#this must be a horrible first day alive

[xxlelaxx]

I feel like the worst mom ever and I've only been at this for a day.

[martyrbat]

red hood: the lost days #6

[ID: Jason Todd pinning the Joker down in a puddle of gasoline by sitting on his chest. Jason is without his helmet with it laying in the gasoline near them. He has red eyeshadow around his eyes in the shape of his Robin mask and is snarling through gritted teeth down at the Joker, who's smiling up at him. Jason's muscular arms are exposed by wearing a black tanktop and blue jeans while the Joker is in his pinkish purple suit. Jason is holding a lit torch and behind them is a barricade of flammable barrels and the bright, full moon. In front of the moon is Batman with his cape flared out to resemble wings, his only visible feature being his glowing eyes. END ID]

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Cregan’s wife gets taken by Silas the Grim and horrible things happens to her. Cregan’s men finds her during the battle or after and bring her back to their Lord. She is traumatized and her dress is ripped in places that makes Cregan sick and rage. Back to winterfell, she gets nightmares and cregan gives her a wolf pup so she feels safe

Please read the warnings carefully. This one might not be for you. 

Warnings: mention of non-con/sa, ptsd, kidnapping,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You didn’t know nightmares could happen while you were awake. The worst part was, unlike regular nightmares, you couldn’t wake up to get away from the horrors in your mind. You were trapped in a waking terror, unable to find refuge even in the daylight.

Yours started the day Cregan and a bunch of his men got caught in an ambush by Sylas the Grim’s men on the way to Queensgate. It wasn’t your first time traveling north of Winterfell, you knew to stay close to the group and never stray as it was easy to get lost when the snow was affecting the visibility. But you ended up getting captured by the wildlings and taken to their chieftain. 

The wildling who brought you to Sylas was very proud of himself. You were the wife of the Warden of the North, the only one who his loyalty to was stronger than his one to the Wall. Your capture opened so many opportunities for Sylas, and he planned to use you as a pawn in his game.

Chained inside a small tent, you tried to think of a way of getting out. You couldn’t just wait for Cregan to come and save you from your captor. You were the Lady of Winterfell, you needed to be resourceful and strong. 

Two men were standing outside your tent, guarding — and ignoring you. They were relaying their service at night and bringing you scraps of food, just enough to keep you alive. Because you would serve their chieftain nothing if you were dead. 

Although the food was disgusting, it wasn’t the worst part of being held captive. It was Sylas. The wildling chief would come into your tent and question you about Cregan’s strategies. Loyal to your husband and your people, you didn’t give any information away. You would never betray your people. 

One night, you were asleep in the corner of your tent, your body curled on itself to keep warm, when you heard Sylas come in and undo his breeches. He was drunk and horny. 

His sick intentions immediately clicked and you tried to get away from him. The tent was small, so he quickly got hold of you. You clawed and kicked at him as his filthy hands snuck under your dress and uncovered your intimacy. You screamed, which earned you a slap in the face and Sylas’s tighter grip on your hips. 

⁂

Two long moons went by. By that time, your body was so weak and frail that you didn't even hear the battle raging outside your tent. Your mind, clouded by malnutrition and the relentless abuse, struggled to make sense of anything beyond the constant pain and exhaustion.

Your eyes opened when you felt someone’s hands on you, shaking you awake. Assuming it was Sylas coming to empty his balls, you closed your eyes and let him take you. You didn’t have energy to fight him anymore. But the voice that filled the tent didn't sound like a wildling. 

‘’Go and tell Lord Stark we found her.’’ 

The man who had spoken stayed by your side, keeping watch until his Lord arrived. He must have been far because darkness was beginning to fall when Cregan stormed into the tent, his face and clothes had blood and dirt from the battle.

‘’Where is she?’’ his voice boomed, a mixture of anger and desperation. 

The sight of his wife trembling in the corner nearly made his heart stop. You looked fragile and thin, your skin was as white as the snow, and your dress was torn in several places. Your hair was matted and there were stains of fluids on your dress. 

Cregan felt sick. If Sylas had not been already dead, he would kill him again. 

The Northman quickly knelt by your side and wrapped his fur cloak around you, covering your body as much as possible. He whispered your name, but you only blinked. ‘’I came as fast as I could. I'm here now, you're safe.’’ He gently raised your chin to look at your face, and his jaw clenched tighter at the sight of her bruised and weakened state. 

⁂

The journey to Winterfell was a complete blur to you. You didn’t remember anything of the ten days spent sitting in the carriage, bundled in furs. Cregan personally took responsibility to escort the carriage, walking right in front of it and making sure no one would try to capture his wife again. 

Once you walked through the gates of Winterfell, a maester was summoned to tend to you. You would need a bath and new clothes too, but that could wait. While the maester was getting gathering his things, Cregan reached for the button of your coat to help you out of it, but you began screaming and thrashing in the cot as if he was trying to harm you — to rape you. 

Cregan quickly stepped back and held his hands up so you could see them. ‘’I will not touch you if it is what you wish. That’s alright.’’ His voice was calm and soft, and his eyes held your gaze. ‘’But the master needs to see your wounds and tend to them.’’

You shook your head. ‘’Don’t touch me. Please, not again.’’ 

Tears filled your eyes and Cregan nodded. ‘’Fetch the servants and have them draw a warm bath for Lady Stark. And a warm meal brought to our chambers. The best meat we have.’’ 

The maester frowned at his lord’s instructions. ‘’My Lord, it would be preferable if I could—’’ he began to protest, but Cregan shut him up. 

He will not have a man touch his traumatized wife against her will. Not after what you had endured when held captive. 

‘’Another day,’’ he said firmly. ‘’Lady Stark needs a bath and a warm meal, and rest.’’ 

⁂

The days that followed were difficult and required a lot of accommodations. Starting with a change in the personnel who were allowed in your chambers. You had made it clear that you didn't want men around you, so Cregan requested that only women came to your chambers. To bring your meals, to help you bathe or dress. 

The only man who was allowed near you was your husband. In fact, you didn't want Cregan to leave you — ever. He was always close. Especially at night, when the nightmares of the horrors you went through invaded your dreams. 

A blood chilling scream filled your chambers, startling Cregan awake. 

Every night since your return had been like this. The maester suggested you take a drought to help you sleep, but it didn’t work. Since you were in a deeper sleep, it made it more difficult to stir you from your nightmare.

‘’Shh, I’m here. We’re in Winterfell. You are safe,’’ he whispered to you, pulling your trembling body against him as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Cregan felt helpless. There was nothing he could do or say that would take the pain away. He couldn't magically make the memories and images go away. All he could be was a chest for you to cry into. 

He prayed in the Godswood and asked counsel from women who he knew had gone through difficult things, hoping to find guidance from their own experiences. Unfortunately, years later, some still had not overcome their trauma. 

Cregan sat in his study while you were taking some fresh air with Lady Lysa, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed. He knew your fear was rooted in your assault. You weren’t scared to be alone, you were scared that a man would use his size and strength against you — again. 

When Winter comes, he’ll have to go to the Wall…and leave you. What will you do when he’s not there to make you feel safe? You didn’t allow any other men near you. He had to come up with something to ease your fears and make you feel safe in his absence. 

⁂

‘’Where is my husband?’’ you asked the servant who brought you your morning meal. He was gone when you woke, and only left a vague note on the table. 

The small girl cleared her throat before replying. ‘’Lord Stark had to absent himself for the day, my Lady. He is to return before nightfall.’’

You nodded. ‘’I wish to be notified when he passes the gates.’’ 

‘’Very well, My Lady.’’ She bowed and exited your chambers. 

As the servant had said, Cregan returned before nightfall. Snow dusted the top of his head and the pelt of his cloak when you greeted him in the great hall. 

When he saw you standing by the entrance, a warm smile spread over his face. “Good evening, my love,” he said, his voice was gentle as he placed one leather gloved hand under your chin to pull you closer and press a soft kiss against your forehead. "I have something to show you. Come with me."

You were not dressed apropriately to go outside, but Cregan had already take your hand to lead you out of the great hall and towards the courtyard. The sky was getting dark and fresh snow fell steadily, leaving a blanket of white across the ground. You felt a chill thorugh the sleeved of your dress. Hopefully you won't stay out long. 

Cregan turned a corner towards the kennels, leaving you confused. He opened the door and asked you to close your eyes. 

''Cregan, what-''

''Just close your eyes.''

You did as directed, and to make sure they were properly closed, the northman placed his hand over your eyes from behind. "No peeking," he whispered into your ear.

He closed the door and led you deeper into the kennels, careful with every step, making sure not to make you trip or stumble. Once you were where he wanted you, he removed his hand but didn't tell you to open your eyes yet.  

You heard shuffling and rustling, then...a small cry. 

‘’Open your eyes.’’

With the command, you opened your eyes. Lying in the crook of Cregan's arm, was a small gray and white pup. It sniffed the fabric of his cloak, its small tongue licking at the thick wool. You reached to pet it, and immediately felt its cold, wet nose brush against your hands, causing you to giggle. Cregan smiled, watching the two of you get acquainted. 

''It's a direwolf,'' he stated, his voice echoing in the quietness of the kennels. ''Like the sigil of our house. He'll grow large and strong. He'll be able to protect you when I'm not around.'' 

The little pup looked up at you, its beady eyes staring into yours. You didn’t know what to say, deeply touched by his gift to you.

—

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[luveline]

Hi, if you have time and any interest, would you write bombshell!reader comforting Spencer after the Maeve arc? Like maybe she’s the only one he lets in, and she just holds him and lets him cry and puts him first.

Will totally understand if you’d rather not/don’t reply!

ty for requesting!! <3 —You come home from months away to find Spencer in love and grieving, so you do what you can. fem, 2k

You didn’t expect Spencer to fall in love while you were gone, but you can’t begrudge him. Not for having feelings for someone who isn’t you, and certainly not for losing her. 

You love him, and you’re his friend first. 

Your shoes make sharp but steady sounds on the stairs up to his apartment. His building is old but not rundown, lacquered wooden bannister smooth under your hand, his front door immaculate, though the hallway is busy with baskets. There’s ribbon and cellophane everywhere. It’s a sorry sight. 

You haven’t brought Spencer anything besides dinner. Unlike yourself, you take in the offerings of his friends and worry you aren’t as caring as you think you are. 

Not that he seems in the mood to accept it. 

You look down at your mary jane’s and wonder if you’re doing any of this stuff right. Spencer doesn’t even know you’re back in the country, let alone the state. Perhaps he has no interest in seeing you after this long apart, and after such a tragedy. Who wants to see their too flirty friend when they’ve just lost a real love? 

You hike the tote up your shoulder. In a chequered skirt and a simple white t-shirt, you’re underdressed. The pasta you’d made and hurriedly wrapped up burns your hip where the bag rests against you, and you have to make a choice now. Let it burn you, standing and staring morosely at Spencer’s door, or face rejection. 

You only need to hear his voice. He can leave your pasta out here on the floor if he likes. What’s important is that he’s still alive in there. 

You knock on the door. 

Nothing. Complete silence. 

Nudging aside a basket of dried fruits, you try again. A simple rat-tat-tat. 

“Hey, Spencer?” you ask too quietly. 

He won’t hear you through the door. Your voice might as well be a whisper if he’s in his bedroom with the door closed. 

“Spencer, are you okay, my love?” you ask, louder.

You wince at yourself. My love couldn’t be more raw. 

“Sweetheart, I’m just here to see if you’re okay,” you say, knocking again, before leaving your hand to rest on the door. You lean forward, forehead kissing dark wood. 

You can’t hear anything on the other side. 

“Spencer,” you say with a reluctant swallow, “if you’re home, can you tell me? You don’t have to let me in. Just come to the door.” 

Penelope said he hasn’t texted her back for days. Derek said he’d answered the phone once or twice, but beyond that he’s silent. You had a nightmare on the plane home that you’d come back to find him as he’s found his poor girl, or that he’d turn to old vices, or that he’d finally give up. He’s been strong through every horrible thing thrown his way, and now he’s all alone again—

The door opens slowly. You stand up straighter, your surprise a whack to the chest as your heartbeat picks up. 

Spencer stands at the door. He looks more tired than you’ve ever seen him, his dark circles bruised like wine stains under his eyes, even his eyelids red and sore looking. His lips are almost colourless, they're so chapped, and his pyjama pants have deep, deep wrinkles at the knees. 

“Hi,” you say. “Spencer, how are you?” 

His voice rings with disuse. “You’re here.” 

“Came straight home when they told me,” you say softly, honestly. “I knew I had to see you. To make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m not okay.” 

“I know.” You don’t know if it’s okay to ask to come in, if he’ll close the door at the suggestion, so you don’t. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You put weight in the wrong places, too much on I’m, not enough on so. “I can’t imagine it. I would never wish this for you, never.” 

“You were in Brazil.” 

“I was.” 

He must be tired of people asking if he’s okay, yet it wants to be asked. You bite it down, and instead offer what may be the key to getting in, or a quick dismissal. 

“I made dinner for you, angel,” you say. You choose the pet name more carefully. He used to call you angel to make you feel better. “It’s just pasta, I tried not to make it too heavy in case you're nauseous.” 

“I feel so sick,” he says. 

Spencer’s curse is that he probably knows why he feels sick, and he probably knows a hundred different remedies or medications or prayers to get rid of it, but nothing can get rid of this feeling. You can be the smartest man alive and you’ll never outfox grief. 

“Will you come in?” he asks.

You breathe a short, unbidden sigh of relief. He steps aside to let you in, and you gaze around at his shock of mess, books and blankets and furniture all in the wrong places, but it’s to be expected, and it doesn’t bother you beyond that empathetic hum of hurt tucked under your ribs. You approach his couch covered in books and put your tote bag atop them, turning to tell Spencer you’ll just quickly move these aside, and stopping dead when you see him. The door closed, his face pale, Spencer looks like everything is crumbling down around him. He looks horrified to have to watch, and he looks as sick as he’d confessed. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” you say, meaning it at its surface value. You’re sorry you were in a different country while he faced this alone. Beyond everything you’ve shared, you’re supposed to be his friend, and in a way you’ve let him down. “Please forgive me if you can, Spencer.” 

He nods tightly. 

“Let me move some of this stuff and we can sit down together, is that okay? Or do you need to go back to bed?” 

“It’s okay.” 

You do it without the grace his precious books deserve, lugging armfuls of them onto the floor, no time for tidying. You make spacious room for him and you, and your gesture gently for him to come and sit, fingers moving through the air slowly with the suggestion; he doesn’t have to listen if he doesn’t want to. 

What is it about you that Spencer would let you in before anyone else? That he’d sit and watch you until you sat down, that his shoulders relax ever so slightly when you settle, your thighs aligned? 

Maybe he needs someone who wasn’t there to watch it happen, and maybe you’re like family. You and Spencer may not be in love, but you love one another. Seeing him like this has you wishing you could fix it for him so keenly it’s like your hands are bruised. Pins and needles eat your fingers as you hold a hand to his elbow. 

“What can I do?” you ask, murmuring so as not to disturb the quiet room. 

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I don’t have anything for you to do, I just…” He squeezes his eyes closed. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only person who– who–”

His voice lifts to a strangled high pitch as he covers his eyes with one hand. 

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask. 

He nods into his hand but doesn’t move. You have no qualms with making yourself big, wrapping him up, and guiding his hand away from his scrunched up face to hold you back. 

You’re pretty pristine with hugs, as they go. You’re a soft touch. So Spencer holds you tightly and you cradle the back of his head, aware that you’re not who he really wants to be hugging, but okay with it nonetheless. “I’m so sorry,” you say, mouth to the top of his head, your hand stroking with light touches against the nape of his neck. “Spencer, it’s not fair.” 

He starts shaking in your arms. 

“The only time I got to talk to her face to face was with a gun to her head,” he says, his eye hot where it’s squished to the bottom of your cheek. 

“Honey, you had something special,” you say, sort of guessing, because you had no idea Spencer was even talking to someone. Everything you know about the situation you learned from Hotch, but you can read from his level of distress how much she meant to him. “You don’t need to have been face to face to have shared something like that. Love is about connection, and I’m so sorry you don’t get to see her, but you– I’m sorry. You didn’t get all the time you deserved.” 

You’d been trying to say that it doesn’t matter if he saw her or not, that their relationship was just as real no matter what, but you know he’s not just mourning her, but the possibility of a life with her he won’t get now. 

“I tried everything I had to save her,” he says. 

“I know you did. Sometimes we can’t do anything. It’s not your fault.” 

He makes a low sound. He’s a quiet crier, sniffling and shaking against your neck. 

You love him. Finding out he had a girlfriend was like being stabbed in the chest, an instant sickness, but finding out that she died? To see him in this much pain cuts deeper than a split second of thinking he’d moved on. 

“You did everything you could. You did the best that you could. Spencer, you could’ve done everything right and she still wouldn’t have made it, because the world is cruel. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It’s always gonna be my fault,” he says. 

“No, it won’t be.” 

“It will! I’m like a curse, we all are.” 

You don’t know what to say. You consider offering placatives, but they’d be empty, and Spencer would know. Instead, you scratch a hand through his curls and try your best to be gentle. 

���Well, I’m here for you. I know you know you have a whole team of people who want to be there for you, but I mean it, Spence. You can tell me everything. I’m here for you and I’m not leaving again.” 

“You don’t have to go back?” 

“I’m staying here.” For as long as you need me goes unsaid. 

Spencer should rely on the kindness of all of his friends, and not just you. He needs love. Grief is going to eat him alive, just like it did with Emily; he’ll need everything from everyone, and, no offence to your friends and coworkers, you’re the most committed to giving it to him. 

“I never should’ve left,” you say quietly, “but things are different now. You’re my best friend, Dr. Reid.” Your tone turns more playful. “I don’t cook for just anybody, you know?” 

Maybe it’s a bit cringeworthy, but you really want him to stop crying. 

He laughs weakly and wetly into your collar. “I don’t think I can eat it. I just throw everything back up.” 

Aw, honey, you think. “How about a thin soup? I can make you something without any heavy creams. I make the best chicken soup around.” 

“Do you?” he asks. 

You want to kiss his cheek as you would’ve before you left, but things really are different now. You settle for patting his shoulder. “I do. We’ll have chicken soup, and some fresh bread, and– and you won’t have to pretend you aren’t miserable. Promise. You can be as sad as you want, honey, I just wanna sit with you and make sure it doesn’t get too much.” 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

“It’s okay.” You don’t want a thank you. “I’m glad to be home. Do you think you can get dressed? Let’s go get some stuff for dinner.” 

Spencer, to your relief, gets up to get changed without complaint. He checks you’re still on the couch a few times from the doorway of his room. You have no plans on straying far. 

[katakaluptastrophy]

Masterpost of TLT metas

This is mostly for my own reference, as tagging doesn't seem to guarantee something being findable on Tumblr...but if you like wildly overthinking lesbian necromancers in space, enjoy!

Overthinking the Fifth House:

What is a "Speaker to the Dead"?

Actually, Magnus Quinn isn't terrible at sword fighting

Imperial complicity: Abigail the First

Pyschopomp: Abigail Pent and Hecate

Did Teacher conspire with Cytherea to kill the Fifth?

What does the Fifth House actually do?

The Fourth and the Fifth can never just be family

Cytherea's political observations at the anniversary dinner

Abigail Pent's affect: ghosts and autism

Were the Fourth wards of the Fifth?

Abigail probably knew most of the scions as children

Magnus Quinn's very understandable anger

Fifth House necromancy is not neat and tidy

Are Abigail and Magnus an exception to the exploitative nature of cavaliership?

"Abigail Pent literally brought her husband and look where that got her" (the Fifth in TUG)

The Fifth's relationship dynamic

The Fifth's relationship is unconventional in a number of ways

The queer-coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship

Abigail and Palamedes, and knowing in the River

Was Isaac the ward of the Fifth?

Did Magnus manage to draw his sword before Cytherea killed him? (and why he probably had to watch his wife die)

How did Abigail know she was murdered by a Lyctor?

Fifth House necromancy is straight out of the Odyssey

The politics of the anniversary dinner

Was Magnus born outside of the Dominicus system?

Overthinking John Gaius:

The one time John was happy was playing Jesus

Is Alecto's body made from John's?

Are there atheists in the Nine Houses?

Why isn't John's daughter a necromancer?

The horrors of love go both ways: why John could have asked Alecto 'what have you done to me?'

Why M- may have really hoped John was on drugs

What is it with guys called Jo(h)n and getting disintegrated? (John and Dr Manhattan)

John's conference call with his CIA handlers

Watching your friend turn into an eldritch horror

Why does G1deon look so weird? (Jod regrew him from an arm)

When is a friendship bracelet not a friendship bracelet?

Why did John have G1deon hunt Harrow? (with bonus update)

The 'indelible' sin of Lyctorhood and John's shoddy plagiarism of Catholicism

Are John Gaius and Abigail Pent so different?

What was Jod's plan at Canaan House?

John and Ianthe tread the Eightfold path

The Mithraeum is more than a joke about cows

When was John Gaius born? (And another)

John Gaius and the tragic Orestes

John and Jesus writing sins in the sand

John and Nona's echoing chapters

John's motivations

Overthinking the Nine Houses:

'No retainers, no attendants, no domestics'

Funerary customs and the violence of John's silence

Juno Zeta and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time

The horror of the River bubble

Every instance of 'is this how it happens' in HTN

Feudalism is still shitty even if you make it queer and sex positive

How do stele work?

Thought crime in the Nine Houses

The Houses have a population the size of Canada

What must it be like to fight the Houses?

You know what can't have been fun? Merv wing's megatruck on Varun day...

Augustine's very Catholic hobby (decorating skeletons)

Necromancers are not thin in a conventionally attractive way

Matching the Houses with the planets of the solar system

Why don't the Nine Houses have (consistent) vaccination or varifocals?

How would the Houses react to the deaths at Canaan House?

How does Wake understand her own name (languages over 10,000 years)

What pre-resurrection texts are known in the Houses?

Camilla and Palamedes very Platonic relationship

The horrors the Cohort found at Canaan House

Do the Houses understand the tech keeping them alive?

Overthinking House religion:

What do the Houses believe about death?

Was M's nun a Franciscan?

Cavaliership and arbitrary socio-religious structures

Ritual scarification

Sacraments and sacramentals

What did Silas think god wanted at Canaan House?

In defense of Silas

There's no such thing as a 'good' necro/cav relationship

Veiling and shaving in Ninth House cult practice

Tongue-in-cheek thoughts on Eighth and Sixth religion

A very long deep-dive on House belief and practice

Overthinking Harrowhark Nonagesimus:

'The meat of your meat...belonged to god' and 'that is how meat loves meat'

The horror of parental touch: Harrow, John Gaius, and Abigail Pent

Why is Harrow so obsessed with Abigail's hands?

Frontline Titties of the Fifth and transgressive necro/cav relationships

Harrow, Wake, and permeability of the soul in HTN

Bible studies for weird queer necromancers:

Epiphany: revealing god's child to the wider world

The Holy Innocents and the creche massacre

The Virgin Mary and Commander Wake

John Gaius and John the Baptist

Instantiating the Trinity and the Second Resurrection

What's the significance of Paul?

St Paul's theology of gender and sexuality and the House theology of cavaliership

Maundy Thursday: consuming another for eternal life

Harrow and the Harrowing of Hell

[jogetsobsessed]

Always an Angel - Paul Lahote

Ok, I've been obsessed with the lyric “Always an angel, never a god for a few days now. I don't know why all of a sudden but it's been all I can think about. I know there are a bunch of literal interpretations but I look at it as a version of “always the bridesmaid, never the bride”, always the side character, never the main character. So I hope this comes across how I want it to lol. 

Also, the timeline is kinda messed up in this, just live in ignorant bliss and ignore it pls, and thank you!

---------

Always the option, never the priority. 

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. 

Always the lover, never the loved. 

Always the fighter, never the fought for. 

Always an angel, never a god. 

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

You were used to being sidelined, looked right through. 

No matter what you were doing, or who you were with, you were never the main focus. 

Growing up boys never spared you a glance, your best friends being the main targets for their glances and flirty remarks. You were never the one asked to dance, always the one asked to hold a friend's purse or bag. If the car was full on the way to get ice cream, you were always the one that was going to be left out. You never learned inside jokes and standing alone at parties, you didn't even know why you went, it's not like anyone would notice if you left anyway. 

At night when you would break and confide in the one person you knew truly loved you she would always question why you remained friends with the people that caused you so much pain. And through your blubbering, you would look at her like she was crazy. Explain to your mother that it must have been too long since she was a teenager. Because that's not how it works. Living in a small town the pool of potential friends is small, and having friends that treat you horribly is better than having no friends at all. 

You would apologize to her years later, after maturing, and realizing that the remarks you directed towards her were uncalled for. The anger you threw her way was misguided and unfair. She didn't deserve the way that you treated her. 

When Bella Swan moved to town you thought everything was going to change. She was from a big city, you didn't know much about Phoenix but you knew they probably didn't harbor the same small-town mindset that Forks did. 

She had no clue who you were. She didn't know the unspoken reputation that hung above your head like a storm cloud. 

And at first, you were right. 

The two of you became friends quickly, Bella taking a liking to your quiet demeanor, such a drastic change from Jessica and her goons. 

Your friendship appeared surface-level, to everyone but the two of you. In school, you both kept to yourselves and didn't talk much, even to each other. You would drag her along with you when you gathered the strength to hang out with your old friends. But you didn't do that often, seeing as they saw her as a shiny new toy and didn't treat her as a second-class citizen. 

But after school the two of you would talk, your friendship would come alive in the comfort of your own homes, and you two would look like actual teenage girls and not two seventeen-year-olds who should be on the highest dose of Lexapro. 

She was the first person that you saw as a true friend, that was until she committed, in your opinion, a cardinal sin. 

Bella had gone off the deep end and you hadn't seen her in days. But that was normal, she would spiral, skip school, and then show up as if nothing happened. So you weren't concerned, sent her a few texts checking up on her and getting one-word responses back. Then the following Monday came around. You were waiting by your truck, lazily twirling your hair, eyes glazed over as you dissociated waiting for the bell to ring. 

But amid your dissociation, you were pulled back to reality when a shiny black Volvo came to a screeching halt a row over. You knew who drove the expensive car so you tried to be as nonchalant as possible as you peered over your shoulder to get a good look at the owner. 

You wished you hadn't. 

Because getting out of the passenger seat was the person that you considered your best friend. Your best friend was sitting in the passenger seat of the car of the guy you had a crush on since he arrived at Forks High School. 

She knew about your long-standing crush on Edward, she was the only person other than your mother who you had told. It came tumbling off your tongue one late night about a month after she had arrived in town. And you had sworn her to secrecy, begging her to never tell another soul. 

But now it seemed to not matter, she had broken your trust and your heart. 

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

The next year drug on. With Bella being completely infatuated with Edward you were left to crawl back to your old friends. They accepted you with barely open arms, reluctantly saving you a seat at the lunch table, sometimes sending you the location for Friday night activities. 

When the Cullen clan abruptly left Forks Bella did to you exactly what you had done to your friends months earlier. Part of you didn't know why, but you let her back in, although this time keeping her at an arm's length away, never fully trusting her, 

Eventually, however, Edward came back. First making his appearance walking hand in hand with Bella in the dreadful hallways of Forks High School after she had disappeared yet again for a few days with not even a courtesy text. 

This time seeing them together didn't feel like a hot knife was piercing your skin. How could it, you no longer felt the same that you had for Edward. Because he had proven himself to be just like everyone else. He made you feel invisible. 

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

The heat of late spring had arrived and you took in all the warmth that you could as you walked down the small rocky path to the mailbox. Graduation had come and gone and you found yourself in isolation. The people you had forced yourself to be friends with in high school no longer mattered. You didn't have to play the uncertain game of high school politics anymore. Starting university was on the horizon and while you dreaded leaving the comfort of home you were excited, this was going to be your chance to reinvent yourself. You were no longer going to be the person no one cared to look towards. 

Pulling out the various envelopes you felt your heart stop beating when the light lilac envelope was pulled to the front. You knew what it was, you didn't even have to open it. But you did, ripping it open, praying that you hadn't torn apart the coveted invitation. Sure enough in bold letters, you read “Edward Anthony Masen Cullen and Isabella Marie Swan request your presence…”. 

The phone call with Bella that night was awkward. You haven't talked much since graduation but she assured you that she wanted you to be at the wedding. You had wanted to push and ask her why she was rushing to get married. I mean you along with everyone else knew that they had only known each other for a year and hadn't been dating for the entirety of said year. But she sounded happy, the happiest she had ever seemed. So you didn't say anything, instead prying for details about the impending nuptials. 

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

Thousands of flowers cascaded down creating a custom perfume in the air. Your eyes darted between the bunches of wisteria and sweet peas and you were in awe. The wedding had snuck up on you. So much had happened over the summer leaving you feeling unprepared to start school in the fall. Leaving you to make one of the hardest choices that you had ever made, deferring your acceptance into your top school to the following fall quarter. 

So when you got a reminder on your phone that read “Bella and Edward wedding tmr” you were at a loss for words. I mean you had everything you physically needed, a dress, a present, the right pair of shoes. But you had forgotten one important thing, a date. 

It wasn't going to be the first time you had shown up to an event without one, but it was probably going to feel the most embarrassing. 

So here you were, standing next to your group of “friends'' from high school as they gossiped about the possibility of Bella being pregnant. “What do you think?”Erik asked you, giving your arm a soft nudge with his. “I don't know guys '. Jessica of course had a counter, pointing out that out of the group you were the closest with her. Luckily before you had to come up with an excuse of why you didn't know for certain the music began, signaling that it was time for everyone to turn their attention to the altar. 

A few tears managed to slip down your cheeks as you watched your sometimes best friend say “I do”. In that moment all the turbulent times the two of you experienced didn't matter. You were just happy to be in the presence of two people who were madly in love and confessing it to each other, permanently sealing their love with a dramatic kiss. 

The reception area was decorated equally as beautiful. You were grateful that Bella, or more likely Alice had set you close to the dance floor. That way you could watch people without feeling like a total loser, hanging out in the corner by yourself. At least this way you could still enjoy the happiness of the other guests without feeling the gross amount of body heat from the dancing bodies. 

The ice was melting quickly in your lemonade, the night had not been rewarded with a cool late summer breeze so you were appreciative of the cool drink. The night had seemingly been going according to plan. Your ‘friends’ had migrated to another table across the dance floor with the excuse of wanting to talk to some of the other guests, but they had not returned in almost two hours so you were holding your breath. 

Mentally you were planning your escape plan, glancing at your watch. Waiting for an acceptable time to leave, not too early into the night but not too late that you were leaving only minutes before the bride and groom's big exit. As you granted yourself yet another glance at the heirloom watch you wore and looked back up a gasp unwillingly left your lips. 

The mystery man, who looked almost familiar, chuckled at your surprised look. Confidently he took the empty seat next to yours, turning his body to give you his full attention. “May I help you”, you didn't recognize your own words, your tone was a bit rude and you didn't even give him a second to introduce himself after she sat. 

“I’m Paul Lahote”. 

Once he gave his name to you your eyes moved up to meet him and the electric shock that you felt in your veins almost felt real. There was no doubt blush forming on every inch of your face and you were praying that the low light of the Edison bulbs did a good job at protecting some of your dignity. You gave him your name, barely squeaking out your last name. 

Things like this didn't happen to you. A man that looked like him didn't talk to you. A part of you wondered if Jessica or someone like her had already turned him down, because let's face it, you were always the option but never the priority. 

“I think you should share a dance with me, no pretty girl like you should be sitting alone at a wedding”. The flare in your cheeks was visible now, you were sure of it. No matter how low the light was you could have sworn a red glow was emitting from your body, like an accusing halo. 

“Paul…you don't have to dance with me, I was just getting ready to leave”. Gathering your belongings as you begin to stand up. “No!”. He said, eyebrows raising to the top of his forehead once he realized how loud he exclaimed. Sheepishly he looked around offering small smiles as an apology to a few of the guests who looked at him like he had three heads. 

“Please, I noticed you when I walked in before the ceremony and I haven't been able to shake you from my eyeline all night. I don’t think I can take no for an answer”. 

The fact that your heart was still caged behind your chest was an act of god. Because at this point it should have flown away due to how hard it was beating. You were at a loss for words. The thought that someone was putting you first, taking interest in you was unbearable. And you were crumbling at his gaze. 

His outstretched hand found yours that you slowly had begun to uncurl from against your body. Swiftly he whisked you out onto the dance floor, pulling your body flush to his. 

Clumsily your feat matched his falling into routine with his steps, your body swaying in unison to the light melody. He hummed along softly to the quiet music as he kept a firm grip on you, almost like he was afraid to let you go. 

The song ended and awkwardly you looked around not knowing what to do. Paul however looked happy as can be, letting go of your hand but keeping the one on your lower back in place. He led you back to the table where you had spent most of the night, pulling out your chair before you could even react. You thanked him as you sunk into the back of the chair trying to ground yourself. 

“Man, I feel like the luckiest guy here at this whole damn wedding I got to dance with the prettiest guest of them all”. He said matter-of-factly triumphantly, taking a sip out of the glass he abandoned when he first approached your table. You scoffed, there was no way he was being for real, the alcohol had to have been getting to him now if he was saying such an untrue statement. 

“I think you've had enough”. Your voice was shy and your eyes barely peeked through your almost closed eyelids. The embarrassment you hadn't felt earlier had returned and you were suddenly hyper-conscious of everything happening around you. 

“Doll this stuff doesn't make me feel anything, you, however, are making me feel alive for the first time”. His drink was abandoned yet again as he scooted his chair closer, invading your bubble, and causing you to squirm under his gaze yet again. 

“Paul, I'm flattered but again I think your choices are impaired. There's no way you feel anything like that for me”. 

Paul was out of his chair before you could continue your babbling, cutting you off by capturing your lips in his. 

After he pulled back for air his forehead rested against yours, the two of you matching your breathing. You were yet again at a loss for words, kissing the hottest boy at your best friend's wedding was not on this year's bingo card. But as per usual it seems Paul had the perfect thing to say, “My angel forgive me if this is forward, but l you need to let me love you, I have a feeling that you're gonna be stuck with me for a long time”.

[respectthepetty]

Waiting for a Choice?

Nobody talks with Day. All of the interviewees talk about him but none of them actually speak to him. Mork was the first one to go back-and-forth with Day by asking him questions, and Mork looks at Day too. When he entered the room, his comments are at Day. Before that, everyone treated Day like a ghost merely haunting the room.

And even though this game of 21-questions is horrible, Mork says the silent part loudly.

Because to Mork, this is all about choices. He believes his sister chose her fate and abandoned him in the end. To him, he had no choice in the matter. She decided their futures for both of them. Even though she is dead, he has spent an entire year not living.

Day's family does this too. Night tells Day they are at the Society when they are already there. It's an afterthought to tell Day where they are going, and he doesn't ask Day if he wants to go in either. It is "where will you wait?" Where will you wait while everyone else goes about their lives? Will you wait here or there? Those are his options. To wait. He is allowed to wait while everyone else lives, but he can't participate.

This is a place for the Blind, yet Day can't go in, and when he does, the receptionist pities him, and his brother gets upset.

By all means, this place should be THE place for Day with its "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've always wanted" inspirational word vomit, yet all the people stare at him.

Then, on the way home, Day's mother tells Night to speak to Day about the documents even though Day is sitting right there hearing the entire conversation.

Being a caregiver to a family member is extremely difficult. Mostly if animosity already exists.

And even though it's an English translation, the use of "have" is the subtle shift in a family relationship to a caregiver dynamic. A brother has to take care of his younger sibling. A brother now has to rely on his older sibling. Regardless if Night wants to help, he has to. Regardless if Day wants Night's help, he has to take it. They don't have a choice.

When Day exits his car, a point he made to Night, Night hesitates to go after him because they are in the middle of traffic and in the middle of a fight. Yet Mork runs into traffic to get Day, and for the first time in the episode, Day gets asked questions: "Are you okay?" and "Where are you going?"

It hasn't mattered if Day is okay up until now. It hasn't mattered where Day is going because he has to go where he is told. He doesn't have a choice. According to everyone else, he is a living ghost. He has been stuck for a year regardless of what he wants, so even when he gets home, his mother asks him one question without waiting for a response before immediately asking Night what happened.

So Day returns the small gesture of conversation to Mork by asking another living ghost if he has anywhere else to be.

Which jump starts their second game of 21-questions.

Because neither is telling the other what to do. Similar to their first conversation, it's a shit show, but they are both engaged in this shit show. They are not being told to participate. They are not being told what to do. They are being asked questions and they can decide to answer or not. They get to choose. And they chose each other.

Which leads to the mom finally asking Day a question.

Mork is going to be crap at taking care of Day at first, but Day doesn't need someone to take care of him. He needs someone to see him. Day isn't a ghost of his past. He isn't haunting his own story. And he isn't okay. He is unhappy because he has nowhere to go and nothing to look forward to . . . according to the people with lives. He is waiting.

So the guy who is also stuck with ghosts from his past haunting him simply asking questions is enough of a reminder that they are both very much alive, so they must make a choice to actually live.

Which is why Mork asking Day, not his mother or brother, but Day when he starts is very important.

Because these two are stuck in the present with pasts that haunt them. But now they have a future of endless choices.

They just have to ask the right questions.

No, not that!

Much better.

[chloe-skywalker]

Moving - Billy Hargrove

Billy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Stranger Things

Word count:1,190

Summary: Joyce waiting to move you, Jonathan, Will and El till Billy’s better for your sake. Billy decides to come with and live with you in California. But first he has to ask Joyce.

Authors Note: I love this. 

Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“When are we going to Calfironia?” Jonathan asked his mom wondering how much more time they had left with their friends.

“Soon.” Joyce answered as they continued to eat.

“When is soon? I want to know when I have to say goodbye to the party?” Will pleaded for more of an exact answer.

“We aren’t going till Billy’s better and can leave the hospital.” Joyce told her boys.

“For Y/n’s sake?” Jonathan hoped they wouldn’t leave till Billy was better. For his sister's emotional health most of all. She wouldn’t be able to handle leaving Billy in his current state. The Mall accident was bad all around but Billy got the worst of it, but at least he was alive.

“Yes. For Y/n’s sake. Your sister loves Billy and I’ve seen his love for her.” Joyce nodded in confirmation. What happened to Billy affected him and her daughter the most. Joyce knows for a fact they love each other and seeing him almost die killed Y/n. She couldn’t take her away with Billy still in the hospital.

“I hope he heals fast. I hate seeing her so distraught.” Will nodded in agreement, it was hard seeing his badass sister so broken.

“We all do.” Jonathan reached over and squeezed his shoulder. Billy had treated a lot of them horribly but no one deserved what he did to save El.

^     ^     ^

“Hey” Y/n greeted Billy as she entered his hospital room. She never would’ve left but she wasn’t allowed to stay once visiting hours were over. So Y/n comes back every morning.

“Hey. Did you eat?” Billy questions, he noticed she had gotten thinner and it worried him.

“Yes, I ate.” she nodded, giving him a sarcastic smile, knowing he means well. Y/n to noticed her weight loss like she’s sure he did. But she was still eating, it must be stress.

“Just making sure you're still taking care of yourself.” Billy reached out to grab her hand in his.

“Your my priority right now.” Y/n looked into his eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I can’t be your priority if you end up sick and in the hospital right next to me.” Billy points out with a stern look in his eyes even though he wasn’t angry he’s just worried.

“What’d the doctor say?” Y/n asked changing the subject and hoping the doctor said he’s improving.

“That I can leave and be discharged in two days.” Billy smiled at her pulling her with enough force that she leaned on top of him.

“Thank god.” Y/n smiled, hugging him tightly.

^     ^     ^

“When are you moving?” Billy asked as they sat on her bed in Y/n’s room surrounded by boxes.

“Soon.” Y/n looked down, sadness evident in her demeanor. Leaving Hawkins wasn’t the hard part that made her sad, but leaving Billy? That did. “Mom says we’ll leave in the next couple days.”

The two stayed silent for a while not knowing what to say.

“Hey I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?” After a while Billy spoke up having an idea but he needed to leave the room and if it didn’t go as planned he didn’t want Y/n any more hurt than she already was.

“A coke please.” y/n gives him a tight smile in thanks but still in a sad mood.

Billy walked down the hall into the kitchen and saw Misses Byers just who he was looking for.

“Hi Billy.” Joyce greeted upon seeing him come out of the hallway.

“Hey Joyce.” Billy greeted back as he went to the fridge and grabbed himself and Y/n;s drinks before closing the fridge, turning around and asking. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” Joyce nodds pointing to the table so they both could sit.

“Thanks for staying till I was healed. It means everything to me to have had y/n here for it.” Billy started off by thanking her, he knew they didn’t have to wait but they did and he appreciated it.

“Of course, Billy.” Joyce sent him a smile, it also felt kinda good and odd to hear him thank you. That's not something Billy’s known for. She also knew how hard it must be for him to talk to her like this. With his home life she knows he’s not comfortable around most adult’s.

“I know you’re all moving to California soon. I’m from there and I’ve missed it since the moment I was forced to leave. I don’t want to be seperated from Y/n.” Y/n was the only thing he liked about his time in Hawkins. He was glad in a way he had moved to Hawkins, he met y/n because of it and he wouldn’t have otherwise. “Would you mind if I come with you guys?” he asked nervously.

“Billy you're welcome to join us, and I think it would also be the best decision for you and y/n’s emotional and mental well beginnings.” Joyce smiled warmly at the young man that was going to fight to stay with her daughter. She couldn’t ask for better for her daughter. “You can stay with us as well. Till you find a job and get a place of your own.”

BIlly let out a shocked but relieved breath. Looking Joyce in the eye’s. He was grateful to her. “Thank you, Joyce.”

Joyce waved him off. “You're welcome, and thank you Billy. For the joy and happiness you bring my daughter.”

With the conversation done Billy headed back to Y/n’s room with their drinks.

“Took ya awhile. Thank you.” Y/n smiled, thanking and teasing him. She grabbed her coke, taking a sip all the while Billy walked around the bed to sit across from Y/n on it.

“No problem.” Billy wanted to tell her to badly to wait any longer. “I do have some news.”

“What's up?” Y/n sat up fully giving him all her attention.

“I talked to your mom just now.” he told her as they faced each other.

“Okay?” Y/n stretched out, raising a brow. ‘He talked to my mom?’ she thought, ‘what about?’

“I can’t wait to show you all my favorite places.” he smiled at her. Billy wanted her to figure it out, he watched her look confused for a few seconds before her face lit up and billy let out a laugh knowing she got it.

“You’re coming to Cali?!” Y/n exclaimed with a huge smile across her lips.

“Yeah I’m coming.” Billy nodded with a matching smile.

Y/n leaped across her bed and hugged him, the force knocking them both back so y/n layed on top of him. “Yes! Thank you.”

“No, Y/n. Thank you.” Billy spoke softly, brushing her hair back with one hand and the other wrapped around her waist tightly so Y/n could go anywhere. They were never going to be separated again. Not if he could help it. She saw him for who he was under the asshole he betrayed, she made him a better man.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @starkleila @fandom-princess-forevermore @cherriebat

[eideticmemory]

CRUSH | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

I owe you a black eye and two kisses. Tell me when you wanna come and get ‘em.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning/Includes: Long distance pining and mindless smut :)

Loving him is not enough.

Being in the same space and time as him is not enough.

You want to eat him alive. You want to devour him until there is nothing left but bits of bone and eyes. You want to hold him so close and so tight that you absorb him through your ribcage. You want to lock him inside your chest, and make sure he can never, ever get out.

It is a scary thing to realize. The chain that holds your heart to his mouth. The grip his hand has around your throat. The complete and total and suffocating need to be with him. Consumed by him.

It was never meant to get to this point. To this level of desperation. To this - I will fly across the world just to be with you type of connection. But it has. Being away from Matthew Gray makes you physically ill. Nauseated. Can’t get out of bed sick to your fucking stomach. It takes days to come out of the thick fog, the loop in your brain that whispers, Matthew, Matthew, Matthew…

You count down the days until you see him again. You get so close to being normal. You get so close to a hormonal and mental balance and he, once again, tips the scales completely. You get off a plane and take a 45 minute ride to his house and you don’t look the same as when you first boarded but it does not matter and he could not care less. In the hours before you come, Matthew gets a horrible headache and the only thing that will soothe it is seeing you. That intoxicating rush of serotonin to both your brains when you get out the car and he’s waiting on the porch and you drop your bag at the top of the stairs and jump in his arms. He can barely feel his head.

He always tells you that you smell good and he proceeds to try to eat you alive before the door can close behind you. This can go on for a long time. The I forgot what you smell like and how your body feels against mine make out session. Always by the front door. Always vertical. Open mouths and slimy tongues and hands that are just on the verge of taking it too far. He backs you into the wall, and wants to choke you but that is Too Far so he stops kissing you and puts his forehead against yours. Neither of you can breathe and your mouths are dripping wet. Matthew’s eyes follow the path of his hand - over your neck, down your chest and around your waist. He wipes your mouth with his thumb, nuzzles his nose against yours and breathes out, “Fucking missed you.”

You want to crawl inside his skin.

Before you go out to dinner, you let him finger you in the car. You didn’t wear underwear beneath your dress and he would’ve had a stroke if he didn’t get his hands on you. In you. If he didn’t, just once, put that spell on you that makes you go cross eyed and arch your body in an inhumane way. He parks the car behind the restaurant and gets to work and you lay all the way back in the seat with your dress around your hips. You come so hard that he has to cover your mouth while you scream. He runs his wet hand down your inner thigh and lays on top on you for a bit. You catch your breath, you fix your clothes. The entire ordeal makes you both so hungry.

Matthew orders an entire bottle of wine and you drink it only because it’s a fancy restaurant and you are dressed fancy so you must act fancy. But you finish the bottle and Matthew stops it there because he is just sober enough to drive. Just sober enough to get you home.

When you get to his house, you’re worried you’re going to piss yourself. You’re laughing too hard and there are suddenly so many more stairs than there have ever been and Matthew is not helping. He’s behind you, holding onto your waist, kissing your neck and whispering jokes in your ear and you cackle, “Matthew! Matthew! Stop! I’m gonna piss myself.” But you’re tangling your hand in his hair because you don’t want him to stop.

You rush to use the bathroom inside and when you come out, face splashed with water and one strap hanging off your shoulder, Matthew stares at you for a really long time. There’s always a palpable shift in the room. The air gets thicker. Matthew’s eyes get darker. He lays back against the bed, props his hands behind his head.

“Can you take your dress off?” he asks.

You tilt your head at him, so he adds, “Please?”

And because he asked so nicely, you push your straps down your arms and let your dress slip off your body and you’re completely naked. It is awkward so far away so you crawl into bed with him and he immediately grabs your boobs. He can’t choose which one to grope, but his other hand is busy gripping your hair and pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. He’s never gentle, but he’s never rough from the start. Just forceful. Pinning both your legs between his and sucking on your neck.

You put your fingers between the button holes on his shirt. You pluck them off one by one, moan as he licks your jaw and holds you by the throat. He straddles you, traps your thighs between his, takes off his shirt. His hand is big enough to squeeze both your boobs in one palm and his nails dig into the soft skin of your chest. You feel him vibrating and it is just with this overwhelming urge to tear you apart. He always needs that hint, that glint in your eye that says: I am yours. Do what you please.

He kisses you real soft and peppers your face with little pecks and shifts down to take your nipple into his mouth. His mouth is hot to touch, burning and weaponed with a quick tongue. The tip of his tongue flicks against you so quickly that it shuts down your brain. He wants to sink his teeth into you but he channels it into this timely and taunting suction. He does this until you’re dizzy. Dizzy and rubbing your slick thighs together for any type of friction.

He can’t keep his hands off of you. He touches your face and runs his hands down your waist as he puts himself between your legs. He looks down and spits on your pussy, this long drip of saliva falling directly on your clit. He settles on the bed so he can bury his face in you and you lose all tension in your body. Your toes curl up and you spread your legs wide for him and he puts his tongue inside you. You are an occasional five star meal and he is severely malnourished.

You tangle your hands in his hair and he will not take his eyes off you. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and writhes against the bed to put pressure on his cock. He can’t stop moaning under his breath, and if you weren’t so loud, you could hear him. His fingers slip into you so easily that it’s like they never stop. You feel them at the top of your pelvis and you start to claw at his back.

You say, “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck,” and Matthew’s body is washed in euphoria. You come with three loud grunts and fall limp on the mattress and Matthew’s pants are off before you can lift your head back up.

You hold his face in your hands as he kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands hold your ribs and he rocks his hips and pushes into you. Your bodies just meld together and it is the one thing that will truly, quickly, put you at peace. Matthew puts his tongue in your mouth and says, “Spread your legs,” and starts pounding you into the mattress. His lips are just beside your ear so you hear every grunt and groan and breathy gasp and you try to burn it into your brain.

Every sound you make is involuntary. You can’t hold your eyes open and you can’t move and every time he pushes into you, your legs spasm and you whimper. He holds your jaw in his hand and his puts two fingers against your bottom teeth and you dig your nails into his arm. He gets tired of not seeing your face so he pushes your knee into your chest, bends you in half and gets as deep inside of you as he can. He watches you just crumble. Cry out like it’s uncontrollable. You grip his biceps, kiss him slow and watch his cock move in and out of you, watch it disappear all the way inside of you each and every time.

When you’re close, you reach for his face, grip his hair for dear life. He rubs your clit and kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, “Come for me, baby. Please? Please. I know it feels so good, come for me, my love.”

You Love when he uses the L word.

You love when he fucks you until you come and tells you that you’re a good girl and kisses you like he’s proud. He positions himself behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. “You okay, baby?” he asks as he slides in and out of you, real slow. You nod, you say, “Mhm,” and he puts his hand between your legs, rubs your clit, real soft.

He’s getting there, he’s getting so sloppy. Messy thursts and his hand around his throat and the filthiest things being whispered in your ear. Your throat is getting raw, and you use the last of your air to come again. You push his hips away but he grabs your elbows and plows into you, saying, “I’m so close, baby, almost there, fuck. You’re so good, baby, you’re gonna make me come.”

You face him, you kiss him and beg him to give it to you. Give it all to you. The very molecules of his being, the blood in his veins, the energy and matter that builds this man. You want it. You’re craving it. He explodes inside of you and holds you close as the warmth radiates through your tummy.

It is not enough. Nothing is ever enough. He is never close enough, never near for long enough. You want to wear him around your neck, tattoo him into the deepest layers of your skin. You want him.

God, do you want him. All the fucking time.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 11

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

I had such a hectic day but decided I wanted to stay up late and upload anyways. Prepare yourselves for a plot twist!!!

Content Warnings - Mentions of suicide/torture

How long had you been here? Weeks? Months? None of that mattered to you. You were happy here.

The capital doctors had fixed you. No more meltdowns over people touching you; no more urges to kill. You were finally healed.

You don’t know why they took the route of healing you while they tortured the others, but who were you to complain? They had made you whole again. Maybe they thought that making you realize the stability you had lived without for the past five years would be a form of torture. Maybe they thought it would make you sad. It didn’t. It made you the happiest you had been in a long time.

The only thing that would make you happier would be seeing Finnick. You know he’s not in the capital. Peeta said he saw him on the screen the other day while he was doing an interview, so you know he’s alive. You just hope you’ll be reunited soon.

Hopefully he will come here and they can fix him too. He may not show it, but his games and the years after have left him with a lot of scars. If he comes, you’ll make sure he gets the same treatment you received.

The power here keeps flickering out. Peeta says it’s cause the dam in District 5 was destroyed. Apparently Finnick and Katniss are in District 13 and the capital sent bombs. Peeta warned them and got extra torture because of it.

Johanna is silent outside of her screams. Whatever they’re doing to her sounds horrible. You don’t want to find out.

“Y/N!” Peeta whispers loudly to you. His room is across from yours and you can hear each other under the door.

“What?” you respond.

“I overheard them talking about you,” he states. “The peacekeepers were talking about your treatment.”

“What about it?” you ask.

“I didn’t hear all of it,” he explains, “and it’s hard for me to know what’s real nowadays, but they said something about a timer going off and how they would make you crazy again. We have to get out before they hurt us.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask him annoyed. “They won’t hurt me. Snow promised.”

Just as Peeta goes to respond, the lights cut out again and peacekeepers enter the hall. They usually set up extra guards when the power goes out in case anyone tries to escape. Why would you escape? You like it here.

It must be an hour later when panic sets in. You hear a hiss coming from the hall and what sounds like people falling over. You don’t have time to think, however, before your door is opened and a canister of smoke is thrown into your room. Peeta was right. They are going to hurt you.

“Did you always love her?” Katniss asks Finnick as they wait for the rescue team to return. All communication had been cut off but the two were still holding onto hope that they would return safely.

“No,” he chuckles. “I guess she snuck up on me.”

“How?” Katniss asks.

“After her incident in the capital Snow killed her family,” he explains. “I moved in with her because she wasn’t stable enough to live on her own. We were scared she was going to kill herself and selfishly I couldn’t let the one victor I had brought home at that point die.”

Katniss nods her head in understanding and Finnick continues.

“I don’t know if I’d even call us friends when I first lived with her. She wasn’t thrilled I moved in and found me annoying, yet I was the only one she would talk to. She wouldn’t even speak to Mags,” he states. “Before Annie’s games my nightmares got worse. I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night completely disoriented. Instead of running or turning violent she would stay. Whenever I woke her up she would come to my room and sit near me till I fell asleep again. Something just clicked at that point and I knew I couldn’t live without her. I still can’t.”

“I never even told her I loved her,” he sadly says to Katniss.

“She knows,” Katniss responds. “And I know she loves you too.”

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[falling-heights]

Yandere Viktor x Sick Reader

"We're all killers.

We've all killed parts of ourselves to survive.

Something somewhere had to die so we could stay alive."

He won't let you die.

Whether it be his unshakeable determination to save you, or because he just can't let the one person to ever understand his condition go. However, his idea of salvation is far from kind. A machine keeps you animated.

A liquid diet of nutrients driven into your veins daily. Synthetic air forced into your lungs, a thick, rigid tube shoved into your mouth, down your throat. It was calibrated, exact, like a ticking clock, never off for a moment.

You had memorized its rhythm for a long time now, there was little else to think about anymore.

This existence is beyond any imaginable pain or remorse. Nothing should be forced to live like this, not when you should have died so long ago. And yet he will not accept it; he robbed you of your very right to die.

He's taken away your ability to beg, with that horrible pipe. You supposed he preferred your silence if you would not ask him anything more than to pull its plug. Or perhaps, that you might even thank him one day if he were to ever 'cure' you. Until then, the only noise you could emit was the regulated gasps that were exhaled out of your chest with every forced compression of the machine.

You could not even will yourself to rip the tube from your throat. It was attempted only once, and your hands had been tied to the edges of the bed since then. Regardless, you didn't think you had the strength to lift them anymore.

What was left of your muscles must surely be atrophied after laying on this bed for what must be months. You weren't even sure how long it had been since he brought you here, he never said.

Has he even realized what little is actually left of the person he loved so dearly? How desperately you yearn for him to stop, to allow you to leave. How could he imagine that what he's doing to you is worse than if he had simply let you die as nature determined?

Viktor visits you every day. Usually to take care of you, to talk to you as he always did when things were more innocent. Oftentimes, he cuts into you during these one-sided conversations, speaking to you about the most ordinary things while he operated on you like you were some sort of experiment.

You didn't know why he did it, what he was looking for, or what he was planning. He spoke about the human body as though it were a machine, something with parts and systems, and you feared that one day he would begin to remove the things he cut into.

You feared what he may turn you into.

You were the one person he ought to love the most, but he seemed to have lost himself after witnessing you fade little by little. So lost in his resolve to fix you, he had forgotten any sense of morality or humanity. It didn't matter what he had to do or what would happen in the end so long as he could make you better.

And my dear, he will fix you. Even if he has to replace every inch of you.

Just realized this is the first Arcane content to be posted on this blog. I have another blog with a lot of Viktor stuff, i didn't even realize that he had never been posted here until now.

[peachyloveswriting]

I just loved your writing! So get ready for the highs to come! how Vash, Knives and Wolfwood would react to a reader who is immortal, like Kenny from south park, the reader keeps dying in tragic and horrible ways or even weirdly funny ways in front of them, but for some strange reason, the next day you're alive,as if nothing had happened the day before.

sIf you want to approach it in a somewhat comical way, because in the south park cartoon kenny is cursed by immortality, because his parents went to a satanic ritual because there was free beer. If you want to tackle that part of the story, that's fine with me.

Actually, this is kind of funny. Kenny is my favorite South Park character at this point I know him inside out. Lol. This ought to be interesting. Thanks for the request. I'm actually really excited to write for knives finally! Let me know what you think.

YOU'RE IMMORTAL!? --- Vash, Knives, & Wolfwood

SUMMARY: For years you've wondered where your immortality comes from, your parents never told you so you kept it to yourself. Until the day came that someone remembered.

WARNINGS: Major angst, death, death description, death mentions, trauma. Please continue at your own discretion. I warned you.

NOTES: Vash's part is before he runs into Meryl and Roberto because I'm too lazy to write the other characters reactions as well. Wolfwood's part is short because I spent all my energy on Vash and Knives. I think Knives is my favorite part, I'm cherishing it.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

Vash

"Sleepy head. C'mon wake up." You shake Vash's shoulder to wake him up. He groans before his eyes crack open. At first seeing you he mumbles a greeting before turning over to ignore you. It was right when he was going to turn away that the realization hit him like a freight train. His eyes suddenly open wide, pain swims inside of them as he looks up at you.

There was no way this was possible. Just the night before you had died right in front of him. Your head was blown into bits by some piece of shit bounty hunter. You had nothing to do with this. There was no reason for it to happen and it was all because you got involved with him. He was just starting to accept what happened and now here you are shaking him awake.

"I must be crazy." He mumbles to himself. Tears pool in his eyes and he sits up, bringing his hands to cover his face. "It's not real."

"Vash?" His babbling is confusing. He wouldn't know about you dying would he. No one else seemed to realize, so why would he? His sobs make this almost clear as day. Lifting a hand you rest it on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "What's wrong?" He continues sobbing into his hands and saying things you can't understand. It breaks your heart to see him like this, he's never cried in front of you before he's always been so happy and lucky. What happened?

Sliding your hand across his back and pulling him close, you hug him tightly. With your other hand pressed to the back of his head you tuck it safely under your chin where his teas soak your skin. Quietly you hush him, rubbing soft patterns along his back and whispering soft reassurances until he's reduced to nothing but harsh breathing.

Suddenly he speaks. "You're not real." He claims. Lifting his head to pull away from the hug he securely grabs your biceps. "You've got to be a ghost."

Now it's clear, exactly what's going on. Lifting your hands to cup his face you hush him once more. "It's me Vash. It's really me. I'm still here."

He shakes his head and his bottom lip trembles. "But I watched you die. I even buried you!" He cries.

Frowning, you pull him back into a secure hug. That night is as clear as ever in your head. You were laying flat on your back struggling against a man that pressed his gun to your head. You weren't strong enough to push him away and he pulled the trigger before Vash could stop him. You still remember hearing Vash calling out to you right before you died. He shouldn't have remembered in the slightest. That should have been the only time you'd ever have to see him in a bad mental state over your death. Yet he sat in your arms mentally destroyed by the sight of you.

How would you explain everything to him? Even worse, how could you put him through something like that and expect him to not be upset at you? This is the first time you've ever had to consider these things, it's never happened before. How were you supposed to deal with this?

Vash lifts his head once more to look you in the eyes. "You're not playing tricks on me right?" He asks in a broken voice. The tip of his node is red now and his eyes are puffy too. He even trembles in your touch. Why did it have to be him?

"Vash, I need to tell you something." His eyes don't show any hint of what might come next and that scares you. Anything could happen, the possibilities are endless and not all of them are good. You take a deep breath to quell your frayed nerves. It doesn't work but you try to carry on the calmest you can.

"What I'm about to tell you might make you mad or even make you think I'm crazy but I swear to you what you saw that night and what you're seeing right now is absolutely true. I did die." My hands can no longer hold onto him any more, they shake so hard I can't occupy them at all. Vash suddenly intertwines our fingers together to calm my shaking. I offer a brief smile before continuing.

"I can't die. I'm immortal." Those words are the hardest to say. Now that it's done it feels so easy but I know I might not be able to deal with causing this kind of trauma again.

Vash's hands loosen from mine. "Oh thank goodness!" I'm tackled into a hug. He has me pinned to the ground from his enormous weight and his head is tucked away against my neck. "I thought I really lost you." He lifts his head to look down at me. "You have no idea how happy I am." Tears still flow freely down his face as he gives me that stupid smile of his. It still makes my stomach do flips just looking at it.

"I could kiss you right now!" He doesn't move to do anything even though he's already announced it. He stares at me quietly in anticipation for my response. With wide eyes and a red hot face I nod. He's eager to kiss me right away as his hands find my face in no time at all. Surprisingly he's a lot more gentle than I expected. His lips are so warm and soft against mine. Quick to start but in no time to stop, Vash deepens the kiss for just a brief moment before he pulls away.

"Oh my god I have so much to tell you. I love you so much. I was so worried when it happened, gosh I wish all humans were immortal."

You chuckle at his excitement. "You can tell me all about it whenever you want. I've got all the time in the world."

"Hey. I do too." Vash beams down at you. Your eyes widen and your stomach does somersaults. "Wait, what!?"

Allowing you to sit up, Vash nervously scratches the back of his neck. "I guess I have something to tell you too."

Millions Knives

You woke up in your bed slightly out of it. The events from the day before are ever present in your mind. The little girl the doctor had been escorting everywhere had killed you. It was accidental on the Doctor's behalf but that girl had every intention of filling you with nails. Waking up the next day completely okay isn't out of the ordinary, it's happened before. It's still shocking to die and wake up completely okay it never seems to entirely become a nonchalant process.

You left your room and passed by the very doctor who watched you die. Just like every other morning he gives you a wave as you pass by which you return happily. He doesn't remember which is a good thing. No one has ever remembered you dying before, at least it's yet to come into fruition. You're glad that day hasn't come yet, you're still unsure of what to do when it does.

"Oh, Doc?" You turn to face him. He does the same. "Where's Naï?"

The doctor frowns. "He's been in his room since yesterday." That's strange, Knives doesn't need sleep, so why would he be in his room?

"Thanks." You offer a parting wave as you turn to walk off towards knives room. Knives or Naï, as he lets you call him, lets you stay here in the tower with him. He often enjoys your company throughout the night, everyone finds it bizarre that you won him over. It's obvious that mostly everyone except for the Doc and Naï hates you. Each one of them respects you in the presence of Knives but away from him, they make it known.

The reason why Naï favors you is unknown. He never speaks about it and he always acts like he wants to keep you at arms distance, but it's so much more than that. He's played songs for you on his piano and claims he made them for you himself. He makes sure your needs are met, he gives you food, a bed to sleep in, and keeps you happy. Naï protects you. There have been times where you've needed saving from someone within the building, mostly the ones who hate you. You call his name and he's by your side immediately, it's amazing. Sometimes you wake up to Naï sitting at the end of your bed watching the door, other times you find him tracing parts of your skin with his metal attachments.

You're not scared of him but everyone else is. Even as you step up to his door and lift your hand to knock, you're not scared. Just after your first knock, a scream comes from inside. Wooden shards break apart from the door as his metal tendrils snap through. You scream and drop to the floor with your arms covering your head.

Knives has always seen himself as a being who's incapable of truly caring for another, especially humans. Humans are the very thing he has worked his whole life to get rid of and yet at this moment in time he finds himself scared. The scream that had come from the other side of the door sounded like you, but how? You had died hours before, surely it was someone else.

"Go away!" He warns. His tendrils recede from the door and back inside of him where they seeth with unrest.

Seeing his blades recede you slowly rise to full height, your legs shaking underneath you. "Naï, it's me" Your hand shakes profusely as you rest it along the threshold to keep your balance.

Inside the room, Knives can feel his anger boil. "You dare impersonate them. I'll kill you!" In anger he stands from his bed and extends his tendrils once again. They break through the door, pulling back to rip it away inside the room. He steps forward, releasing his blades from the holes within the broken door to slice his visitor into pieces. For the first time, he feels time slow to a stop. His heart is pounding in his ears and his chest burns hot.

It's not possible. Humans don't have the ability to sustain injuries like the ones he saw from you and walk away unharmed. Humans definitely can't come back to life. He knows it, so why are you cowering in his doorway shaking with fear? Why can he hear you telling him to stop? Why is he scared?

Your arms cover your view again, you know it's a futile effort. He could kill you any time he pleased yet you tried to block it anyway. Surely you were already dead, you'd wake up again in your bed and return back to normal. Instead, rapid footsteps race towards you. Fear consumes you. This nightmare was really still going.

Naï screams your name as he tackles you. His strong arms scooping you into his grasp and sweep you from the floor. Gasping in surprise you open your eyes to find him looking at you in fear. Falling to his knees he releases you onto your knees.

"You died how are you still alive?" His breathing is hard and rapid as his hands raise to cup your face. He's so soft when he touches your skin like he's afraid he might break you if he presses too hard. "I didn't hurt you just now did I?" Panic fills him when you don't respond, his chest begins to ache and his eyes begin to sting.

"Please, speak. I'm so scared right now." This is the first time you've ever heard him beg. He's never sounded so scared before or alone.

"Naï." You wrap your arms around him pulling him into a hug. He can feel you shaking hard against him as small whimpers fall from your lips. He's never known a feeling stronger than the one he feels now. The way his heart tugs at the sound of your cries when he securely wraps his arms around you in fear of this all being fake.

Feeling his arms wrap around you, releases the tension in your body. Suddenly the fear you held onto at the beginning melts away and his smell calms your nerves. His breathing stutters against your neck before he lifts his head to cup your face again. Tears now soak his face and shine with the lights in the room. His hands tremble against you as they hold you.

"I'm so sorry, I scared you." Closing his eyes in disdain, he shakes his head and presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't think it was you- I thought you died."

Your heart aches as you grab his shaking wrist. "Don't worry about that Naï. I'm here. It's ok."

Opening his wet eyes he pulls his head away and grabs your hands. "How are you here? I saw the video. She killed you, I saw your body myself. I swear you... I was so scared. First Vash... But you too."

Pulling your hands from his you raise them to wipe the tears from his face. "Breathe Naï, I haven't left you. I can't even die."

His eyes grow wide as his breath hitches in this throat. "I'm immortal, Naï."

For a moment he stares at you, unsure of whether he can believe your words or not. You're living proof, touching him and talking to him right now. Even when he saw you dead that was real too he was sure of it. Was that really the truth? Could you really not die? Even with his doubt, relief filled him from top to bottom. The corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards into a smile, what he could only describe as joy warmed him.

"My flower..." He coos. "You can stay with me forever?"

You nod. "Yes. Naï. I can stay."

Breaking free of your hands, he pulls you into another hug. The only being he's felt this way towards is you and if he had to say what love is he'd tell someone about you. The joy you bring him is immeasurable to everything else in this stupid world. He'd kill an empire of people just for you and you alone. You are the ultimate being, the one that's just perfect for him.

"I don't know if this is right but I love you." He pulls away.

Heat blooms in your cheeks. Did he really say that? The most powerful being, could snap you like a twig and yet he presses a soft delicate kiss to your forehead.

"Oh Naï. I love you too."

Wolfwood

This was the first time during Wolfwood's contract that he let Vash leave his eyesight. Never before had he experienced enough grief to make him walk away from something like this. Maybe you were just the last straw. For sure he would retire after this. He had something with you and just like that it's gone. He would never feel something like that again, it's just not possible.

Sitting alone in the desert he was sure you called his name somewhere in the distance, for some reason he felt hope before it fell and shattered to the ground. You were gone, there's no reason for his mind to be playing tricks on him like this. He couldn't subject himself to this kind of torture and live on. No. But then it came again and it was closer this time. You called out to him from somewhere in the distance. You begged for him to come back, but he knew it was just a hallucination. Knowing that, he still turned around to see your figure wading through the darkness towards him.

Seeing him turn around, you jogged forward with worry. "Nick! You can't just leave like that. Do you know how worried I was. I've been searching for you since this morning. I thought something horrible happened."

He turned around and didn't say anything. If god was real he was surely laughing at him from hell right now. Just as he thought your memory had left your hands slid around his chest and you pressed against his back. He watched you lay your head on his shoulder with a sigh of relief. Was it even possible to go this crazy?

"You're dead. So stop following me." He grumbles.

Hearing those words fall from his mouth leaves you frozen against him. "You remember?" You stammer.

Suddenly he breaks free of your grasp and stands to face you. "Of course I remember you dying. Did you really have to remind me, you damn trick."

This has never happened before, it would have happened eventually for sure but why did it have to be with him?

"No one's ever remembered me dying before." You mutter.

His eyes widen and he backs away from you, anger laced on his face. Turning away he grabs his cross and settles it on his back. "Stop talking crazy!" With his back turned he begins to walk away. Your heart drops as you rush forward to stop him.

"Nick. Wait!" You trip against the sand. Gritting your teeth, you push yourself to your feet. "I can't die. I'm immortal!" Grabbing his shoulder, you force him to face you. "Feel me! I'm alive and well right in front of you! And maybe I should have said something sooner but I didn't think I'd have to. Nick please just believe me." Tears pool in your eyes. "Please."

Nick's gaze doesn't leave the sand at your feet. The crushed cigarette in his lips falls to the wayside and he sets the cross down. You died, yet you stood in front of him. He could hear you, touch you, it had to be you. How would he know otherwise? Even if it wasn't real what could it hurt to indulge himself just a little bit. So, he drops his facade and reaches forward to capture you in his arms.

You're hard, your skin is squishy and warm. You're not soaked with blood. This is real, it's real. It has to be. "I swear if this isn't real..." He trails off.

Wrapping your arms around him and sighing into his chest, you speak. "I swear it's real. Nick... I'm sorry."

Feeling his legs grow weak, Nick falls to his knees and pulls you down with him. Against you he begins to shake and his breath grows ragged. "You scared me baby." He cries.

You raise and hand to the back of his head and stroke his hair. "I'm so sorry."

[cvlutos]

"DELIVER" Pt.One

✦ | 03.27.23 |

✦ | TWST!VARIOUS X GN!READER | TWST: MAFIA AU

✦ | Violence | Sexual Themes | Smoking | Murder | Gore(?) | Blood | Tread carefully, my love.

✦ | Synopsis: | You deliver letters all across the eight districts and Ramshackles. A quite fulfilling job, until one day you and your neighbor have a horrible mix up. He's involved in something he shouldn't be and you just happened to be the last person he talked too.

[OVERVIEW]

Mafias are no joke.

They're dangerous. Violent. Some more than others. Yet it has been covered in gold, glamorized til the point of no return. Yet it isn't senseless murder, but only a few words can deem any murder from senseless to meaningful. It's best to not interact with them at all, it's best to simply know they exist and avoid them. Unless you desire end with them, or below.

Splattered drops of rain beat down on his form, shoes slippery as he turned down alleyways, shoulders and body slamming into the stone walk, nearly falling over himself to run away. His sight blinded by his wet hair, and clothes stained in dirty and blood.

He's been deemed a thief.

He can hear the loud shouts of orders from behind, the barking of dogs, and heavy footsteps that didn't stop and falter in the rain, an unmoving force that was moving faster than the boy. He continues twisted and turning, praying to any god, that he survives, he has to survive, the people have to know. They must. He stumbles out into the empty street, hands frantically wiping at his face, gasping and spitting out water, a moment to slow.

The sound of a gun rings out, ripping through the flesh of the boy, his body within moments topping over from the sheer-velocity and force, feeling the bullet rip through skin and rest painfully within his back. He blinks the tears from his eyes, as his body lands face first into the cobble stone ground.

Lifeless.

Those chasing him slow, staring the dead body be continuously beat down by the rain, and the rolling crackle of thunder, there's a hushed spread of commands, 'Grab the body. We'll show the Boss.' Voice is blank, as if almost grieving at the unnecessary loss of human life, before turning to his partner- his "friend", who easily tucked the gun away. A shark-like smile spread across his lips.

"He was wanted dead—Now he's dead." He merely shrugs, while the man with a spade symbol upon his face scowls.

"He was wanted alive. You went against the rules." The merman merely shrugs once again, making a 'blah' sound at the mention of the Queendom's rules.

A senseless murder to one, meaningful murder to another.

══════ ♡ ════════════ ♡ ══════

Death Certificate letters are the worse letters to ever have to deliver.

The road bumpy beneath your bike wheels, your leather satchel within your metal basket. You offer smiles to those you pass, those who worked in the gardens, picking and planting fresh vegetables and fruits, a group of older women and young girls, that always offer a wave and without outfail a dinner invitation, always adding 'the more the merrier' and there right, it's fun to not eat alone.

You ride your bike over twisted and bends, passing a small library where the owner watered his windowsill flowers, waving at you, and you wave back with a small smile. He's an old man, wrinkly and gray, with a single wooden leg, some say he got it during a fight with the Octavinelle Mafia, though most the others think he's lying, but a good lie never hurt no one.

The Ramschackles are diverse and lively midday, pressing on the breaks as a young man and his children blocked the road, letting his cattle walk through, leading the towards the pasture on the other side. He greets you, asking about your day, as his son climbs the old fencing shouting for the cows to go faster, and his daughter begs to ride the cows, pulling on the pants of his father. You remember the birth of the twins, nearly 6 years ago. You can't help but smile, giving each kid a piece of candy which you got from visiting Heartslabyul, which the father silently mouths a 'thank you', his wife had died in the last fall.

Once the last cow passed, your sped off, familiar with every bump and lump, though all the large rocks having been removed by a group of men, promising to make the road safer for you, and they did. Even covering up the major holes with dirt to make it even. Even amongst the mass of houses and homes, you can see the house that the certified was for, Ms. Louis, a widower, and now, a mother without her son.

Turning a sharp curve and halting in front of her home, kicking down your kickstand and climbing off your bike, yanking you satchel from the basket and fixing down your hair and clothes as you walked up the narrow stops, skipping the creaky board, as your rummaged through your bag. Before you can even knock, the door swings open, just as you grab the envelope.

"[Name], you're here." She speaks with a soft inhale, as if she ran from her kitchen to answer, she has deep eye bags, and her black hair is messy and undone. She attempts to smile, but you can tell by the shakiness of her hands, she's panicking—scared.

You pass her the envelope, yet you can't speak, far too afraid that your voice would crack, and you'd witness this woman all five stages of grief before she could open the yellow envelope. She doesn't wait til your leave, ripping off the edge immediately, you can see her green eyes begin to water, she already knows what awaits her. She tosses the packaging aside, hands running over the thick cardboard paper, fingers tracing the words of her son. She breaks down in sobs, and you hold her, feeling her frail form lean against you, arms wrapped around your shoulder, as she cries and speaks in broken sobs.

"H-he's dead! They-They kill-killed him!" She hiccups, voice cracking, you can feel her already broken heart shattering. Her crying gains the attention of others, some already sure of the fate that her son befell the moment he left the safety of the Ramschackles. Others asking to look at the certificate, as your pull away, watching them read over the piece of paper.

"Bullshit! That boy was no thief!" A neighbor, he shots angrily, holding the paper firm in his hand, as he points to Ms. Louis. "He ain't no thief!" His wife pats his arm, wiping the tears from her eyes, shaking her head at her husband's outburst. "He ain't mean it, Liz. He just hurtin""

"I know. I know." Liz let's put an exasperated laugh, shaking her head as she wipes her tears, walking down the steps and taking the paper back. "I know my Tommy was doing good," she lets out a shaky sigh, before turning back to you, "he always does good. Forgive me, it's been long since I've cried so hard. I know my boy wouldn't want be sobbin' over him like that."

"It's good to cry." You respond with a smile.

"They'r right. Tears ain't hurt nobody.” The husband speaks with a firm headnod, wagging his finger as Liz merely laughs making her way the steps to her house.

"Im in the process of finishin' that onion soup, with the chicken, if you wanna stay for lunch." The husband and wife immediately agree, the wife promising to get the newest loaf of bread to eat with it, as the husband made his way towards the house. Liz glances at you, hopefully. You feel bad, but pat your satchel.

"I got a few more letters, but save me a bite." You hop down the steps as she laughs, climbing back onto your bike and ringing the bell a few times, with a chuckle, before racing off.

The Ramschackles have always and will always be resilient.

"You had not the jurisdiction!"

Within a room of Crowley Hall, surrounding a table stands seven people. The Red-Rose Tyrant, The King of Beasts, The Deep-Sea Merchant, The Silly Sultan, The Fairest, King of the Underworld, and lastly The General. Tension is thick, palpable, you can almost taste it on yourself tongue.

Vil Schoenheit, The Fairest, was the first to speak, a clear scowl upon perfectly glossed lips, hair pulled back into a bun, clearly tired and annoyed. "Azul, we were supposed to agree,"

"And we did. Forgive me if Heartslabyul was too slow. Floyd is of course an uncontrollable force, and we wanted him dead, no?"

Azul Ashengrotto, The Merchant Of The Deep, has a faux pout, his voice drenched in fake concern, a heavy trench jacket hanging over his shoulders, eyes behind silver glasses beyond amused.

Riddle Rosehearts, The Red-rose Tyrant, stucks in a breath through his teeth, clearly angry, with the furrowing of his red brows. "You had no right. Under law, Floyd's head he be placed along my wall. Our suspect was not supposed to be killed."

"He was a thief. Isn't theft against your laws?" Leona Kingscholar, The King Of Beasts, stands directly infront of Riddle, still across the wide table, a deeply bored expression upon his face, yet his eyes seemed to glow in amusement.

"Exactly. I don't see why I'm such a target for such hate." Azul lets out a pitiful sigh, causing Riddle to slam his hands against the table, nearly knocking over various glasses, he glowers at the mafia boss of Octavinelle.

"If he fought back! You mercilessly killed him upon Heartslabyul soil! Do not deny it!"

"He had information, why give him a chance to live," Azul pushes up his glasses, a cruel grin spreading across his face, "unless you were working with him?"

Leona shakes his head, eyes fluttered close. "For shame."

"That wouldn't be a good look upon Heartslabyul either." Azul continues, before a clearing of a throat cuts him off.

Lilia Vanrouge, The General, the stand in for Diasomnia's Boss. "He had information. Information he shouldn't have. Information that resulted in his death. A shame it is..."

"It was senseless." Riddle crosses his arms, a scowl deep on his face still.

"But the information made it meaningful." Azul continues to keep his artificial smile, eyes on Lilia. The fae merely clears his throat, crossing his arms, a smile child-like grin on his face.

"We cannot go back in time to do differently. Our next step of action is to find if he could've possibly told another person. Any ideas Idia?"

Idia Shroud, The King Of The Underworld, his eyes dart across him screen before nodding. Using his fingers to spread out a image of the Ramschackles, showing the image of a tiny hovel with a rickety iron fence and old stone pathway.

"Hey, [Name]! This is absolute gold! I gotta tell ya!"

A young boy with blonde hair, and freckles walks beside you as your push your bike. He's holding a letter that you delivered to him simply moments ago. He waves it excitedly. He was a mafia fanatic, loved anything and everything about the place. To the point it had you concerned sometimes. The letter you had given him was from the Thomas Louis, or Tommy.

"Let me tell ya! If I get this to the news! Ooh Wee! Imagine! All that money." He punches the hair, and you shake your head.

"Don't go messin' with the Mafias."

"They aint gon' hurt no nobody like me." Henry has always been excitable, there's not a moment you haven't seen him without a smile that rivals the sun. "Well, I ain't gon' be a nobody for long." He voice quiets, but the smile is still there. Silence.

He opens his mouth to speak again, until a familiar chime of a bell and a holler of 'Henry' sounds loud and clear. "COMIN' MA!" He glances back at you with a grin. "Tomorrow. Imma tell you all about my big plan."

"I'm excited to hear about it." You watch him let out a happy laugh, before running off with a final wave. You spot your home in the distance, picking up your pace, as your place your bike against the metal fence.

Now, you love your home within the Ramshackle, your Lil hovel, and your small garden with your cat. You love it, truly you do. You love your neighbors, and you love the festivals that the Ramshackle holds. You love it all.

Your leather satchel hangs off your hip, filled to the brim with different letters and papers from your most recent trip. You just returned from Scarabia, having a good easy delivery for the old man that lives up the street, and after a long day, you're finally home.

You push past the old rickety iron gate, and up the stone pathway, eyes searching along for your familiar feline friend. He usually waits for you. Hopping the old creaky steps, until you stop right in front of a card. Perfectly placed with gold decor. 'For Ramschackle's Perfect. You're invited to Crowley Hall' written directly on the front. Ramshackle's Perfect was only a joke type name among the people that lived in, said Ramshackle.

Who else would call you that?

You pick up the letter, glancing around the porch, before slipping inside your home, and closing the door behind you. Crowley Hall, also known as the Grand Dinner Hall, a place where all important events took place, especially the meeting of all seven mafia leaders. Why would someone invite you with no other information?

You flip the card, there's nothing else. Your shoulders slump, you shouldn't go. Yet, you stare at the words once again. It could be important or lead to trouble for the other people of Ramshackle. Your eyes drift over to your clock. It was only 7 pm.

You had five hours.

You glance back at the thick fancy card. Five hours before 12. You feel a familiar purr, and glance down at your cat, Grim rubbing against your legs. Five hours, and well, as long as you're back before midnight. You'll be fine.

Right?

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[jals-stuff]

short washing machine headcanons...

How would the Mashle characters react if they found their s/o stuck in the washing machine? + personal ratings (I know, no one asked)

For Mash, Dot, Finn, Lemon, Lance, Rayne, Abel, Abyss, Wirth, Margarette, Carpaccio, Orter, Renatus, Ryoh, Kaldo.

Warnings: SLIGHT spoiler for Margarette? Other than that, none. ratings are purely subjective, please don't bury me alive.

Note: none of this is canon so some charas might be ooc, don’t take it too seriously! Might write for Domina, Meliadoul, Famin and Delisaster one day, idk

MASH...

He’s probably busy eating or making cream puffs when he hears you call for help. It isn’t common for you to do such a thing so he freaks out a little bit at first, but upon finding out the mess you’ve made while trying to empty the washing machine, he just stands there, completely dumbfounded. 

He’s a little dense, so it takes him a minute or two to figure out that you’re actually stuck. He’s never been in this situation before, therefore he’s sweating a little and panicking internally. “T-t-t-t-this is bad. I-I-I have to help them out.” 

Pulling on your legs would be a terrible idea, considering his strength, and he’s just completely clueless on how to get you out. 

Would 100% rip open the washing machine and leave you completely astonished as he does so, then pat your shoulder in a comforting way with a thumbs up. 

Overall very cute, even tried to comfort you after such a “traumatising” ordeal. 8/10.

DOT...

He thinks he’s the main character, we all know it. He’s probably checking himself out in the mirror and saying cool protagonist lines when he hears you call out for help, and suddenly, his main quest has changed!

He walks in on you, stuck head first in the washing machine, and much like Mash, he just looks at you for a bit before taking in the situation. Of course, he’s going to help you, but he needs to gloat about it first, you know it.

“Damn, how could you ever get out of here without my help, huh?” He’d just take on dramatic poses that he assumes are cool (they are not), and try to pull you out by himself. “Can’t be helped, huuuh?”

Despite all his efforts, he doesn’t manage to get you out and he just starts mumbling things about the washing machine being a worthy opponent before actually grabbing his phone and calling someone for help.

Dot is just being Dot, after all, but he’s full of good intentions. 5/10, at least you had a good laugh..? 

FINN...

Finn immediately interrupts his studying when he hears you call out for him, and he’s running like his own life depends on it! “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?!”

Upon seeing you stuck in there head first, he gets into panic mode! It isn’t completely horrible either and it’s just purely annoying to be stuck, but Finn sees it differently. If you called for help, then SURELY you must be terrified or in pain!

He’s going to pace around the room for a minute, wondering “How do I get them out? How do I get them out? How do I get them out?” before deciding that he’s going to take it step by step!

Gently guides you out of the washing machine without too much trouble and doesn’t judge you even once for it! He gives you a big hug afterwards because he’s convinced you were very scared (you weren’t, but he was)!

I physically cannot give Finn anything under 9/10. He is bebe.

LEMON...

She’s probably making a cute keychain for you when you call out for her. She will make you her utmost priority and cheerily trot up to you. “Yeeees~ what is it?”

You’re… stuck. She blushes dramatically and screams out something like “Kyaaah! Just like in those movies! You perv!” But then carefully inspect the position you’re in and how the hell you got stuck in there.

She’s going to try pretty much everything in her power, from pulling you out to switching your position and figuring out a way to painlessly get you out of there…

And eventually get you out! However, be warned: she will give you the side eye with a blush every time she sees you for at least a month and giggle. Who knows what’s going through her head?

Helpful, cute, and funny. 8/10 would recommend.

LANCE...

He’s reading a book when you call for him. He will automatically assume something bad happened (well, technically yes, but.. yeah) and quickly run to the laundry room. “(Y/N), what happened?!”

Looks down on you without you knowing. The display is pretty ridiculous and laughable, but he won’t make a sound. He’s just going to pat your back. “I’ll get you out of here.”

He’s a very smart guy, so he just has to look at the way you’re stuck for a few seconds before figuring out the most efficient way to help you, and it takes him very little time.

Will sigh and shake his head in disapproval, but internally scream when you pout at him for sighing because he thinks you’re adorable. He’s going to look away and clear his throat so you can’t see his blush.

Efficient and definitely nice, he won’t even tease you about it. He did look down on you though, 7/10.

RAYNE...

Where is he anyway? He’s taking his sweet time when you call for him, and when he does finally arrive, you’re met with his usual neutral voice. “Yes, I heard you calling the first time.”

You can’t tell, but when he walks in on you stuck like this, he gives you the look… but again, it’s probably his neutral face. How’d you get stuck in there anyway? You really can’t do anything by yourself, can you?

Much like Lance, he’s extremely smart, so he’s going to pull you out of there very quickly, and he sighs while doing so. How can you be so clumsy? It’s almost as if you did it on purpose.

He’s about to lecture you but notices that you’re very embarrassed and can’t even look him in the eyes, so his expression softens just a little and he decides not to say anything mean and just gives you a comforting pat on the head. “Don’t get stuck again, alright?”

Very thoughtful despite the cold look he gives you, efficient and nice. 8/10.

ABEL...

Abel rarely stays away from you for very long, so he was probably there when it happened and he saw you getting stuck. He also noticed how you couldn’t get out by yourself. “It appears you need some help.”

You’re now aware that he saw you and it’s just fully embarrassing, but he’s part of the clever ones, so you’re pretty sure he will help you out quickly. Or will he? He’s always been a little odd, even around you anyway.

It’s really curious to him, how you managed to get stuck that fast yet you just can’t get out by yourself. Will definitely ask if you did it on purpose while keeping a straight face and blank tone.

Gets you out in a longer time than he should’ve because he was busy trying to understand how you got in there in the first place. He won’t judge you for it, but he will absolutely bring it up around other people like it’s no big deal.

It’s nice that he was already there, did help, but embarrasses you in front of your friends. 6/10

ABYSS...

No matter what he’s doing when you call out for him or where he is, he will Acceleraise his way to you immediately! You are his top 1 priority!

He will however take a second to appreciate the display and chuckle a little bit to himself like “Hah… cute.” before actively looking for a solution because he can literally feel your embarrassment.

“How did you manage to do this?” He mumbles, and makes sure that you aren’t hurt or in any pain first of all. He will 100% reassure you through the whole process!

Abyss is smart and will get you out quickly and without making fun of you. Unlike Abel, he won’t mention it around anyone else, and makes a self note: needs to buy a bigger washing machine so you don’t get stuck again.

Sweet and efficient, very nice and comforting. 10/10, would get stuck again.

WIRTH...

He’s training and trying to improve his capacities when you call out for him. He’s used to you getting into such and such situations, so he just takes his time now. “What is it this time, (Y/N)?”

A bit dumbfounded when he sees the way you’ve managed to get stuck, will crackle up in laughter because as used as he is to see stuff like that with you, it always manages to surprise him.

He’s going to keep giggling as he helps you through, and you just wish you could wipe that smirk off his face but you can’t really do anything and just wait for him to help.

He even hesitates and feels like he should leave you like that, but he doesn’t want you to be upset at him, so he will get you out pretty easily and tease you about it later on. “Aww, c’mon, don’t sulk now~!”

Kind of a jerk, but in a lovable way. You need to find something to tease him back with, 7/10 though.

MARGARETTE...

They’re probably rehearsing or composing another one of these musical masterpieces to play on the piano when their beloved calls out for help. 

They’ll gently chuckle and crouch down next to you. “Oh my! How’d you get in such a situation, dear?” Their arms are a little too bulky to reach out for you from the outside, so they’ll shift into their true form and easily reach for your shoulders so they can pull you out!

Margarette is one of the smart characters and will get you out of the washing machine in no time, very gently and gracefully, making sure you don’t get hurt or anything in the process.

Will give you a hug and gentle pats on the head to comfort you. “There, there~.” They won’t tease you about it nor make fun, but will definitely chuckle a little upon remembering it.

A mother figure, very nice and gentle. Cannot wait to hear the masterpiece they were busy composing, 10/10.

CARPACCIO...

He’s experimenting on lab rats and seems very engrossed with his occupation, so it will take him a little bit of time to hear you calling out for him.

Freezes when he sees you stuck head first inside the washing machine and stares blankly without a word for way longer than necessary. He’s got a little smirk and his lower eyelids rise up in amusement.

“Heh.” is all you can hear before he makes his way towards you and inspects you while he considers leaving you like this for a bit longer because it sure as hell is funny for him. But he knows you’ll be upset and he doesn’t want you to give him the silent treatment.

If he doesn’t find a quick way to get you out, he will stab his way through the washing machine (and give you a good scare as he does that) to free you! Terrifyingly sweet, he’s just staring with a very slight smirk and you know he will tease you about it.

Mean but at least he helped you out. You got scared for your life even though you know he wouldn’t hurt you. 7/10

ORTER...

He’s reading a book and he’s sure as hell he heard you call for him. He will carefully put down his book and look for the source of the muffled cry he just heard.

Despite being quite the jerk around others, Orter is a mature man, and he isn’t going to make any snarky remarks or make fun of you. He will sigh upon seeing you squirm, crouching next to you to check the mess you’ve been making.

“Calm down. If you’ve managed to find a way in, there’s obviously a way out.” Very rational throughout the whole process and effectively gets you out of the washing machine, inspecting you afterwards to make sure you aren’t hurt.

Much like Abyss, he will make a mental note to buy a larger washing machine, and kindly help you back up without teasing you or ever bringing it up around anyone else. If you apologise, he’ll tell you it’s nonsense.

Very logical and calm, efficient and polite. 10/10.

RENATUS...

Sure as hell taking a nice nap when he hears that scream of his name that could wake up the dead. He groans and stands up to lazily make his way to the laundry room.

He whistles when he sees you stuck there and gives a snarky chuckle. “Woah, just for me?” and you can physically feel your face heat up. He’s going to get closer to check the way you’re stuck and…

Whack! He’ll give your butt a playful slap before helping you out and laughing out loud at the ridiculous situation. After all, it’s not everyday that he gets to see his s/o in such an embarrassing state!

He will however stop teasing you if he sees you get uncomfortable and wrap his arms around your waist to comfort you with a softer chuckle. He might tease you later if he ever remembers this happened.

Again, jerk but in a lovable way. You need to give him that spank back tho, 7/10.

RYOH...

Like Abyss, you are his utmost priority and he will immediately drop anything he’s doing (probably admiring his reflection in a mirror) when he hears you call out for him! 

He’ll chuckle when he sees you stuck in there, and you can tell his mind is running! But there is no time for this. If Ryoh's s/o is stuck in the washing machine, he must overcome this trial!

Will get you out in a manly way (whatever that means!) and you’ll even wonder how he did it so easily, that’s how flawless his whole performance is.

He might tease you if you’re comfortable with it, winking at you way too many times and making it pretty obvious what kind of ideas he has. If you aren’t, it’s also fine, he’s just going to cuddle you into forgetting it.

Ryoh is just a W man. There’s nothing else to say, 10/10.

KALDO...

It’s good that you called him, he was about to ruin yet another perfectly fine dish by pouring an ungodly amount of honey on top of it. He will pout in disappointment but come check what’s up.

“(Y/N), dear, are you having fun in there~?” He teases with a chuckle. “Can I join?” But upon hearing your frustrated groan, he will go into thinking mode and consider his options.

His first thought is to use honey to make it easier to pull you out, but he quickly dismisses it. He will, instead, pull on your clothes to avoid hurting your skin when you get out. 

Will get you out, but your clothes are ruined, so he’ll give you his coat so you can cover up and not be too embarrassed. He might bring it up later and pretend he forgot how embarrassing it was for you, but really, he just wants to tease you.

Playful and cute, but he did ruin that shirt you liked a lot. 7/10.

[bloggerspam]

Phantom Pains - Chapter 10 Snippet

Part of Jazz’s errands around Gotham didn’t involve the GIW at all. 

She glances behind her once more, refraining from counting the shades that follow her through the city, making sure to keep her song low but insistent, almost yearning. 

Who she is now, what she’s taken up the mantle of in place of Danny, means she cannot simply live in the Realms like she so dearly wants to. 

As a halfa, as a Phantom , she has certain responsibilities she must fulfill if she wants to be left alone. 

This is one of them. 

Gotham is a cursed city. It is hardly the first to be so, and it will never be the last. 

What makes Gotham unique is simple: its curses are alive . 

Its curses live within its people, day in and day out, seeps from the gargoyles that adorn the city buildings like crowns, embedded into the very ground it sits upon, builds itself into each and every brick of each and every damned building that plants itself within the city limits. 

Gotham is a cursed city. Its people are bewitched by the nature of it: ugly and horrible and sad and dirty. 

Its people cry every night, hurt every day, repeat the cycle of violence and greed and toxicity and still, still . 

The people love their city. 

They love their city, the good and the bad and the terrible in between, and then they never leave . 

So part of Jazz’s errands around Gotham was to take them away, to take them home . 

To the Gotham that isn’t Gotham, the Bludhaven that isn’t Bludhaven. 

To the Realms. 

Read the whole chapter here.