid multiplication of bacteria within damp cloth. The bartender had long elven ears, dark skin, and an easy smile that he flashed at Eddie as he made his way over. His expression was open and friendly, and he said, “What can I get for you, traveller?”, in a deep, melodic tone of voice that made Eddie immediately want to offload his whole life story instead of what he wanted to drink. He thankfully managed to keep a lid on his lifetime of trauma and mistreatment and instead replied, “Glass of milk, thanks,” in what he hoped was the confidence of someone used to sitting in bars and ordering drinks and definitely wasn’t travelling alone for the first time in their life.

If he expected a reaction to ordering a glass of milk from a bar, he didn’t receive any, and the bartender just smiled and nodded. “Coming right up,” he said in his honey-smooth voice as he turned away.

Eddie pulled down the hood of his travelling cloak and sighed in relief as his pointed cat ears sprang free from beneath the material. He rummaged within the leather bag around his hip for a small bottle and pulled out the tiny cork with a satisfying pop. There wasn’t much of the potion left, he thought reticently, and the only witch he knew he’d left a long way back from here... But he had to keep his hands clean. Eddie frowned and his tail swished as he poured a few drops of the bright blue liquid onto his hands, then rubbed them vigorously before he stoppered the bottle once more and stowed it away again. The bartender still hadn’t returned yet, and nobody else seemed to be paying him any attention, so he licked his palms and drew them down the velvety soft fur on both of his ears. That felt better.

There were only five other customers that Eddie could see – all playing a game of cards around a large table in the corner of the room. The building wasn’t especially big, so he could hear snippets of their good-natured heckling to each other from his seat, with one voice significantly louder than the others. Eddie placed his elbows on the counter as he tried to get a better look at them – but he felt something wet and cold seep through the thin fabric of his cloak as soon as his elbow touched the surface, and he snatched his arm back with a soft hiss, flattening his ears and nearly losing his balance on the stool. He glared down at the wood, as if it had personally offended him, and then returned his attention to the others.

Only four of the five were sitting at the table with a hand of cards. Nearest to Eddie was a Satyr, judging by the dark brown furred goat legs and the two shining, curved horns on his head. He had neatly trimmed facial hair and wore an openly worried expression (he didn’t seem particularly good at bluffing). Next to him was a man sitting ramrod straight in his chair (good posture, Eddie noted) with sandy brown curly hair, looking shrewdly over his glasses at the rest of the group. Every so often two huge tawny coloured feathery wings would twitch behind him where they were folded in against his back. A woman next to him winked at the Satyr as she said something that Eddie didn’t catch, while her bright red hair flashed like a flame as she tilted her head back and laughed, revealing two long fangs. The only other male at the table gestured for quiet and examined his cards more carefully. He also had two horns on his head, protruding just under his greying hairline, but they were obsidian black, long and thin, and matched the thick scaly tail swishing back and forth across the floorboards while he thought. Eddie blinked in surprise. It was the strangest group he’d ever seen.

The only other person there chattered excitedly behind the Dragon and interrupted Eddie’s observations. He whistled loudly.

“Oh, Big Bill’s got an amazing hand. Nobody fall for his bluffs, he’s lying through his teeth. Guys, c’mon!” The guy gestured violently toward ‘Big Bill’s’ cards and moved around the table, peering closely at the others’ hands. “Stanley. Stanley. Do not let Bill walk out of this place with all this money again. For me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe that this guy was providing such an obnoxiously loud running commentary on the game, and yet nobody was reacting. He moved around the table and practically leant his chin on the Vampire’s shoulder as he loudly read out her hand, but she didn’t even blink. He stood back to his full height (Eddie realised that he was tall) and folded his arms across his chest (tall and broad) and he heaved a huge sigh as he watched the others. (Tall and broad and sad.) Only then did Eddie notice how strange his clothing was – he’d never seen a shirt that shade of bright blue before. And there were small pink birds patterned all over it too. His black hair was messy and unkempt, and he had such strange looking glasses on. Maybe he was from a different Kingdom?

The dragon slammed his hand down with a raucous cheer and Eddie’s attention returned to the game. The others threw their cards onto the table with groans of disappointment.

“I fucking told you all! Jesus. I can’t believe you fell for Bill’s bluffing again. Or maybe you’re all just bad at cards,” the strange man mused, “we all know Benny Boy can’t keep a straight face to save his life…” He continued ranting whilst the others chatted amongst themselves and threw down bags of coins that the dragon scooped towards himself.

“Sorry to keep you.” The bartender’s sudden return shocked Eddie enough to make him jump. His ears flattened against his skull and he willed the fur on his tail to lie flat again before anyone in the room noticed it bushed up. Eddie knew he was scowling, but the bartender just smiled pleasantly and placed a glass of white liquid in front of him. “Fresh milk,” he announced.

Eddie looked down at the milk, back up at the bartender’s smile, and considered the amount of time he’d been gone for. “Fresh… as in… fresh milk?”

“Can’t get any fresher.”

Eddie gagged and pushed the glass away. “Pass.”

The bartender laughed heartily. “I’m kidding. I don’t keep milk in the bar, but my cabin’s not far from here and I grabbed some out of the larder. It’s fresh, but it’s been sterilized, don’t worry.” There was a bright gleam to his eyes that melted away most of Eddie’s irritation, but his tail (no longer looking like he got struck by lightning) still swished a little angrily behind him.

He took a tentative sip, spurred on by thirst and an innate feeling that this elf was trustworthy, and sighed with relief at the cold creamy taste that slid deliciously down his throat. He grabbed a few coins out of his leather bag and placed them on the bar, making sure his fingers didn’t touch any of the mystery liquid that he’d accidentally dipped his elbow in before.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome, traveller. Hey, what’s your name anyway? Mine’s Mike.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, took another sip of milk, and finally replied, “Eddie.”

“Well met, Eddie. Feel free to stay as long as you want, Maturin only knows I don’t get many visitors.” Mike went to move away but Eddie stopped him with a jerk of his head in the direction of the group in the corner.

“Hey, uh- interesting group over there.”

Mike smiled again, but this time it really tugged at the corners of his eyes. “They’re my favourite group of people in the whole of The Eight Kingdoms,” was all he said, as they rose from the table and made their way over. Which left Eddie just as clueless as before since his poor attempt at prompting hadn’t worked.

Mike laughed as they all took seats at the bar. “Don’t tell me, Bill won again.”

“Of course!” Bill crowed, his scaly black tail lifting into the air behind him. “If anyone can b-bl-bluff their way out of anything, it’s a writer. There was that whole m-m-murder mystery I wrote last year, set around a card game. I’ve been on a winning streak since th-then.”

“Ever humble, Big Bill!” The strangely dressed guy in the glasses laughed. “Yikes, man.”

“That means drinks are on Bill today,” the Vampire said, seemingly ignoring that comment, as she tapped the bar beside Eddie excitedly. “You want another, stranger? Bill’s paying with our hard-earned coin that he swindled from us.” She grinned and her fangs glinted in the candlelight.

“Uh…” Eddie started, unsure about the sudden acknowledgement of his presence.

“Sorry,” the Satyr said gently, in a pleasantly raspy kind of voice, “we get like this when we’re together.”

“Or some of us do anyway,” the man with the feathery wings added. The soft sound of rustling feathers followed his every movement as he took off his gold framed glasses. With his glasses off it made him look younger somehow, though his bird-like eyes were still piercing as he regarded Eddie with a slightly tilted head like a bird.

“I’m Ben,” the Satyr went on.

“-Sweet, sensitive Benny-Boy,” the glasses guy sighed.

“That’s Stan…”

“-My man, Stan the Man. Even if he could hear my jokes, he still wouldn’t laugh at them-”

“This is Bev…”

“-Nobody has the right to be this hot and not have a pulse-”

“And Bill.”

“-Good at everything in that kinda way that makes everyone want to follow everything he says, but also in the kinda way that makes me want to punch him in the face just a little bit.”

Eddie snorted an unexpected laugh and quickly tried to pass it off as a cough.

“Sorry- my name’s Eddie.”

At the chorus of ‘nice to meet you’s and ‘well met’s from the group Eddie was vaguely aware that the other man hadn’t been introduced at all, and that still nobody had reacted to any of his comments. Eddie couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing over, but he was already looking back, so their gazes locked for a second. Warmth sprang to his cheeks at the realisation he’d been caught. He pretended to cough again as he pointedly kept his eyes away, squirming in his seat with his embarrassment, and tried not to think about the confused expression he’d seen on the other man’s face as their eyes had met.

He focused on the realisation that none of them had drawn any attention to his cat ears. Although he’d already started figuring out that most of what Myra told him had been lies, it still stung to have it confirmed almost daily by every new experience. It was a sad, twisted truth that his own witch had been deliberately lying to him his whole life about everything.

He took another sip of milk and placed the glass back on the bar as he couldn’t help but let his attention wander back to the man from before, while the others all chattered and ordered drinks off Mike. His magnified dark eyes were opened wide behind his glasses as their gazes met again. Hadn’t he looked away at all? What was he staring at? His ears? Eddie’s tail twitched in a show of his irritation, wondering if he should take back everything he’d just been thinking. What was this guy’s deal? Well, if he was going to stare, so was he. Eddie defiantly lifted his chin and looked straight at him, willing him to make a comment. But the guy glanced around, as if checking there was nobody else around him that Eddie could be looking at. His eyes were still opened wide and his breathing sped up as he raised a slow and shaky hand to point to himself, raising his eyebrows as if to say, ‘…me?’. Eddie’s ears twitched and his own eyebrows pulled together sharply, as if to reply, ‘uh, yeah, who else?’.

“You can…” the guy started, then swallowed loudly and took a deep breath. “You can see me?”

Eddie felt something cold settle low in his gut, understanding beginning to finally dawn on him. “No,” he snapped.

“Holy fuck! You can see me!”

“No!” Eddie yelled loudly, jumping off the stool and hissing. “No, I can’t!”

“Yes you can! Yes you can! Holy shit! Fuck!”

“Eddie?” Mike asked gently. “Are you okay?”

The others looked at him warily, while Richie moved closer – seemingly caught somewhere between awe and relief.

“No- Yes! - I mean…”

Bill held his palms up as if calming a wild animal. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotta be kidding me that this is the one thing she didn’t lie about… how was I supposed to know… never thought I’d meet…”

“My name’s Richie!” the guy nearly yelled, excitement bursting out of his voice. “Richie Tozier. Hey look, you’ve gotta help me. This is insane,” he laughed wetly, and Eddie realised he was crying. “I can’t believe you can see me. I’ve waited so long to have somebody fucking, just, reply to me, man.”

(Can ghosts cry? Apparently so.)

“Eddie?” Mike repeated, as unaware as the others at the second half of the conversation that was going on.

The mood of the room had completely changed; the others were looking at him like Myra had always told him they would. A hot spike of shame ran through him and Eddie hissed softly at them, his ears lying flat. “I’m not bad luck.”

Bev shook her head, her expression sad. “Nobody said you are, honey, just calm down and tell us what’s going on.”

“You can see him, can’t you?” Stan spoke softly, but it cut through the chaos.

“Stan?! What the fuck, you can see me too?” Richie whirled on him and pointed an accusatory finger.

“You can see him too?” Eddie echoed.

“No. But I had my suspicions. Just, a voice I could hear sometimes. A glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eyes.” Stan ruffled his wings and folded his arms. “I figured this bar was haunted.”

“And you never said anything?” Richie wiped at his face. “I’ve been going crazy talking to everyone with absolutely nothing back this whole time and you knew I was here?”

“Wait, haunted? There’s someone else in the room?” Ben looked alarmed.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Mike looked between Eddie and Stan.

Eddie sighed and resisted the urge to massage his temples. “Cats can see ghosts,” he explained in a strained voice.

“Eddie here just became my new best friend, that’s what’s going on.” Richie sidled up to Eddie’s side so swiftly he didn’t have time to react before he had slung an arm over his shoulder.

Eddie hissed and ducked away but Richie was beaming. “You can feel me too?! Get back here! Hug me!”

“Not if you were the only ghost in the whole of the Eight Kingdoms!”

“So, there is a ghost?” Bill prompted.

“Can’t believe my bar’s haunted,” Mike mumbled.

[bringbackwendellvaughn]

Some Light Christmas Fun

i saw a bunch of my posts had been flagged as inappropriate by tumblr and appealed all of them so they now can show up. even the one about my obsession with psylocke. one i couldn’t appeal though (because it was a reblog) was a reply trying to identify all the characters depicted in The Raft as candidates for the Thunderbolts in Thunderbolts #155.

So now I am going to repeat some of what I said, add some more thoughts and try and identify them all.

This is actually one of my favourite past-times working out what stock background space fillers could reasonably be established characters. Let’s be honest, most of these were probably not meant to be anyone and were just people Kev Walker drew to fill up a room. But, within the story itself, they all have to be established super-villains who would be considered as applicants for the Thunderbolts. For identifying these, there are a few things to refer to here - the characters who are ultimately chosen to join the team are probably there, the next issue identifies some of these people who don’t make the cut, there was a poll featuring a vote for who you wanted to join the team (Shocker won, i voted for Madame Masque), some of the characters appear in other issues of Thunderbolts, some star in a preview story in Enter the Heroic Age and then in Heroic Age: Villains, Steve Rogers proposes several inmates of the Raft as potential future recruits for the Thunderbolts - some shown here.

1. Bison (Billy Kitson) or Man-Bull (William Taurens) Bison is a Thunderstrike enemy who later showed up on Crimson Cowl’s Masters of Evil in Kurt Busiek’s run on Thunderbolts. What we can see here is that it is an orange furred man, but the face cannot be seen. I am inclined to say that this would be Bison since Steve Rogers recommended him as a potential addition to the Thunderbolts in Heroic Age: Villains. This would be slightly off-model for him and it seems we should see his horns poking out here, but Bison is confirmed as being at The Raft and has that reason for being there. Alternatively it might be Man-Bull who is later shown to be at the Raft in some issues of Hercules. Then there is also Griffin (John Horton) who was a poll choice but like Bison’s horns, we should be able to see his wings, so I am definitively removing him as a possibility here..

2. Shocker (Herman Schultz)  Shocker joins the team next issue and is depicted with this hair. I’d lock him in as a definite.

3. ? We don’t have much to go on here besides a sort of faux-hawk hairdo. I’ve ran down the list of who could be there and turned up squat. Maybe in prison, Badd Axe grew a mohawk style. Badd Axe was another of the characters Steve Rogers proposed as a possible team candidate. Blizzard is confirmed as being there next issue - maybe he shaved his head like this to try and look more tough in prison.

4. Bloodshed (Wyndell Dickinson) Bloodshed is a Spider-Man baddie and another member of Crimson Cowl’s Masters of Evil (there’s a lot of them here). He’s apparently grown a goatee but I’d be confident to lock him in as another definite here. He was another of Steve’s candidates from Heroic Age: Villains.

5. Grizzly (Max Markham) I am a bit obsessed with shoving Grizzly into the background of this run. It’s not without precedent, he is depicted in Enter The Heroic Age as being at the Raft, Steve Rogers nominates him as a team member and before this run he was a full-fledged member of the team. This character design mostly suits being Grizzly, he’s the right size and has his soul-patch. The one thing stopping me from saying it’s definitely him is he appears to have some form of faceplate on him. Maybe this was an inking or colouring error? Maybe - just maybe - it is bandages from when Ant-Man climbed into his ear and beat up his ear-drums in Thunderbolts #143. That’s really reaching, especially considering Grizzly had appeared since without his ears being wrapped, but I really want to say this is Grizzly.

6. ? This character receives a fair amount of dialogue bullying pre-transformation Mr. Hyde in the next issue. Possibly trying to deflect their own lack of power by bullying Mr. Hyde when he thinks that Mr. Hyde is a weak timid guy worse off than him. We have a very generic black-haired guy who would bully a weakling, so who could it be?

7. Mr. Hyde (Calvin Zabo) This is kind of how he is depicted next issue when he is in his non-Mr. Hyde form. A small man with black hair cropped at the sides. He is also shown in front of 6 in a line and is bullied by him for looking weak and nerdy. Here he is shown stood in front of 6 again, so this would make sense as being Mr. Hyde.

8. Amazon (Katrina van Horn) or Titania (Mary MacPherran) I want to say this is Amazon, formerly Man-Killer, as she is an ex-Thunderbolt who despite only being on the team briefly always kept showing up in the book. She was again recommended as a possible Thunderbolt in Heroic Age: Villains and while her hair has grown a bit longer here, this would make sense as being her. I’d still hazard a bit to say lock this one in though because, alternatively, it could just as easily be Titania who is seen as an inmate in Thunderbolts #144.

9. ? This one has been bugging me for a while. I so know this character. Has black vertical lines on the eyes, right? Or it might be Armadillo (Antonio Rodriguez) which someone seems to have identified as being in this issue on terrible website ComicVine (I think they just confused 11 with Armadillo though). He’d be a good choice to be here though.

10. ? There is a few characters this could be. Next issue depicts a character with a hairless head with a less human face which might have been the intention here but it’s in the back so never required this detail. If we’re going with that one, the guess would be Headlok (Murray Singleton). At the other end, if you want to say he’s wearing a mask and again it’s the result of lack of detailed, Scarecrow (Ebeneezer Laughton) - next issue shows his mask as being biege. He was a poll choice and actually receives dialogue next issue.

11. Blood Brother The survivor of the two Blood Brothers, we saw this character in Enter The Heroic Age and in Thunderbolts #156 he is identified and given dialogue. He is depicted speaking to 6 and Mr. Hyde (7) next issue. There’s no area of debate this isn’t Blood Brother.

12. ? Short guy with long hair. This seems like it could be an easy one but I’m coming up empty. Dare I suggest this could be Grizzly again?

13. ? A tall woman with nice black hair. Possibly Titania again. Otherwise, the best I can think of is that Moonstone acknowledges Black Mamba as being there next issue. It’s maybe a bit too built for her but it’s also the one that looks the most like Black Mamba. 

14. ? I’m pulling this one out of nowhere but this could be Asp. The hair matches and she is Black Mamba’s bff, so it’d make sense they’d be near each other. 

15. Powderkeg (Frank Skorina) Powderkeg is a real Z-list villain fodder guy. He is confirmed as being a Raft inmate in Avengers Academy #4 (a light crossover issue with Thunderbolts) and I want to say this is definitely him even if it requires a little bit more footwork.

16. Super-Skrull (Kl’rt) Confirmed next issue.

17. Skeleton Ki (Alisher Sham) One of Steve Rogers’ picks and this one is wearing a skeleton face mask so it seems quite evident it is him. Lock in Skeleton Ki as number 17.

18. ? This character is also depicted next issue, stood behind Blood Brother and 6 during the Mr. Hyde bullying scene. Based on that, it’s clear he is a male with long hair.

19. ? Absolutely no idea. Woman with corn-rows.

20. Dark Beast (Hank McCoy) AOA-verse evil version of Beast. Jeff Parker originally wanted this character to join the team but was blocked by the X-offices. Centurius filled his role instead. Dark Beast is shown on the cover to #156, was also one of the poll choices and him being drawn a bit poorly here might have been a last-minute alteration to try and change it to NOT be Dark Beast. This is definitely meant to be Dark Beast though.

21. Poundcakes (Marian Pouncy) Poundcakes is shown as a inmate of the Raft in Thunderbolts #159. The body type is a match and the hair is consistent with how she is shown in #159. Lock her in.

22. Boomerang (Fred Myers) He joins the team next issue. This is another case where this is obviously the character. 100% definite here.

23. Ox (Roland Bloch) Member of the Enforcers (and briefly the Thunderbolts Army). This is how Ox was drawn in Enter The Heroic Age. The colour of his hair has slightly changed but put him in the definite machine.

24. Mandrill (Jerome Beechman) This is Mandrill. Easy.

25. Troll (Gunna Sijurvald) She joins the team. This is undebatably her.

26. Bushwacker (Carl Burbank) Bushwacker is a former Daredevil and Punisher foil. This is definitely him. He was depicted exactly like this in Enter the Heroic Age. Definitely lock him in.

Here’s the bit in issue #156 which features some roll-call with not necessarily the character models depicted. 

Of those I can’t identify the first one (Blizzard because she mentions him? Really, any number of other bad guys listed below can fit this design), the next one is either 6 or 7, then up-front in that mask is Scarecrow (confirmed next 2 panels). Next that would b Bloodshed/4, and then possibly a miscoloured Ana Kravinoff, and finally Headlok and Super-Skrull.

Extra notes: - Centurius (Noah Black) is not depicted but joins the team.  - Blizzard (Donnie Gill) is confirmed as being there in this room as seen above but I don’t see any character that could really really be him. - Scarecrow (Ebeneezer Laughton) is as well but he’s been speculated all over the place. - Black Mamba (Tanya Sealy) likewise. - The leftover Steve Rogers’ suggestions from Heroic Age: Villains are Absorbing Man (Carl Creel), Answer (Aaron Nicholson), Badd Axe, Hydro-Man (Morris Bench), Lady Stilt-Man (Callie Ryan), Mad Dog (Buzz Baxter), Redeemer (Shep Gunderson), Ruby Thursday (Thursday Rubinstein) and Vector (Simon Utrecht). Some of them like Ruby Thursday are clearly not there. - He also recommended the Young Masters but none of them were ever even arrested. - The cover to issue #156 also features Abomination (Emil Blonsky), Absorbing Man, Batroc (Georges Batroc), Ana Kravinoff and Sandman (William Baker/Flint Marko) - none of these appear to be there and Abomination had been dead for a few years by that point. - I can’t find the poll itself, I can find a link to it but it just redirects to Marvel.com, and other than the winner (Shocker) and who I voted for (Madame Masque), the other choices are sourced from a forum post. Absorbing Man, Batroc, Brother(s?) Grimm, Dark Beast, Doctor Demonicus (Douglas Birely), Griffin, Ana Kravinoff, Living Laser (Arthur Parks), Madame Masque (Whitney Frost), Mr. Hyde, Sandman, Scarecrow, Shocker and Other. Noticeably nearly all the ones on the cover to #156 were listed. Other allowed you to write-in a choice but they shouldn’t really count towards this. Of these ones, Absorbing Man, Doctor Demonicus (deformed face with horns), possibly Griffin, Ana Kravinoff, Living Laser (stuck in energy form), Madame Masque and Sandman are obviously not there. - Some other confirmed Raft inmates at this time from other Thunderbolts issues include Axe (Jerome Hamilton), Corruptor (Jackson Day), Mr. Fear (Alan Fagan), Mo Money, Purple Man (Zebediah Kilgrave) and Titania. #159 gives us 3 previously unseen characters: Big Roy (a Walrus monster man), Man-Mountain Mario (Man-Mountain Marko’s cousin) and Indali (a normal looking woman who is the Queen B of the women’s wing of the prison). In other books we see Basilisk (Basil Elks), Blackout (of the Lilin), Crossfire (William Cross), Griffin, Hecate, Man-Bull, Vermin (Edward Whelan) and probably much much more but those are the ones that come straight to mind from Avengers Academy #4, Hawkeye and Mockingbird and a Hercules story. - While Crossbones (Brock Rumlow), Hyperion, Nuke (Frank Simpson) and Norman Osborn are all being held at The Raft, they are not eligible for the team.

Feel free to contribute or ignore this.

[alison-anonymous]

♡ i want you back ♡ t.l. pt 1

I Want You Back ♡ Tom Lucitor

Requested: nope, I came up with this one on my own! SEND IN TOM LUCITOR REQUESTS PEOPLE! LET’S GIVE THIS DEMON THE ATTENTION HE DESERVES! Guys I even proofread this to make sure it was good💖

Warnings: haha ANGST/sexual tension

Summary: sort of a continuation of Miss Understood in which Tom and the reader are undeniably, unconditionally in love, but when he begins to show her the true side of himself with his anger issues, the reader’s parents force her to break up with him. But Tom is not willing to give up that easily ;) 

♡♡♡

Life had recently became hell for you.

The one person, or demon, that you loved more than anything in life was the one that your parents were forcing you to say goodbye to. They thought that having their human daughter date a demon prince with three eyes, fire powers, and an extreme anger issue was completely dangerous and something to be stopped immediately. The day that they chose to break the news to you was when you had Marco and Star over...

“Mom, please,” you had cried out, choking on you tears as Star and Marco hid in your room, silently listening to every word with tears in their eyes as well. “I love him!”

“You can’t love a demon, Y/n,” your mother threw her hands up. “You either end it now or you are no longer welcome in this household.” 

You gasped, as did Star and Marco, feeling as if though a knife had been stabbed straight into your chest. “Y-you wouldn’t seriously-”

“I would,” your mother snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as your father stared daggers at you. “End it or get out.”

Tears of frustration and heartbreak streamed down your face and dripped onto the carpet as you stared in disbelief at your parents. They wanted you to break up with the person you loved more than anything. Tom was your everything, and you loved him even though he had problems - at least he was trying to get better! And you knew he would never dream of doing anything to hurt you! Your parents, unfortunately, thought otherwise. You drew in a shaky breath as you ran a hand through your hair, stifling another sob. What choice did you have? Leave home? Where would you go? You loved Star and Marco, but there was no way you would impose on the Diazes with another mouth to feed. 

“Fine,” you muttered, feeling your heart shatter in your chest. “I’ll break up with him tomorrow.”

And with that, you raced up to your room as fast as you could, but the second you shut the door and saw the sorrowful faces of your two best friends, you crumbled to the floor in a heap of sobs as they wrapped their arms around you and held you tight enough so you wouldn’t fall entirely apart...

♡♡♡

This was it.

You had set up to meet Tom at the spot where he took you on your first date, by the Deadman's Cliffs where you could see the sunset perfectly as long as you didn't stand too close to the drop. You told him you had something to tell him and your heart shattered a little more at the thought of how he might react. You were staring in silence at the view when you heard the familiar sound of the dimension ripping, and the love of your life stepped out. The second he laid his eyes on you, all three lit up.

He levitated himself over to you through the fire from his boots and landed gracefully on the grass, holding out a flaming rose to you with a smile on his face. "Hey there, cupcake!"

Even just his mere presence made your insides soften as you tenderly took the rose out of his hand, watching with mesmerized eyes as the flames continued to flicker. It reminded you of the flame you carried for him... the one you had to extinguish. You turned back to him, only to find him staring lovingly at you and felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you held the rose back out to him.

"I... I can't accept this," you choked out, staring at the ground out of fear your eyes might give it away.

"What? Why? Darling," he tenderly reached under your chin and lifted your head to meet his eyes. The second you laid your e/c orbs on his three ruby ones, you could almost feel yourself about to swoon. But instead, only tears welled up. "What's wrong? You know you can tell me anything."

"T-Tom," you stuttered, trying desperately to work up the courage but it was near impossible with his hand lingering on your cheek. You gently grabbed it and pushed it down. "I t-think that we n-need to..." You couldn't finish. You just couldn't. The floodgates began to crack as a tear slipped out of your eye, rolling down you cheek, causing Tom to panic, quickly wiping it away with concerned eyes.

"I think w-we need to- SHIT!" You suddenly snapped in frustration at your incompetence and stepped back from him, trying your best to ignore the hurt and confusion on his face as you broke his heart with your words.

"I think we should break up."

Shock and heartbreak flashed across his face as the flaming rose was extinguished and slipped through his lavender fingers, falling onto the ground, forgotten. "W-what? Y/n, you can't be serious. I thought things were going well, I-" he suddenly stopped with his hands thrown up midair. It was as if though a light bulb lit up atop his head as he turned his gaze back to you. "Wait... this is your parents, isn't it? They don't want you with me?"

He got it right on the head. He knew you too well... you tried your hardest to comply with your parents wishes and make it seem believable, but the shattering heart in your chest and the tears streaming down your cheeks and the sobs coming from your throat made it impossible to utter any words at all as you stumbled slightly, knees weak. He rushed to catch you, his hands warm to the touch. Even though you loved feeling his warmth, you forced yourself to push him away and wrapped your arms tightly around yourself as the tears dripped onto the grass.

"I-I'm sorr-" you couldn't even get out the last syllable as another sob ran through you. Tom reached out to you once more, only wanting to comfort the love of his life as she stood there, crumbling before him. But you couldn't let him.

"Y/n, please don't do this," his words came out tattered as tears welled up in his own eyes too. You had only ever seen him cry once before, and you most certainly weren't expecting the next words that came out of his mouth.

"I... I love you."

You froze. Wide eyed and completely in shock as even the tears had stopped at those three words. You had been dating for months, and this was the first time either of you had said it, you had agreed that you weren't quite ready yet.

He... he loved you. And as you looked over his adorable horns, lavender skin, dry palms, pointy teeth, and three gorgeous ruby red eyes, you knew that you were completely and utterly in love with him too.

"I love yo-" but... You couldn't say it back. "I... I can't, Tom."

His eyes practically showed you how you shattered his heart as he tried one last time, stepping closer to you and gently cupping your cheek, staring you deep in the eyes.

"Y/n," he whispered with half-lidded eyes. "Please."

Your insides felt as if they were on fire with his closeness. And no matter how much you wanted to pull him tight, kiss him passionately, and tell him you loved him, you knew you couldn't. So, you did what you had to do. You forced yourself to push out of his grasp, and ran off in the direction of Marco's house, trying not to let the tears blurring your vision cause you to trip and fall as Tom's shouts soon faded away.

♡♡♡

Needless to say, you and Tom both took your breakup very hard. While you stayed in bed most days with Star and Marco lying down next to you, trying to get you to say something (anything!) as they gabbed on endlessly about everything and nothing, Tom was taking his anger out on his people and then sobbing into his pillow before punching a wall and then sobbing into his bunny and the cycle of hatred and sadness only continued from there.

It took you a full 3 weeks with Star and Marco bringing you homework and such for you to finally leave your bed. Of course, your room was where your best friends spent most of their time because if you were down, they all were down. Unfortunately, you had only made it to the living room before you collapsed onto the floor and refused to get up, so Star conjured up a unicorn to carry you back to your bed. This process continued until after a full month you were finally able to leave the house. Sure, your eyes may now be dry and you may not look like a Raggedy Anne doll anymore, but your heart was still shattered. You heart belonged to Tom, and no matter what your parents did or said, he would always have it.

As the weeks drawled painfully on without you ever seeing Tom, you began going back to school with Marco and Star and you did your best to concentrate, to move on. But... You knew deep down that you couldn't. Marco and Star did the best they could to soften the blow, always sweeping you away to concerts or parties or get togethers with Pony Head (who threatened to kill your parents once you broke down after telling her about your breakup). But none of it mattered because he wasn't there.

But while you were desperately prevailing to move on, Tom was the exact opposite. After getting over his angry-sad fits and going through a hell of a lot of soul searching, he came to the conclusion that you were the only one he would ever love, he wanted to marry you someday, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get you back.

Little did you know how persistent a heartbroken Tom could be.

♡♡♡

His attempts to win you back first started after you, Marco, and Star had just gotten back from school. You and Star were chilling in her room, listening intently as she whispered in your ear her budding feelings towards Marco, who had escaped to the kitchen to make you all some nachos.

"I just... I don't know, N/n. I've never felt this way towards him before... I know he likes Jackie, and I just want him to be happy but," she bit her lip hard, her eyes beginning to swell. You quickly grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a warm hug.

"It's okay," you mumbled into her hair. "Feelings can be... perplexing sometimes. I think that it's a bit too early now to start jumping the gun by saying you have a crush on him. You have been under a lot of stress lately."

She gently pulled back and offered you a warm smile, wrapping her arm around your waist and leaning her head on your shoulder as you both stared at her mirror. "How do you do it?" She asked.

"Do what?"

"Just... it!" She cried, switching so she was kneeling before you, eyes wide with her hands in the air. "I mean, you were just forced to break up with the love of your life, and you're still up and moving? If I had to leave Marco... I don't know what I would do." She tapped her chin, glancing off in the other direction. "I would probably just die!"

A grin spread on her lips at her conclusion, but it soon faded when she realized how dejected you looked at the mention of Tom. "Oh, I'm so sorry, N/n, I shouldn't have brought it up..."

"No, it's okay," you replied sincerely. "I'm going to have to get used to it."

Just then, Star's mirror began blaring with an incoming call. You both turned to see who it was and the name on the screen nearly sent you into shock. It was Tom. Why on earth would he be calling Star? Was he trying to make her his rebound girl? The very thought of it made your shattered heart sink even more into the pit of depression you were in. With just one look at your face, Star could instantly tell what was going through your head. She gently rested her hand on your shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll just let it ring."

You sat there for a moment before you suddenly realized how much you missed seeing his face. It wouldn't hurt to have her pick it up just this one time would it? Besides, then you could see how loyal he truly was to you.

"N-no," you slowly shook your head. "It's okay. Answer it."

"Are you sure?" She raised an eyebrow in shock, but you nodded your head. She cautiously walked towards the mirror phone, and gave you one last glance before answering it with you safely out of view. The second Tom's image filled the screen, you and Star both let out a gasp. His ruby red eyes that were once flaming were now bloodshot with deep circles from lack of sleep. His lavender skin was now abnormally pale, and his spiky hair was messy. He looked like a mess, to say the least. Almost as bad as you had looked after all those days spent under the covers.

...was this what you had done to him?

"Star!" A grin spread across his lips as soon as he saw your best friend. She let a sigh escape through your lips as you stared at the screen. He couldn't see you, but you were pretty sure your eyes had tiny little hearts in them, as they always did every time you saw him. It didn't matter if he was a flaming ball of rage or all dressed up in a tuxedo, even just his image made you fall even more in love. And that was what scared you most.

"What do you want, Tom?" Star asked, rolling her eyes a bit. Even though they were now friends ever since the two of you had gotten together, Star made a pact with you that if you couldn't be friends or anything more with Tom, then she couldn't either. Marco tried to get in on it too, but you both knew his best bromance was better living than dead.

You turned your attention back to the screen, watching as he scratched the back of his neck, something he only did when he was nervous. He averted his gaze for a moment before raising it back to Star's image.

"Listen, I know things have been a bit tense lately, but..." here it comes, you thought, preparing your heart for the worst. This was it. He was going to ask Star out, he was going to choose her over you...

"I need your help. I want to win Y/n back."

There it was. He wanted St- wait, WHAT?

It was then that Star suddenly smushed her cheeks together and let out a fangirling squeal so shrill it caused Glossaryck to plug his ears. You slowly stood up with mouth agape, feeling your heart begin to pound as you attempted to make sense of his words. Star giggled, her irises turning into comical baby pink hearts as she came closer to the mirror.

"YES!" She screamed, causing Tom to jump back a bit. "You have to do it! You have to-"

Your feet moved before your brain could comprehend what was going on and before you knew it, you were in the frame too, staring with wide eyes at Tom's picture. The moment he saw you, his eyes softened and then perked up with excitement.

"Y/n, darling!" He smiled with those adorably pointed teeth. "I want you back ♡"

The butterflies went crazy inside your stomach and you were almost certain you were turning into a tomato from the flushing in your cheeks, but Star's wand was lying on her bed. Star wrapped her arms excitedly around you as she squealed again.

"Yes, yes, yes!!! Come on, N/n, he wants you and you still want him! Your parents don't have to know!" Star pleaded, looking you deep in the eyes with a pouty lip.

No matter how badly you wanted to say yes, you knew that you couldn't. Your parents would find out eventually. They always did. "I- I'm sorry," you whispered, slowly shaking your head. "I broke up with you, Tom. I can't."

But Tom wasn't ready to give up anytime soon. Instead of frowning, his smile only broadened, which brought confusion to Star's face and fear onto yours. Because the smile he wore meant only one thing - he was plotting.

And you knew that he was now plotting his greatest, most diabolical plan he had ever dared to plot before.

His plan to get you back.

Before he could utter another word, you swiftly ended the call before turning to Star. "Star, I love you, but please, you know I don't have a choice."

"But that's just it," she argued. "You could! He wants you back too! He clearly still loves you! Why won't you take him back?"

You let out a sigh in melancholy as you began heading towards the bathroom, throwing your response over your shoulder before shutting her bedroom door.

"Because he's safer without me."

♡♡♡

His first attempt at winning you back involved collaboration. Even though Star and Marco loved you with all of their hearts, they climbed aboard Tom's ship to win you back, telling themselves that they were doing what was best for you. They hated seeing you so miserable, as it was obvious you had been faking happiness.

For what Tom definitely had in charms and charisma, he definitely lacked in strategy. The whole "winning someone back" and being, well, desperate and crazy for you was completely new to him. He had never felt this way before. So, unfortunately, his ideas to get you back were pretty crappy. But thanks to your two BFFs, they were able to help him form a very solid Plan A.

Plan A was to start with the basics again, which was mostly just getting you and him in the same place at the same time so you had to acknowledge each other's presence. Parties were too overcrowded, and they knew there was no way they could get you to go to the Lucitors' kingdom out of your own free will, so Star and Marco did what any rational person would do.

They followed you around until they were able to form a table of your whereabouts down to the minute. This way, Tom could appear at the place you were heading and try to start a conversation. What Star and Marco didn't plan on was Tom's ironic klutziness. When it came to being around you, he would always get red in the face and have these butterflies that made him feel sick. It ruined his entire game. But they made him push through it anyway.

The first place he went to was the dog park...

You had offered to walk Star and Marco's laser puppies while Star was off practicing her magic with the assistance of Marco (though really you were just leaving some room for Starco to begin). While you knew that you main job was to just make sure the puppies didn’t hurt anyone else and got in some exercise, you also thought that you could stand some of the fresh air too. You had just settled down in a little spot under one of the big oak trees to shelter yourself from the sun beating down on the untrimmed grass. The puppies ran excitedly around your ankles, shooting their red lasers at whatever they looked at. You shortened the leash a bit and watched as they roamed around for a bit, sniffing dog butts and freaking out some of the other pedestrians. It only took about a minute or so for you to realize how lonely you were.

Shit, you thought. Dog walking was supposed to be fun and now all you could think about was wishing someone were here for you to talk to...

As soon as the thought left your mind, a rustling noise suddenly came from directly above you. Confusion riddled your mind as some stray leaves fell from the tree, one of them landing delicately on your nose before sliding onto the grass. You furrowed your brows. Was there some really obese squirrel up there? 

You craned your head to look up into the cloud of green, definitely not expecting to see a person clinging onto the skinny branch for dear life as they looked down fearfully at you, as if though they had been caught doing something horrible.

“Tom?” You cried out. He let out a nervous chuckle, lifting his one hand off of the branch to give you a slight wave while his other continued to grip onto the branch with a death-grip.

“Hey, beautiful.”

God, how you melted whenever he called you that... But you knew you had a promise to stay true to. “Please don’t call me that,” you sighed, stepping a little closer to the tree so you wouldn’t have to strain your neck as much. “What are you doing up there?”

You weren’t expecting his face to turn bright red at the question. After Star and Marco had dropped him off, he WAS going to talk to you as soon as he saw you standing a couple feet away from him. But fear got the best of him, what if he screwed up? What if he said something that insulted you? What if he ruined the last chance he ever had of winning you back? So, rather than just walking away, he decided to climb up a tree so he could watch you from a distance. It couldn’t hurt, right? But when a squirrel fell on his back, things got a bit complicated and you were smart.

It was one of the things he loved about you...

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, his three eyes scouring the horizon as he tried to come up with an excuse. You cocked an eyebrow as you waited, you running through your mind all of the possible things he could have been up to. Then it clicked. 

“Tom...” now it was your turn to blush as your cheeks turned a slight shade of crimson. “Were you... spying on me?”

“Damnit,” he cursed a bit too loud than he meant to. You forced yourself to look away, feeling the butterflies float into your stomach at just the thought. He really did want you back, didn’t he? Why else would he be spying on you? 

But then your mother’s words rang through your ears... 

“You can never love a demon.”

You sighed. She made it sound so easy. Like you can just pick and choose who you fall in love with. And even though you knew there was no way your parents could ever approve of it, your heart still rested in his hands. But he was better off without you. You had already hurt him enough. 

You sighed, raking your free hand through your hair. “Look, Tom, this is sweet and everything, but I need to get going.” You pivoted on your feet, and felt the all too familiar treading-through-knives feeling as you walked away from the love of your life... again.

“Wait!” Tom cried. “Y/n, AHH!” He was about to hop down off of the branch to follow after you when an angry brown squirrel attacked his face. And even though you wanted more than anything to run back to him and to climb up into that tree with him, you forced yourself to keep walking.

But even though that spot didn’t work, Star, Marco, and Tom weren’t ready to give up just yet. So, they sent him to the next place on your list. They planned to keep doing this until they ran out of places, because one of them had to spark something… right?

So next, he went to the market...

You were off on your weekly trip to the market since your parents were often too busy at their jobs to do it. Not that you minded, because this way you could get the brands of food you wanted without having to argue Tyson over Banquet for thirty minutes straight with your father. 

Shopping list gripped loosely between your fingers, you stood before the fruits section, trying desperately to remember how Marco had taught you know how a grapefruit is ripe just by smelling it. Picking up one of the citrus fruits, you turned it over in your hands carefully before raising it cautiously to your nose. It smelt just like all the other ones smelt, like a grapefruit. You were about to pull your phone out of your pocket to call him when a strange noise suddenly came from the barrel of oranges next to you. 

I should just ignore it, you told yourself. Last time I investigated, it was Tom spying on me. In a tree.

You turned to continue down the aisle, but when the noise came again, you felt that familiar pull to investigate once again. You threw your head back in frustration at yourself, but backtracked until you were in front of the oranges. This was what being best friends with a magical princess from Mewni had done to you. 

You slowly lowered your head towards the rustling noise inside the barrel, wondering if some animal had gotten inside of it somehow. Turning you head to the side, you tried to listen for whatever it was just as a head suddenly popped through the surface, causing you to jump back in shock. Stray oranges toppled down onto the ground, one bouncing off of your foot. You raised your eyes to see who thought it would be a good idea to go swimming in a barrel of oranges, and as soon as you saw Tom (again), with his guilty smile, nothing but disbelief filled your mind. Only his head had managed to break through the surface, as his spiky hair was a bit messed up and his ruby eyes were a bit watery from the fruits. But the thing that actually brought a slight smile to your face was the two oranges that had been impaled onto his horns.

You quickly wiped the smile away, and glowered down at him. “Tom!” You groaned. “Again? Seriously? What are you doing this time, spying on me in the oranges?”

He offered you a sly smile, which sent your stomach into somersaults. God, why did he have to be so cute... 

“Not quite, cupcake,” he smirked. “This time I actually came to talk to you about something, but the portal got a bit messy...” He shuffled a bit in the pit of oranges, causing a few more to bounce on the floor as you stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

You could sense the stares of strangers as they passed by, wondering why on earth a girl was talking to a purple-skinned, three-eyed, horned head in the oranges. It didn’t phase you however, as being Tom’s girlfriend for so long, you had gotten used to the staring. You also knew that he wasn’t the one to give up so quick, so you decided to just hear him out on this one. Besides, if it was something stupid, you could just leave and he wouldn’t be able to follow you right away. Not with ten pounds of oranges to slow him down.

“Fine,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

Tom cleared his throat, and wiggled around a bit before setting his eyes on you, giving you The Look. Your eyebrows raised, already knowing that whatever he wanted to say couldn’t be good.

“Well, as you know, I am in the process of doing everything I can to win you back. And to start, Marco said a good way to get a girl back is to begin by listing your positive attributes. Firstly, I am exceedingly-” you quickly plucked an orange off of his horn and stuck it his mouth before he could say anything else. Wiping off the excess orange juice on your pants, you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration as he struggled to spit the orange out of his mouth without his hands.

“Tom, look, this all really flattering and everything, but we are done. I’m sorry,” you wrapped your hands around the shopping cart and began walking away from him. Of course, knowing you, you still had to look behind you one last time just to catch him successfully spitting out the orange as it hit a chubby kid riding in a shopping cart. He turned his head to you, and even though you were doing your best to run away from him, he still shouted loud enough for you hear:

“You can try to silence me as much as you like, darling, but I’m still going to be in love with you!”

Once you were out of sight, he shuffled around in the orange barrel before turning to the chubby kid he had spit an orange at, who was staring at him in disgust.

"Hey, kid, think you could help me out?

And when that place didn’t work, he went to more... and more... and more... and got pecked on by birds at the pier, got attacked by a bunch of cats in a back alley, and almost got mugged by a guy in the fucking bookstore before you slapped the dude across the face with your wallet. But Tom still persisted.

He finally went to the last place on the list: the gift shop.

You were out shopping a week in advance for your mother's birthday, and to be frank, you had no idea what to get her. Figuring that you might be able to get some inspiration from the gift shop downtown, you soon realized that even with a bunch of glittering jewels around you, you still had nothing. You ran your hand along the rack of hideously designed dresses, and wondered if you would have better luck in Mewni. 

While Star’s world may be completely different than yours, it did have a knack for giving you inspiration. So, you pulled out your cell and asked Star if she could give you a lift. On her end, it meant ditching her post with Marco to help Tom out with Plan A, Attempt 24, but she couldn’t say no to her best girlfriend! 

So there the two of you were, your eyes scouring the tons of racks of clothing for something that might scream your mother’s name while Star drooled over a bunch of stuffed animals. 

“This blows,” you sighed, until your eyes finally landed on a top that your mom may not instantly return. Funny, you thought. I’m buying the lady who ripped away the one thing I really loved a present.

You really did make yourself miserable...

Heaving a sigh, you were about to reach for the top when a head suddenly popped up from the other side, causing you to let out a scream in surprise. You would think that after being surprised so many times by Tom that you would eventually begin to suspect it was him, but time after time, he still caught you off guard. Tripping on your own too feet, you began falling to the ground before Star’s hands pressed gently against your back, pushing you back up before she got into battle position.

“What’s wrong?” She cried out. “Is it a burglar? WHERE ARE THEY?!” 

“No, Star, it’s just…” You finally took a good look at the figure who had appeared and your suspicions were instantly confirmed. “Tom.”

You let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as he grinned deviously at you, crossing his arms over the top of the clothes rack. “Hey there, beautiful.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” you narrowed your brows in feign annoyance.

“Oh really? Well, I thought I told you to stop wearing so much makeup - you don’t need it, cupcake.” He winked at you, and even though every logical brain cell was telling you to ignore it, your cheeks heated up a bright shade of red. You did your best to hide it, but from the soft smile that still lingered on his lips and glistening in his eyes every time he looked at you, you knew he saw it.

Star suddenly pressed her cheek against yours as you both stared at the demon prince, and began to let out a very scary, very deep giggle. With just one side glance, you could already tell she was fangirling. You let out a groan in frustration and turned your attention back to Tom, who was still staring in complete adoration at you.

“Tom. You need to leave.”

Star let out a gasp, grabbing you by the shoulders and staring you deep in the eyes with her sparkling blue orbs. “Y/n! I am surprised by you! The love of your life is literally trying to win you back and you tell him to go home?”

Damn… You bit down on your lip. Hard. But before you could even muster out a word to explain your feelings once again, Tom had already stepped out from behind the clothing rack and was holding his hands up in the air in mock-surrender.

“No, no, I get it, she’s just not ready toda-”

“Hey, you!” An unfamiliar voice cut off Tom, making all three of you jump a foot in the air. You all whipped around to see who dared to interrupt you, laying your eyes on a slightly obese man with angry, onyx eyes and a plume hat that looked too small for his head. He stabbed his chubby finger in the direction of… Tom. “You there, monster! I don’t allow monsters in my store!”

Wait a minute… he thought Tom was a monster? 

Shock washed over Star’s face as Tom’s fists began to curl into fiery balls. You, however, were feeling an emotion you had been trying to suppress for a while. Protectiveness. NO ONE got to call your Tom a monster. Sure, he may be a bit different, but he was NOT a monster. Before your brain even had a chance to stop yourself, you were already walking past a very angry Tom (whose features contorted from anger to shock the second you walked past him) and stood directly in front of the obese man.

“Alright, you listen here, asshat,” you snarled, stabbing your finger into his puffy chest. Star and Tom exchanged awestruck glances behind you. “Tom may be a lot of things, but he is NOT a monster. Do you hear me? HE IS NOT A MONSTER.” By now, you had the dude sweating and shaking in fear as it almost seemed like you were towering over him, a flare set to your eyes that only Tom ever had. “And if I ever hear you call him a monster again, I will hunt you down myself, and when I do find you?” You let out a slow, maniacal laugh that eventually escalated into a full blown evil laugh. Little did you know, that while Star was watching the exchange with fearful eyes, you had made Tom fall in love with you all over again. 

Before you could continue to scar the scared shitless guy, Star gently pulled you away from him, uttering a sorry to the man on your behalf. You shook your head once to clear away the craziness, only for once, you had no regrets. 

“Wow,” Tom’s voice broke through your thoughts. You quickly raised your gaze to see him walking dangerously close to you. Before you could make a move to stop him, he had already wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, so close you had to rest your hands against his chest to distance yourself. You looked into his eyes, and the second you saw the adoration and love in his ruby irises, you knew you were in trouble. “You haven’t done anything like that since we first got together. You still care, don’t you?” 

You could feel your face getting hot and your stomach twist in knots, and that was just from his closeness. His words sent your brain into spirals and your heart pound harder than a sledgehammer. You felt that all too familiar, undeniable urge to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, but… 

Remember, Y/n. He is safer without you. 

“T-Tom…” you stuttered, softly grabbing his arms and lowering them to his sides. You took a few steps back even though it felt like pulling yourself through knives, once again. It was uncanny how you and Tom didn’t even have the Blood Moon Curse, but you felt such a strong connection to him that you had never experienced with anyone else. “I… I…” 

Star was fighting back a huge fangirling squeal as she bit her lip and crouched down, staring at you with wide, expectant eyes. 

“I… have to go…” Tom’s eyes fell, but only for a second before they perked back up with that insanely persistent look. 

“Alright,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But keep in mind, darling,” he swiftly stepped closer to you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “I’m in this for the long run.” 

And then, in a flash of fire, he was gone, leaving a very flustered you and a ship-angry Star. 

♡♡♡ 

GO FIND THE SECOND PART FOR MORE💖

[sonicasura]

SonicAsura's Doodle Collage #1

I got a new photo editor app on my phone. So I decided to take some pictures and edit them with my new filter, fix the lighting and color. Older drawings are at the bottom and newer are on the top. This will go from left to right per person. Most are OCs except for two characters.

Photo 1: Willow, daughter of the Subcon Snatcher. In an AU(Alternate Universe for short) the Prince married a different woman finding out way early that Vanessa was insane. Didn't spare him or his unborn daughter being cursed into ghostly forms or that same curse taking his beloved's life in the process. Inherited the same magic as her father but can manipulate the space around her. Much friendlier and prefers company unlike her father. The 'bitch' side does come out when utterly pissed or dealing with someone she absolutely hates. Added expressions along with the concept of her 5 fingers can compress together to three powerful claws or reverse.

Photo 2: Evdam, Project Adam and Eve. A chimera created by Tartar to revive the human race after rising rides resulted in their extinction. Created from residual human genes and strands of both Inkling and Octoling, he can shift into a hybrid animal form that can be mistaken for a stingray. Able to adapt to any weapon and weapon set in a flash makes him a deadly force in turf battles. Overly very kind and helpful, considers Marina as a mother and still adjusting to the world outside of the Underground Laboratory he was born in.

Photo 3: Zamaten, a Relican/Relic Golem which is Knack and Soulamaru's race. Part of a subspecies called Centaurion, which are golems with -taur like bodies or forms, Zamaten being a Horned Scorpion. A friendly but very shy individual when it comes to new faces unlike his older twin Urshina. Very energetic that he often join kids during their track practice when he doesn't even go to school.

Photo 4: Zamaten's older twin, Urshina who is a Coilinith which is a twin species to Centaurion. A naga-like race, Urshina is one closely related to the Coil Cobra. Very lazy and often seen sleeping around sunstone or on the beach where it's nicely warm. Despite being friendly, he won't hesitate to steamroll those who get on his last nerve. Other than slithering, Urshina will bite his tail and roll around in the shape of a wheel or Ouroboros.

Photo 5: A redesign of two Mario villains: Count Bleck from Super Paper Mario and Phantom from Mario Rabbids. These designs came from an idea where characters from another franchise would look like if they were Stands. Added horns to Bleck's hat, purple sideburn flairs and now has a blue flame flair tail. For Phantom, I added some rock elements based off his original concept for the boss fight in game which was switching music, added tears to the end of his clothing, gave him a big fluffy rabbit tail, pawpads and made the sonogram more of a pattern with a less spectral lower half.

Photo 6: An experimental Inkling drawing. Been a long time since I last drew any Splatoon characters. Wanted to draw a new hairstyle but also that same style show up slightly in their respective Inkling form.

Hope you guys have a good week! Stay safe and continue following Covid procedures! Cases are cropping up and no one wants to get worse. Until later folks!

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 17

All in all, Lanque’s a whole lot calmer about the whole thing than you thought he’d be, which makes you feel better about going to him right away instead of Daraya. Of course you love Daraya, but knowing the kid she’d probably run off to start a fight with Bronya, Lynera, and any other poor bastard who gets in her way.

“I want to believe Bronya’s doing this because she thinks she’s in the right, but I just can’t… augh! I just… can’t believe she’d ask me to do something like that.” You conclude your messy rant by flopping down on the carpet. There’s a dull ache in your skull from either exhaustion or anxiety, possibly both.

Lanque’s looking down at you from the loveseat in the corner like the universe’s most judgemental therapist, sprawled across the whole thing with his gangly self. “You haven’t known her nearly as long as I have. You heard me say once that she’s the craziest bitch in the whole cloister. I meant it.”

You want to argue with him; Bronya isn’t crazy, just a control freak, but that’s gonna have to be a discussion for another time. “You’re not surprised at all by this? Not even a little?”

“Not surprised. Just… disappointed.”

“What, does she make you to sleep at certain times and check your palmhusk, too?” you joke.

“Not anymore, she doesn’t. She learned her lesson after I filled my whole camera roll with the spiciest nudes you can imagine.”

You try not to imagine anything of the sort and fail miserably. Your last brain cell hangs on for dear life. “So, uh… w-what should I tell her the next time we go out?”

“Tell her that I’ve been taking Daraya to a slam poetry club. We’ve actually done poetry in the past, so it’s not like you’ll be lying,” he says with a smirk. “You should come sometime. Talk to people about all sorts of controversial alien opinions. Maybe throw in some rhymes while you’re at it.”

“Alright,” you agree.

“... Darling?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to Daraya. She’s stressed out enough as it is.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

:::

The next night you spend with Polypa, vandalizing stuff with the Heiress’s face on it and even setting a billboard on fire. It’s a lot of fun, but between vandalizations you can’t stop yourself from thinking about the girl herself. From what you can tell she’d be around seventeen in human years, which meant she’d soon have to challenge the Empress, as all the Heiresses before her did.

Some teenagers like to play video games, some like to sing or dance or do sports; you even know a few who live all by themselves on an island in the middle of the ocean who can shoot guns better than most military personnel. But not Trizza Tethis. No, she’ll be off to duel for the throne… and her life.

In your hearts of hearts you know that Tethis is a monster. There’s no doubt about it. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still just a kid, a kid who is going to be murdered soon for the crime of reaching adulthood.

It makes your heart hurt just thinking about that, and all of the other girls that came before her, and if this rebellion goes to shit all the girls who will come after her.

“Hey, Polypa?” you ask.

“Yeah?” She’s hanging upside-down on some broken piping while spraying THE REVOLUTION IS HERE on the side of a post office. You’re being a good moirail and keeping watch for anybody who might see her, even though it’s dark out and you can’t see much past the street lights lining the sidewalk. For some reason she refuses to tell you, she’s been in a mood ever since she came back from Tegiri’s, but you’re patient. You can wait for her.

“Do you ever wonder if Trizza might have been a good person if Alternia wasn’t the way it is?”

Polypa stops what she’s doing and stares down at you. “Honestly? I don’t really care how she might have turned out if things were different. All the things I’ve seen her do, the shit I’ve heard her say on social media… I just can’t bring myself to believe anything other than she’s one of the most horrible Heiresses Alternia’s ever had and that she deserves to die. Slowly and painfully, that is. And then she deserves to be forgotten.”

“That’s fair,” you tell her. “I dunno, I just kept thinking about how she’s supposed to go off and duel the Empress soon, and that she’s definitely not gonna win, because none of the fuschias who went up against her ever did.”

“... Does that make you sad?”

“It makes me sad that a kid is going to die, yes.”

She huffs. “Save your sympathy. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Can trolls control who they sympathize with?”

“Of course we can. Can’t humans?”

You laugh. “No. Or at least I can’t. Empathy’s a blessing and a curse.”

Polypa chucks her spray-paint can into the nearby dumpster. “Empathy? Isn’t that like, feeling what other people are feeling? I thought that was just a myth.”

“Some humans can feel the emotions of others. I’ve always been able to.”

“That sucks.”

“Again, it’s a blessing and a curse.”

Polypa shudders, flips upright, and then drops down to the concrete. “If you say so. C’mon, let’s scram.”

You scram, or at least you try to before somebody bumps into you hard enough to nearly knock you over.

“Watch it!” Polypa hisses from somewhere behind you.

You look up at a boft looking (buff plus soft) rustblood guy, who flinches back when he accidentally looks you in the eye. “Sorry! Sorry. Bye.”

He shuffles off down the street, shoulders hunched in like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible even though he’s easily the biggest rust you’ve ever seen. Huh.

“Well, that was weird,” you say, and then you feel something crinkle in the hood of your jacket. Cautiously, you reach up and grab it, hoping that he didn’t just put a bomb on you or something. You aren’t that worried about dying, because you know your immortal ass is coming right on back, but if Polypa’s in the blast zone--

“It’s a piece of paper,” she says.

“Oh, yay. I thought it might be a bomb.”

“Definitely not a bomb.”

The paper’s been folded several times, so you smooth it out and read the letters that have been cut out and glued out in a note, like some kind of Nancy Drew shit.

“What the…” You read the message, and then you read it again, once, twice, thrice, four times before Polypa starts swatting at you and grabbing for the paper. You hand it over and stare out across the street.

You are not alone. Tomorrow at midnight.

“I’m texting the others,” Polypa mutters, shoving the paper into her pocket and whipping out her palmhusk.

“There’s more of us,” you whisper. “That’s what it means, right? We’re not the only faction out there fighting for-!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, let’s not believe anything that some stranger wrote down on a piece of paper and shoved into your hoodie--”

“But he came to me, Polypa--”

“Hey!”

Both of you turn around to see some cerulean girl you don’t know storming across the street to you. “The fuck you think you gutterbloods are doing, huh?”

“The revolution is here, bitch,” you tell her, and you grab Polypa’s sleeve and zap away.

Polypa does not hesitate to smack you upside the head the second you two appear on the roof of some building downtown. “The hell was that? She just saw an alien and an oliveblood teleport out of an alley with fresh graffiti on the post office!”

“Who’s gonna believe her?” you snort.

“She’s a cerulean, she’ll make somebody believe her.”

“Dude. Chill. We still have time before things get crazy.”

“Apparently not! Tomorrow at midnight--”

“I know! Isn’t it great? What if it’s like, a big post on Chittr, or a public service announcement from God knows where saying that it’s time for bigots to start shitting their pants, because the revolution is here and it is sexy!”

“Augh!” Polypa throws up her hands. You start to get a little concerned. “Aren’t you scared? Like, at all? We could all die tomorrow and you’re just… totally fine! You disappear for half a sweep and come back ready to lead a revolution!”

Alright, it’s time to bring out the big guns. Slowly, so she has time to pull away if she wants, you step forward and reach up to caress her cheek.

The effect is instantaneous. She visibly loosens up from horns to toes, leaning forward into the contact with a low chirrup rising up from deep in her throat. If you were a troll, that sound would have probably made you pale-horny to the max, but you’re human so all you do is just stand up on your tippy-toes to press your foreheads together. You imagine pulling away all of her fear and stress and releasing it into the open sky, never to be seen again.

“We’re not going to die,” you tell her. “We’re just not. And if we were, I’d tell you, because dying isn’t that bad. Doesn’t even hurt, really.”

“... You’ve been dead before?”

“Yeah. Feels like the best fucking nap you’ve ever taken.”

She snorts hard enough for you to feel her breath across your face. “Only you would say something like that and be completely unbothered.”

“That’s just how it be sometimes,” you say, because joking about your trauma and having anxiety are basically your only two personality traits nowadays.

“I’ll write that down for the pile,” she says, because she’s always been able to see right through you, even when you can’t see yourself. “Which we’re going back to an abandoned apartment building to do once I yeet this glass bottle into that window over there.”

She picks up the broken glass bottle at your feet and proceeds to do just that. It sails through the air with all the majesty of an eagle and crashes through somebody’s office window. You know enough about troll romance by now to be a little scandalized by how forward she’s being, but you both know it’s out of necessity. Troll language is far from just verbal-- it’s flattened ears or bared fangs or dilated pupils. It’s hissing and chirping and growling and all sorts of sounds you don’t even know the names for, and you can’t even hear most of them because they’re either too low or too high a pitch for your human ears to catch.

“Hot damn, wildcat. You gonna take me out to dinner before you throw me down on somebody’s abandoned loungeplank?” you tease. Her face lights up in green, and you grin in satisfaction as she splutters something about saving it for the respiteblock.

You’re about to cook up something truly slutty to say when her palmhusk vibrates. Polypa reads it and snorts. “Aaaannnddd Daraya is losing her mind, Tagora says it’s a trap, Tyzias wants to know what the rustblood looked like, Stelsa is in agreement with Tagora, Lanque is asking how the hell it could be a trap when the rustblood didn’t even ask you to meet him anywhere, and Mallek is telling everybody to shut up so he can take a nap. Konyyl and Azdaja haven’t responded yet. I bet they’re making out in a back alley somewhere. Oh, Tagora is telling Lanque to shut his Troll Twilight-looking ass up before he fines him for wasting the rebellion’s time… and Tyzias just sent a bunch of hysterical laughing emojis.”

“I love my friends,” you say.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“I’m gonna get Mallek to hack the server so whenever people start arguing over stupid stuff a bot starts spamming the chat with gifs of fighting purrbeasts.”

“Do group chats have servers?”

“I have no idea. Come on, I’m fucking freezing up here.”

:::

Your memories of growing up on Earth are fuzzy at best. You have no idea if it’s from Scratch, or Ultimate Dirk, or hell, maybe it’s just regular old brain damage, but one of the few things you can vividly remember is when your grandma died.

You can’t remember her name, but you can easily recall her eternally-smiling face, that smile that always reached her eyes-- hazel, like yours. She’s the one who taught you how to braid your hair, wing your eyeliner, ask out a crush. She also taught you how to take down a grown man with nothing but your fists and a pocketknife. Old age hadn’t ever been a problem for your grandma. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

The morning your uncle found in her lifeless in bed hadn’t felt any different than all of the mornings before. You just woke up and started to get ready for school, and then your mom… yeah, it was your mom who picked up the phone. She didn’t cry, but your uncle did.

It was a heart attack.

Your mom told you that you didn’t have to go to school, but you were still pretty young, and it still felt like every other morning before so you went to school.

You’re not sure why you’re remembering this when you first smell the smoke, or see the burning buildings from the roof of the abandoned apartment building you and Polypa crashed in. Maybe it’s because it still feels like every other night before this one.

Something deep in you that’s been irreversibly interwoven with time and space begins to tingle. This is a turning point in history, you just know it.

Polypa’s shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “It’s a riot. A riot. In Thrashthrust. We really aren’t…”

“Alone,” you finish with a smile so big it hurts your face.

“... Do you think this is really the right thing to do?”

“A wise man from my planet once said that riots are the language of the unheard.” You turn to her and take her hands in your own. “So let’s make them hear us.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting when you drop yourself and Polypa into downtown Thrashthrust, but you definitely weren’t expecting to almost get run over by Konyyl and Azdaja, both panting, sweaty, and smelling faintly of smoke.

Konyyl yelps and jumps about a foot in the air. “WHAT the-- oh, hi, guys. You didn’t scare me, I just… yeah.”

“Dude, what is all this? This is incredible!” you crow.

An explosion rocks the ground, followed by a giant plume of fire that shoots up into the sky just one street over. Azdaja whoops in delight, and Konyyl cheers even louder as a piece of flaming metal you think used to be a scuttlebuggy sails through the air and takes out a convenience store. Normally, something like that would have worried you, but seeing as the store’s already nearly burnt to the ground you think everybody’s already gotten out.

Not to be outdone, Azdaja telekinetically grabs on to a fallen lamppost and hurls that bad boy through the grocery store across the street.

“Show-off,” Konyyl scoffs.

“Where’s the main protest?” you ask.

“Like, a couple of blocks back that way. Some bronzeblood is leading the charge. Absolute mad lad,” she says, grinning. “I think a few more people you know might be there.”

That’s all the convincing you need to grab Polypa’s hand and take off running. You can hear the roar of a crowd chanting something.

“What are they saying?” you ask Polypa.

“Be silent no longer, when we’re together, we’re stronger,” she replied, glancing back at you with a twinkle in her eye. “I kinda like it.”

“Me too!”

The both of you turn the corner at the end of Hookedclaw street and find yourself face-to-face with a sizable crowd of about one hundred trolls. They’re all looking up to a pair of trolls standing on an upturned scuttlebuggy-- a bronzeblood, like Konyyl said, and the same big rustblood guy who you ran into last night.

You gape in shock. “Holy shit!”

The bronzeblood boy is yelling something, so you press closer into the crowd to hear what he’s saying. Most of the trolls here seem to be lowbloods, so when they see you and Polypa, an oliveblood, they gladly make room for you to join.

“... for what? A social construction that keeps us divided, because those who sit on thrones marked with the blood of our people know how strong we are together! They know that we’d be able to take control of our own destinies, and that terrifies them!” He pauses to take a short breath. “For fuck’s sake, I just want a world where I can walk down the street without worrying about getting killed! Is the bar really that damn low? Think about that, all of you!”

Another wave of cheering echoes through the streets, and you join in without hesitation.

“This guy’s spitting straight facts,” Polypa admits, looking impressed.

“He’s got balls, all right,” you agree. “That rustblood guy look familiar to you?”

She ribs you. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. I admit it.”

You turn your attention back to the boys, but they’re looking over the heads of the protestors at something behind you. A soft wave of hisses rise into the air as you turn to see a trio of purples stalking towards everybody, clubs dragging behind them with the awful scrape of steel against concrete. They’re twice the size of Polypa, except the giant fucker in the middle, who you think might be just a little bit shorter than Chahut.

“That’s a pretty sermon there, bronze brother,” he calls with a voice that crackles like burning wood. “Pretty for a load of treasonous fuckin’ shit.”

“Can’t be shittier than whatever they’re cooking up in that drug-hole church of yours,” the bronzeblood fires back with a smirk.

Even the rustblood standing next to him sucks in a sharp breath as the clown regards him with no trace of emotion. Polypa grabs your hand, and you squeeze it tight.

“You’ve got a big-ass mouth for a critter the size of my motherfuckin’ left toe,” the clown on the big guy’s right says.

“And you’ve got a big-ass forehead for a bastard with such a tiny skull.”

Somebody lets out a loud snort. It might have been you.

The feeble tendrils of bravery holding everybody together begin to unravel as the purplebloods begin to approach once more. You instinctively back up and pull your jacket hood over your head.

“Get ready,” Polypa growls.

But before the clowns have the chance to attack or use their chucklevoodoos, or before the lowbloods gather their courage enough to storm the intruders, a deafening CRACK splits the air like a thunderclap.

The clown to the far left drops like a rock, and standing over him, bat raised, is Elwurd.

She’s wearing a mask to conceal her face, of course, but you’d recognize that crest of blue hair anywhere. Beside her is Remele with her oversized mallet-club thing, and bringing up the rear with shining dual blades is none other than Ardata Carmia.

“Am I fucking dreaming,” you ask nobody in particular, and then all hell breaks loose.

The cerulean girls lunge for the two purplebloods that are still on their feet. The bronzeblood screams for everybody to scatter just as drones begin to swoop down from the sky, opening fire on the trolls below. Half a dozen kids drop dead on the spot.

You and Polypa duck into the nearest alleyway just in time before bullet holes pepper the pavement. Behind you, Elwurd roars something that sounds like “Duck!” before another explosion blows out all the windows. You yelp and cover your head as glass showers down on you like rainfall.

“Zap us out of here!” Polypa yells.

“No, wait! We have to go help the girls!”

“I’m not going back out there and neither are you!”

You glance back just in time to see Ardata drop to her knees, holding her bloody arm. She’s shrieking in terror as a drone advances on her, culling fork glinting bone-white in the darkness. Remele and Elwurd are too busy getting their asses kicked by the last living clown to help.

In that moment you can’t remember her as the bloodthirsty murderer who tortured you in her basement. All you can think of is the time she broke down in your arms, overcome with guilt at the monster she’d become in the name of being accepted by highblood society. A monster who’d traumatized you, and then became your friend.

You’re moving through space and time before your brain can catch up to what you’re doing. Ardata is cold and hard when you tackle her out of the way of the drone. The two of you tumble across the street together as the culling fork hits the spot where Ardata just was with a SHUNK. Even with adrenaline racing through your system the sound chills you to the core.

Remembering what Dirk taught you about hand-to-hand combat with a larger opponent, you grab one of her knives and zap right over to the clown, getting right up in his business before burying the blade into an eye socket.

Unsurprisingly, he drops a squirming Remele and covers his face with a scream so horrible you almost pee your pants. Ardata’s wailing your name from the sidewalk like a terrified child. You want to yell at her to shut up and run before the drones spotted her again, but you never get the chance. One moment you’re twisting a knife into a purpleblood’s skull, the next you’re flying through the air like a ragdoll before a pair of strong arms wrap around you. You and your rescuer land hard on the street with matching grunts of pain.

You look up into Elwurd’s bewildered face and burst out laughing. “Hi!”

“What the--”

“Time to go!” Remele yanks the both of you up by your scruffs like a pair of naughty cats. “Ardata, stop screaming like a wiggler and get your arse over here now!”

“My arm!” Ardata screeches. “I’ll be scarred for life!”

“No, you won’t, idiot, not when you hit your adult molt-!”

You zap the three of them out of there and into the alley, grab Polypa on your way, and then get the hell out of dodge.

The five of you end up in the back of a Troll Dennys, because of course you do. Polypa falls on you, knocking you to the ground, and then she yowls in anger when Elwurd lands on her legs, only for Ardata and Remele to hit the concrete ass-first. Remele accidentally kicks you in the stomach. Ardata falls back against a dumpster and hits her head on the metal with a BANG.

Everybody stares at each other for a long moment with varying degrees and expressions of utter shock. Polypa glares at you, and you just know you’re in for a long discussion about putting your own safety first in dangerous situations, or something like that.

You decide to break the ice first. “Anybody want pancakes?”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Side Effects ch.3 (baon)

Summary: All Stretch wanted to do was drop off some pants to get altered for Edge’s cast. He’s obviously asking for too much out of life.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Injury, Coffee Shop

CH1 | CH2

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Barista, Tailor...

Stretch shifted in his bus seat, garment bag over his knees and his eye lights carefully focused on his phone screen.

He’d only taken the bus once since the whole incident in California, but the one that ran the Embassy route usually didn’t have as many Humans as this one to downtown Ebott.

Today he could feel the looks from other people, Humans, crawling up his spine and it was a little hard to ignore. No one approached him at least, ready to spit some extra-strength vitriol into his lap, so they were probably just curious. That did happen sometimes, either because he was a little bit Twitter famous or because he was just a Monster in general. People frequently took discreet pictures of him or videos, and he tried not to take it personally. Heck, Keanu Reeves got the same treatment when he took the subway.

Stretch sometimes found those pictures on instagram or twitter. Depending on the caption, he’d even comment, hey, being amicable about the amateur paparazzi was probably good public relations.

But it was one of the reasons he usually wore headphones on the bus, even if, like today, he didn’t have them turned on. Friendly was good and well, but sometimes there weren’t enough spoons in the drawer, and headphones acted as a decent barrier of sorts to that shit.

Not that a lack of spoons was a problem today. He still felt weirdly energized after pouring his all into healing Red. What he honestly felt was hungry, hell, starving, his magic pleading for a quick snack or maybe a ten-course meal. Coffee he’d remembered to bring along, but with Edge out of commision, the level of baked goods in their house was hitting critically low levels.

Hm. The stop for the Beanery was coming up and it wouldn’t take up too much time for a side quest into pastry retrieval. Getting Edge's trousers to the tailor could wait a couple mo'.

When the bus rolled to a halt, Stretch hopped eagerly down the steps to the sidewalk. He could already taste those sweet, sweet lemon bars, might even pick up a cinnamon roll for Edge while he was in. He took a moment to dump out the dregs of his morning coffee, might as well get a refill while he was here, and headed in.

The bell jangling cheerily overhead was the same as always, but there was nothing normal about the way the entire shop froze in their tracks when they saw him. Baristas and patrons alike stopped and stared, and Stretch froze right along with them, resisting the urge to glance behind him, cause he was pretty sure he was what they were looking at and not some other skeleton Monster that crept in on his heels.

“um, hi?” he tried, lifting a hand in an awkward wave.

That seemed to get the record playing again. Before he could even lower his hand, Debbie was around the counter, Jennie and Daniel at her heels, paying no mind to the line of people waiting at the counter. Then again, none of them looked put out by the barista parade, they only stood and watched as Debbie dashed up to him and flung both her arms around his ribcage, almost making him drop the garment bag. Jennie joined her, and Daniel, and Stretch only stood there bewildered, caged in Human arms and patting whatever heads and shoulders he could reach.

“um, hey, guys? sorry i haven’t been in, things have been a little weird.”

“We know, dear,” Debbie said finally ,and to Stretch’s horror, when she pulled away, she drew up her apron to wipe at her eyes. “We’ve been watching everything on the news. Oh, sweetie, how is Edge doing?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Well, fuck, he knew a few internet sleuths had figured out that Edge was one of the Monsters hurt even if he was such a stickler for privacy that his name wasn’t in any of the reports. Stretch hadn’t even considered that the people who knew Edge would be worried out of their skulls, fuck, he’d been home for almost a week, had no one bothered to let the Beanery in on it? What about Thomas at the book shop, he knew Edge, too...but no, he’d probably texted Andy.

Stretch abruptly realized the entire shop was waiting for an answer. Humans that he didn’t know by name, but whose faces he recognized, shop regulars who probably followed him on Twitter, nodding a greeting every time Stretch stopped in. Asgore hadn’t wanted him to post on Twitter about what happened because he was afraid it would open a can of worms and get people asking him questions that he probably shouldn’t answer.

(Which honestly, it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t his fault his fingers worked faster than his brain.)

But obviously radio silence on Twitter wasn’t the answer either, not from all the worried faces around him. He needed to have a chat with Asgore on that front, but first it was time for some damage control.

“He’s fine,” Stretch said, loud enough for everyone in the shop to hear, “seriously, he’s doing okay. he’s a little bang up, he’d got a temporary cast on one leg, but he’ll be up again with a coffee craving in no time.”

To his dismay, instead of being reassured, Debbie burst into full-fledged tears and hugged him again. He leaned down to wrap both arms around her, squeezing tight, until her sobs trailed away.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Debbie pulled away and grabbed a napkin from one of the tables, wiping at her eyes. “It’s only...i was so worried.”

“We were all worried,” Jennie put in. Debbie’s niece was like a younger, taller version of her, complete with her own tears. Behind her, Daniel was nodding along. “When we saw that awful video. But when we called the Embassy, they couldn’t tell us anything.”

Ah, shit, of course they wouldn't, especially not about Edge since he wasn’t supposed to be a public figure. And they probably hit Andy with a gag order, too, so he wouldn’t even be able to say much.

Welp. Stretch didn’t work for the Embassy, thanks, and Asgore only mentioned Twitter. If they didn’t want him talking to people’s faces, they should’ve sewn up any loopholes before they let him out on the street.

“he’s fine, i promise,” Stretch said firmly, then he reconsidered. “deb, do you have a cell phone?”

Debbie blinked, but pulled an iphone out of her pocket. It was older and the screen was cracked, and Stretch made a mental note to deal with that somehow, but that would be later. For now, he opened up her contact list and added his number, labeling it ‘Skeletor’s Second Cousin.’

As he typed, he said, “next time, call me, okay? not that i want a next time but, you get me. call, text, whatever. i’ll tell you what i can.”

Debbie nodded, still a little teary, and backed away enough to let Julia and Daniel get in another quick hug before they headed back behind the counter.

“Come on, let me get you a drink,” Debbie said briskly. She took hold of Stretch’s elbow, leading him up to the counter like a lost lamb, “You look like you’re on your way somewhere.” Stretch followed meekly along after her like a good little sheep. Not like letting her get in a little mom-ing was gonna hurt.

He allowed Debbie to steal his travel mug, watching as she worked her magic to fill it. “yeah, edge needs some of his pants altered if he’s gonna be able to wear them with a cast, so i’m headed down to the tailor.”

Debbie actually paused, lips pursed, “I see. Let me throw in an extra shot of espresso, I have a feeling you may need it.”

~~*~~

Not much time later, Stretch had a chance to really appreciate Debbie’s foresight.

He knew the Monster tailor, Bruno, as a casual sort of acquaintance but not so much professionally, not since he’d been fitted for his wedding tux. Stretch’s style tended towards either off the rack or out of Edge’s side of the closet, and that was about as far as he liked to think about clothes.

His husband, on the other hand, probably had his t-shirts professionally tailored. Not that Stretch was about to complain, heck no, not when he got to reap the benefits of that view.

But it did kinda leave him in the position to be standing awkwardly, listening to Bruno moan about the travesty he was about to commit on some perfectly good trousers.

“It won’t work!” Bruno declared, for about the fifth time if someone was counting, and Stretch really, really was. “There is barely enough material in his trousers for his legs, he expects me to maybe coax the silk worms into adding more for a cast?”

Stretch shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, munching on his last lemon bar as he watched the tailor pace. Everything on the overflowing tables rattled with every stomping step he took, the pictures on the walls hanging ever more crooked. Stretch couldn’t say he minded, it was kinda like getting a free show.

The sigh Bruno heaved was loud enough to shift all the pictures another inch, “The only way it might work is if I cut the seam all the way up the side and find a way for him to fasten them. The trousers won’t go over the cast, but he will at least be covered.”

“think velcro’s been proven to work,” Stretch offered idly. Even he shrank away from the look of pure distaste Bruno gave him, the void flickering in his vision as he almost shortcutted out to the sidewalk and to heck with the pants. Bruno was one of the rare Monsters who towered over him, with a pair of gleaming ivory fangs peeking out from his lips, the curling horns towering over his head well-polished. From the look of his shop, business was flourishing, which just proved that Human problems with Monsters wasn’t the way they looked.

“Is he planning on tearing them away in the middle of a meeting with heads of state?” Bruno sniffed. “Perhaps do a little dance for them?”

“uh...i hope not?” Stretch offered meekly. “i mean, probably should order a g-string too if that’s on the table.”

Bruno went on as if Stretch hadn’t said a word. “No, he is not. Hook and eye would work, buttons would be more secure, but.” He shook his head with grave misery, “No. he won't like it. No matter what I do, he won’t like any of it. No.” Bruno heaved a sigh worthy of any swooning Victorian heroine, sagging into a huge, squashy chair that creaked ominously. “I’ll do it, but I’m afraid he’s not going to like any adjustment I come up with. I certainly hope he doesn’t tell anyone he’s wearing one of my creations!”

“i’ll let him know to keep the business cards to himself for now.” Stretch leaned against the counter, plucking up a business card of his own to weave through his fingers. Oh, he was gonna regret asking, he knew it, but he was reluctantly curious. That might kill a cat, but hopefully skeletons got off for free. “okay, so, if what edge is asking for won’t work, what would you recommend?”

Bruno brightened instantly, illuminating like a newborn sun and clapped his huge hands with such exuberance that Stretch took a step back. “Ah, well! When it comes to something like a cast, there are a few options, oh, let me think!” He stroked a finger down one long fang, considering, “you both have such slender legs, but very shapely. Ah!” Stretch waited with morbid curiosity, almost expecting to see a bubble with the word ‘eureka’ come spilling out of the tailor’s ear. “I have it! I think he would be dashing in a business kilt!”

A what? “a kilt,” Stretch said, flatly. “that’s what you’re saying. that’s the big idea. not exactly original, is it.”

“Yes, yes, a kilt,” Bruno flapped an impatient hand at him, “and original isn't the question or suitcoats would have died out a hundred years ago! A sedate pattern, of course, nothing too flashy, not for Embassy work.” Yeah, as if that was Stretch’s big concern, that Edge might get stuck with something more appropriate for disco inferno than a business meeting. Then again, bell bottoms might work... “With a kilt cut jacket and tie, oh, yes, something in a dark wool, I think.” Bruno stood and marched over, Stretch bouncing along with every step, until he could lean in to whispered conspiratorially, “He’d look scrumptious and I don’t think I need to tell you that should be his natural state of being.”

“scrumptious.” Stretch repeated slowly, tasting the word. Yeah, okay, he kind of liked that one in the same sentence as Edge, he could warm up to this idea. “how long would it take to make something like that?”

Bruno’s expression turned into one from the sly family, his little smile widening to a toothy grin. “It’s entirely possible I have something in the works right now that might be suitable. If you’ll excuse the pun.”

Uh huh. He sure knew his clientele, didn’t he. “sold. let me know when i can pick it up.”

“I’ll have it done by the end of the week, along with the...trousers.” His distaste from the last word faded into a certain disturbing gleam that began to shine in Bruno’s eye and before Stretch could flee, he took hold of Stretch’s elbow, gripping firmly, “Now. Why don’t we see what I can do for you?”

“what? wait, no, i’m just here for edge!” Stretch tried, digging in his heels as Bruno began to pull. His sneakers squeaked on the tile as he slid along in the direction of the dressing rooms. “no, don’t! help! i don’t need new clothes!”

“Nonsense!” Bruno scoffed, “Everyone can use an addition to their wardrobe. Particularly when you come to me dressed like that,” He paused, his face twisting into a moue of pure disgust as he tutted over a perfectly decent sweatshirt and pair of track pants. “I couldn’t possibly let anyone see you leaving my shop this way. No, no,” He shook his head, tugging Stretch determinedly along. “My reputation won’t have it. Come now, let’s see what I have for you.”

Stretch gulped and cast a longing look at the door as he was hauled inexorably towards the dressing rooms.

Where was a damn explosion when you needed one?

-tbc-

[runearcana]

Reasons I am Terezi:

My soon to be deadname sounds like Terezi.

I have an absurdly long tongue. 

I look and dress like Terezi. [my hair ends up short, and when I straighten it, it always has a curve at the ends like hers. Ive always thought I look like a female version of Karkat and even tried to be more like him.] I primarily wear black t-shirts with nerdy images.

I love mysteries, solving them, and have a knack for knowing the law on an intuitive level.

I had a best fuckin friend forever that I did everything with. We called ourselves the Greythorne Sisters. I was Wither and she was Malice. [telling much?]

When I broke up with her, I.. used my very strong foresight and saw that there would be issues if we stayed friends. Karkat also encouraged me to do it and was outside when I went through with it. After I told her, she literally crumpled, and I hugged her one last time. She didnt expect it at all. ._.

I went insane with regret and self-hatred afterwards.

My ultimate crush looked, acted, and spoke [yelled] EXACTLY like Karkat.

The reason I got into Homestuck was because I was incredibly shocked at how his likeness was captured in the fan art, and even the official art. EVERYTHING is the same except he has grey-blue eyes, caucasion skin color, lacks horns. Everything else is the same. He sounds most like a more masculine version of Broadway Karkat. Very wicked and masculine voice. Extremely intimidating guy despite his size. [hes not short, just shorter than youd expect someone with a cocky personality like his.]

Karkat even called us the Scourge Sisters. 

He hated Vriska. He was jealous of her as well, as anyone interested in me would have been.

I loved Karkat, more than anyone except Vriska, but my self-esteem was too low to believe he legitimately cared about me. On some level I knew he cared about me, but I was too BLIND to see it.

I didnt know I loved Vriska more than Karkat until I had already lost her. v.v

Vriska and I had a serious BDSM relationship [kismesis] after being moirails a very long time. We should have stayed moiraills. :[ It was really my fault that she acted the way she acted.

I am an empath and I can legitimately taste peoples energies. 

I may as well be blind because my eyesight is useless to me without glasses.

My favorite color isnt red, its TEAL, but I have a crazy fetish for fiery guys.

Libra ascendant, which is funny because A. your ascendant was your sign in a previous life, and B. its the realm of your PERSONALITY. [Sun is about your life path and moon is about emotions. :P]

I am creepy and cute [or was when I identified as female]. I love scaring the shit out of people. >:]

I like 1337, but I refuse to type that way all the time even though quirks are awesome conceptually. I mean if I could program the computer to remember my quirk, itd be different, but that isnt a thing yet. Itd definitely spice the internet up much more. :]

I still play with plushies and whatevers at hand and draw with chalk.

I adore dragons and see myself as one because I was born in the year of the dragon. :P

I like to cosplay, and wear capes pretty often. 

Dave is someone I cared about a great deal. He had a crush on me, but I saw him as a brother. Dirk is a total piece of shit and hurt Dave and Karkat and its why they have so much in common. He IS Daves bro. Dave sort of sticks up for him and Dirk has clueless followers. 

Gamzee was a best friend of mine like Dave and we technically had a kismisitude relationship. Gamzee told me Karkat was his best friend but I didnt know it was mutual. He was very upset that Gamzee and I were kinda together.

One night I was sitting at the end of Vriskas bed, thinking she was asleep, and trying not to wake her up with blowing my nose. She was awake and spooked and said she thought I was cackling like a maniac at the end of the bed like a creep. I thought it was pretty much a good assessment.

Another time she told me that while I was asleep, she saw an *evil* me with a sharp toothed grin and grey skin. It didnt seem improbable to me.

John is my biological brother. Hes a Virgo sun, and hes a nerd. :] Hes the only person beside my dad and aunt I talk to. [lots of friends I have, lol.]

Rose is a c*nt but I was fascinated with her for some reason. Rose hates Homestuck because of the fanbase. [lolll]

Kanaya is her sister, not gf/wife. Shes cool, and a reasonable person and was a friend, but we didnt talk much. I dont know why really.. x.x

Aradia was my best friend before Vriska. She and Sollux are married. I had a crush on her hsband and it was awkward.

Equius is an ex. Longest relationship Ive been in was with him.

Eridan is as much of a insufferable asshat as he is in the series, but not good looking in the slightest. He can be.. surprisingly insightful at times. None of us like him, even us INFPs. [Dave and I.]

I see Aranea as my mother. Talks non-stop, ruins lives.. but I used to look up to her.

Calliope was a fellow dragon lover friend that Dave introduced me to. Her handle was Celestial Serpent and she is even more asexual than I am. :]

My friends saw my and Karkats connection as being more like Karkats and Nepetas. He treated me like I was autistic and mostly ignored me. Probably until I confessed to him, and then after I went crazy because I had lost Vriska, and hoped that I could rely on him to be there for me. but despite all that bravado cockiness of his, hes a total wimp. ._.] Karkat and I had a ridiculously brief unspoken relationship that was only through telepathic communication and I got beyond frustrated and kissed a woman, and it was over like that. No one knows about this but us. Its another thing that I have ruminated on and hated myself for and deeply regretted.

I envy gamer girls who are actually good at games and wish I could be more confident and popular. v.v; [Latula]

I had a character on Gaiaonline with the Chucku Norisu scarf and the winged staff item and people drew freebie art of it for me, and when I looked at my pictures after learning about Homestuck it was pretty crazy.

Vriska [best artist I know] drew a character that looked a lot like Terezi that I had liked a lot.

I was very isolated when I was young. Neglected by my parents for the most part and felt too different from other humans. I always wanted a tree house and bulit my own club house that I hung out in as a kid.

My friends pretty much unfairly looked down on and even despised Vriska except Gamzee.

I love the taste and sight of blood. [Im a sadist.]

Dave made a proposition that he, me and Karkat be in a poly relationship and I turned it down. [I did not want to share Karkles with ANYONE. I know in the comic Dave actually disliked the idea, but the poly thing came up with the three of us. I dont know if Karkat was cool with it or not because he always used Dave as our go-between, but if Dave made the offer it must have been Karkat approved. Asshole. -.-]

Karkat and Dave live together and are more than likely morails. Karkat isnt attracted to Dave, but Dave has said he is attracted to Karkat.

I had a dragon umbrella that looked like a cane that I loved a lot.

Karkat is pretty much the unofficial group leader, or at least he was in my opinion. I could see Sollux saying Id make a better leader, though, because Im more clear-headed and calm about things and people from that group respected me [more than I was aware of].

We are all connected somehow.. but the main group consisted of Dave, Gamzee, Rose, Kanaya, me [Terezi], Karkat, and a few people I didnt see as characters from Homestuck. Vriska was not allowed to hang out with us at first. When she finally got her freedom [with my help] she wouldnt hang with the group, and they saw her as taking me away from them. They thought she treated me poorly, but she really didnt. -.- [Vriska did nothing wrong, theyre all just jerks.]

I dont hang out or talk to any of them anymore except John. Im always finding myself reminiscing and I really just wish I could forget I ever met them so I could start over fresh.

I have a spirit guide that is a DRAGON and teaches me anything Id like to know, especially in esoteric matters. His name is Shadowfall Ryu. Ryu is Japanese for Dragon. [lusus] and I agonize that I dont know him irl. Everyone knows about him. I have drawn so much art of him and talked about him so much. He is my ideal self. [i know the lusus in the comics is female, but whatever. Its still interesting.]

I collect dragon stuff, including plushies. I still play with them and wish others would play with me.

List goes on and on.

I cant make this stuff up.