#who disappeared and stuff so like if this is some sort of guilt I don’t get it

[cherrysnax]

I’ve been. having dreams about people we used to know

[bestworstcase]

Thanks for your response ala Ruby & Yang, great stuff!

Idle aside, but do you have any thoughts on Yang's role as the sort of black sheep of the family by dint of Raven associations?

Cos like, Tai overtly favors Ruby, projects Raven onto Yang, resents Raven being rough up and is bad enough about reminders of her Yang feels she has to apologize for his negative reactions. Let alone his... Everything else.

Then there's Qrow who doesn't seem to interact with Yang over much at all and one of if not their most major interaction. Involves him straight up saying he thinks she's either a liar hurting people for fun or "crazy".

I recall someone I was chatting with wondering: Imagine doing everything you can to keep your family from breaking apart & being compared to the woman who left you when you were a baby?

Cos I do wonder how Yang feels about all that given she seems to downplay and or try to work around her family's issues when she can. Let alone what it says about the adults in the room.

smth i think about a lot is the way yang’s narrative about her childhood shifts between v2 to v5

’cause in v2 it’s: “it was tough. ruby was really torn up, my dad kind of shut down. it wasn’t long before i learned why…” all to provide context for this anecdote about putting ruby in a wagon and running away to find her mother. and then her conclusion is “my stubbornness should have gotten us killed that night.”

and while there is a degree here of yang framing the story to emphasize the point she wants blake to understand, it’s also very obvious in her delivery that the emotional reality of this memory for yang is “the time my stupidity and stubbornness almost got me and ruby eaten by grimm”—when she was [checks notes] like five, six years old, and regularly left at home unsupervised.

but in v5, it’s: “my mom left me. ruby’s mom left too. tai was always busy with school, and ruby couldn’t even talk yet; i had to pick up the pieces. i had to pick up the pieces. alone.”

aside from the telling slip (tai, not dad)—yang centers her own feelings and the harm this situation did to her this time. which is something she’s always felt but i don’t think she could have brought herself to say it out loud to anyone during the beacon arc, because it was pressed down under the guilt on display in burning the candle, the feeling of having been inadequate and too stubborn and too selfish and and and–

coughs quietly. “my stubbornness should have gotten us killed that night.” / “you were predictable. and… stubborn. and maybe a little boneheaded.” yang’s narrative about the wagon incident—which happened when she was five or six!—pinning the blame on the thing tai imagines to be her fatal flaw is…probably not coincidental. yang in v4 after a year of being loved by her team and supported by mentors like glynda / oobleck / port has the perspective to know that tai doesn’t know what he’s talking about; but as a small child who’d just had a terrifying near-death experience with her baby sister… 😶

it definitely had a big impact on the way yang sees herself

BUT i do read qrow's talk with yang in 3.8 pretty differently ->

because the context is: yang saw mercury attack her and struck back in self defense, then had like a dozen synthetic soldiers point guns in her face, then looked up and saw the replay footage of herself walking over to shoot a boy who was just kneeling on the ground. and some of the most powerful authority figures in the world are pushing this narrative that stress and adrenaline "clouded her judgment."

like this would make anyone doubt their sanity. bc holy shit.

yang, though...a couple weeks ago, yang after being knocked unconscious woke up and blearily saw someone she thought was her mother walk away from her and disappear in a flash of red light. she hasn't mentioned it to anyone, because it's just so bizarre—yang doesn't know about raven's semblance yet—she must have just been seeing things. right?

aside from raven (who isn't here) and yang (who believes she hallucinated), the only other person who knows that yang saw her mom on the train is qrow, because raven told him about it. he also knows that:

tai insisted on not telling yang ANYTHING about her mother, and qrow respected that up until now; so yang doesn't know about raven's semblance and can't make sense of what she saw.

salem's infiltrators are the same people who attacked amber, and qrow didn't get a good look at them because they seemingly vanished into thin air—pretty damn good chance that one of them has a semblance that manipulates what you see.

ozpin wants #2 kept secret, so yang has some very powerful people actively trying to convince her that she's crazy. ironwood is straight up gaslighting her.

qrow also—based on the first thing he says, which is "why'd you do it?"—seems to consider it a possibility that it is what it looked like but yang did have a good reason, and i actually do not think that is an outrageous thing for qrow specifically to think. because qrow was emotionally abused as a child, and he knows yang, and in the event that yang really did suddenly turn around and punch a guy who was kneeling on the ground, why would she do it?

glances at shay d. mann. well. maybe this kid has been harassing her? maybe he said something horrible or threatening to her and in the heat of the moment she just snapped? maybe "he attacked me, i saw him attack me" isn't really a lie per se, she's just scared that "he's been picking on me ever since he got here and he made a disgusting remark and i just couldn't take it anymore" won't be taken seriously? as in, he did attack her—verbally/emotionally.

it's probably worth asking, at least!

so, qrow leads with "why'd you do it?" in case there is some invisible reason justifying the apparent action. yang says "you know why." qrow goes okay, well, i only know what i saw, so you're either lying (i.e., yang had a reason she now isn't telling) or crazy (i.e., yang saw something different from reality that was very real to her).

she says "i'm not lying." qrow believes her: "crazy, got it."

at this point, he knows the most probable explanation is that one of salem's infiltrators fucked with her head. the inner circle's gaslighting doesn't sit right with him; he's not going to buck ozpin by telling her the truth outright, but he wants to make sure yang knows she isn't losing her mind. he also has all the info needed to guess that yang is actually really really scared that she might be crazy.

which is why he kicks off the wall and begins to pace around. the language he uses sounds dismissive, but his tone is mild and his body language implies "let's talk about it, let's figure this out."

leading to:

YANG: Who knows? Maybe I am. QROW: And here I thought your dark-haired friend was the emo one. YANG: I saw my mom. …I- I was in a lot of trouble, took a pretty hard hit. But when I came to, the person attacking me was gone, and I thought I saw… her. Her sword. Like the one in you and dad’s old picture. QROW: You’re not crazy, Yang. That was your mom, alright. Let me guess—she didn’t say a word, did she? YANG: How did you know that? QROW: I don't see my sister very often, but she does try to keep in touch... whenever it suits her. YANG: Wait—you mean you talk to her? That was real!? QROW: Yeah, she found me. Had a tip from my most recent assignment and wanted me to give you a message.

it's really telling that yang responds to him this way. 'cause we've seen how yang acts when she feels dismissed or belittled:

TAI: Well, "normal" is what you make of it. YANG: What is that supposed to mean? Do you want me to just pretend like nothing happened? I lost a part of me. A piece of me is gone. And it's never coming back. TAI: You're right. It's not coming back. But that doesn't have to stop you from becoming who you wanna be. You're Yang Xiao Long, my sunny little dragon. You can do whatever you put your mind to. So whenever you're ready to stop moping, and get back out there? I'll be there for you. YANG: I– I...

she freezes and shuts down! her teachers have to come to her rescue!—but when qrow goes "crazy, got it" and suggests she's being "emo," yang blurts out her big secret. i saw my mom. to me that suggests a level of trust and understanding that isn't there with tai: qrow says stuff like "okay, so you're crazy" and "here i thought your friend was the emo one" but what he means is "hey, i know something's really bugging you, tell me about it," and yang picks up what he's putting down.

it's akin to how ruby goes "did you miss me? DID YOU MISS ME??" and qrow's like "nope" and they both laugh. or the back-and-forth ribbing between him and the girls in 3.4. there's this layer of mild ironic meanness in the way qrow converses with his nieces that all of them are fluent in, and in this scene he's using that mode to signal that "crazy" is not off-limits, that it's okay to talk about openly.

crucially, there's a code-switch in the middle of the conversation: as soon as yang gets real and says "i saw my mom," qrow reflects that seriousness back to her. you're not crazy, that was your mom, she found me afterward and told me about it. it was real. you're okay. qrow's ability to do that—to shift into a more serious mode when irony isn't appropriate—is why yang can have this rapport with him that she doesn't have with tai, because tai isn't... being ironic when he says mean or dismissive things to her.

anyway, qrow passes on raven's terrible message and then kind of annotates it: "raven's got an interesting way of looking at the world that i don't particularly agree with, and she's dangerous." (which is a very diplomatic way of saying he thinks raven is full of shit. lol.) but then he connects this whole conversation about raven back to what happened after the match: "you're a tough egg, kiddo. don't let this tournament thing getcha down. you had a slip-up; sometimes bad things just happen."

implicitly: yang isn't crazy. what she saw on the train was real, a product of raven's personality and her semblance. sometimes bad things just happen. qrow believes that yang had the experience she says she did when she punched mercury. he doesn't know why she had that experience—yang doesn't either!—but he knows she isn't just "crazy." sometimes things that seem crazy are actually real.

remember what he tells the girls in 3.4? "you may be acting like huntresses, but you're not thinking like one." same thing here. he's telling yang, hey, you're not crazy, you know what you saw, but you don't know what or who caused you to see it. "you cut off the head of the king taijitu, but now the second head's calling the shots."

hint, hint.

it's subtler than the hints qrow drops for ruby in 3.12, but very much in the same vein, and yang is plenty smart enough to figure it out. she might... not have? in the couple of hours between this conversation and everything going to straight to hell, but if they'd had literally just one more day, just long enough for the wheels turning in yang's head to click together with what ruby heard from velvet about coco hallucinating during her and yatsu's 2v2 against emerald and mercury, she would've had it.

more... generally, i've never gotten the sense that qrow projects raven's flaws onto yang in the way that tai does; qrow is definitely a lot closer with ruby than yang, but i think that has less to do with favoritism on qrow's part than it does ruby thinking he's like the COOLEST uncle ever and wanting to use a scythe like he does.

'cause like, qrow isn't their parent, he doesn't live with them, he's not responsible for raising these kids like their dad is, so while he obviously did contribute to fucking them both up because: alcoholic, ultimately there just isn't the same degree of betrayal or emotional abandonment; he's not their dad. both times yang talks in detail about her childhood, it's "my mom left, ruby's mom left, tai wasn't really around, ruby couldn't even talk, i was alone"—she doesn't mention qrow. there isn't that deep hurt, that feeling that qrow is someone who left.

when he isn't drunk, yang seems to feel pretty okay around him, and qrow likewise treats her... honestly a lot better than tai does:

he stops by their dorm in v3 to hang out with both his nieces; yang is fully in sister mode—cheers for ruby to beat him until ruby loses, immediately shoves her out of the way like "my turn!! >:D"—and qrow ribs them both, takes ribbing from both of them in good humor, tells both of them "you two are gonna go far."

qrow nicknames to show affection; ruby is "pipsqueak," yang gets "firecracker."

we only see qrow's goodbye to ruby, but in 5.4 yang indicates that qrow came to talk to her before he left, too. she also has complete trust that he's keeping the promise he made to look after ruby.

yang, as noted, opens up to him about seeing her mom; she's also shocked that he's still in contact with raven and indignant that he didn't tell her sooner, but—unlike with tai—she doesn't seem surprised that qrow is willing to talk about raven in general.

which tracks with what tai says in 4.11: "despite asking him numerous times not to, i know qrow told you where you're mother's been at these days"—meaning, this was a point of contention between him and qrow. behind the scenes, while tai refused to discuss raven at all, qrow was going okay well, let me tell her then, she deserves to know. and then ultimately he just bit the bullet and told her behind tai's back. i wouldn't be surprised if it turned out qrow had been straight with yang that her dad wanted to be the one to tell her the important stuff, and he wanted to be respectful of that, but raven wasn't an off-limits topic.

general contrast between yang-tai and yang-qrow dynamics; for example both of them say almost verbatim "you've got a long way to go before you're ready for the real world" (3.4/4.4). from tai it's belittling, he's insulting her; from qrow, it's meant to encourage, it's "remember you're still new to this, you'll make mistakes, just keep learning, keep trying." (rwby does stuff like this all the time, refracting an idea in different directions to highlight contrasts between characters; ozpin's advice to ruby vs port's advice to weiss is another example.)

a lot of qrow's resentment toward raven is centered on her abandonment of yang: "did you know yang lost her arm? [...] rhetorical question, i know you know. it's just obnoxious that you'd bring up family and then carry on like your own daughter doesn't exist. [raven: "i saved her."] once. because that was your rule, right? real mom of the year material, sis." like he is PISSED on yang's behalf that raven won't even try.

my impression is that qrow—although a) often away on long missions in far away places and b) an alcoholic who sometimes got blind drunk and became a burden yang and ruby needed to take care of—when he did manage to be there, made a serious effort to connect with both of them. he ended up being closer to ruby bc she wanted to learn scythe-wielding, but i do think qrow would've trained yang too (or instead) if the girls had different combat interests.

and while his relationship with ruby has a mentorish aspect, i don't get the sense either of the girls see him as a parental figure: he wasn't part of their household, he traveled a lot, his alcoholism in combination with tai's neglect eroded the adult-child boundaries because they had to be responsible for him as often as the reverse. he's a friend who also happens to be related to them. and that's especially true for yang, because he wasn't her teacher.

(i know it's a... pretty common headcanon / fanon that qrow lived with them, but i really don't think that's supported by the text? whenever ruby or yang look back on their childhoods, the family unit is always them + tai, and qrow isolates himself out of fear that his semblance will injure those he cares about. plus ozpin sending him all over the place as the one member of team strq still active. it makes way more sense to think he lived alone, and visited when he had the chance. which is the main reason i'm WAY softer on him than on tai, 'cause qrow wasn't in a caretaker/parent role; at most he was an occasional babysitter. so while his incidents of turning up drunk on the doorstep contributed to the harm... it's like, it would absolutely have been better for them if qrow were sober, but that wouldn't have changed anything about their home life. they'd just have somewhat easier relationships with qrow.)

TO WRAP THIS BACK AROUND TO THE QUESTION, tai is unfairly judgmental and harsh with yang bc he projects his idea of her mom onto her; yang also has a better relationship with her mom's brother than she does with her dad. how do these two dynamics interact? how does yang feel about hearing from tai that she's too branwen, so to speak, while also getting along better with the branwen side of her family? how might that fuel her desire to find raven?

if her uncle treats her better than tai does, then... maybe her mom would too, if only yang could reach her?—obviously it's not rational, but like. i don't think five year old yang put her baby sister in a wagon and ran away to find her mom because she thought she would ask "why did you leave me?" and then get her answer and go home. as yang grew older and developed a more realistic perspective it shifted to "i just need to know why she left" and she projects that backward onto herself as a child, but at the time what she wanted, what she was looking for, was someone who would take care of them.

[specialagentlokitty]

Carol Danvers x reader - a lifetime

Part two:

Carol led you back to her ship, and you stood awkwardly in the middle of it.

“I refuse to work with anyone but you, so where you go I go.” You said.

“That’s fair enough, I’ve got some spare clothes if you want to change out of that jumpsuit?”

“Oh… uh.. yes I suppose so.”

Carol beamed at you a little.

“Perfect, come on.”

She led you through the ship and she showed you were all she kept all her spare clothes and she began showing you some of them.

“No, I don’t think these will be enough to hide me.”

“Hide you?”

“Do you have anything long sleeved maybe?”

“Uh…”

She threw a pair of jeans at you, and then she pulled out an old looking sweatshirt, showing it to you before she threw it.

“I’ll give you a second.”

She turned around and you quickly changed into the jeans and the sweatshirt, neatly folding up the jumpsuit and setting it on the desk.

“Thank you.”

Carol turned back around, and she looked at you, nodding her head in approval.

“We’ll sort you out some stuff later, but right now we need to go over what you know and what I know, and piece together everything.”

You followed behind her again, and she took you to the front of the ship, handing you a tablet.

“That’s what I got on my last outing. I can never seem to catch up to the dude.”

You sat down in a chair, playing the video so you could watch it.

It was of a dying star, and you watching it carefully.

“It’s smaller than any dying star I’ve seen.” Carol said.

“Because it is, that’s not a dying star, that’s the remnants of one.”

You sent the tablet down and turned to look at her.

“There’s a handful of people that can do what I do, we were raised to be soldiers, many died in battle.”

“How many of you are left?”

“Aside from myself, there is one another, mostly likely working with those who created our little group. A handful of children on my home planet are born with a gift to connect the stars, we are made to be protecters of the universe, but we were created to destroy it. Everybody has their own unique power.”

“So you know who this is?”

You shook your head.

“No, we may have our own unique powers but we gather our power the same way. I won’t know until I see one of these dying stars in person.”

“Why not?”

You sighed.

“When we take the life force of a dying star, we also leave a little bit of our own powers behind, each one has a different color combination.”

“So, what’s yours? Just so I know it’s you.”

You hummed a little, holding out your palm.

A light burned softly, a mixture of blue and purple, just swirling around the orange ball of light and it faded, leaving little trails of blue and purple that disappeared after.

“Blue and purple.”

“Nice, so at least I know I’ll be able to recognise you if you ever got lost.”

You rolled your eyes a little bit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on leaving if that’s what you’re worried about Danvers, like I said, I have I’m I interest in that. I just want to get this over and done with so I can finish what should’ve been finished years ago.”

Carol walked over to her chair and sat down, picking up the tablet you left behind.

She began to look through it, kicking her feet up on the console.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

She glanced at you.

“Why are you so determined to die?”

You looked at you hands, clenching your jaw a little.

“I am ashamed of things I have done Danvers, things I never should have done. I have lived with that guilt long enough. I believe it’s time that I face the proper punishment for those crimes.”

“You can change, it seems like you have changed. You don’t seem like a hardened criminal to me.”

You looked at her.

“People can be deceiving.”

“Maybe.”

Carol set the tablet down.

“But that doesn’t mean you deserve to die for the things you did in the past.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the things I had done.”

“We’re all stained by the memories of things we’ve done in the past, I’m no different. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I made them right, and you can too.”

“That’s what i am doing, but it changes nothing. This will still end the same way regardless.”

Carol frowned a bit more.

“So there’s no changing your mind?” She asked.

“No, there isn’t.”

She slowly nodded her head.

“So, let’s not think about that then, how about we just go figure out whatever the hell this is and figure out how to stop it.”

You nodded, gesturing to the console.

“Lead the way.”

“Buckle up, it’s a bumpy ride.”

You did the seatbelts on your chair, and she pressed some buttons.

You weren’t too interested in whatever it was she was doing, so, instead you just sat there staring out the window, watching the sky grow closer and closer.

“What was your planet like?” She asked.

“What does it matter?”

“Curious, somebody has to carry on its memory, right? The memory of your friends, family.”

You went quiet, and she glanced at you before looking away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. I suppose you would be curious.”

You held up your hand, creating a small planet, showing green land, and blue waters.

“In a way, our home was similar to yours. We had mountains and oceans, cities and deserts.”

You reached out, passing the little planet to her and she took it, spinning it around in her hand.

“We had everything we could ever need, three suns, two moons, animals that could fly that we would tame and keep as pets. We had it all…”

The planet in Carol’s had slowly vanished, leaving a small string of purple and blue.

“I never had any friends, I grew up in a home far away from anybody else, my parents were trying to hide my from the council in the hopes I wouldn’t be taken away.”

“Why?”

“They knew what the council wanted from me, they knew of my power and what it could do in the wrong side. The council killed my parents and took me, trained me to be a soldier, the commander of my team.”

She unbuckled her seat belt and you did the same thing to yours, standing up the stretch.

“We were trained that anybody, and I mean anybody who dared to get in the way of my planets growing empire would face the consequences of it, similar to what the Kree were doing. When I learned of this I confronted the council.”

Carol turned to look at you.

“I killed my own people, my own team, then I destroyed my planet to stop the war that they had created.”

Carol slowly set down the tablet she has just picked up, eyes full of sadness.

“I’m so sorry…”

“I lost everything, after that, I crash landed on Earth, I agreed to help Fury with his avengers initiative, and then the accords happened. I helped Fury design that prison block, under the command I was never to be released no matter what happened, not unless something like this happened. After so many years, upon my request, he was to have me executed.”

“Then why are you helping me? If you knew you were going to be executed?”

“Because I know despite how strong you may be, this is still my fight. I must finish this myself, not you.”

You coughed a little, holding your hand up to her, gesturing to your bag.

Carol grabbed it, walking over she handed it to you, and you reached inside, grabbing a small small box, opening the lid, you took out the small dim star, holding it in your hand.

You sat down for a moment before you put the star back in its box, and you set it aside.

“Why isn’t it as bright?”

You looked at Carol.

“It’s a dying star.”

“You took some of its life force.”

You slowly nodded.

She narrowed her eyes at you.

“We don’t have time for this Danvers, can you find the next star to vanish?”

Carol shook her head, walking over to a console and you got up, following her to look at everything she had gathered.

“No, but I can find one that vanishes unnaturally. The problem is thousands of suns and stars implode all the time, sometimes I get a mixed signal.”

“Uh.. try this, grab those wires.”

You grabbed a few things and began to connect them.

“Connect this to you console frame, be warned it’ll cause a small energy surge, it’ll create a blackout bit it should only last a few seconds. If it lasts any longer I can jumpstart your ship again with your help.”

“Right.”

Carol plugged everything in, and she nodded at you.

Grabbing the other end, you took a deep breath, forcing power through your hand and into the wires.

Her console went haywire, and everything went black.

“I thought you said it would turn back on..” she mumbled.

“Wait…”

You waited a second, and slowly the lights flickered back on with everything else.

Unplugging the wires, you gestured to the console.

Walking over, Carol had a look at everything.

“I have a whole new set of readings, what did you do?”

“When we take the life force of a star, we don’t just take it, it lives inside of us. Kind of like a storage unit, so, instead of looking for a sun or star that’s imploded, you’ll what to be looking for a surge of power exactly like mine.”

Carol looked at you, seeing a bit of blood under your nose.

Grabbing a cloth, she handed it over, gesturing to your nose and you covered it.

“Thanks. It’s been a while since I’ve used my powers, it may take time to get to the strength I need to be at.”

“Then we’ll have to work together, as a team. Right?”

You looked at her as she grinned from ear to ear.

“Not everybody would be so pleased to work with a criminal.”

“I think you’re pretty cool.”

You cracked a small smile, and she held out her hand.

“A team?”

You reached out, clasping your hand with hers.

“A team.”

Carol grinned, and you smiled, letting go of her hand and turned your attention to the console.

“This could take a while, to play it safe we can’t harness stars more than once a month. It’s too dangerous, especially with bigger stars. Which also gives us time to sort out a game plan.”

“Right, and for you to get back into fighting shape, so, know any hand to hand combat?”

You shook your head.

“Perfect, let’s learn.”

She put her fists up and you copied her.

You had no time to waste, and who knows how fast to learn, so you needed to pick up everything as fast as you possible could.

You just prayed your body would hold out until then, because at this rate, you wouldn’t last much longer than a year at most, and you had to make sure Carol never found out about it

[driedupeyeballs]

you should totally tell us some of your Jamiazu headcanons/lh

OK UH LETS GO THIS MIGHT GET KINDA ANGSTY BUT RAAAH

So Jamil was definitely initially the type to be like “oh, a crush. How do I get rid of it.”

This is both bcuz he’s a loner and also bcuz he’s never really been allowed to have anything to himself for his whole life, so something like a long term relationship seemed especially out of the question. He initially was the type to wait it out and just let the feelings disappear on their own (spoiler: they didn’t)

As for Azul, he fell for Jamil almost immediately but was slow on realizing it. It was probably some off handed comment from one of the twins that made him conscious of the fact he had this crush, but he was pretty confident that Jamil didn’t like him back so didn’t act on it.

They both have a kind of guilt about not being good enough, Jamil because he has like no free will and Azul because of all his self esteem issues. They both feel inferior but see each other as absolutely perfect, they just completely adore each other

Azul is very reassuring, and just generally good with words like compliments and whatnot. This goes past their relationship, Azul just has a supreme vocabulary which is half the reason he’s able to rope so many people into schemes. Jamil isn’t as verbal or eloquent, he generally expresses his love more through acts of service like he’s used to, but it’s different w Azul. Cuz he’s not doing stuff for him because he has to or because of work, he’s doing it because he wants to, because he wants to make Azul happy cuz he’s one of the few lights in Jamil’s life.

I think Azul confessed first and Jamil ended up being the one to ask him to be his bf, probably took Azul a long ass time before he did open up to Jamil about his feelings and obviously Jamil reciprocated long before he knew Azul liked him, but he had his whole plan to repress it until it goes away lmao. So once he knows he’s not getting rid of it he’s the one that takes the initiative to make it official.

They didn’t get together immediately, kind of had a gray area period of knowing they like each other and acting sort of coupley just not having any labels on it. (But Jamil kinda likes the labels cuz he’s possessive but not like in a toxic way)

They cook for each other like a lot… Jamil’s love language is food atp and he knows Azul struggles with it so he lets him take it at his own pace. Azul doesn’t cook a lot cuz he’s not confident in his skills despite being great at it, he starts cooking for Jamil a bit later on and wow I’m realizing this whole segment is ripped straight out of aquarium cuz that fic rearranged the chemistry of my brain

They’re even worse about sharing clothes than most couples, they both like clothes w hoods (Jamil so he can hide and Azul cuz it’s dark and confined) so they end up stealing each others hoodies every chance they get until eventually no one knows which is whos anymore… Jamil can also occasionally be seen wearing that light blue coat from Azul’s dorm uniform if it’s especially cold outside (merfolk don’t get cold as easily so Azul’s always loading off his jackets onto Jamil in the winter)

On the topic of Azul’s merform, personal headcanon that it’s long as fuck, like 30ish feet, our man could easily crush a boat lmao. That’s one of the reasons he hides it away so much, not only is he self conscious he’s also afraid of accidentally hurting someone since his tentacles kinda have minds of their own and explore by themselves when he isn’t paying attention. It took a while before Jamil saw his merform, like a WHILE. like not until after NRC type shit cuz of a plethora of reasons. Jamil was always curious even before they started dating, but despite his anticipation took it at a leisurely/slower pace for Azul cuz he didn’t wanna make him feel rushed or uncomfortable.

When Jamil finally saw Azul’s merform tho it was a very sweet scene… our snake boy practically fell in love all over again lmao

Azul has not stopped trying to get Jamil into Octavinelle, in fact he’s gotten worse. He’s always pulling out the “I still think we could rule the world together” and Jamil just says the octavinelle hat is ugly then kisses him so he’ll shut up

Jamil deliberately kept their relationship a secret from Kalim specifically for months. Both because he’s trying to disconnect their lives a bit more and also bcuz… it’s Kalim. He’d probably throw like a “congrats on getting a boyfriend” party which Jamil did not want to deal with lmao. As for Azul, the tweels were the first to know. (In my headcanon/heart Kalim is besties w the tweels so he probably found out through either them or just general word of mouth cuz Jamil was determined to keep that shit from him for as long as possible)

Azuls big on pet names, E.G “my pearl”, “angelfish” etc. Jamil just sticks to “habibi” (and “asshole”/“cephalofuck” )

Azul comes to all of Jamil’s basketball games, and Jamil tries to participate in board games sometimes but he gets a lil too competitive sometimes lmao… board games club dnd campaign is kinda real to me tho so he’d probably play in that (and queue Azul “i roll to steal Jamil’s heart <3” then rolls a 4 and everyone else pisses themselves laughing while Jamil contemplates moving to another country and never being seen again)

Azul is a massive animal lover, he’s fascinated by earth animals. Jamil has had to stop him from petting a feral raccoon on several occasions. He also shares Jamil’s fondness for snakes and parrots too, I imagine if they ever move into together they’d have plenty of pets… *clears throat* I definitely haven’t made and named… pets for them… *awkward coughing*

General Azul HC he blushes blue cuz octopi have blue blood and Jamil adores this

ANYWAY UH I’ve gone on way too long here um yes JAMIAZU!! After NRC they move into a beachfront place in the Shaftlands and they r happy and canon and I am so mentally ill over them

[avionvadion]

One, really love the drabble regarding El and Lucifer. Especially since you can tell Lucifer is struggling to stay in the moment, but Elanora is doing a pretty good job keeping him grounded in reality. Which works out in his favor because that actively lets him start writing the letter instead of giving up before he even starts.

Two, I admit it. Whilst I know the circumstances probably won't let it happen, I can totally see El joining in on Ellie and Charlie's duet during "You Didn't Know" (maybe she was dragged along so she can guilt trip the higher ups of Heaven lol) because sure, she may not be able to come up with lyrics on the spot, but I can see her being able to join in on that sort of thing. And, well, considering everything revealed at Heaven El would be justified in getting a bit angry at Sera alongside Ellie and Charlie-

Alsjslsjlaksks thank youuuu! 💕💕💕

I struggled so hard trying to write Lucifer a song. El was going to sing a song that followed the line of “trust me” but I couldn’t find one outside of FnaF and Jungle Book (oh the irony there) before scrolling through my old middle school Sound Cloud playlist and was like, wait. Holy frick. Lost Within fits Luci so well???? And thus that happened, lol.

Anyways! Sorry. I ramble.

Luci’s brain is so scrambled, he needs someone to pull him back sometimes. I imagine there ends up being a few moments when he and El are together and he starts to get so distant it actually starts to scare her, and she ends up grabbing his arm- surprising him and snapping him out of his spiraling mind- to make sure he doesn’t just… disappear.

And for sure El would go with them. Charlie will be using her to be like, “All the Sinners at the hotel have been protecting this poor, innocent soul that was wrongly summoned to Hell! She’s been helping me redeem them, one step at a time!”

Heaven is absolutely going to lose their shit because WHAT DO YOU MEAN A HUMAN WAS SUMMONED INTO HELL!??? Emily would be ecstatic while Sera is just… no longer functioning.

They probably try to convince her to stay in Heaven instead since she’s so “pure hearted” or whatever and it’d be safer for her, but El is like, “Haha sorry I promised Lucifer a thing so I gotta stay” and they’re like “LUCIFER!??? WHAT PROMISE!???” “Ah, well, he said he’d protect me if I give him advice about some stuff and I kinda gotta be in Hell for that…” and Adam just fucking loses it. “BITCH YOU’RE STAYING IN HELL FOR THAT FUCKING LOSER???” “That loser’s ex wife used to be YOUR wife, dude” “SHUT THE FUCK UP, STAY IN HELL. HOPE YOU DIE TOMORROW AND TURN INTO A DEMON SO I CAN EXTERMINATE YOU NEXT WEEK”

(Adam immediately gets smacked upside the head by Sera)

I think by that point in time, El has been in Hell for so long she can participate in songs- but she can’t burst out singing with one of her own. Also maybe her relationship with Lucifer comes into a play a bit, since he’s magic (ancient magic, specifically) and… well…

Being repeatedly exposed to magic would certainly start letting one be affected by it, right? Haha… ha… ahem. Maybe she isn’t wholly human anymore after a while. El may not have fallen or died, but giving oneself to the literal King of Hell, former archangel or not, isn’t about to let you stay Human. 👀

Anyways. Yeah. El would be pissed and would probably throw shade at the angel council that, while Hell may be full of horrors, the people there are at least honest- something Angels are supposed to be- and have gone out of their way to make her feel welcome, whereas Heaven is full of hypocrites and assholes like Adam who just make her uncomfortable.

“If Hell is forever then Heaven must be a lie! If Angels can do whatever and remain in the sky!” Ellie hops up on the table behind Emily and Charlie. “The rules are shades of gray, when you don’t do as you say! When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!”

Hell is Forever is such a freaking bop though oh my gods. You Didn’t Know a masterful reprise of it.

I’m obsessed with Loser, Baby though. It’s so swingy and jazzy and UGH. It’s so good.

[diana-bookfairchild]

@hinnymicrofic May Day 16: Picture

Ginny leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Why do you carry this around?” He asked curiously. She turned to look at what he was pointing at, and her stomach dropped. It was his picture on the Undesirable No. 1 Poster.

Ginny’s eyes stung. She thought back to the long year, first at the Burrow, then at Hogwarts, then at Auntie Muriel’s. The constant heavy despair that hurt just as much, if not more than the Cruciatus. “It was a way to keep you with me,” she said quietly. They’d promised to either try and be honest at the difficult questions or just not answer. “Even through. . . Everything.”

Harry ran his fingers over her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

It was sincere.

“No need,” she shook her head. They’d gotten the sobbing and ‘sorry’s and stories and are you sure you want to do this out of the way and she had no wish to rehash it. “It was the only picture of you I could risk by keeping it on me always. Even people who saw it and were sort of on our side just thought the breakup was that bad.”

Harry sighed, pressing against her. His voice wafted over her hair. “I’m glad it was useful in some way.”

“Trust me, it was. It was bad enough being Harry Potter’s ex-girlfriend, I really don’t want to know what would have happened otherwise.” She saw guilt pass over his face but it disappeared when she nudged him. Good. She had no patience for stuff like that. “I’m guessing the Slytherins gossiped about us with their families.”

At that, he grinned faintly. “Yeah, I was counting on that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ron and I staged this huge fight right outside the Slytherin compartments,” he explained, rubbing his finger over her knuckles. She had been surprised at how tactile he was. He was usually stiff with all physical interactions except those with Ron and Hermione, and sometimes even those. But she loved it. “He lambasted me for breaking up with you. I assumed this bored tone and said some. . . Really unflattering things about you.” He peered down at her anxiously.

“Come on, I’m not about to hit you for trying to protect me,” she rolled her eyes.

“You did before,” he smirked.

“That was different. I am not a damsel in distress, and definitely not yours, Potter.” She smirked back at him.

Harry laughed throatily and kissed her, thumbing her cheekbone. “Oh, I know,” he said as they separated, holding hands. “You certainly aren’t. It’s just. . . It’s hard. I can’t curb the urge to protect those I love. If I could lock all of you in a room and never let you out, I would.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the ‘all of you’. She kept her tone light, though. “Well, I suppose I’m the sucker who fell in love with you, and your saving people thing is part of you.”

“I see you’ve been talking to Hermione about me,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Speaking of Hermione, why is her picture on the Undesirable poster so much better than mine?”

“Dear Merlin. Get over yourself, Potter.”

“No, really, Weasley. Where did they even get this picture? I don’t recognize it. I look terrible.”

Ginny giggled. “It looks better than the one I found with a moustache and beard drawn on it.”

Harry didn’t look like he was faking his look of horror.  

A sudden idea occurred to her, and she was stifling laughter. “If I carried a picture of you around, what do you think Voldemort did?”

“Voldemort?”

“He was obsessed with you,” Ginny said gleefully. “Maybe he drew devil horns and his own moustaches and beard on it—”

“Ginny, no.”

“Maybe he threw darts at it.”

“Oh my God. Please stop.”

“I bet you’d find one picture of you with needles stuck through it in his evil lair.”

“Suddenly I’m really scared of next week’s inspection of Malfoy Manor,” Harry said dryly.

“Not as scared as you were last year?” She said, half joking, half serious. “With you by my side?” He kissed her cheek. “Never."

[amandaoftherosemire]

Second Sight -- Part Eighteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,718

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Language, gambling

Summary: Loki takes you on a long overdue honeymoon on a pleasure planet. You can’t take your eyes off the spectacle while Loki can’t take his eyes off you. Neither of you notice the eyes on you both.

A/N: Since I started this fic years ago, I am going to be rebuilding my taglist with this chapter. If anyone would like to be tagged in future updates, or if you’re tagged in this and want to continue to be, please drop me an ask or a message to let me know. If you don’t want to be tagged, don’t do anything. I’m trying to get a gauge of who, if anyone, is still reading this. I haven’t got any feedback in a while, and the notes on this would offend me if I allowed myself to be offended by numbers, and I’m not sure updating this fic is the best use of my time if no one is reading it.

To be fair, I get it. I’m not even mad. 😉 Loki is doing fun stuff in the series and people are reading those fics, not novel length fics from the Infinity Saga. I don’t intend this to be a guilt trip as much as an attempt to gather information. I have multiple projects in progress (thank you, ADHD), including some original fiction, and as much as I hate to leave a fic unfinished, I also recognize the possibility I’m in the middle of a sunk cost fallacy. Know when to fold ‘em, and all that. Thanks!

<<Part Seventeen here

Second Sight Part Eighteen

Once through the doors and under a short entryway, the room opened into a spectacle that made the lights of the Vegas Strip look understated by comparison. The walls curved away from you to both your left and right, the room an enormous circle made up of multiple tiers. At your feet, a sea of creamy gold-veined stone under a high, high domed ceiling. You stood stunned for a moment, overwhelmed by the size and splendor of everything around you.

You kept your hand tight around Loki’s arm as he escorted you to the middle of the room, the stone stepping gently into a sunken center beneath the soaring ceiling. The top of the dome was three stories above you, where a bright golden light served as the main source of illumination. The golden globe was one of two hung in the sky of an elaborate sea scape mural covering the zenith of the dome.

The other globe was the tumultuous center of a whirling display. Upon closer inspection, the objects that swarmed in streaming patterns in and out of the center of the second sun were some sort of fluttering creature, akin to a butterfly. They fluttered around a core of flapping wings, soaring in swooping streams and waves. However they were incentivized to do so, they followed tight patterns, coalescing into tight clumps before exploding outward like a living pyrotechnic display. Their vibrant colors sent rainbow light scattering and shimmering over the people below.

From that globe came a light snowstorm of some feathery white substance. Though they spun and floated in the air, once they landed on a surface, the tiny flakes disappeared like cotton candy in water. The shimmering light and the light white flurry created a dreamy atmosphere that lifted you up and made you feel euphoric. You looked down at the flakes seeming to seep into your skin.

"A mild intoxicant, my love," Loki said when he saw you examining the little fluffy flecks. He spoke in your ear to be heard over the roar of the crowd and the clangs and bells and beeps and shouts from the tables around you. "As long as you remember that luck is ephemeral, you should be fine."

You grinned at him, taking the warning as it was meant and deliberately tamping down the oddly lucky feeling surging inside you that urged you to take whatever chance looked the most lucrative. To distract yourself, you went back to studying your surroundings, stunned by the pageantry. Loki had shown you opulent when he'd first dragged you into his personal dimensional pocket, but this was lavish walking the edge of gaudy.

Standing in the center of the room, on the burnished old gold carpet so rich and soft it seemed like velvet clover beneath your boots, you examined the enormous pillars of creamy stone that matched the floor. Too big around to fit your arms, they were adorned with more of the fluttering creatures. These glowed golden, their shimmering wings sending the light scattering and making the air itself seem to sparkle.

You were surrounded on all sides by people of all shapes, sizes, colors, limbs, etc. As you took in the spectacular, you tried to come to grips with your boggled mind. A veritable army of beautifully built, violet-skinned, black-haired beauties wearing short black shorts and matching crop tops with tank sleeves wove in and out amongst the tables. As much muscle was on display as possible and each person had plenty of muscle to display. The matching uniforms went with the trays of glasses full of brightly colored liquids, some fizzing, some sparking, some smoking. A frothy pink something with bright green leaves as a garnish caught your eye and sent one of those lucky rushes through you. Once you'd gotten your bearings, you were going to find out what it was and whether it would kill you. The white flakes urged you to go for it.

Looking up, all around you the walls were hung with silk in vibrant jewel tones, contrasting with the old gold of the floors and walls. Each floor above you had its own balcony, like a dress circle in a theatre, but wider and full of more games and people. The entryway you'd come out from under had been the second floor, open to the rest of the room so that each floor could see the dome and its colorful explosions. You wondered what differentiated each floor, though it seemed the main difference was the first floor was much louder than the others.

In every direction you could see boisterous crowds surrounding tables of dice, or spinning wheels and flashing lights, or in one section, a pit of what appeared to be fighting insects, the scantily clad croupier taking bets on which bestingered, hissing monster would kill the other. You deliberately turned away from that part of the casino.

Loki noticed the rejection on your face. "Are you not interested in wagering, my love?" He asked the question in silky tones, hoping that whatever had displeased you could be ignored long enough for him to dazzle you with the delights he'd already planned.

You wrinkled your nose and smiled at him, your back firmly to the hissing insects. You’d concluded that it was best not to see how that particular game ended. Your lips twisted wryly, but the spectacle drew your eyes in a thousand directions at once. "I didn't expect to come down on the side of the terror scorpions." You spoke the words with a wry twist to your lips and your voice, as surprised as anyone to find it to be true. "And I never gamble on games when I don’t know the rules."

Loki glanced at the fighting pits behind you, then laughed along with you. "Never?" He asked it with a skeptical eyebrow raised as he turned to offer you his arm. When you took it with an indulgent eye roll, he led you away from the bugs and toward a table surrounded by a crowd of cheering patrons.

"You are the very rare exception."

Loki lifted your hand from where it rested on his arm and kissed the back lavishly, enjoying you, appreciating your dedication to the evening, no matter the size of the stingers that tried to get in the way. The pits hadn't been here the last time he had, or he might have taken you to a different casino, considering your sensibilities. He didn't understand it, but you had a moral difficulty with blood sports that he would not have forced you to ignore for his sake if he could have helped it. You overlooked so much on his behalf, he hated to add even one more.

"Exactly as I prefer it," he tossed back as he drew you over to a large round fountain, elaborate in both the sprays of water that flashed and sparkled in the golden light, but also in the carving of the statues that sat atop the center plinth. Your eyes widened at the sculpture, both the subject matter and the detail. Like a Bernini, the creatures were so finely carved that the stone flesh seemed to give underneath gripping fingers in an erotic tangle of limbs. 

"I know, dear," you retorted absently, your eyes wide as you watched the lavender water froth and sparkle as golden bubbles popped and fizzed beneath the provocative sculpture. The beauty here was unreasonable, so much so that there were moments you felt dazed by it. Your eyes swept the room, taking in the living light show, the crowded tables, the array of people, and your heart sped until it was pounding and pounding. This wasn't a new experience, a unique kind of panic attack that you experienced at Loki's side. You never knew if your heart was racing in fear or excitement, but his wicked smile always drew you on regardless.

He'd turned that wicked smile on you when he purred, his voice a temptation, "Come, throw some dice." He'd seen your eyes widening and your lips parting and knew the things he'd shared with you had overcome your stunning control. Nothing made him happier than watching your breath speed in response to the wonders he gave to you. "Since it’s a special occasion."

You smiled at him, grateful to have him to focus on. You concentrated on that mischievous grin and took slow, deep breaths. Knowing you were hand in hand with someone like Loki helped you stay calm when the universe was almost too much. Not only was he dangerous under all circumstances, but you also knew how highly he valued you, how careful he really was with you. Aside from the kind of danger that goes hand in hand with adventure, you knew you were safer at his side on an unfamiliar planet than you were when walking alone in an unfamiliar neighborhood in New York.

"Something tells me I shouldn’t give into that line of reasoning," you smirked at him, sliding your arm around his waist and pulling yourself in to burrow into his throat, "or everything will become a ‘special occasion’."

Loki laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to squeeze you, exuberant affection bursting out of him like light. You smiled into his face, the sight of his happiness making your throat ache in joy. You loved making him happy like this, especially as so much melancholy had hung on him since you'd met. Grief had dogged his steps for a long time; seeing him look so glad and free made you feel like your heart was full and overflowing.

"Let me tempt you, darling." His joyous face beamed into yours as he enticed you. "Let me prove I can still persuade you to give in to your vices." His head dipped to yours and he nuzzled your mouth, his teeth scraping your bottom lip and making you moan a little, low in your throat. The sound shot straight to his groin, his body impatient for the last item on the evening's schedule. He fought his lust for you, but his hand slid down your spine to your tailbone, pressing you closer to his body the whole way down. "You know how it thrills me," he whispered against your mouth before taking your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

"I do, yes." You whispered the words back as soon as your lips were free again. Loki was in a surprising mood, one you were only vaguely familiar with. He seemed reckless, but young and wild at the same time. You wondered if he realized how stifling he found impersonating his father, if he knew how much happier he was when he was out in the universe, causing trouble. You gave in, happy to allow him to corrupt you, if only because it pleased him so much.

"If it will truly make you happy to talk me into gambling with your money, I will try." You looked around, and decided on a table with rolling dice, hoping the rules would be at least somewhat similar to any dice games from Earth. Loki gave you a wicked and wholly satisfied smile as he offered you several of the gold wafers that appeared to be the currency here. Taking his hand, you walked towards the table with the most exuberant cheering. "What are we doing here?" You directed the question at Loki as you watched the creature at the end of the table take three dice into a hook and toss them down to the other end of the table. "It kinda looks like craps, except are those eight-sided dice?"

Loki was watching you, not the table. He loved that he could see you trying to figure out the game, though the rules were opaque and the symbols incomprehensible to you. You watched the gameplay, seeking the pattern that would tell you enough about how the game was played for you to participate. "Two are eight-sided," he replied, the joy of having you with him in his world making his heart ache, "the third is twelve." You looked at him when you heard the exhilaration in his tone, a soft smile lifting the corner of your mouth, tempting him. "Why do you ask?"

You could see only happiness and excitement sparkling in his smile, so you shrugged and turned your gaze back to the gaming table in front of you. "I'm figuring the odds." Your eyes narrowed as you answered absently. Because your attention was entirely on the table, you gasped in surprise when Loki pulled you close to wrap his arms around you from behind, burying his face in the curve of your throat. He took your skin gently between his teeth and bit down, goaded past endurance by the look of concentration on your face.

"And you don't know how it excites me," he murmured against your skin, his lips soothing the slight prickle of pain his teeth had left behind. Truthfully, he hadn't known how you would excite him, how having you slip into his world like you belonged there would have him already quivering for you. Only his determination to drive you both to the brink of madness before he gave in prevented him from finding somewhere private to slake this thirst.

Though he couldn't see the smile on your face, the sultry expression came through loud and clear in both the way you pressed back against him, your ass brushing the erection straining at leather behind you, and in your amused voice. "I have an idea," you murmured as you snuggled back into his embrace, tilting your head to give him easier access to your throat.

"Excite me more," he growled before taking advantage of that access to close his teeth around the cord of muscle where your neck met your shoulder. Between his arms tight around you and your own motion to press firmly against his body, the iron bar of his cock snugged against you and taunted you with the reminder of his ever-present desire for you.

Loki's appreciation for the oddest things about you was a source of never-ending delight, something that made you feel exceptional. He loved things about you that you'd always assumed to be normal, or even mediocre, and you could not think of yourself as ordinary when he disagreed, and he so clearly was none of those things.

You watched as a large humanoid placed a stack of gold wafers on one of the pictographs on the table before taking the three dice in his giant hand. "As far as I can tell," you replied as the man tossed the dice down to the other end of the table, snarling when none of the upright pictures on the dice matched those under his wager, "they're trying to match certain combinations, based on their likelihoods." Your voice was shaking slightly, giving away both your laughter at Loki’s playful mood and your arousal at his touch.

"Delectable." Loki's breath was coming faster as he started placing light, brushing kisses over your shoulder, up your neck, smiling against your skin. He breathed into your ear as he fought his own cravings, trying to keep his hands somewhat under control. As you were wearing your ring, the people flowing around you didn't even notice Loki wrapped around his dark bride. He knew they wouldn't notice if he brought you to a climax in the middle of the casino floor. That knowledge was a constant temptation, one he'd never imagined when he'd been making the rings, but thanks to his love for violating rules and boundaries, had turned out to be an unexpected advantage.

"Loki…" Your voice was a warning as his arms had loosened so that he could run his hands over the sides of your body, up from your hips to directly beneath your breasts, pausing there an edgy moment before running back down. The firmness of his hands against you, like he was holding himself in careful check, sent a thrill running through you. His strength combined with his wildness sometimes made your heart race in something closer to anxiety than desire, but the tinge of fear only heightened the experience. A wild part of you loved him because he was dangerous, not in spite of it.

Loki swore, quietly and viciously, as his hands stilled on your hips, his grip tight enough to almost be painful, but carefully restrained. You could feel how he wanted you in the way he held you, but you also felt him deliberately rein himself in. His voice calm, but with an undercurrent of threat that made you shudder in desire, he removed his mouth from your skin and returned to the subject at hand. “That is the most basic of the wagering, yes."

You took a deep breath, aware that Loki was in a more dangerous mood than normal. He taunted and tempted you into madness on a regular day. How much higher would you soar at his suggestion? What depths would you plumb with his encouragement? In this mood, what outrageous deeds would you commit at his side, at his provocation? What wouldn't you risk when he was the prize?

You'd already done far more shocking things with Loki than gambling on dice. You could only be grateful that the evening's entertainments had started with something relatively ordinary. “And how much you win is based on how much and when you bet. But more important is when.”

Loki felt like he couldn't bear to not be touching you, and so he hadn't removed his hands from your hips. At your words, his hands tightened again as he leashed himself against the rising desire. There were moments it frightened him, what he'd done for you, what he would do. You had so much power over him, it could be terrifying. You'd inspired him to such heights, brought him to such lows, it was insufferable how much more he'd become in your hands. The only way he could bear it was that you were equally under his spell. You never used that power over him for anything but pleasure.

He may have been caught, trapped in the endless pools of fey eyes, but you were caught in his gravity, tidal locked with those compelling eyes on him and only him. He was content, or as content as he was capable.

Loki couldn't help himself; he leaned forward and closed his teeth around the nape of your neck. He was finally playing on the edges of the galaxy with you. Dazzling you, thrilling you, overwhelming you, was the priority. "You catch on fast, love," he murmured against your skin, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the back of your shoulders as his hands slowly climbed back up your sides. When you pressed back against him and rubbed yourself against him, he growled, "I could eat you alive."

Your face spread in a smile you hadn't had before you met Loki, something wicked and potent. Knowing that something about this trip had him even more unruly than usual, and that unruliness was expressing itself in lust, gave you a feeling of immense power. You grabbed one of the hands about to slide up to cup your breasts and stepped forward, out of Loki's arms.

"Then I'll start there," you said with a cheeky glance back at Loki, whose pale skin was flushed with desire, eyes glittering and smile wide with sexy menace. You felt cold once your body was no longer in contact with his, but you used your hand in his to pull him with you toward the gaming table. You'd been together long enough that you could see that he was planning to make you pay for teasing him. You'd been teasing him long enough that you’d known that when you’d started.

Well used to this part now, thanks to your sojourns on Earth, you tapped on the arm of one of the beings surrounding the table. The man was seven feet if he was an inch, and covered head to toe in what looked like very uncomfortable gray metal armor, giant pauldrons completing the space marine vibe. When you touched him and murmured, "Excuse me," he jumped a foot in the air and shrieked like a little girl.

Too used to this response to your sudden appearance, you smiled blandly at the giant gaping down at you and asked politely, "May I squeeze in here?"

You didn't know it, but Loki had tweaked the spell in your rings to make your appearance more potent and thus more intimidating. Though he didn't want you to draw undue attention, he still wanted the universe at large to know at a glance how significant you were, even if they couldn't put their finger on why.

You leaned forward and waved to get the attention of the croupier so that he would notice your bet as well. His eyes widened, but he was far better than the giant at your side at hiding his astonishment, years of customer service callousing his ability to feel surprise. After a beat, he shouted, "Got a new player!"

This time you glanced around in surprise when, with a glance from the croupier, the man next to you offered you the dice. You took the dice and looked up in dismay when the croupier then shouted, "Place your bet!"

"I've actually never played before," you said to the shockingly gentle looking man, for all his size and armor. He grinned, revealing a full set of shining silver teeth.

"You'll want to pick a Trieklah,” he replied, pointing at the trios of pictographs matching those on the dice. The giant had a surprisingly warm baritone; if he could carry a tune, he'd have made a fortune on Earth giving Hozier a run for his money. "That's the biggest payout, but the hardest to hit."

"One for each die?" You noticed everyone else around the table betting in threes and wanted to make sure that you needed to do the same. The silver-toothed giant smiled and nodded in encouragement. You played with the stack of wafers in your hands, clicking them together like thin dominoes. You quickly decided on a trio, but as you leaned forward, your necklace swung forward, and a glint of colored light reflected off the center opal. That shimmer directed your eye to a set of three that somehow reminded you of Loki. On impulse, you changed direction and placed your bet on the other rectangle. "Let's see if luck is on my side today."

The giant looked at you, his surprisingly light blue eyes in dark skin piercing. Loki's illusion was complete, and Odof the Merc hadn't survived all these years by being naïve. In addition to Loki’s spells, there was an aura about you that you couldn't hide, an aura that had become more and more apparent the more time you spent with Loki and in the wider universe. Even Loki's illusions couldn't hide what you'd become. "You got lucky eyes," he concluded and added his own bet to yours.

Loki, meanwhile, was standing back, watching you charm a dangerous mercenary with ease, a wide smile on his face. There was something deeply gratifying about the way you moved through the galaxy, with the same smooth ease with which you moved through your own world. He felt validated in his view of your extraordinary gifts, enjoyed seeing the way you gently dominated everything around you.

You cocked your arm back and sent the dice tumbling across the walled table. Luck was with you and the dice rolled onto what looked like purple baize on the three sides you'd picked. With a shocked cheer, you turned and hugged your new friend in the kind of exuberance that comes from an unexpected win.

The sheer, unmitigated pleasure on the giant's face when your arms closed swiftly and awkwardly around his bulky armor made Loki smile in an unfamiliar way. The feeling was sheer, uncomplicated delight, and he wondered that he should so enjoy watching another man go to mush over you. Something about the fierce warrior looking soft and bashful as you grinned and thanked him made Loki happy, though he didn't really understand why.

You collected your winnings, turning your head to laugh back at Loki in delight as you stuffed wafers into your pockets. He grinned wildly back at you, and if the croupier hadn't snagged your attention, you'd have been stunned to see the love he had for you naked on his face.

You turned back and threw three gold wafers on another set of three. Since you'd won last time, you evidently were supposed to retain the dice and roll again, like craps, so you cocked your arm back and sent the dice flying again. This time, however, only one of the dice matched any of the symbols that you'd picked on the board. Two of your wafers were collected by the croupier, but the third was handed back to you to pick another set. This time, the giant explained, you had to pick one that had the symbol that already matched yours, but you would bet again and reroll the remaining two dice.

You grabbed two more wafers and placed your bet on another set that appealed to you, but none of the rectangles of symbols grabbed you as the first wager had. You weren't feeling it, and apparently that showed on your face. The friendly giant set his bet on a different trio with an apologetic look. "No offense, girlie, but I don't think you got it this time."

You rolled again, then cursed when neither of your dice matched your bet. The croupier gave back an eight-sided die and you sent it tumbling, though you could only break even now. As you tossed the last die, you grinned wryly at your new friend and replied, "No offense taken, boyo. I did not have it."

Odof had never had a little thing like you sass him like this. His armor told the world who he was and what he did for a living. Most people gave him a wide berth, but here you were, seemingly harmless, but with the confidence of a goddess. He threw his head back and laughed out loud, certain you had hidden talents.

Boyo, he thought, tickled pink both by the familiarity and the sparkling smile you'd sent him as you'd said it. "I like you!" He shouted the words, then stopped the croupier when he started to pass the dice to the person to your left. "Let her roll again. The luck's back on her." He winked at you, and you grinned back, delighted with your social success in the wider universe. "Bet again, I'll wager with you."

The lady to your left was a shocking gold, with an oddly superior aura, but she handed the dice to you with a smile. Absently toying with your necklace, another flash of light drew your eye to a rectangle that held script-like symbols. They reminded you of the sigils that surrounded the portal from your linen closet to Loki's pocket dimension. You put nine wafers down in a stack and grinned recklessly at the giant.

The giant gave another boisterous roaring laugh, then threw down a matching stack of gold. As you looked back, you caught Loki's eye and winked, grinning cheekily. Loki thought you breathtaking, playing on the edge of chance and making friends with dangerous mercenaries. He saw more clearly than ever why he'd never been able to permanently walk away from you. He'd found his match in you, his mate, and it was the greatest treasure he'd ever found. Staying with you had become his highest priority. His revenge against his father and the petty usurpation of the throne had become his raison d'etre when his mother died. At some point since he'd met you, holding fast to you had overcome that focus, that need.

He could bear to have all the glories of Asgard torn away, as long as he was still at your side when it was over.

You turned back to the table, unaware of the fireworks of emotion that were going off inside of Loki, to match the bursting explosions of color above his head. You took a deep breath, shook your fist and cocked your arm, sending the dice tumbling over the table.

The table erupted into cheers, delighted and surprised to find that you'd done it again, you'd pulled off another Trieklah. Loki came over, a bag in his hand that he'd seemed to pull from nothing. Once you'd piled your winnings into the bag, a considerable amount after two rare hits of luck, you thanked the lady who'd given you the dice. She was delighted, as she'd hit on a side bet and won a decent amount herself.

Turning to the giant, you patted his arm and smiled warmly up into his oddly sweet face. "Thank you for your help!"

He smiled back and patted your hand on his arm, his hand a bear paw in comparison to yours. "My pleasure, little lady."

You enjoyed being called little, and lady, and your smile took on a sweetness you hadn't intended, but the giant found utterly beguiling. If you hadn't had an Asgardian escort at your side, he might have suggested you hang around, let him get to know you better. His face fell, however, at your next words. "Break a leg, friend."

His expression surprised you. Someone who looked like him seemed to be the sort who would enjoy a more violent idiom. You smiled reassuringly and explained, "That's how we wish someone good fortune on my world."

The giant's face relaxed, and he smiled again, thinking this was proof that you were more dangerous than you appeared. "You must live on a brutal world."

With one more squeeze to his forearm, you laughed up at him. Loki had taken your hand when you'd turned to him to walk away from the table and was leading you away as you tossed back. "You have no idea."

Loki drew you away from the table, grinning at your good luck and the warm happiness that animated you. Bubbling over with excitement, you smugly handed back the stake he'd fronted you. He tried to refuse, but you insisted, then taunted him that you didn't even need him now, because you could buy your own drinks.

The two of you explored the rest of the building, but you refused to play any of the other games, certain your luck had run out and uninterested in giving any of your money back to the casino now that you had it in your possession. Loki thought you were adorable, if a bit perverse, but he remained indulgent, especially when you told him you wanted to remember the night as nothing but fun and triumph.

Once he'd shown you the indulgence of greed, the two of you left the casino and wandered freely through the streets. Loki knew where he was going, however, and pulled you through a door in a side street into a small serving room. The two of you sat at one of the few tables beside the long bar and proceeded to eat the best food you'd ever tasted in your life. You couldn't explain why it was so much better than anything you'd had before, but you didn't question it. The why was unimportant when you were plowing through a pastry the likes of which you'd never had before. Perfectly flaky, the filling was creamy and fruity and smooth, and you’d swear your taste buds were in overdrive. By the time you were done, you were in love with Witter, the lovely purple man who'd made and personally served you the dessert that you were crazy about.

Loki pulled you away from the laughing Witter, telling him to ignore you, that you couldn't marry him because you were already married, dammit. Once you were in the alley, he pulled you into a dark alcove to kiss you, to remind you that he could give you so much more than pastry, no matter how delicious. His body shielding yours, he'd taken advantage of your skirt to bring you to a quick but shuddering climax with his fingers. His eyes burned as he watched you put yourself back together and he sucked your flavor from his fingertips. Knowing he had so much more planned for you, instead of easing the clenching in your core, the orgasm had only whetted your appetite for more.

Loki led you on into the night, you'd assumed to a room where he could unleash the sexual tension that had been building all evening. When he pulled you into what looked like a dive bar, you looked around in surprise and confusion. Accompanying Loki had taught you it was best to go along with him, as he usually had a reason for what he did, even if his reason was overemotional or hyperbolic. With a cocky smile, you shrugged and asked what the frothy pink thing was called and whether anything in it would kill you before swaggering up to the bar to get the tentacled bartender's attention.

Loki wanted you like air, was driving himself mad by waiting to have you alone. You'd blossomed in his life, at his side, as he'd known you would. Still, he’d never known how you’d shine, or how he’d feel about it.

As you'd walked away from the gaming table, however, Odof the Merc had turned back to the game, but for some reason he was seeing flashes of light that he wasn't used to. Like midges on the edges of his vision, the little flashes would draw his eye to particular Trieklahs. When he followed the flashes, his luck seemed better than when he didn't, so he kept following them. When he decided to quit, an hour later, he was up over five thousand credits and was ready to spend it on sex and sauce. Odof was thinking and appreciating that you must have thrown him some luck, whether you intended to or not and he was not certain either way, as he stumbled into the casino's biggest bar, looking for some companionship.

Four guards, each his size and armed, prepared to deal with him if he wanted to make trouble, surrounded him before he made it to the bar. Odof sighed. Luck never stuck around for long.

Part Nineteen here>>

Taglist (open):

@hellzzzbelle @targaryenvampireslayer @cheekygeek05 @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @thedistractedagglomeration

[invisiblegarters]

The End of the World With You Ep 3

For some reason Ritsu needing help with corpse disposal is still cracking me up. Why is it so funny? 

Of course he gave the drug to someone else. What a jerk, but kind of what I expect from him at this point, tbh. Whether the other person wanted to die is immaterial, really, I bet Ritsu just wanted to see if it worked. 

I like that Masumi called Ritsu out as a walking stereotype. He kind of is. Kind of was in college, too, so I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. 

And THANK YOU Masumi for mentioning that that is a kid and finding that a bit beyond the pale. Wanting to die or not, come on, Ritsu. For once be the adult in the room. 

Oh, but turns out dead boy is less dead than he seems, so all’s well and good, right (five bucks says Ritsu’s annoyed his pill didn’t work)?

Wait, so Ritsu said he was gonna take a pill too and then didn’t? Oooh, what a dick. This dude is so low, man. This actually bothers me more than the stuff he did in the college years. 

Damn, poor kid. I can’t always remember how overwhelming everything seems when you’re a teenager but sometimes I can. And sure, Masumi isn’t wrong that the bully will eventually be gone (well, you know if the world wasn’t ending in nine days, although I guess he’s gonna disappear in a big way along with everyone else now), he’ll make new friends, and while it’s sad that his idol is dead it doesn’t really impact his life at all, it also doesn’t help that in the moment dude feels like he has nothing to hold on to. 

Still doesn’t mean you give him a freaking suicide pill, Ritsu. 

This pep talk would be much sweeter if not for the meteor. I keep waiting for someone to point that out. 

Come on Ritsu we all know it’s gonna be you, I think, right before Ritsu does the thing. Congrats, kiddo, your new lease on life is gonna last for nine days. 

And we have a name now. Yuma. Good. 

Oh hey, a little bit of remorse from Ritsu finally. I don’t think he’ll ever expressly acknowledge it, but I do think that his desire to get Yuma home stems from guilt.

“During our week alive I promise I won’t have sex with anyone but you.” 

That shouldn’t be funny. Why is it funny? This dude really can’t just quit while he’s only five feet under, can he? Has to shovel for that sixth foot. 

I think that the scariest part for me during something like this would be watching the breakdown of all the things I take for granted. I don’t know if ten days would really be enough for the kind of insanity you get in most apocalyptic fiction. but who knows? Maybe it’d just speed up the process. 

The end made me a little sad for Masumi. He never did really get over that time, did he? He just ignored it until it sort of scabbed over and left it as good. I still don’t entirely blame Ritsu for his trauma around relationships - Masumi was told what he was like, and I get that he wasn’t thinking straight about it because love but also expecting someone like that to change only ever ends in heartbreak - but I can understand exactly how what happened (and his refusal to deal with it) kept him from really moving on. 

I’m weirdly digging this drama. 

[meggtheegg]

🔥 I think it was for whole medias but I want your take on Bucky Barnes specifically pls

Ohhhh man the can of worms you have just opened (I adore you)

So I have a few that I’d like to share…

I’m not sure if this is a super hot take, but I love the direction the current comic run is taking him. Both in a joking “he’s in his villain era lol” way but also legitimately in a “he’s finally turning the tables and taking control of his destiny, rather than sitting and wallowing in guilt and grief over things outside of his control” way. He was given a direct, specific, singular cause of pretty much all his trauma, and instead of being made to take the high road, he just…killed the guy and took his place to dismantle his entire corrupt system, so it would never happen to anyone else, again. And I know they’ve been having Bucky say and do some pretty dark stuff, but I also trust that the writers know what they’re doing, and I can’t help but notice that his behavior when he’s alone is vastly different than what it is when he’s around other people, so I can say with near 100% certainty that he is bullshitting everyone, and I’m having a damn good time watching him do it.

As for MCU Bucky, I’ve got a prediction that his story will go in one of three ways: either he’ll settle down with Sarah and kind of disappear from the story, he’ll die some stupid shock-value death, or (and I think this is the one it’s gonna be) the new Nomad series that’s pretty much an open secret? That’ll be Bucky. Because they’ve spent the last several years setting him up as someone who 1: is largely defined and driven by his loyalty, 2: is deeply loyal to Wakanda, but now also Captain America’s partner/found family for a second time around, and 3: is about to be thrown onto a team where the woman in charge is actively trying to start a war between the US and Wakanda. His loyalties are going to be tested and split more than ever, and honestly, I think him becoming sort of a vigilante that operates without a strictly defined allegiance to either makes a lot of sense, and, similarly to the comics, breaks him out of the rut he’s currently in. And, on a meta level, it does feel relevant that the comics are suddenly giving him that same sort of vigilante angle and tying him really closely in with their Nomad and White Wolf, despite having little to no prior connection with them. Not to mention that Sebastian Stan is becoming an increasingly famous actor whose name actually has some pull, so Marvel writing him off now just seems like a poor choice, considering he’s shown no signs of wanting to leave. I think he’s had the longevity, at this point, that Bucky will only get a real, final ending once he decides he wants to move onto other things.

Also, this might age like milk, but I don’t think they’re dumb enough to substitute Yelena into the comic BuckyNat storyline. If anything, I could see her being somehow related to him, whether that be literally or metaphorically, and having more of a family dynamic that maybe causes some turmoil with Alexei and the rest of the Thunderbolts. Because not only has she shown zero interest in romance (as she shouldn’t, being aroace in the comics) but I really think he and Sarah are ultimately going to be endgame (assuming, again, that he doesn’t die horribly).

[shina-moon-art]

Hi shina gem again sorry for the huge ask I gave last time so I have to ask this one will be smaller of course with the ohara chapter how do you think Kuzan sees Ann now? Do you think he hates her now? I was crushed with what happend if you don't know that's cool I'll just ask on what sort of couple do you think they'll be like when it catches up to luffy and co?

It’s no problem, I enjoy getting asks! Hmm that one is kinda hard but no I don’t think he hates her, I assume after throwing herself off a cliff the navy actually thinks she’s dead now especially since Kuzan is witness, I don’t see Garp and Sengoku doubting his report. For the most part I think he feels betrayed and confused (initially) and after disappearing into the water he feels regret and guilt, it’s kinda hard to stay mad at someone when they’re dead. I’m not actually sure if they think she’s dead or not after this last chapter so you’d have to ask @justscrolling765 but a lot of what I think Kuzan feels is highly based on him thinking she’s actually dead. Kuzan knows Ann doesn’t agree with the buster call on Ohara, knows Garp doesn’t either but despite being granddaughter and grandfather one literally defected and the other just let her do it. Garp knows Ann is Roger’s daughter, a former (probably once again) pirate but Kuzan doesn’t. Kuzan knows next to nothing about who Ann really is why she acts the way she does, etc. I’m not sure if the fic is tagged as such but they’re actual romance is slow burn like hella slow burn like they only realize after the other is out of reach type slow burn so I won’t lie I don’t see them being together until sometime DURING Luffy and the gang’s journey and they likely haven’t actually seen each other for years.

(Sorry for the late response I started this back when it was originally asked and just never found time to finish it so some stuff may be answered already or incorrect now) @justscrolling765

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 30: The Expanse 2x08

Hmmm. I… see things moving along, I suppose. Literally every time I watch this show I am begging, begging for a previously on. Some exposition. Please. Maybe I’m just dumb or not paying enough attention—I don’t actually think it’s that complicated—I just feel that with slightly more of a crutch I could enjoy it more because I could follow things happening and not always be like ‘wait, what?’ trying to piece it together with everything else with half my brain while the other half follows the adventure or whatever.

This episode felt a lot like much was happening and also nothing was happening. Very Tycho focused so a lot of story lines weren’t advancing at all, and it was definitely primarily a set up for the next episode or arc of episodes: getting the crew off the station with a new guest (sorry, guide) in tow. I didn’t really care about the tense action scene of the day, in part because I kind of missed exactly how the Heroes got to know about the hostage situation and involve themselves in it. Though, I do appreciate the one (1) comedic moment we got: Alex watching Drummer shoot two guys in the head before walking off on her own, when he was trying to be all helpful about it.

In terms of overarching plot, my understanding is that there are… two protmolecule pieces? The one Naomi hid that she definitely thought they were talking about originally, and this new one on Gannymede, which I seem to recall was the Martian moon that was blown up but I really can’t remember any of the details of this or why there was a battle near there or literally whatever.

I have sort of mixed feelings about these new/minor characters they’re always bringing in, who suck up so many minutes of so many episodes with their establishing stories and backgrounds. On the one hand, I get that this is an expansive universe (lol pun not intended) and that the complexity of the story requires a lot of characters. I also suspect this is a consequence of it being based on a book series, where this sort of thing is probably more acceptable. And I don’t necessarily think the characters or their stories are bad or badly done. It’s just… there are so many, and they come in, and they’re often not important for all that long, and while I don’t think the characters are BAD I wouldn’t say they’re amazing either. Like this botanist. Okay. It looks like he’s being set up to be important at least for a time, so I guess it might be worth all the time spent on setting up his whole thing. And I do like that he’s a little softer—the missing daughter story is classic to the point of being cliché but still, he’s overall just a normal guy with a normal job and normal sets of expectations about the universe, which is pretty rare around here, and I like the inclusion of that perspective. Someone actually trying to report a crime! Cute! But it was so much air time. And for all I know he’ll be gone within 2 episodes. Or he’ll be important for 1-2, disappear, then come back later and I’ll be presumed to know who he is (Diego, looking at you). Maybe it’s just my mood but I am so tired and this makes me feel tired.

I dislike that Amos is becoming all earnest and sad and stuff. This guy was so left-of-cliché and now all of a sudden he’s been given feelings and angst in the most cliché way—mom-related guilt. He used to love but then the world made him hard… snooze. I don’t care. Let him be weird. Let him be loyal, violent, and horny in that order. Why must he have other thoughts? I did like his delivery of ‘Don’t make me hurt you. Then who would fly the ship?’ Really spoke to a man out of control of himself. And I like him and Alex still. But ugh I just hope he gets over whatever this foray into allegedly complex characterization is and soon.

[fyeahwebnovels]

ABANDONED

Webnovels on this list have not updated in multiple years and are, as far as we know, permanently left unfinished.

A Grey World by unknown

It follows Alexis, who has gone all out badass. Yeah, her mom’s an abusive druggie and her father is [classified]. Oh, and school’s no better, having a resident psychopath. As a new member of the hitting-people-in-the-head school of therapy, she sets about taking out her problems on the local drug cartel. What could go wrong there? At least she has some shoddy home-made armour…

Blacklight by tkayo (queer, urban fantasy, drama)

So here’s the deal: my name’s Kihri Vyas, and I’m dead. (That’s not really important, it happened ages ago, but it’s good to have the context.) Anyway, me and my sister Zarah (the only person who can see or hear me) have basically been on our own since I carked it, surviving on the streets of Kaila, and sort of just being miserable and bored and tired a lot. I mean, I haven’t, cause I’m dead, but she has. It sucks, but that’s business as usual for us. What isn’t B-A-U is that a bunch of other homeless folks have been disappearing in the last few months, and some of them have been turning up with anatomically-improbable, but extraordinary fatal, injuries. Cops don’t give a shit, of course, and my sister’s a boneheaded bleeding heart, so we’ve been investigating them ourselves. And, well, we’ve found a bunch of weird shit. Stuff made of solid light, ghost attack dogs, people glowing black, somehow, some kind of living robot…

Kill Them With Kindness by Vern Carson (fantasy, dark comedy)

150 years ago, the Ruge Empire set out to unite the continent of Fyresia under a new set of standards that would set everyone as equals. They've nearly succeeded, but their campaign wasn't without victims... Darian Kai is a rogue Kindness-type magic user. He travels around Fyresia looking for clues about his missing past, and picks up odd jobs along the way. Eventually, his travels lead him to Ironia, the capital city of Ruge, where his journey began, and the queen guilts him into accepting a mission from which there seems to be no return. But Darian is lying about something. He knows more than he lets on, and his past is murky and dangerous. In fact, he even seems to be lying to the reader...

The Named by trukreplah (superhero)

The Named is a superhero webnovel primarily following Aiyana, a college student who gets sucked into a world where names are everything and reality is nothing like what she was told growing up.

There Are No Heroes by various authors (superhero)

The story of a group of people living in a world where good and evil are relative, superpowers exist, and nothing is as simple as it seems. We, yinyangorwuji, are a group of people, living in a world where good and evil are relative, but superpowers aren’t real. We write from the perspective of different characters, showing what’s going on through different lenses.

Rasa by kcshi (fantasy, romance, political drama)

Free will, family, individuality: here, these are not rights, but commodities. Every living thing in Albumere is born with a tabula, a disk that grants its owner complete control over the person linked to it. The tabula represent an intoxicating power, a power that has many uses. With tabula, generals can form perfect armies of both beast and man that would march to the death without a single protest. Hunters and explorers harness the wild beasts of Albumere to do battle with legendary creatures in the hopes of becoming legends themselves. Babes vanish from their mother’s arms to be slaves in a country half a world away, and should they be spared bondage then the gods themselves will take them away to grow up alone in the unforgiving wild. In this brutal world, a young boy will do what no one has ever done before. He has found the tabula of a girl he has never met, and without knowing who or where she is, he is going to find a way to give it back. Following his journey, Rasa is both a simple romance about the power of a stranger’s generosity and a fantastic political epic spanning the breadth of a richly detailed world built entirely from the ground up.

Sins of the Fathers by underwhelmingforce (superhero)

Set in Collswell City, the city with one of the highest metahuman populations in the world, due to the presence of a government-funded hero training program. The city is also, however, a hotbed of superhuman gangs, who see it as prime recruitment territory, pulling in those who flunk out or slip through the cracks. The current generation of metahumans is considered the third generation. After the first, the “Vigilante Generation,” with unregulated metahumans fighting or perpetrating crime, the government stepped in, leading to the second, the “Sponsorship Generation,” with government-sponsored superhero teams fighting gang-funded villain teams. Now, the support of government-funded teams is waning as prominent teams start to dissolve and funding starts slipping and what was once a novelty is now considered a drain.

[cynettic]

I just read Kitsune reader x yan Scaramouche's fic, may I have gotten hooked on it? and of course, it's just perfect and that's why I'm here to lose a part two with nsfw, thank you in advance and understand if you refuse:3

Link to Part 1

Summary - Taking you captive, Scaramouche continues to see you as a pillar of support. Coming back home to have you there, always. Even if it meant chaining you up.

Pairings - F!Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Smut, slight noncon ( I tried to make it as consensual as possible but its difficult with yandere themes ), fingering, electricity play

Rating - NSFW

Penpal - Ahhh I'm actually beginning to get attached to this series, might end up writing a couple more posts with different hc and stuff. I hope you liked the post though, have a great day <3

A/N - The literal definition of the ‘stoic cruel boy who’s mean to everyone but you.’ Oh well, Scaramouche is ooc af, but I did change a few things in his backstory so its supposed to make sense for this story ;) Also- since we dont know Scaramouche’s actual name, I have the reader still… yknow, call him Scaramouche. Which is kinda weird cause its his harbinger name but oh well. Also, credit to @cycletr4in for proofreading it ;3

Taglist - @cursedraiden

Stay with Me pt.2

Scaramouche was a gentle captor.

In contrast to piercing eyes and harsh stares when it came to others, he had a soft spot for you. Like the ice that encased him whole melted at your touch, craving for the warmth only you could give him. For your arms around him, to play pretend and imagine he were a child, free, fearless, unbound. A child in your arms, safe and protected.

But you were held hostage, which meant that the chains around your wrists and legs held you down and secured you. Like you were bound to one spot like you’d always been, except this time you didn't have a choice.

You weren't waiting for the Kitsune Saiguu.

Hell, you didn't even have your vision.

This brought on resentment for the dark haired boy. You hated him, you despised him for holding you down under his own judgment. But at the same time, all you saw in him was a child, a little kid who hadn't had the time to grow up. The one who refused to do so because it was his only way to survive in the type of world he lived in. Hide behind that same facade he developed as a kid, snide remarks and unrelenting cruelty.

Just to come back to your arms, sobbing because he was still that child. Sobbing because he was still hurt. Sobbing because you were still his beacon of light, of hope.

He depended on you.

And as much as you built up harsh words to use against him, they dissolved in your mouth when you saw him. His vulnerability that he saved for you and you only. A deep part of you cared for him, a little too much.

Gentle fingers brushed through the locks of Scaramouche’s hair, twirling it around and playing with the strands. It was smooth, a small detail no one would have the chance to notice from the distance he put around himself and others. A quiet hum left his lips as he leaned against your chest, eyes fluttering closed against the soothing feeling of you against him.

The lavish silk sheets were soft against your skin, pillow pushing your form to sit up. Just enough to have Scaramouche in your arms, knees on either side of his body as his head rested under your chin. His chest rose and descended, almost on beat with yours, if not just a tad slower.

You hoped he wouldn't hear the way your heart thrummed against your chest.

Warmth, his body flushed against yours, the luxury of a bed and the small candlelight on your bedside. Different from what you’d grown into just on the side of the trail, sitting for decades. Or with your time with the Kitsune Saiguu, it was never this warm, never this gentle.

But this warmth ended at your beating heart, furiously blazing. Sending an urge of adrenaline through your body, whispering ‘run’ through your veins. A primal urge that would've had your hands around Scaramouche’s neck, till he was wrangling and dead.

Till you could escape.

Hand slowly sliding down his jawline, you let your gentle fingers ghost along the soft skin of his neck. Claws outstretched and ready, sharp and pointed with a deadly intent to kill. You could end him so quickly, overturn his trust and make an escape. You deserved it, you deserved freedom. Not a delusional boy who thought himself protector against someone who’s lived decades more than him.

Jolting at the sensation of a soft grip on your wrist, you watched with idle fascination as he simply cupped your wrist in his hold. Not stopping you, not restraining you, he simply brought your hand to his face. To his lips where he pressed the softest of kisses into your palm. So heartfelt and genuine that all you could do was freeze, not even considering clawing his face.

“I love you.”

You both stayed in that position for a few moments more, silence cradling the tension that slowly dissipated from your body. Forlorn eyes watching as he shift the angle of your wrist to kiss your fingertips. He wasn't waiting for an answer, basking in these soft moments where he could hide in your hold. Like a child, forced to grow up too quickly, yearning back for his foolish naivety, yearning for the childhood he missed.

You were that childhood.

Which is why he clung to you so dearly, showed expressions he didnt know he could make, hold you captive under the impression that it was ‘right.’ What he was doing was okay.

Claws retracted, you pursued your lips, holding back the tears of frustration that burned at your eyes. You hated him, hated him for the chains on your wrists, for the disappearance of your vision that you’d given so much value to. Hated him for the warmth he still made you feel.

You hated him.

You felt like a housewife in some respects. Not with the cleaning and cooking part, and of course no children were part of the equation. But in terms of support, you stayed rooted to that room, loose chains too strong for you to break or tug holding you down. Window was too far, and you were stuck moving around the bed and the desk that sat just a little farther away.

Attempts at having your vision back or more freedom in movement had been discussed with Scaramouche, but as childlike and free as he acted with you, he was not an idiot.

“I don’t plan on underestimating you,” was his answer, head resting on the plush of your chest. “You’re strong, always were. But I have to take extremes to make sure you don’t get hurt, some people out there are stronger than you.”

You wanted to point out that there were a ton of people stronger than him as well, but you kept your mouth shut. “Can I at least see the house? I’ve been cooped up here for so long…”

And he cant say no to such an innocent request as that right?

So he unlocks the chains, the vision at his side reminding you that he was strong. You solely knew that he’d been tough as a kid, and under the intensive training he’d seemed to endure, he was much much stronger. You werent willing to give it a go and lose his trust just yet.

Not like he really trusted you anyways-

At the very least, you’d hoped to get some sort of blueprint of the house, and all you’d received was confusion and your mind making up that the house itself was a maze.

“Didnt we… just pass through here?”

Glancing at the obvious frustration on your face, Scaramouche chuckled, pulling your arm through the hallways you swear you’d seen three times prior. “Nope, most of the hallways look pretty similar. The house wasn't built for dumbasses.”

You flashed him a look and were about to make some snideish rebuttal before you saw the smirk. You knew what he was doing, trying to comfort you with casual arguments you both used to have. Consisting of you telling him to work on his people skills, and him calling you a lazy ass. Of course you missed it, but you also knew you couldn't go back to it.

And then there was the issue when you learned that he was a harbinger.

A scene you didnt want to replay in your head, when a maid burst into your room, Scaramouche acting a tad more intimate. He had an awful tendency to do that, hug your waist and press his face against the crook of your neck. Press gentle kisses down the length of your shoulder that had you shuddering. You weren't used to intimacy, and considering you’d watched him grow up, it was just weird.

Stuttering, the maid had demanded that he was requested by the Tsarista. You’d seen the fear in her eyes when Scaramouche slowly turned to her, seen the unshakable immobility of standing under his gaze.

“Do not enter.” He said, “It’s on the door.”

That was the first time you’d seen Scaramouche kill.

You hoped it’d be the last.

But you’d seen death before, so much death in the time of the Kitsune Saiguu. And for a few seconds, you found yourself fearless as you yanked against the chains, yelling at his figure at the doorway.

“Tsarista?” You snarled, standing just a few feet away from him. His hand on the girls neck, clenching around the pretty skin of hers. Disgusted, the chains that held you back from closing the gap and throwing the girl away from him were impossible to overcome. “Why the hell does she need you?!”

‘Let go,’ you wanted to say. ‘Let her go, she’s going to die.’

It worked, because the ironclad grip was gone, the maid tumbling to the ground lifelessly. You’d been too late, and now her blood was on his hands, your hands. This was your fault and you had half the self control not to thrash against the chains with sharp claws, hands on his neck.

The hard steel gaze vanished in an instant, and like he’d regained his senses, he took a few steps to you. Hands clenching to fists before loosening to fingertips brushing against his palms. Confusion, regret and guilt clouded his features like a child waiting to be reprimanded. You didn't back away, stood firm and fierce when standing and keeping a tough front.

You wanted to cry.

“Its… its a long story.” He finally stated to your question, and when you didnt budge, he took a deep breath. In control again, he closed the distance between the two of you, “I’m sorry.” And that same thrum of electricity jolted through your body, sending you into a spiral of the girls lifeless eyes and Scaramouche’s childlike eyes. Till everything went black.

You woke up with the body gone. Scaramouche was gone as well.

You learned that Scaramouche liked to have things his way. Which meant that he was always in control, always had control of every situation.

Even in those short stretches of vulnerability when he rested in your arms, he still held something over you. And you had to adapt, shift for his wishes, coddle him and stay as his beacon. Because he was stronger, and even if you’d find some way to escape, he would find you.

It was odd, and you slowly let go of the image of him as a child, you knew he was a lot older. He’d probably reached the age your body was stuck in, and with every sweet kiss he pressed to your lips, you knew he saw you as some sort of lover. But as someone who wasn't in control, you simply had to play along, just until you found some way to make your escape.

Without killing him.

_-_-_-_-_

“Strip.”

Laying on one side of the bed, your eyes jolted open at the commanding voice. Slowly, you sat up, eyeing the dim figure at the doorway. Without the help of a candle or the moonlight at the window, you could distinguish Scaramouche at the doorway, taking off the large headpiece as he flung it to the ground.

“Excuse me…?” Your voice was soft, rusty after an evening nap.

“I’ll make you feel good,” was his only answer. Slowly making his way to the bedside till he could properly face you. His eyes were soft, but there was an odd sort of determination that you hadnt seen before. You held back his stare, confusion lacing your features when he suddenly started pulling off loose decorations that hung on his clothes. Just till he unlaced the vest and slid off his shirt. “Don’t worry.” But you didnt know quite what he meant until he leaned further to you, catching you off guard.

So you yelped when his hands suddenly slammed down on your shoulders, shifting you to have access to the buttons of your top layer. He was quick when undoing them, simply swatting away at your hands when you protested and tried to pull him away. Throwing it to the edge of the room when he was done, you could only thrash in horror when he undid your trousers just as quickly, pulling them down before you could grab them back up.

“Scaramouche? Hey-”

And then he threw you down on the bed, exposing you in your undergarments in the cool air of the room. Shivers crept up your spine and bristled across your skin, and before you could curl up to at the very least hide away, you felt a tug at your chains. Fear finally settled in when you saw Scaramouche attach the chain to the bedpost, until your hand was lifted up and he began to do the same to the other.

“Wait wait wait, stop and explain what you’re-”

Only then did he pause from what he was doing, slowly looking down to properly face you. His eyes slid up and down your body, and he took a step towards you. “I’ll make you feel good,” were his only words, and you were forced to take them as all he was planning on giving you. Only when he sat on the bed next to you did you realize what he meant, hand settling on your shoulder, waiting.

“Alright,” you said slowly. Painfully, the words bit your tongue, but you were merciless against someone who had control against the situation. You could say no and you knew Scaramouche would stop, he was gentle to you and you only. And even if he’d been firm just before, you knew that he’d still stop if you asked him to.

A part of you felt thrilled to have that power over him.

Another part of you just wanted to escape.

But you didnt have any hope to do so unless you were willing too give him everything. Because he expected everything and would do anything in his power to obtain it. You’d let him fiddle around with this delusion, thinking that he had control. Until he didnt.

Which is why you didnt flinch when his hand gently slid up your stomach, cold against the warmth you’d had under the blankets. Rubbing gingerly against your skin and drawing smooth shapes over before he slowly slid over your body. His eyes seemed to glint under the darkness of the room, lust filled and wanting.

You didnt shift uncomfortably, you pretended to be that doll he expected you to be.

Just staring up at him as he slowly leaned down to kiss you. His lips felt like snowflakes on a winters day, idly swaying side to side to catch one in your mouth. Jolting like electricity when they melted into your touch, red and swollen when he pulled back. You now vividly felt every touch, as if a current flowed and static jittered in the places he briefly brushed his fingertips.

“You always take such good care of me,” he breathed, lips slowly drifting down your chin. Just past your jawline and right on your neck. The space between your head and shoulder, a soft vulnerable spot that had your lips humming at the affectionate pressure. “Its my turn to take care of you.”

And then his lips were everywhere, collarbone, shoulders, cleavage. Just until his teeth were tugging off your bra, face nuzzled in between both breasts. Both of his hands now resided on your hips, grabbing both thighs to hold them up and against him. You could feel him hard, pressing so close to your heated core.

You managed to keep your reactions in check.

Just until he slowly grinded against you, mouth on your breasts as he again pecked the soft mounds, molding his lips against them as if he could remember the texture, memorize the feel. It was just to that point that mindless sounds slipped past your lips, turning to gasps when his hands on your thighs suddenly buzzed, and static rushed in. Your legs felt weak, entire body thrumming in response to the electricity he sent jolting.

He was using his vision.

The realization was numb against his lips on your breasts, hands slowly stroking the skin of your sides, travelling up. He hovered over you for mere seconds before mashing his lips against you once more, different. He was no longer gentle, and it was with the contact on your tail that you lost all control. When he gently moved it out of the way, backing up.

You were a mess.

Not that you tried to be, you’d been doing your best not to enjoy his touch. But it was hard when your core heated up so fast, mashing both legs together in hopes he wouldn't notice. You knew he would, any action beyond that was just you trying to save your dignity.

He sat there like he was enjoying the sight, the first time you’d seen him actually portray any visual confirmation of satisfaction towards the chains. He’d drink dry any ounce of control you gave him, and it was impossible not to give him it all when you were visionless and vulnerable.

But the dignity you struggled so hard to keep shattered when his hands brushed against your inner thigh.

Fingers slowly made their way to the padded fabric of your undergarments, two digits rubbing the area slowly with expertise. You bit your lip, muffling any groan of anticipation, hiding the way your hips tried to rock back into the gesture. Desperate, oh so desperate. Hiding back the whimpers as he slowly quickened the pace of his fingers against your garments. “Archons Y/n,” he murmured. “I haven't even put anything in and you’re already a squirming mess.”

“Shut u-up,” was all you managed, trying to shift away from the pressure against your clit. But his other hand was on your hip, holding in place. You could only watch and press your thighs tightly together as he slowly slid down your panties, resuming hovering over you. Distracting you with kisses, his fingers gently stroked your core, two fingers slowly sliding into your cunt using your juices.

He was gentle when pumping both fingers in and out, too slow when you thrust your hips to meet his fingers, pleading for him to go faster. But he liked hearing your cries, slowing down when you begged, quickening when you whined and just lay there, taking it.

You shuddered the first time electricity jolted from his digits.

It was when he had three fingers that he sent the static up your body, back arching with such intensity that it even had him chuckling. “Oh? You like it that much?” And then it is like something buzzed against your body, fingers vibrating against your clit as your thighs tightened around his hand. So much that you thought you’d crush it, but it didn't matter, not with the electrifying feeling against your body. It felt so odd, so overwhelmingly good that it had your legs sliding up and down the bedside, toes curling as the static grew and you fell paralyzed to his touch.

It didn't take long with his fingers thrusting in and out of you to cum. Moaning mess when he gave you the time to breathe, teeth biting your bottom lip and then mashing against yours. Your eyes grew fuzzy and most happened in a haze, and all you knew the entire time was that you’d given yourself to him, and that it felt good. You couldn't see the childlike wonder in his eyes anymore, not the need of a beacon or of support. No, the look he shared was feral, the smile tinting his lips almost scary. But it felt too good to care, and you let yourself enjoy his ministrations.

He pulled out and suddenly his own shorts were undone, boxers thrown to the side of the room just like all your other clothing. You didn't see how big he was, just felt his hard shaft against your throbbing cunt, pussy dripping and legs open wide and tired after your first go at it.

You expected him to be gentle like he’d been with his fingers. But he pressed the tip against your core, and in one full motion he was in. Teeth grinding against each other, you held back a scream, shock coursing through your body, overwhelmed with pain and discomfort. It hurt. But it was quickly overshadowed by his movements as he slid in and out of you, slow when pulling his hips back, and rocking himself completely inside you each time. A pattern that let you catch your breath and lose it all the same. Like he was continuously having a go at hitting the deepest parts of you, pulling back before fully thrusting into you and sending waves of pleasure and pain alike.

It was expected, but you couldnt hear yourself.

Not with your mind trapped in a haze of how he felt, body still buzzing after how he’d pulsed his vision through you. And now you were at the mercy of his member, hips swaying along with his, no energy for you to rock with him and try to push him deeper.

Archons, you didn't even think he could go deeper.

But you were proven wrong again and again as he kept the steady pace, hands clawing at your ass and hips. Stabilizing himself and trying to press himself against you, as far as he could go. Slowly, his hands drifted up to your hair, playing with the soft sensation of your furry ears. Pinching and rubbing, fingers coaxing the back of them like a massage. So gentle, but it paled in comparison to the harsh treatment of his dick.

You came first, gripping the chain with your hands in an attempt to stay stable. Walls clenching around him one last time before you got your release, your moans turning into cries when he continued to thrust into you. Your body felt numb, all nerves centred on the way he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

When he did, he pressed his head into your chest, his own breaths heavy with pleasure. Not pulling out, you could only lay there helplessly as his seed filled you, warm in contrast to the electricity he’d shot up your body just earlier. He didnt pull out, and laying in your chest, your heavy breathing didnt stop until he was asleep, collapsing on you and using you as support yet again.

Taking only a minute later to regain control of your senses, you shifted uncontrollably at his member inside of you, sending waves of pleasure every time you moved. Your wrists were restrained and you were stuck in this position till morning.

Achingly, you looked down at the boy, wondering how you would ever manage to escape.

[heliads]

Can you do a imagine where derek meets reader at her lowest point after all of her family was murdered by the kanima and offers the bite which she accepts and they began developing feelings overtime (also can you make the reader like 22?) thanks so much!

ok but i loved doing this request (derek hale forever)

masterlist

The scent of blood is everywhere, and you cannot escape it. It cuts through your mind in blunt strokes, carving one thing into your head again and again: if you were just a little faster, you could have stopped this. But you weren’t, and now you have to deal with the fact that your entire family is dead and gone.

You’re not sure when you fell to the ground, legs collapsing as if your strings had been cut. Your knees feel numb now, but you can’t tell whether that’s from spending so long crouching or from the cold river of blood spread across the floor. Regardless, you don’t feel as if you’ll ever move again, and that is exactly how Derek Hale finds you.

You don’t know he’s there until he steps forward, out of the shadows of your darkened home and into the light. His face is somber, not quite detailed with guilt or sympathy but regret, maybe. You look slowly up at him, heedless of the tears that have long since dried on your cheeks.

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

Your tone is harsh. You don’t know who this man is, but you want nothing to do with him.

He, however, is unperturbed by this. “My name is Derek. I can help.”

He doesn’t say what he can do to help, which just makes you laugh. It’s a quiet, broken sort of sound, and barely makes it out of your throat at all. “What could you possibly do to help?”

Derek squats beside you on the ground, hands folded in front of him. “I can make you strong, so strong that nothing like this has to happen again. I can get you a chance at revenge.”

You blow out a harsh breath. “Revenge is the stuff of movies. Nothing I can do will erase this.”

Derek shrugs. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You know this wasn’t a normal killing, right?”

You look up at him, startled, but as soon as the words pass his lips you know that he’s right. There are no bullets, no stab wounds, just general ripped and shredded flesh, blood drenching everything. Something about this isn’t right, and you know it. Derek knows it too.

Sensing his advantage, Derek presses on. “It was done by a creature called the kanima. It’s supposed to be a person that can turn into a beast when it wants to kill, like tonight.”

He gestures at the scene around him, and your eyes follow the movement. “So, what, you think it was some sort of monster? That can’t be real.”

Derek looks back at you now, gaze suddenly piercing. “Neither am I.”

A second later, his eyes glow a brilliant red. You stumble back, surprised, but don’t run. You should run, you think, but some part of you sticks around. “What do you want from me?”

Derek stands up, dusting off his hands. “I’m a werewolf. I can make you one, too. By being a part of a pack, you stay strong. That’s how we kill the kanima.”

He extends a hand to you, and after a moment, you take it. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

It’s a rash choice, to be certain, but it seems like the only one you have. A chance at getting back at the thing that killed your family, and finding a new family in the process. You don’t regret a thing.

It’s late in the afternoon, and you are alone. You’ve been doing your best to distract yourself, but you can ignore the pain in your arm no longer. Locking the door behind you, you pace back and forth in front of your bathroom mirror before giving up and rolling up your sleeve to reveal a large bite mark, not unlike that of a wolf. It’s healed remarkably well in the last few hours, and seems as if it’ll disappear completely by the end of the day.

Last night almost seemed like a dream, and you would think that the whole exchange was a nightmare brought on from grief were it not for the bite mark still visible on your arm. Derek Hale is real, the whole thing is real. You’re a werewolf. Two days ago, you didn’t even think they existed, and now you’re one of them.

In the end, the only thing you can do if you want answers is to find Derek himself. He’s got an apartment a few streets away from you, and as time goes on, you find yourself frequenting the place. Although Derek certainly has a reputation for being standoffish and even rude, for some reason he doesn’t act the same way with you. He answers your questions patiently, and even strikes up conversations that last for hours.

To be honest, had anyone other than Derek turned you into a werewolf, you’re not sure that you could have handled it as well as you did. He’s got three other betas, all of them high school kids, but you and Derek are the closest of all of them. Maybe it’s because you don’t have to work around a school schedule to help him track down the kanima, or it’s because you’re closer in age than the others. Regardless, you can’t deny that you feel a spark of pride whenever Derek addresses you first of the assembled pack members whenever something comes up.

Speaking of which, tonight is going to be one of the first real tests on your progress as a werewolf. It’s a full moon, the first one you’ve experienced after receiving the bite. It looks like you won’t be the only one grappling to deal with your newfound strength, either- Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all look rather apprehensive about what they’re about to go through.

Derek’s brought chains, but you’re not sure how much good it’ll do. In fact, barely a few hours into the whole shebang, it turns out the metal supports he’d used to affix everyone’s chains are rusty and fall apart within a good few tugs. He looks around, afraid of having to deal with four angry betas all charged by the power of the full moon, but to his surprise, the numbers aren’t as bad as he thought.

You rip the chains from your wrists, sure, but you manage to pull yourself together long enough to force Erica and Boyd back. Isaac comes to after a little while, and the three of you are able to make sure no one escapes before too long. Eventually, once Erica and Boyd are settled and Isaac goes back to some corner of the room to hold out through the night, Derek finds you.

He takes a seat beside you, brow furrowed. “How were you able to maintain control? This is your first full moon, you should have been just as wild as the rest.”

You pause for a moment, thinking about it. Derek isn’t wrong- you can feel the full moon tugging at the corners of your consciousness, threatening to pull you under at a moment’s notice. However, you don’t just feel the moon, you feel something else, your memories.

Every time you want to wolf out and destroy everything in your past, you can’t help but think back to that first night when you received the bite. The grief you’d felt upon discovering your entire family dead at your feet hangs over you like a burden, drowning out everything else. It stills your heartbeat, calms your breathing, as if even the memory of all that death is enough to drag you from life like the rest of them. You can’t lose your mind, because you’ve already lost too much. Your sanity is all you have left, and you tell Derek as much.

He nods slowly, gaze trained on some invisible part of the room as if he’s sifting through his own memories. “For the longest time, I thought I was the only survivor of the fire that burned down my family’s house. I lost my entire pack, and it nearly killed me. If anyone can understand what that kind of grief does to you,” he says, swallowing and looking over at you, “it’s me.”

You turn your head to look up at him. Your eyes meet in the quiet darkness of his apartment, and you know then and there that meeting Derek might be the best choice you’ve ever made. You’ve never really talked about the death of your family with anyone, preferring to not have to delve into that memory, but in this moment you know that Derek understands all of it. The hate, the grief, the regret that you might be the only one of your line left. At least you have a family in him.

The night is late, and the effort of maintaining control exhausts you. Your eyelids start to drop before you realize it, but Derek doesn’t leave your side. In fact, when you wake maybe half an hour later with your head slumped on his shoulder, he seems to have been deliberate in staying as still as possible. This is the man who threatens to slash people’s throats in a moment’s notice, who has likely promised to kill Stiles Stilinski about a thousand times, and you’ve been curled up asleep next to him for who knows how long.

The thought makes you smile, which is how Derek knows you’re awake. He taps your shoulder from where he’d curled his arm around you. “I think you’re fine for the rest of the night. Go get some rest, Y/N.”

You stand up reluctantly, and cast a long glance around the room, searching for some reason to let you stay. “You sure? What if you need help again?”

Derek smiles as well, his gaze soft. “I’ll call.”

That was weeks ago, and you still haven’t been able to shake the picture from your mind of him standing there in his darkened apartment, watching you go with the look of someone saying goodbye to the only person who might truly matter. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that you were looking back at him with the exact same expression.

You’re sort of lost in the what-ifs of what could happen if you let yourself think on what that truly meant, but not so distracted that you don’t notice the teenage boy approaching you from down the street. You frown at him, especially when you recognize the unusually steady beat of his heart as that of a werewolf.

A second later, you place his face. This is Scott McCall, Derek’s told you about him a few times. Seeing as you graduated from Beacon Hills High about four years ago or so, you don’t really have reason to talk to Scott all that often, so you feel faintly suspicious when he comes to a stop by your side.

You fold your arms across your chest. “What do you want?”

Scott raises an eyebrow. “To talk. Are all of Derek’s pack members this aggressive?”

You give him a look, and he sighs and relents. “I need to talk to you about Derek. I don’t think you know everything about him. There are a few things he’s kept hidden from you.”

You scoff, and start walking again. “Ah. This is the part where you try to convince me to join your side, right? I think I’m good.”

Scott continues walking beside you, hurrying to keep up. “You don’t know everything. What about the real reason he gave you the bite?”

You keep your gaze trained ahead. “He needed a big pack to take on the kanima. I needed support. It worked out.”

Scott shakes his head. “That may have been what he told you, but it’s not everything.”

He looks at you hopefully, as if daring you to ask him what he means. You fully intend on maintaining your silence, but something about the tone of his voice makes you second guess yourself. Whatever Scott McCall knows, he thinks he’s telling the truth. That makes you nervous, although you can’t explain why.

At last, you stop again. “Fine. What’s Derek’s big secret?”

Scott seems satisfied with this. “He wants power. How do you think an alpha gets to be so much stronger than anyone else? It’s by giving people the bite. That’s why Peter Hale bit me in the first place, so he’d have the power that comes with being an alpha. Derek knows that, and so he bit you because he wanted to be faster and stronger than me.”

You take a half step back. “That’s not right. Derek wanted power, yes, but just so he could take down the kanima. We had a common interest, so he offered to let me join his pack.”

Scot looks at you with something almost like sympathy. “That’s what he wants you to believe. Derek Hale wants power like no one else I’ve seen, except for maybe Peter. He wants to be the most powerful alpha, and he does that by biting you and Isaac and the rest. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise, but it’s the truth.”

You want to deny it, to shout to the world that Derek bit you because- because what, he thought you were important? Because he loved you? Reality is crashing in around you, all in tune to Scott’s words. The young beta is right, isn’t he? It all makes sense. To Derek, you’re nothing but a pawn. You’ve never been anything more, no matter how much you’d like to delude yourself into thinking otherwise.

You nod slowly. “Thanks for the information, Scott.”

You start walking away before he can say anything else, and this time, he doesn’t follow. You’re not entirely sure where you planned on going, but soon enough you look up and find yourself at the door of Derek’s apartment. After a moment, you knock. Might as well get this out of the way, right?

Derek answers after a moment, his face warming in something almost like a smile when he sees you. “Y/N. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You don’t respond immediately, and Derek’s expression falters. “Is everything alright?”

You push past him into the apartment. “Is it true?”

For a moment, you forget that Derek can’t read your mind. “Is what true? Y/N, what’s going on?”

You fix him with a steely stare. “Did you only bite me because you wanted power? That’s all you get from this, isn’t it? A chance to be a better alpha, and all you had to do was convince me that you wanted to save me.”

Derek falters as he closes the door. “Where did you hear something like that?”

You fold your arms across your chest, as much a gesture of defiance as a chance to put up a boundary in between the two of you, something to protect you from everything else. “Is it true or not?”

Derek sighs, raising one hand to lean it slowly against the door. “It was at the beginning. It was true for Isaac, Erica, and Boyd.”

You’ve heard enough, and move towards the door again. Derek stops you, one hand wrapped around yours. “I’m not done yet. It wasn’t like that for you. It hasn’t been like that for a while.”

You let out a harsh laugh. “Why should I believe you?”

Derek reaches up, placing your fingers against the crook of his wrist. “I know you can hear my heartbeat. Tell me if I’m lying, Y/N. I don’t want you here just for the power. Giving you the bite was one of the best choices I ever made.”

His pulse is even, steady. Either he’s an excellent liar or he’s actually telling the truth. “But why do all this? What is it about me that makes me different?”

Derek smiles, a sudden reprieve from the guilt that had been wracking his face. “I think you know.”

And, looking at him now, you realize that you do know. It’s the same thing that hurt you so much when you thought that Derek only wanted you for power. Derek loves you, and you love him. It’s as easy- and as impossible- as that.

Derek nods slowly when he realizes you know what he means. Slowly, he raises his hand from beneath your fingertips until it’s gently cradling your cheek, tilting your face closer to his. “I can’t see you as just a cause for power. You are so much more than that.”

You want to say something, tell him you believe him, but suddenly Derek’s kissing you and all thoughts flee from your head as fast as falling stars. The universe shrinks to just the two of you, and it’s all you need, all you’ve ever needed. It is you and Derek, and that is all it has to be.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore

[cdroloisms]

uhhhh ,, , hi ??

i feel bad bc i havent been here in. LITERALLY forever lmao - hope you guys r all doing good!! ive been working on some stuff but it’s been pretty slow going, and school is also A Thing, so i definitely havent been writing as much as i’d like. 

as an apology, have this? really self-indulgent feel-good syndicate + c!dream centric oneshot bc i felt like writing this so u know. why not. 

tws: implied torture, abuse, self-harm, disordered eating, starvation mentions, prison arc themes - overall everything’s just blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions, not too much angst here for once! c!sam and c!quackity critical, sorry guys but we r still in the prison arc and they still r on their “fuck human rights” arcs. 

Dream leaves.

 It’s a surprise - or maybe it isn’t one, Niki isn’t quite sure. She’d never grown to quite trust the man, she knows, and she can’t really tell if the bitter twist of emotion that swells up her chest when Phil comes to her city with the news is betrayal or resignation - what can she say. She’s gotten more than her fair share of broken promises. They don’t exactly faze her anymore. 

 None of them seem all that surprised, save Techno, who entirely fails to hide the worry that flickers over his face when he calls the Syndicate meeting to officially inform them of what’s going on. She shares quick, careful glances with the other members when his back is turned - despite how many times he’s been burned, Techno still seems so adamant at holding onto every thread, trusting all too easily those who would use and leave him behind without a second glance. He can handle himself, she knows. Still, that’s not going to stop her from slapping Dream upside the head for being yet another worthless person to betray her friend’s forgiving nature. 

 Nothing much changes in the next few weeks. Niki has to admit, it’s strange without Dream around - he’d not been an ally, much less a friend before dipping completely, but he had been some sort of constant - and Niki is self aware enough to know that she misses him, a little, the same sort of way you might miss an old routine once it’s gone, if only for the familiarity. She still visits Techno and Phil with various baked goods, knowing that Phil would have his hands full just keeping Techno from running himself ragged - makes sure to check on Ranboo, whose nerves have inevitably returned with Dream’s disappearance. To be honest, she doesn’t worry as much as he does - ally or not, she’s spent enough time with the Dream that had left prison to expect that he won’t exactly be able to get himself very far should he come for the four of them, and doesn’t particularly care about he might pull with the rest of the server - if things get bad, she’s sure Phil and Techno will have it handled. She asks Phil, once, what happened, and he shrugs. 

 “I don’t know, mate,” he heaves a chest to the side, pulling out a stack of stone blocks that Niki gladly holds for him. “One day we woke up and he was just- gone. Everything. Was like he wasn’t ever there at all.” 

 Niki hums. “Why’d you think he’d do something like that?” 

 “If I could understand half of why Dream does what he does, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?” He smiles at her from behind a crate. “Shall we bring these things upstairs and start on dinner?” 

 Niki laughs, knowing that the conversation about Dream is over. “Of course, Phil.” 

Dinner is a welcome distraction; all of them have gotten better at cooking in recent months, between her baking and the veritable library of recipes Phil knows that she’s never even heard of, but Phil is still the only one she really trusts to hold his own behind the stove - Ranboo is still a little too nervous around water, and fire, and much of everything, and though Techno can be a perfectly capable cook, he’s been distracted as of late. She has a strong feeling that left to his own devices, he’d just grab a stack of steak and disappear for another few weeks, searching the server for information. 

 Honestly, she’s a little thrown off by his behavior - he’d not done anything like this with Tommy, if she remembers right, and had hardly seemed affected by Wilbur’s betrayal on the Sixteenth at all (then again, she was a little too lost in her own head to notice if he was.) She tosses her head over to ask Phil, who’s leaning over a few carrots he’s slicing to throw into the stew he’s making, and the man pauses, frowns. 

 “From what I know,” he starts, words slow, careful, “they’d spent three months in there together, and the conditions weren’t exactly- stellar. According to what Techno said, I’d assumed they had come to some sort of understanding.” He goes back to the carrots, expression dipping into shadow and out of sight. “Guess I was wrong.” 

 Niki hums. She can see it, sort of - spending months together with someone, no matter how insufferable, probably would end with some degree of attachment - she thinks back to plotting through sleepless nights with Jack, anger and grief leaving them simmering, crabs in the same pot of boiling water, remembers looking into his dead-eyed gaze and seeing her own stare back - and feels a brief pang of guilt. Besides, Techno is Techno. She’d never met someone so willing to forgive, understand, reach out despite everything that’s happened - for Dream to take advantage of that feels almost too obvious. Of course he would - what were they all thinking?

 “He’s Dream,” she says as if that explains everything, flipping open the oven door and feeling a wave of heat blast her face. Phil hums lowly, understanding. “I hope Techno will be alright.” 

 “He’s tough,” Phil cracks a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “And he has us on his side. He’ll get through.” 

 Niki opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the front door slamming open. Outside their quaint little cottage, the wind howls - it sounds like the beginning of a blizzard out there, flurries painting the world in a thick blanket of white. In the door, Techno strides into the entrance with loud, decisive movements, shutting the door loud enough to make the walls shake. Inadvertently, Niki finds her eyes drawn to the small pile of snow that he’s tracked into the house - Techno’s usually so careful to kick it all off on the porch, never liked it much when there was a pile of melting ice and snow dampening the floorboards and soaking into his shoes. He huffs harshly, stripping off a snow-dusted scarf from his face - a long, multicolored abomination that had been the product of her attempting to teach Ranboo how to knit. Phil has reached his side, hands splayed over his upper arms, eyes soft in the corners from concern. 

 “Techno, mate-” his tone is chiding but his movements gentle as he brushes snow off of Techno’s signature cloak, “you’ve gotten snow everywhere. What were you doing, dueling a blizzard?” 

 Techno shakes his head, not meeting Phil’s banter as usual, fur sticking up from the snow melted into it. His voice is gruff and holds little humor - unconsciously, Niki feels her shoulders tense. 

 “Phil, call a Syndicate meeting.”

 ---

 Phil, per usual, is unrelenting, so it’s not until a quick dinner and some hurried messages to their final member later that the Syndicate is gathered in their meeting room, Techno pacing the length of the room as they wait in their respective seats. He looks less frazzled than he did when he first entered the house, in part due to Phil’s sitting him down to eat and picking through his fur to smooth it out of its windblown spikes and tangles - Techno had grumbled at him to stop preening him, but looked a lot more relaxed by the time they were all finished with their food. Still, his ear flicks periodically, twitching toward ssome sound that Niki can’t hear, movements tighter and jerkier than she is used to. He’d always been a little flightier after the prison, but not quite like this - everything here feels like that but dialed up to eleven. Inexplicably, it reminds her of Dream. 

 “Techno?” Phil gestures towards his seat, prompting, and he settles into it with an obliging huff. 

 “Y’know, Phil, the code names are kinda pointless if we never use ‘em,” he says, words carrying no real heat - he looks back at the rest of them, lips thinning into a line. “Anyway. I called this meeting because I found a couple leads on Dream.” 

 “O-oh,” Ranboo stutters, tail lashing behind him. 

 “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, mate,” Phil reminds him gently, a sentiment that Niki affirms with a determined nod. 

 “There’ve been some reports- rumors, really,” Techno says, calling their attention again, and they all turn towards him, “of increased activity around the prison again. The Warden spending more time on its grounds, movement seen around the walls and around the portal- so I decided to go check it out for myself.” 

 Niki frowns, and watches as Phil does the same beside her - Techno had seemed to avoid the prison if he could help it, save for when he went on the initial mission to break Dream out. It was no secret to them that he didn’t exactly like the place. 

 “We could’ve helped if you asked,” Phil reminds him, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “I know, Phil. It’s just- that place is bad news. I’d rather keep you guys away from there if I can-” his hand goes to his head with a poorly hidden wince. “Sorry, Chat’s a little- worked up, at the minute.” 

 “Sorry, we’ll stop interrupting you,” Niki says, cutting off Phil before he says anything else. “So you went to the prison?” 

 Techno takes a second to gather his thoughts, mumbling quietly in the way that usually means he’s telling off Chat. “Right- I decided to stake out the portal. The rumors were right- Sam has been hanging around there, entered and left the prison four times yesterday. And today-” he hesitates, expression visibly darkening. “This morning, about an hour after the Warden arrived, Quackity came to the prison and went through the portal. He left the grounds about six hours later.” 

��“Quackity?” Niki frowns, eyes flicking over to how Phil has stilled in his seat. “What is Quackity doing at the prison?” 

 Phil ignores her question, reaching towards Techno, something indiscernible in his gaze. “Mate…”

 “He smelled of blood when he left,” Techno says, words sharp, and Niki feels her heart skip a beat. “Warden left about half an hour after, and I came back here.” 

 Ranboo clears his throat, sounding tentative. “Okay,” he drums his hand on the table when they turn towards him, eyebrows drawn, “but what, exactly, does this have to do with, uh, Dream?” 

 Techno and Phil trade glances, one of their bouts of unspoken conversation that Niki’s grown extremely used to. They seem strangely hesitant, she notes internally, Phil looking towards Techno with a question written clearly in the planes of his face. Techno sighs, a long puff of air through his lips as he closes his eyes and turns his face towards the table. 

 “You know how Dream was- injured,” he starts slowly, looking back up at them. Niki shifts uncomfortably - of course she noticed, it was impossible not to - if not the bandages that peeked under his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants, then how skinny he’d been, all skin and bones curled up uncomfortably in a pile at the corner of Techno’s couch. She’d not know the extent, by any means, and had always assumed that they’d been self-inflicted - she’d been in a bad enough place on her own before to know how your head can make you want to hurt, sometimes, how eating food can feel like choking on sawdust and the world could feel so much smaller when focused into delicate pricks of pain. Phil’s eyes are trained on Techno - on his face, then on the pinkish raised skin of a still-healing scar along his forearm, and she feels understanding settle like a rock in her gut. 

 “The Warden had apparently been lettin’ Quackity into the cell to torture Dream for the revive book,” Techno trails off, eyes narrowed and seemingly fixed on a random point of the opposite wall. “By the time I go there, it’d been goin’ on for months.”

 “But wait,” Ranboo’s tail moves even more erratically behind him, “You mean you think he’s back- there? How?” 

 “He has to be back in the prison,” Techno points out. “I can’t imagine anyone besides him that the two of them are goin’ to just start torturin’- Sam had been iffy about the whole thing when Quackity started in on me. It has to be Dream in there again.” 

 “But how did he get in there, then?” Ranboo asks, visibly confused. “Last time it took the entire server to lock him up!”

 “There were no signs of a struggle,” Niki points out, matter of fact. “I believe you, Techno, but I don’t really know how they managed to drag him back so easily. I can’t imagine he was jumping at the chance to go back in there.” 

 Techno shakes his head with an uneasy sigh. 

 “I have a feelin’ of what might’ve happened,” he says quietly. “And I really hope that I’m wrong and he’s less of an idiot than I think he is.” 

 ---

 They set out to investigate - and maybe attack - the next day, Techno and Phil taking on the bulk of preparations as Ranboo stays behind. He’d been understandably uneasy about the whole mission, so they’d left him back by the Syndicate room to set off their pearls in case anything went wrong. (“By the end of the day,” Techno had said, giving Phil a look with the corner of his lip quirked upwards, “don’t be like Phil here and think I meant the end of the month, alright?”) They’d all be supplied with armor and weapons, thanks to Phil, but she’d been handed the bulk of their potions, arranged neatly in her inventory by type in case they’d be needed. She lingers in the back of the room as Phil and Techno chat amiably over the sound of making last minute repairs on their armor, listens to Techno’s ceaseless reminders for Phil to be careful, watches as they make sure that their stasis chambers are properly prepared should they need them.

 (She watches as Phil nudges Techno’s shoulder when he lingers behind a certain chair, empty as long as she’s been part of the Syndicate, the fountain behind it bubbling quietly without a pearl inside. Techno sighs, expression strange. 

 “Should’ve set him up with one,” he says, quiet, and Phil pats him on the back. 

 “You couldn’t have known, mate. We wanted to wait a little before telling him about the Syndicate, remember?” 

 Techno hums, noncommittal. “Still.”)

 They Nether travel to the site of Techno’s lookout, which ends up being a little shambling thing with dirt walls dug into a small hill looking towards the prison portal, having hardly enough space to fit the three of them. Phil looks at it with no small amount of apprehension, and Techno shrugs lightly, wearing an expression that makes Phil turn to him with a look that makes Niki break into giggles. Techno crosses his arms- “in my defense-” and Phil looks up at the dirt ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. 

 “You couldn’t have made this a little roomier, mate?” Phil asks, voice dry as kindling, and Techno raises his hands by his head. 

 “Hey hey, it’s discreet, it gets the job done, it’s perfectly structurally sound-” the sound of the leftmost wall crumbling, along with the cloud of dust that puffs from it and fills their tiny space, undermines the tail end of his statement and leaves him sputtering, Niki falling into another fit of quiet giggles. Underneath it all, Phil sighs again, raising his wings behind him. 

 “...these are going to take so long to clean out.” 

 To his credit, Techno looks sheepish. “Sorry, Phil.”

 They sober up quickly; Techno turns around to the opposite side of the hill, where he’s hidden some peepholes inside the dirt - Niki settles herself by one, leaning forwards to put her eye to it and catch a glimpse of the prison looming over the water. It’s been repaired since the breakout, she notes, the gaping hole in the roof completely gone and replaced with obsidian, as intimidating and undamaged as it had been before, if not more so. Phil makes a considering sound from behind her.

 “Same plan as last time?” He asks, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “They’ve probably reinforced it, and Dream’s blueprints won’t include anything new the Warden’s added. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved Dream to a different location completely. We don’t want to draw too much attention, either, we were cutting it pretty close during the breakout.” He narrows his eyes. “I was thinking we’d try something a little stealthier, this time. “ 

 He gestures at Niki, who blinks back at him with wide eyes. 

 “You got a couple of invis potions for us?”

 She distributes the potions among them all, one regular and two splash potions of invisibility each, and Techno points towards the prison once she’s done. 

 “The most important thing is to get through the portal,” he says with a grim expression. “Worst comes to worst, once we’re inside we can always blast our way through - but gettin’ through that portal is our first priority.” 

 Phil narrows his eyes at him. “The portal is locked, though. We’ll need to follow someone else inside- and I’m pretty sure Sam uses pearls, so he’s out.” 

 Techno nods. “Which is why I’m bankin’ on the prison gettin’ another visitor today. We’ll just have to wait.” 

 Niki swallows. “Do you mean-”

 “Quackity?” Techno turns away, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m not totally sure, but he’s not exactly the type to just give up on his goals. He’s pretty predictable- an empire needs an emperor, always needs something new to rule- you know the type,” he says, tipping his head towards Phil. “He’ll be mad at Dream for disappearin’ on him and won’t miss the opportunity to prove he has the upper hand again. I’m not sure that he’s going to come today-”

 “-but you wouldn’t really be surprised, either,” Phil finishes for him, eyes steely with cold determination. “I trust your judgement, mate. Just stay safe- from what I’ve heard, Quackity has been...erratic.” 

 “When is he not,” Techno huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, Phil. Just be careful, both of you. Don’t get too close. And if things get messy- which is what we’re tryin’ to avoid, by the way- then don’t do anything too risky. Our priority is gettin’ in and out alive.” 

 “We can handle ourselves, Techno,” Niki reminds him with a small smile. “And Ranboo is there in case anything goes wrong.” 

 “Alright, then. Here’s the plan.” 

 ---

 It takes quite a long time for Quackity to arrive, long minutes that Niki spends fidgeting in the corner of the room, brushing her hands over seams of the netherite plates that Phil had shoved into her hands, back at the Syndicate room. The set is inexplicably light - not weightless, by any means, as it is still netherite, but not nearly as bulky as any set of netherite armor she’s owned or seen in the past. The runes are precise, lines thin and exact, written with graceful strokes of lapis. 

 “Phil’s the best metalworker I’ve ever met,” Techno tells her with a small grin, catching her in the middle of tracing what she can make out as an Unbreaking rune along the metal strapped to her forearm. “But then again, he’s had the time to practice.” 

 “Are you calling me old again?” Phil huffs, and Techno flashes a smile her direction before looking at Phil with a slight grin. 

 “Well, Chat is,” he says, lips twitching when Phil glares back. 

 “You can’t just blame Chat every time you insult me, you little shit,” Phil groans, and Techno only grins wider. 

 “Phil, my ad revenue,” he complains, a dramatic lilt to his voice that has Niki stifling a snort, and Phil’s glare only grows deadlier. 

 “You’ll have more than your ad revenue to worry about if you keep this up,” he mumbles, going back to keep watch at one of the peepholes and stilling as he does. “Shit- Techno, Quackity’s here.” 

 Techno straightens up, hindered slightly by the low ceiling of their room. “Alright- we all know the plan, right?” 

 Niki nods in the affirmative, pulling out a splash invis and letting it settle in her hand, the glass cool beneath her fingertips. She reaches into her inventory and lets her armor fade into it, takes a deep breath and watches as the two across from her do the same. She doesn’t wear armor often, but so close to the prison, feeling mining fatigue settling deep into her bones - she’s never missed the security it offers more. Techno keeps watch, waiting- drops his arm in a signal. Now. 

 Niki throws the potion at their feet, flinching back at the sound of shattering glass and feeling its effects seep into her skin. When she opens her eyes, she can’t see anything but the inside of the room that they’d holed themselves in and the faintest of wisps rising from where their feet must be, curling around the grass. 

 (Please let this work, she begs to no one in particular as they walk towards the prison. And if you can hear me- please keep us all safe.)

 She hardly breathes as they follow Quackity across the path, holding someone’s hand in her own - Phil’s, by the feel of it - careful to muffle her footsteps in the grass and stand still whenever Quackity’s eyes come a little too close. Thankfully for them, he seems focused, hardly stopping or looking around at all as he walks towards the prison’s portal, movements stiff as he walks forward. He punches the button on the wall particularly harshly, and Sam’s voice comes crackling through a speaker a second later. 

 “I’m here for my visit,” Quackity says, punctuating the sentence with a snort of laughter that doesn’t sound particularly sincere. Niki hasn’t seen him in a long while, not after everything that happened in Pogtopia, and she feels a chill worm down her spine - this man looks nothing like the one that had laughed and danced and sung at her birthday party what feels like an eternity ago. What happened? 

 Sam sighs, the sound turning into a sharp burst of static through the speakers. “Hello Quackity,” he says, voice deep and tired. “Please step into the portal after I tell you to and then wait on the other side.” 

 “I know the drill, Sam,” Quackity rolls his eyes. “Just because the bastard was gone for a few weeks doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how this damn place works.” 

 “Just going through protocol, Quackity,” Sam replies, and something about this response has Quackity exploding into a brief fit of laughter, the sound grating against Niki’s ears. She feels her grip tighten on Phil’s hand, air caught in her throat. 

 “Protocol- ha. Whatever you wanna tell yourself, pal.” Quackity smiles, cold and cruel, and Niki tries not to think about how she’d seen that same grin on Wilbur, eyes sparkling from the light of the lanterns hung from the bridges and walls of their ravine, remember how she’d looked into them and realized her old friend wasn’t there, anymore. Quackity disappears into the portal, and after a second, the hand around her own pulls her inside of it too.

 On the other side, Quackity taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms and waiting- Sam’s voice comes through the speakers again, words clipped. 

 “Go through the portal,” he says, and Quackity does- once again, they wait for a second for his body to disappear, then go within it themselves, pressed close enough together within its frame for Niki to feel the warmth of a wing wrap around her shoulders for a quick second before they’re out of the hot, stifling air of the Nether and into a large, neatly made lobby of blackstone and quartz. They duck into a corner, watching as Quackity moves towards the front counter, the Warden waiting there with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks- tired. His movements are slow, footsteps loud against the floor, shoulders tense and back hunched. He walks around the counter, sword strapped to his belt, and Niki feels her breath hitch at the sight of dried blood still stuck to the blade in patches and splatters.

 “He ready?” Quackity asks, holding his hands out - Niki catches a flash of metal as Sam drops something into them, watches as Quackity raises what ends up being a pair of shears, dangerous-looking and gleaming with enchants, to the light. 

 “Yes,” Sam says, side-eyeing Quackity with a small glare. “You know, it’s supposed to be your job to clean those things off when you’re done with them.”

 “I told you, busy day back in Las Nevadas yesterday,” Quackity waves a hand- “I’ll do it, alright? Don’t get all pissy now. What happened to being partners?” 

 “You said we’d be done with this months ago, Quackity,” Sam sighs, and Niki feels a light tug on her arm as Quackity and Sam begin to walk towards the wall to the right of them, breathes in slow and deep as she follows Techno and Phil towards the others. The wall yawns open with the hiss of redstone firing and pistons pulling blocks upwards, opening into a dark hallway that feels like entering the maw of some sort of giant, insatiable beast. They step inside as one, and the door shuts behind them. 

 “We’ll be done soon enough,” Quackity says, and Niki feels hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Trust me.” 

 They stalk forwards through a labyrinth of blackstone, Niki brushing the palms of her hand against her clothes when it goes clammy from adrenaline. Halfway through, she pauses to tip back a second potion of invisibility, careful to keep her movements slow and steady as not to make a sound - the liquid is silvery, cool and light on her tongue, and she lets the effects wash over her with her breath caught in her lungs before moving forward. The tunnels are simpler than she’d expected, bearing little obstacles or checkpoints - Quackity makes a wry comment a second after (“Guard tunnels today, huh? Appreciate the hustle, pal-”) that confirms her suspicions. Despite the potion particles still whirling around their bodies and the sounds of their footsteps, too loud in her own ears, they manage to make it forwards without much trouble, entering a large room with a doorway filled completely with a curtain of lava. 

 “Set your spawn,” Sam says, still stoic, and Quackity rolls his eyes again before doing as told. Niki keeps looking back at the lava flowing past the wall, its heat filling the room and making her already slick palms even worse, and Sam moves to the side to flick a lever, eyes trained on the lava slowly bubbling in front of him. 

 “Give me your tools?” Quackity asks, and Sam sighs before doing so - Niki watches as he hands over a netherite axe, then potions, then a few raw potatoes that Quackity accepts and puts into his inventory. Sam raises an eyebrow once he’s done, hand tight around the handle of his trident. 

 “You bring your own sword, today?” He asks, seeming irritated, and Quackity shrugs. 

 “Sorry pal, I need to make a new one. Guess I’m borrowing yours again.” 

 Sam sighs again, louder, and hands over his sword as well, watching as Quackity swings it a few times experimentally. The blade skims a little too close to her on one swing and she can’t quite help the squeak that escapes her lips as she throws herself out of the way, feels her heart hammer in her ears as she backs up against the wall. Please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that-

 “Quackity, wait.” Sam raises a hand, ear twitching as he looks over in her direction with narrowed eyes. “I think I heard something.”

 Oh fuck.

 “Well, guess show’s up then,” Techno drawls, and both of them whirl towards his voice, giving Niki enough time to pull her armor back on, scrambling to get her sword and shield in her hands as Phil does the same besides her. Pieces of armor appear where Techno is standing, then a bucket of milk- oh, why must her friends be so dramatic- and Techno’s standing there, smiling sharply, with Orphan Obliterator held loosely at his side. “Let’s get this done, then.” 

 As one, Techno and Phil blur into action - Techno moves forward to catch the prongs of Sam’s trident on his blade as Phil parries Quackity’s blows with his own sword- they move fluidly, easily covering each other’s backs as the room devolves into chaos. Niki remembers their guidance as she flits in and out of the fight, scoring quick hits to keep the Warden and Quackity off balance while remaining out of range from their weapons, and it’s not long before both of them have fallen with a spray of items and experience orbs scattered all over the floor. 

 Techno moves over to block off the exposed face of the bed with a block, looking over at the two of them with an uncharacteristically severe expression. “They’ll be back soon- we have to move fast. Niki, you have those fire res, right?” 

 She nods as she reaches into her inventory, finding the potion’s orange-pink glow and smashing it at their feet. They dive into the lava together, Niki scrambling to keep up, her arms struggling to move through the thick lava, loses sight of both until she flails into something directly in front of her and hands are pulling her up out of the lava. 

 “There you go, mate,” Phil smiles down at her as hauls herself to her feet, making a face at the feeling of the lava clinging to her clothes. “Yeah, swimming through lava isn’t exactly fun. You good?” She flashes him a thumbs up, and he laughs- “Niki, you’re still invisible.” She flushes pink- right.

 A few sips of milk later, she gives him a proper thumbs up, and he laughs, loud and bright. She looks past him to where Techno’s crouched over something- someone, she realizes with a start, in the corner. Dream’s back in prison clothes, ragged and ill-fitting, and he’s curled up with his back towards the front of the cell, shaking enough to be obvious even from where she’s standing. Techno speaks lowly, voice barely more than a deep rumble in the air, almost inaudible.

 “You there, Dream?” 

 She watches as Dream turns his head, looking up with wide, bleary eyes. His hair flops in front of his face, and something within her itches to brush it out of the way. “T-Techno?”

 “Yeah nerd, who else?” Techno smiles, and Dream seems to blink awake, drawing himself up with a shuddery breath. 

 “Techno- it’s a trap- what are you doing here?” he hisses, and Techno gives him a look, deadpan.

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s a trap- come on, Dream, we’ve been over this by now, bro. You have to know that their traps aren’t goin’ to do anything to me by now,” Techno rolls his eyes, reaching forward to steady his hands on Dream’s shoulders when the other man sputters and struggles to breathe. “Easy, now. Geez, you wanted to prove me wrong about being homeless bad enough that you came back here? We could’ve just made you a house, you know. You didn’t have to go this far.” 

 “I- they were gonna kill you,” Dream breathes, face twisted up uncomfortably, and his eyes flick past Techno’s face to where Phil and Niki are standing at the opposite wall of the cell. “All of you- they said-”

 “And that’s what I thought you’d say,” Techno groans. “Come on, you idiot, I thought you were smarter than this-” 

 “They were right there, Techno!” Dream fires back, eyes alight. “You- they were right there, what were you thinking, they could’ve-!”

 “And my best friend is a necromancer, remember?” Techno shakes his head. “Come on, Dream- Sam and Quackity? You know we can handle them in a fight, especially when you can just revive us if anything goes wrong. You don’t have to do this whole self-sacrifice thing, bro- there’s only so many times I can break into the same prison, y’know.” 

 “You’re so stupid,” Dream huffs, but he leans in anyway, head just barely settling against Techno’s shoulder. “I- I can’t believe. You’re so dumb.” 

 “Hey, don’t be sayin’ that to the guy that’s breakin’ you out of prison,” Techno laughs, slinging Dream over his shoulder with an easy motion and laughing harder when it makes him yelp. “That’s just bein’ ungrateful. You’re making Chat sad, man, and when they’re sad they don’t subscribe-” 

 “I regret this entirely,” Dream says, voice muffled against Techno’s shirt, tone completely flat. “Put me down- you idiot- I’m staying here. You’re worse than Quackity.” 

 “Rude. Now you’ve really made Chat mad. I demand an apology-” 

 “Boys, boys.” Niki can’t help giggling, watching the way their gazes snap towards her, rolling her eyes as she moves forward with a few potions held loosely in her hand. “Dream, do you want a health pot?” 

 Dream seems to deliberate for a second, before nodding at her, expression slightly strained. “...sure.” 

 “You two can finish your argument after we’ve broken out of the biggest maximum security prison on the server,” Phil drawls from behind her, arms crossed at his chest. “Come on, now, before Sam gets back.” 

 “Isn’t this the only maximum security prison on the server?” Techno asks aloud, an amused expression on his face - one that only gets worse when Phil glares at him with one ice-blue eye. 

 “Shut-” he sighs, shaking his head. “You two are chaotic little shits, you know that?”

 “Don’t compare me to him, Phil,” Techno complains, Dream mirroring his words with muffled protests of his own, and Phil breathes another drawn-out, long-suffering sigh as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. 

 “Niki, give us some fire res please?” 

 She finds the potion bottle between giggles, throwing it to the ground as she tries to choke down the laughter rapidly bubbling up her throat. “Of course, Phil.” 

 She looks back at Techno and Dream before jumping into the lava, the two of them once again lost in some sort of argument, Dream draped over Techno’s shoulder. He’s breathing easier now, she notes, and Techno looks looser too - a little less tense, leaning back with a perpetual quirk to the corner of his lip as they fire insults back and forth. This is familiar, she recognizes with a soft twist in her chest, the same way that Phil and Techno can finish each other’s sentences and look at each other with laughing eyes sharing the same memories of the past, the same way Ranboo watches Techno’s every step as he adjusts his stance and lifts his sword and Techno laughs and calls him a main character in turn, the same way she and Phil will settle together on the porch over cups of tea and sit at each other’s sides for hours. The rhythm between them is one well-established, the road well-worn - she imagines them, huddled in this dingy cell for months together, and breathes in slow and deep. 

 “Come on,” she smiles, making sure to keep it on her face when Dream meets her eyes with wide, startled ones of his own. Dream still isn’t an ally, and isn’t a friend. 

 But - she watches as he smiles back, something inexplicably warm in her chest - maybe, one day, he could be.

[cinnamonest]

Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask.  Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.