#won't you lend your lungs to me

[mumblelard]

drinking coffee, watching skateboard videos, listening to townes van zandt and marveling at clarice and her sass or happy tuesday imaginary constructs

happy mumblelard post number three thousand oh my or keep passing the open windows imaginary constructs

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 10: Ghost’s Date

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Ghost x Reader (+ Ghost x Price x Reader), threesome, douple p, a bit of choking, feelings.

It's a couple of days after your little adventure with Soap, while you are making yourself a cup of coffee that Ghost enters the house. He walks behind you, smiling when you smile at him, he hugs you from behind kissing the back of your head. 

“How you doing, birdie?” He asks, resting his head on yours.

“Really good, Ghostie.” You answer, smiling enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Any plans for today?” He asks

“Yeah, I was planning on going running later, then I was going to go on a flight to Madagascar and probably have dinner at some terrorist organisation headquarters.” You answer, unnecessarily sarcastic knowing perfectly fine you can't leave the house. “Why? You wanna join?”

“Ha, ha. Well, since you are so busy I'll ask Gaz if he wants to help me with the dogs then.” He says casually, stepping back and chuckling when you whip your head around.

“Dogs?” You ask with a wide smile on your face. 

“Yeah, there is a bunch of new K-9 units and I have been assigned to arrange their trainers and partners.” He explains. “I thought you'd like to spend the afternoon with the puppies but it seems you're busy, so.”

“No, no, I'm not.” You quickly say, clinging to his t-shirt. “I'm sorry, I was just joking, sorry, sorry.” 

You lay your head on his chest, looking up to him with puppy eyes. 

“Can I see the doggies?” You ask smiling softly.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your antics and patting your butt. 

“Put on your shoes then, let's go.” You quickly scurry past him, coffee long forgotten on the kitchen counter. You end up being the one pulling him out of the house, excited to see dogs.

The fresh air of the outside fills your lungs when you take a deep breath making Ghost chuckle. “You're acting like the house doesn't have windows.” 

You laugh back, not being able to argue and walking towards the car. It is a quick drive back to base, and different from Soap, Ghost lets you open your own door waiting for you before the car to hold your hand on your way inside the dog kennels. 

The barks and whines of the puppies can be heard immediately and Ghost moves his hand to the small part of your back to push you forward telling you to go for them. 

You walk faster almost running until reaching the gate at the end of the hall where the puppies are, little tails wagging to the sound of your voice excited to meet new people. You crouch down getting your finger inside that immediately get bitten and licked by the little devils. 

“Want to help me give them their tags?” Ghost asks when he reaches you. “You need to go inside, I'm sure you'll hate it.”

You end up having the time of your life, once inside you sit on the floor close to the gate with Ghost sitting on the other side of the gate. He passes the collars with the tag for each dog, laughing when you try and identify each of the puppies when they won't stay still for a second. 

By the end, most of the dogs are already falling asleep around you; even some on top of you. And when you are done with the tags, Ghost moves to the desk to sign the last documents required.

“Oh, no!” You exclaim getting his attention. “He peed on me!” You whine, moving the puppy that was on your lap and getting out. Holding the t-shirt away from your body, a big, circular spot in the middle of it. 

Ghost chuckles when he sees you, noticing a familiar tag on it. “Wait, is that…”

“Soap's t-shirt?” You ask, looking at what he's pointing. “Yeah, it is.” 

That turns Ghost's chuckle into a whole belly laugh as he stands, finished all the work, picking it up. “Let's go to the room, I'll lend you one of mine.” 

“You got a room in here?” You ask walking after him.

“Yeah, nothing major. Price managed to get us a room for each of us, Gaz and Soap share theirs cause they are clingy but Price and I got our own. Rank privileges.” He says winking at you, slightly blushing for some reason at such a silly gesture. 

The room is close by, and when you enter Ghost sits on his bed dropping the papers on his desk. You take off the shirt, careful not to touch it with your face in the process. In his bathroom, you wash the part of your abdomen that you feel moist, grimacing at the knowledge it is pee and walk back into the room. Not bothering to put on a shirt and sitting on Ghost's lap, your legs going around his hips.

He looks at you, hugging you back and a look of mischievousness in his eyes. 

“So you told Johnny that you loved him.” Ghost suddenly says, blood blushing to your face making you hide it on his neck as you groan.

“He couldn't stay quiet, could he?” You ask, making the man chuckle as his hand moves up and down your back.

“Nah, you would have threatened him with stopping to love him or something for him to be quiet.” He jokes, his other hand resting on your thigh. “But why do you want him not to say anything, love? Embarrassed of him?”

“No. Of me.” You admit, mumbling against his skin while you hug his torso. 

“Explain.” He simply says, pulling words out of you; feeling a certain wave of proudness that you found a safe space to talk in him, even if hiding your face. 

“I feel silly… too exposed… I don't like it…” you say, burying your face even more if possible trying to hide. 

“It is overwhelming, right? He asks, resting his head on top of yours. “And confusing… it is already confusing coming to terms with the feeling of one person, let alone four of them, right?”

You simply nod against his neck, like a stubborn kid getting called out. 

“And you feel the pressure to automatically love the four of them. There is that one person that you feel like the relationship is a bit more forward or is just different from the rest, maybe you met them before or clicked easier with them. But now, it is not fair to the rest so you start to force yourself to love them too, and it is not that you don't, is that you are not letting the relationship evolve naturally and you are pressuring it, and it doesn't feel right. And then, that turns into feeling that they are gonna notice it, and they are going to hate you and you are going to lose them all, but now you want them and instead of feeling love you feel scared and you don't want to admit it.” He says calmly, each word as if he was reading your mind. You look up to him, brows furrowed and glossy eyes. “Right?”

“How do you…” you half ask, looking into his eyes that crinkle when he smiles. 

“Well, birdie.” He says with a soft chuckle. “We didn't wake up one day and decided we were all married together and everything was perfect. It took us years to finally set everything in.”

“Years?” You ask surprised by the time.

Simon hums as an answer. “We met you a month ago. So you already doing a better job than all of us.” He chuckles. “I'm pretty sure I was the one who did the shittiest job with it, to be honest… I kept thinking Soap didn't like me back, that he was afraid to tell me off and that was why he wanted more with Gaz and Price. Funniest thing is that we were not really dating because I was already unsure about him liking me more than physically.”

“And how did you do it?” You ask.

“Well, the thing that I struggled the most was with how jealous was of the way Soap would look at them. Once I got my head out of my own ass I realised he look at me just like that as well…” He says cupping your face. “And I'm pretty sure he is starting to look at you just like that too. And he is not the only one.”

You look up into his eyes, you have never seen them like they look at the moment. Clear with emotions, no walls in between, just pouring into you the reassurance you so badly need. It brings tears to your eyes, not sad, simply feeling like the door holding all the anxiousness and self-doubt has just been opened and those feelings are being flushed out. 

“Can I kiss you?” You ask with a sob, your hand reaching to the bottom of his mask not daring to actually touch it until he tells you it's okay. He nods, helping you take it off; and before you can kiss him he cups your face stopping you.

“You are alright, birdie?” He asks, concern obvious in his voice. You quickly nod, not wanting to use words and Ghost takes pity on you, probably for seeing himself on you, because he doesn't push you and leans forward crashing his lips against yours. 

His hands move down to your hips, pulling you tightly against him; his tongue finds its way inside dancing along with yours. You grab his shoulders, his wide hands engulfing your ribs pulling you close.

Your hips grind against his crotch making him groan into your mouth, his cock coming to life against your ass. One of his hands moves lower, to where your spine ends and pushes you helping you move against him.

“Aww, poor birdie needs me to fuck all my love into her tight sweet cunt?” He coos into your neck, making you whine out of embarrassment. “Show her how much we want her, our treasured birdie. So luckily that we found you, you know that?”

Ghost moves to kiss your cheeks, drinking your tears as he does. His hand find its way inside of your pants, sliding down until he reaches your entrance groaning when he feels the wetness.

“So wet already, birdie?” He snickers looking at your face as you close your eyes, biting your lips as you keep moving your hips trying to get his finger inside of you. He indulges you, inserting two fingers inside your weeping cunt making you arch your back as a soft moan escapes your lips. 

It is fast, the way he easily takes off your clothes; barely making you stand to take off your clothes before he has you straddling his lap. He's still clothed when you pull him down, making him lay on his back with you still on his lap. 

“I want to ride you, Simon Riley.” 

And who in the hell is he to deny your wishes? He doesn't even stop to think how you learnt his name, Johnny most likely. But you standing over him, hair framing your face, light from outside illuminating you from behind looking like a fucking angel. And it takes him a minute, to remember that he has free will to roam your body with his hands. 

He helps you undo his pants, only taking them down to his mid-thigh before pulling his dick out of his briefs. Simon knows you are not as stretched as you should be, but when he sees you spit down on his tip rubbing your small hand up and down, he too can't wait any longer. 

He helps you, lowering you on his dick as it stretches you to the brim. He sees the look of pure ecstasy on your face; eyes dropping close, brown furrow and lip between your teeth keeping you from moaning out loud. 

He is no better than you, his fingertips dig into the fat of your hips with a bruising strength, his eyes locked into the way your lips spread to allow his dick deep into you. He groans when he feels your hip flush against his, smiling when he sees you grind forward to find friction against your clit; your legs slightly buckling when his trimmed pubes give you that needed touch. 

He moves his hand forward, brushing the soft fuzz of your abdomen as he presses his hand on it placing his hand right where he knows his tip is at. Pressing down at it and moving his thumb slowly down your body, making you feel him inside of you; almost able to tell every vein of his shaft. 

It must also do something for him with the way he groans, using his other hand to move your hips back and forward savouring every millimetre of friction that it gives him. You press your hands on his chest, bending your knees under you getting in position to move up and down. 

He sighs, a feeling of victory in his heart as he moves both his arms to cross them under his head; as if he was simply sunbathing on the beach and not having sex. 

You chuckle when you see him, a refreshing of sight of seeing him smile satisfied with himself and with no mask on the way. 

“Enjoying the view, Riley?” You tease, still not moving and letting yourself rest for a second. 

“Very.” He simply answers, you the white of his teeth peeks as he gives you a tiny smile. “Was it Johnny that told you?”

“Obviously.” You chuckle back, Simon's eyebrow twitching when you do and your cunt clenches around him. “He actually said your name right before eating my ass… I’m still figuring out how to feel about it.”

Your comment makes him chuckle, moving inside of you forcing an intake of air in you. “Nah, that’s just cause you have a bloody nice arse, birdie. Must have reminded him of mine.”

You shake your head. “I’ll have to check it myself then.” You say, raising your chin. 

“Aw, for fucks sake. I already have to hide my arse from Johnny, not from you too.” He laughs, covering his eyes with his arm. 

“Aww, Simon, you getting shy.” You tease him, softly pulling his arm.

“Ha, I’ll show you shy.” He says with a chuckle, he grabs your calves one on each hand pulling you up. It forces you to plant your hands on each side of his head when he pulls your lower body up. It leaves you holding yourself up, with only your hands on the bed, legs spread open and his dick resting on your entrance having forced out with the change in position. 

You look down, seeing the clear string of arousal linking the two of you together, and you watch as he slowly lowers your hips; his tip catching at your entrance and he suddenly thrusts his hips up filling you up easily. 

It forces the air out of your lungs, leaving you with your mouth open right over his face and if you had your eyes open you would be able to see that he looks just as fucked out as you. Eyes closed in bliss, mouth open and head slightly tilted back. 

He moves you up and down, using you like a human fleshlight, the humble show of his sheer strength only fueling your arousal. This man has the strength to break you in two, and instead is using all his power to make you feel good.

It is an angle at which he reaches so deep, every time he lowers your or his hips rises it is skin on skin; there is not an inch of his dick that is not inside of you. Your arousal drips down, making plat plat plat sounds every time your clit kisses his body. 

It has your mind empty, focusing on keeping yourself up but every thrust threatens to make you fall face-first on his. Your arms start to shake after a bit, it is hard to stay up when you are getting fuck within an inch of your life. 

You lower yourself, choosing to rest on your forearms; getting closer to his face but still keeping yourself off of him. “Getting tired, birdie?” He asks between grunts. “Better cum soon them, love.”

He changes the angle again, and somehow the new angle makes it easier for him to reach that point inside of you that has your eyes rolling back into your skull; moaning his name loudly as you feel your climax approach suddenly. 

“Yeah, just like that, birdie.” He says, satisfied with himself that he was able to have you coming undone so quickly. “C’mon, birdie, give to me, love.”

You whine, wanting to hold on a little bit longer; just a bit more.

But it is just a couple thrusts more than have you finally collapsing over him, barely dodging his face on your way down when you come; arms shaking when you feel him let go of you just to rub your clit in tight circles to make you climax last making you moan on his hear.

He lets you breathe when you slap his hand, chuckling to himself when you do and he lets you rest. With you resting on him, both your arms over his head and his face on your chest.  

It takes you a moment to catch your breath back, and when you do you look down to see his dick still red and angry. “You didn't finish…”

“I know, I had another plan.” He says. “Are you alright, love?” He asks, and when you nod he smiles. Standing up keeping you on his arms, your legs around his hips. “Let’s go visit Price.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded when you see him start to walk towards the door. “Wait, no, we are naked, people will see.”

“No, they won’t. And I’m dressed.” He argues, and he is right. His only skin showing being his dick and his face. Funny enough.

You hug him, hiding your face on his neck and accepting your fate. He walks outside, he knows perfectly fine that only he and Price are on this side of the base but you don't need to know that. He reaches Price's office in less than a minute which for you feels like an eternity and he knocks on the door, going in when Price says “C’mon in” from the inside.

“Night, Captain.” He says as if it is the most normal interaction. 

“Well, hello Simon.” The captain answers, chuckling when he sees you still hiding. “Hi, birdie.”

You still feel yourself burn with embarrassment, mumbling a tiny Hi as an answer; only pulling your face out when Simons sits you on Price's desk. “Lay down.” Simon tells you.

You look behind you, seeing as Price moves everything so you can lay back; choosing to prop yourself on your elbows to remain able to look at them. 

“Give me a kiss?” Price asks, still sitting on his chair and you give him a soft peck on the lips making the man smile, his moustache moving as he does. “Are you having fun?”

“I am.” You answer and you turn to Ghost. “But he isn’t”

Ghost scoffs at you, slapping your thigh at the same time. “And who says I’m not having fun.”

“He didn't finish.” You tell Price, looking up at him, feeling like a kid snitching on somebody. 

“And whose fault is that?” Ghost answers, teasing you. 

It makes you gasp, feeling offended by his words and you sidekick him his ribs not strong enough to actually hurt him. “Don't say those things to me, I feel bad later!” You admit

“Now, now, settle down the both of you.” He says chuckling as he stands up, slowly walking to stand beside Ghost. “If you have so much energy why don't you fuck it out instead of fighting.”

Ghost groans between your legs, and it's then that you notice that Price is fisting his cock, moving his rough hand slowly up and down Ghost's length aligning it with your entrance. He pushes Ghost forward, filling you up once more and making you moan softly. 

“Lay down.” Price tells you this time, and you oblige letting your back rest against the table. Ghost’s hands move to the underside of your thighs, keeping them up closer to your chest. His hips move slowly in and out of you, and you notice one of his hands slip from your leg. 

Wet sounds catch your attention and when you look up you see Price kissing Ghost, his hand on the back of Ghost's head and Ghost’s hand wrapped around Price’s shaft. He moves his hand at the same pace as the one set by his hips fucking you, you barely hear them moan into each other mouth. The slightest twitch of their eyebrow when they touch a weak spot.

You notice Price’s hand on Ghost’s waist under his shirt, rubbing circles with his thumb and slightly pushing him forward to meet your hips. The one that is behind his head closes around his hair, pulling his head slightly back and Price moves to kiss the man’s throat, a moan leaving Ghost’s mouth as he looks up. 

You see Price drag his tongue flat against Ghost’s neck, moving up to behind his ear biting at his lobe and it is then that he catches you staring; a smirk appearing on his face. “I think birdie is a little perver that likes to watch…” He snitches, a tone of voice that lets you know you are in trouble. 

“I think she just wants more attention… Can’t have enough, do you, birdie?” Ghost asks, grunting as he keeps thrusting in and out. 

“Not true...” You mumble, half whining. You follow Price as he moves away from Ghost, his hand finding its way back to your leg. Price stands behind you, pressing his hand on your chest to make you lie down coming face to face with his dick right in front of your face. 

“Maybe if you have a cock down your throat you will stop lying.” He says, fisting his dick and probing your lips. You open your mouth slowly, expecting him to ease his way inside little by little. Instead, the moment your mouth is opened enough he thrusts forward, making you gag.

“Fuck!” You heard Ghost groan. “Do it again, captain. She clenched down so hard when you did.”

Price chuckles, pulling back and bending down to look at your face. He grabs your hand, moving it so his fingers are on your palm. “If it gets too much, grab it twice, alright, love?” He instructs and you nod, opening your mouth back again eagerly.

He doesn't waste time, filling your mouth back at the same time Ghost does, making you arch your back at the double stimulation. Something about the unusual harder way that the both of them are fucking you tonight truly ignites something inside of you. Ever since your weekend with Soap, something in the dynamics of the five seems to have changed.

Before, they would always touch you with such care as if scared you would break or that they would scare you off if they pressed a bit too hard. Always putting you in front of them, making sure you were enjoying it most time not even caring about themselves.

Not that they are not caring about it today, but there is a certain edge about it that shows that they are enjoying it doing it harder not for the extra friction but for the feeling that they are allowed to do it to you and you are basking on the attention received. 

Price and Ghost thrust in and out so hard that for a second you fear they may meet in the middle, their hands roam your body, pressing, scratching, slightly slapping just to make you jump at the sting. 

Price leans forward to kiss Ghost again, the change in angle making his shaft hit deeper in your throat making you grab his finger in reflex; once, not twice. And once he is sure of it, he keeps fucking your skull without much of a care.

It is not much longer after that you feel your second climax on the night approach, not that you could do much about it. The change in Price's attitude, from worshipping you on your first night to the lack of care of tonight truly opens your eyes to the wide range of possibilities with the man.

And the way Ghost has been filling you up, cunt stretched to accommodate the wide size of his shaft on every thrust has you wailing around Price when his thumb rubs your clit in tight circles. You combust on a loud moan around Price, Ghost holding your hips hard as he picks up the pace trying to reach his as well, grunting loudly and pulling out last second to paint your abdomen white with his spend, groaning at the sigh. 

It is Price the last to come, letting go of your hand to wrap both of his around your throat to fuck it harder. It makes you panic for a second, the lack of his hand translating to a lack of communication to let him know if it is too much. It only lasts until Ghost’s hand takes Price’s place, keeping you grounded as he moves to your side kissing your hand. 

Price's hands wrap harder than expected, making it almost impossible to breathe and having to lean on holding your breath for as long as Price needs hoping to have the lungs capacity. He finally does, right as you start to think about tapping out, he comes deep down your throat, coughing when he finally lets go of your neck. 

He pulls back, letting you breathe, marvelling at the sight of his pretty bird looking so filthy with his and his Lieutenant come on her body. He sits back down on his chair, picking you up to sit you down on his lap; using the tissues on his desk to wash as good as he can the come and spit drying up on your face as you are still coughing up a bit. 

Post-nut clarity hits Price hard when he sees the imprints on his hands on your neck, they are just red for the lack of oxygen; he knows perfectly fine there will be no marks in the morning. But right now you are coughing up a lung and his hands are around your neck. 

He cuddles you, kissing your head as he bathes you in apologies. “I’m sorry, birdie. I was too rough, sorry, love.”

You shake your head, making him look down at your face, heart warming up when he sees a little mischievous smile on your mouth. “I liked it.” You say, voice hoarse and scratched. 

Ghost chuckles behind you, crouching down to let a glass of water on your hands. “You were right, Captain. She is a little perver.” He jokes, dropping a kiss on your forehead. 

Hi my lovelies!! 💗💗

Only two more chapters to go to finish this series, and I dont know how to feel about it.

I only need to write the finale, and revise the next one, AAAAA so nervous.

Once I'm done with that I'll do a lot of blogkeeping so it is a lot more tidy because it is A MESS right now, and I want it to be easier to find everything I have written before adding more to the chaos.

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra  @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @witchthewriter @soupinasock @phantomly27 @arbesa-mind  @multifandomheathenannie  @spadekip @cmbghost @herefor-tojis-tits @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce

[tongaris]

Won't you lend your lungs to me? Mine are collapsing.

[sky-kiss]

@red-dead-sakharine requested 8 INT Tav who mistakenly calls Raphael a tiefling.

Raphael/Tav (GN): The Devil You TRULY Don't Know

Finally, the last piece of his grand design. The fulcrum, his piece de resistance, upon which so much hung. Scanning them for the hundredth time, Raphael cannot shake the sense of delicious irony: a child of Asmodeus, one of his blasted tieflings, will deliver the Prince of Lies's throne to Raphael's grasp. He cannot imagine a sweeter agony for the Lord of the Ninth. 

 He is fully prepared to bask in his victory when he summons the group to the House. And why should he not? This meeting is the start of his conquest. He lets the human glamor drop, stretching his grand wings as he relaxes into his proper form. Tav shuffles back a step, regarding him with wide eyes, raking across his figure. Raphael preens beneath their observation, raising his left hand to tap his chin. "What's better than a devil you don't know? A devil you do."

So many things happen in such rapid succession. When Raphael reflects on this moment, he will not know precisely how to parse their line of thought. The silly dear's face seems to shift from confusion to pain to breathtaking concern in seconds—Tav lungs for him. Raphael does not fall back but is left to arch a brow as the little creature clutches his hand between theirs. 

"You should not say that about yourself. You cannot." 

He purses his lips, glancing over their shoulder at their companions. The cambion is gratified to see they share his confusion. "I…dear, some clarity is in order. What can't I say?" 

"They call us devils. Every day, I've heard it. But you cannot internalize that feeling, brother. You are no more a devil than I." 

Raphael takes a moment to collect himself, frowning. "I…"

They cut him off, clutching his hand tighter, all agonized sincerity. "Whatever they've made you feel, it needn't be true. You are more than that."

The vampire spawn takes a step forward, holding up a finger. "Is he, darling? He looks…well, I don't know. A touch Infernal. The sweltering hellscape does…lend some credence to his claim." 

Shadowheart shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "There's also that fact that he's said it."

"Listen to your friends, little mouse. For this devil might be…" 

"So much more if he recognized his potential. His humanity. My friend, do you know how many mobs have named me such? Devil? Hellspawn?" 

He frowned. "Tragic, pet. If we could just…"

"I won't let the same befall you." A thumb stroking over the curve of his wrist. Raphael suffers a truly visceral image: his plan crashing down around his ears, Asmodeus cackling from his seat in Nessus. "I look at you. And see your pain. I see how much more you could be." 

"Your judgment is truly misplaced." 

"Mr. Devil, sir," Shadowheart begins. 

"Raphael." Gods, he feels a migraine coming on. 

"If you release our friend to us, we'll explain the situation. Could you forward the highlights of this presentation? 

"It loses its dramatic effect." 

"It'll only be worse if they stay. You see them."

Tav continues to stare in hurt and earnest interest. Raphael shrugs. He snaps his fingers and sends the little idiot careening back to the mortal plane. Thus unburdened, he turns to address the spawn and the cultist. "Now, shall we try again?"

[anothersoulless]

Seven Minutes in Hell {Breakup! Eustass Kid X Reader}

You have been treated badly one too many times. It's time to leave your Boyfriend behind

Shit hasn't been well, this song slaps and let's get this shit show started!

Ofc kinda angsty(not really though?, but on god Reader deserves freedom (Dw, my pookie will get another actual One shot soon lmao, hopefully as tasteful as the song but lbfr i'll probabky flump it again)

Anywho, let's get it started

Admittedly, your relationship with Kid was everything but healthy. He was loud and didn't really care about if you had to stand up in the morning, police called to your place more than once for loud screaming and arguments. There were his guy friends, his crew, that were obviously higher on his priority list than you — far higher. The amount of times he nearly went to jail for them, you'd thought Kid would have learned his lesson, but alas he never did. And you? Well, you seemed to only be there for one thing — stress relief. If that meant fucking you and screaming at you, something even throwing random stuff at you he found in the house, well, that was for him to decide on the whim.

If at least the sex was good, but even that was all about him. It was like the world revolved around him and only him and everyone had to do what he wanted. Well, too bad for him, you had enough. Years of misery finally snapping to a close, you decided he wasn't worth your time anymore. You were done with being treated like an old-timey housewife of the Middle Ages. You had packed your things while he was out with his friends again, ready to leave. There was no way in hell however you would want to miss his face when you confronted him, oh how you imagined he'd look. Would he be upset, would he scream at you again, only proving your point?

You put your last bag in your best friend's trunk, she had been kind enough to lend you a hand in her endeavor. If it went how she wanted to, you probably wouldn't even have started this relationship, but now she just sat ready to drive, the box of glitter she brought still sitting on the back seat as she gave you a last encouraging nod to take it. You didn't and went back inside, letting her know it could get late — she waited, of course. And you went back inside.

Kid was expecting food on the stove when he came back home, he didn't even notice your shoes missing on the shoe rack out front when he unlocked the apartment, but he did notice one thing — all that decor he had absolutely despised missing. He even smiled triumphantly before he realised the missing smell of fresh food. Kicking off his boots haphazardly, he stopped into the kitchen and saw you on your phone, sitting on a chair at the table. "Yo, what's with food?" "I won't make you food anymore."

There was a silence, a calm before the storm. You put your phone in your back pocket before he could fly off the handle, just in time. "What the fuck?! You're not even gonna make me food now, what are you even worth?!" You let him have his little temper tantrum, before you sighed. "We're done, Kid. I'm worth far more than you, and by all means... I really hope you never get another partner in your life, my god" He seethed, his face contorting in anger, but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, words missing on his tongue and voice dying in his throat. "Oh, and uh, I'm moving out. Like today." You shrugged.

All the tension in him seemed to snap at once, as he lunged forwards, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you against the wall. His metal fingers pressing down hard, actually restricting your airway. "You fucking bitch have the audacity to come in here, live here for years, be absolutely useless to me, then up and leave? No, no, you don't get to do that!" "Well, I was good enough to make you food. And to get you off, apparently. Also, you hurt me in any way, I won't hesitate to call the police, I only need to press one button right now." He huffed, he really seemed like a bull trapped in a ring with gladiators, just that this was no real fight. "Don't fucking pretend like you didn't like this shit, wasn't that part of the reason you even came here in the first place?"

"It was, at the start" You smiled. "You just kind of… Put me through hell, not gonna lie. Like, you've gotten so bad in bed, it's actively hell. Like I'm just there, and honestly, no. Not even a thank you, no — just no." His hands clenched into fists, and for a second you thought you had crossed the line, as he raised his hand, before he turned, smashing the table with his prosthetic. "Get out you fucking whore! Get out, or I swear I'll rip your fucking throat out!" You didn't need to get asked twice, running to your friends' car, who looked at you worriedly, but you smiled as you hoped into the passenger seat. "Drive, Drive!" And without a word, she started the car as you began laughing. Finally, you were free again.

[addie-henderson]

Catch me if you can.

Batman gets his rocks off by catching a thief in the bat cave. (of course it's only the love of his life)

A joyous whistled tune echos off the tall walls and soon trailed off. It was dark and gloomy, like the cave always was. the sound of sharp heels hitting the ground was apparent in the silence. A gloved finger ran along the keys of the rather large computer that hung above the head of anyone who could possibly wall the halls.

"wonder if he's overcompensating for something..." you wonder out loud knowing your dig would get at the nerves of your watchful audience.

there's no immediate response that can be heard so the strut around the cave continues with a hand on tour of an extensive weapons artillery. A batarang found its way in between nimble fingers. you take your time spinning in your hand before sticking it into the belt hanging low on your waist.

"oooo, freeze gun." you mutter before grabbing that too.

despite the cold weapon in your hands there's a sudden warmth behind you and you smile. Bruce.

"Bandit." a hand grabs hold of your arm roughly, in a way Bruce would never be seen touching you. careless and hard.

"Batman." you muse, "come here often?"

you both knew the answer. you both knew you were being coy with him.

"I'd like to ask you the same question." his gruff voice came from under the cawl, thought a small smirk makes your stomach flutter.

"you'll have to catch me first, love." you hiss, spinning with a ferocity of someone fighting for their life. you drop low and swing your leg under his sending him tumbling onto his back (he could have dodged. you knew he could have)

He's quick back up to his feet but you're quicker, grabbing a few trinkets off of display before he's back on his feet.

"You don't think I'd actually let you leave do you?"

"We'll find out won't we, Batty boy?"

he lunges forward, without any thought. no slow meticulous planning. only his instincts.

you smile again, this was too easy. the bottom of your heeled boot collides with his armored chest although you know it doesn't hurt him he falls once more and this time you're right on top of him.

"there actually is one more thing I'd like to take with me," you lean close to his face his breath is warm again your lips. "the cowl of the caped crusader."

your lips press to his and he pretend to struggles against you as your greedy hands begin to pull off the only thing keeping you from seeing his face. he throws his weight from under you send your back to the ground and house pinned under his weight.

"I think I'll keep that, thanks." he shoots back. his hand finds your throat and you gasp." I think I'll keep all of it. maybe even you. "

the thought excites you. the idea of being kept here on display like one of his other knick knacks and toys. to be taken down and used and put back like you're no more important than a spare grappling hook or a book of riddles.

"I did-," you gasp searching for the air you're being shorted "I didn't plan for a sleep over, batsy."

he says nothing. figures. he's done enough talking. his hand finds the cool metal zipper in all the leather clinging to your skin and it's not long before the feel of the cold air hits your exposed thighs.

he's just as rough and careless as his fighting when his hand smacks down against your thighs and you jump. a small welcoming whimper leaving your lips. "don't worry. I'll lend you something when I'm through... or maybe I'll leave you like this. I haven't decided."

[pavlovianfuckery]

this is where i'd put my frankenstein joke IF I HAD ONE

MASTERLIST

if he wasn't so much fun we would not be having this problem, but alas he's just an all around delight, so ig i'm welcome and you're sorry

linky for the ao3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56915101

3.6k of e-stim stuff and banter under the cut, you all know the drill, minors fuck all the way off etc etc

You can hear his annoyed grumbling as you round the corner, so rather than walk in as you had originally planned you stay back, watching through a crack in the door. The yellow light of the desk lamp lends a warmth to his skin, making him look almost alive as he rakes a hand through his hair. He makes an annoyed face at the laptop screen and for a minute you think he hasn't noticed you yet.

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare, or...?"

That's as close to an invitation that you're going to get so you step into the office, closing the heavy door behind you.

"Feel like taking a break?" Stepping behind the desk, you run your hands over his tense shoulders. Maybe your little scheme has decent timing, after all.

"It's a very tempting offer, but as you can see," he gestures to the stack of papers, piled high on the corner of the desk, then rubs his hands across his face, "I've kind of got a lot on my plate at the moment, doll. Rain check?"

"You're no fun," you pout. "Can't you come by my place after?" Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear in a sing-song voice, "I'll make it worth your while..." When he hesitates, you press a quick kiss to the nape of his neck, his pale hair tickling the tip of your nose as you pull his scent deep into your lungs. "You won't have to do any of the work, scouts honour."

He pulls away and looks over his shoulder at you, brow raised. "Since when were you ever a scout?"

"Since I was hoping that you'd be my guinea pig for an hour? Two, tops."

"You're not exactly selling it."

"It might be a little kinky..." You waggle your eyebrows at him, "You sure you're not at least a little curious?"

"Well, when you put it like that," he slaps the laptop closed and spins the chair around, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. "I might be able to spare just an hour, if it's urgent."

"It really is."

⁂

He lets you lead him to the bedroom, and it should be nothing. It's not like you could actually hurt him even if you wanted to, but it almost feels like something approaching trust all the same, gossamer thin though it might be. It makes your heart skip a beat when you reach for his hand, and he doesn't shake it off. ‘It's nothing’, you keep telling yourself. For your sanity if nothing else, it needs to be nothing.

There's something almost endearing about the way he toes off his shoes and folds himself into a tailor sit on top of the covers. He stands out like an ink blot on your bed, all blacks and greys against the worn out coverlet with its faded flowers.

"You look good in my bed, you know." Sitting down next to him, you card your fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp.

"So, is stroking my ego part of your little experiment, or...?" He leans into your touch with a lopsided grin.

"No, but you can consider it bonus content, if you like."

"What if I've got something else for you to stroke?" He looks up at you through lowered lashes, probably aiming for coquettish but ending up closer to a leer.

"Funny you should say that, actually..."

"And here I thought we were a bit past hand stuff," he frowns, "have I severely overestimated our relationship here, or...?"

"The fucking cheek of you," you swat at his arm playfully and try not to dwell on the word ‘relationship’,"one of these days that mouth is going to get you in trouble."

"That a threat or a promise?" He leans in close and the look on his face is almost serious, making your stomach twist in knots.

"Could be both," you shrug, not meeting his eyes,"Keep teasing me and you might find out. But for now, just stay put." When he opens his mouth to no doubt argue, you put a finger to his lips. "Shut." And he doesn't say anything. What he does is smile and run the tip of his tongue over the pad of your finger in the most lewd way possible, staring you down the entire time. "You're just trying to wriggle out of being my obedient little guinea pig," you reluctantly pull away from his mouth,"aren't you?"

"You neglected to tell me the obedient part." Now it's his turn to pout, though it's not exactly convincing. "So what are you going to do, now that you've lured me here under false pretences?"

"If you can behave for more than seconds at a time, I'll show you." You lean over the side of the bed, feeling around for the storage box that you keep there. The box itself is easy enough to find, but the particular bag you have in mind, not so much.

"Who says I can't behave?" Whatever point he's trying to make goes up in smoke, because the words are barely out of his mouth before you can feel his hands cupping your ass, making you roll your eyes, not that he sees it. Finally managing to grab the bag you were looking for, you pull it up on the bed. You have a sneaking suspicion that he's never done as he's been told in his life, but rather than mentioning that you open the bag, sorting through the contents.

"I see you weren't kidding about turning me into a science experiment," he sniffs, picking the power box up and turning it in his hands. When it doesn't seem to contain any clues, he puts it back down.

"How about a deal?" You plug everything in, checking the connections as you go. "If you don't have a good time, I'll let you have your wicked way with me, however you want."

"That deal would probably work better if I wasn't already doing that on a semi-regular basis," he chuckles, shrugging his jacket off,"but I'll play."

"You're such a good sport, in fact that's one of the many things I like about you."

"Oh, so you like me, do you?" He uncrosses his legs and leans in close,"you like me," he continues in a sing-song voice, eyes flicking to your lips with a self-satisfied smile.

"How could I not? " You slide a finger under the hem of his t-shirt, making the soft fabric ride up, "you're not only good-looking, but so humble, too."

"And you're still into it," he grins and twists a strand of your hair between his fingers and gives it a soft tug, "I can tell."

His thin lips are still curved into a smile when he kisses you, perhaps even a shade softer than you'd been expecting. It makes your heart flutter against your ribcage in a futile little dance that keeps going even after you pull away.

"As much as I enjoy kissing you, that wasn't all I had planned for tonight, actually." You hook your hand in the tight waistband of his jeans and pull, "these are probably going to have to go."

"'Probably'?" The puzzled face he pulls has no right to be adorable, and yet.

"I mean, my plans did involve your cock, so..."

"Did they, now? Guess you better take them off, then."

While the thought of unwrapping him like a gift doesn't lack appeal, it's not exactly practical. The button pops open easily enough and the zipper slides open without a fight too, but that's about it.

"You could give me a hand, you know," grumbling as you get started on peeling the tight denim down.

"You did say this was an 'experiment', right?" He lifts his hips off the bed, apparently the only assistance he can be bothered with."If I interfere too much it might skew the results. Besides, maybe I like watching you struggle. "

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." You manage to get the jeans down his thighs, but only barely. "You know what?" You throw your hands up in defeat, leaving the thick fabric bunched around his knees. Pulling his boxers down as well, you decide to leave him like that for now. At least he won't be able to run off in case this doesn't work out. "I can work with this, I think."

"Not sure if I should feel insulted or flattered, here." He leans back on his elbows, watching you.

"You could be a bit more cooperative, you know." You stick one of the adhesive pads down on the top of your wrist, making sure that it's secure.

"But making you work for it is much more fun," he pauses, then goes on to add, "for me, anyway."

There are a few places you could stick the second pad, but in the end you settle for about an inch above the base of his cock.

"So..." you settle in next to him, sliding your wired up hand around his length, making sure to get as much contact as possible. He's lovely and smooth in your hand as you stroke him, keeping the touch light. "Let's give this a try, see if it'll do anything."

It's simple to operate the box one-handed, so you turn it on and set it to a constant channel, then slowly start turning up the power. "Let me know when you can feel it." Increasing the power one level at a time, you lean in for a kiss. The way he licks into your mouth is eager, bordering on impatient as he pushes his hardening cock against your hand.

"Try to stay still," you warn, trying not to giggle, "if I slip I might zap you, and I don't think that'd be much fun for either of us."

As it turns out, he actually can do as he's told, because his hips still almost immediately. Not sure how, or even if, this will work since he's not precisely alive, you keep pressing the + button every few seconds.

"That tingles," he gasps and buries his face in the crook of your neck with a breathy little laugh, "what is that?"

"You like it?" For a minute you just hold him, letting him twitch against your buzzing palm.

"Jury's still out, but..." he trails off as you slide your thumb over the tip of his cock, changing the path of the current. While waiting for him to make up his mind, you keep doing it, feeling him get wetter with every swipe. Back and forth, back and forth, not trying to rush.

"That's," he shivers, voice catching, "oh, that's good."

That's a decent result, considering how you weren't sure if it would work at all.

"Good enough that I can try something else?" While this had started out as a go-with-the-flow kind of thing, you had a pretty good idea of what you really wanted to do.

"In a minute, just...don't stop, not yet." It's not exactly begging as he lays next to you, but it'll do. And it's hard to resist when he asks so nicely. Besides, it gives you a bit of time to 'experiment', even if it's just an excuse to get to touch him some more. Sliding your hand over his shaft in a twisting motion seems to work pretty well for a start, because he keeps straining against the bunched up fabric trapping his legs and making encouraging little noises that go straight to your core. Careful not to lose contact completely, you slide just the tips of your fingers over him, the reduced area making the stimulation skyrocket.

"Still good?" When he doesn't respond you let go of him almost completely, leaving just the pad of one finger still touching him, rubbing across his slit. You can almost see the current shooting straight down his cock and if he was alive it might have been pretty uncomfortable, but if his reaction is anything to go by his every nerve-ending is lighting up like a christmas tree. "Hmm?"

"Fuck," he grits out, shivering again."That's intense, you should probably..."He frowns, biting his lip, "yeah, you gotta stop, or I'm..."

Rather than cutting the evening short you turn the power off.

"I'm just going to," you reach over and peel the pad off of him, "get that. You good?"

"Just give me a minute, doll. " For a moment he just lays there, sucking down air he doesn't really need, and then he laughs. "You didn't have to take it off, you know."

"It's fine, I mostly wanted to see if it would even work on you." Removing your own pad, you slide the hand up his shirt, resting it on his chest. You can feel his heart thump-thumping against your palm, maybe even getting close to 20 beats per minute. "I have other plans for you, if you're up for it."

"What kind of plans?" He looks pretty silly like this, pants around his knees and hair standing on end. He doesn't seem to really care, but he finally kicks jeans off, discarding them on the floor.

"Wait and see." You rummage through the bag, gathering up the bits and pieces you're going to need. Not everything you pick up gets his stamp of approval, though.

"Condoms, really?" He huffs and makes a grimace of distaste.

"Give me a chance here, will you? This'll be good, I promise." He doesn't seem convinced but he lets it be, for now. "I need to do a bit of setting up for this, think you can be patient with me for a minute?"

"Are you saying that I'm not usually?" He watches as you snap on a pair of nitrile gloves and get to work on straightening out the cables that keep wanting to tangle, ignoring his blatant fishing. Picking up a partly insulated rubber ring, you give it a little wave in the air.

"Does your generous mood extend to this, or am I pushing my luck here?"

"Obedient guinea pig, remember?" He spreads his legs, offering himself up and nearly making you blush, "knock yourself out." The stretchy ring goes over him fairly easily, but he still gives a little hiss as you slide it over his balls. "Careful with the goods, there."

"I think you'll live." After making sure it's nice and snug, you scoot back to the edge of the bed. "This will be easier if you sit here, actually."

For once he doesn't question you, swinging his bare legs over the edge of the bed.

"Good boy." You kiss the corner of his mouth, then get back to work.

The look on his face as you drop to your knees between his legs is nothing short of indecent.

"Now this, I really like," he drawls,"you look good on your knees."

"Keep the flattery coming and who knows, maybe I'll get on my knees for you more often." The flattery is actually entirely optional, but he doesn't need to know that. The pale skin of his thighs is very tempting, and you can't quite resist the urge to press a few kisses to each side as you set the rest up. The new pad is a bit smaller and slimmer, making it easy to stick it down on top of his cock right behind the head, but when you rip the foil packaging open and get the condom out, he pulls a face again.

"What do you even need that for?" He even has the gall to roll his eyes at you, "It's not like I can knock you up."

"That's true," You nod, get a pair of scissors out and snip the tip of the condom off," but without it, this will be like french kissing a bug zapper, so if it's all the same to you..."

"Alright, I think I get where you're going with this." He lets you roll the offending rubber over him, double checking as you go that everything is connected properly.

"Just a few dabs of this and we should be good to go." Grabbing the bottle of conductive gel you dispense a decent sized blob and apply it under the open part of the ring, making sure there are no dry spots. "Now, let's see..." You turn the box back on and set it to a rolling wave pattern, slowly increasing the power. "I don't want to turn this up too high, so..."

It only takes a few more button presses for his cock to stir, throbbing slightly in time to the ebb and flow of the current.

"Huh," he squirms a bit, fidgeting. "That's different."

"Good different or bad different?" You turn the power up a few more levels and slide your free hand around his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze before cupping his balls, covering the exposed part of the ring with a gloved finger just in case. He watches you with heavy-lidded eyes as you run your lips over his leaking tip. "I want to suck you like this," you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently, enjoying the way his eyes go dark at the words. "Can I?"

"You don't need to ask for permission, you know." His knees spread just a fraction wider, his full attention fixed on your lips.

"You like it when I do, though." It's very distracting to have his cock bobbing right in front of your face like this.

"Guilty as charged."

It's a bit different, giving him head like this. Not that it's usually a chore, far from it, but with the machine doing a lot of the work you're free to just enjoy the way he twitches and throbs between your lips. Gently swirling your tongue over the exposed head has him groaning, tangling a hand in your hair.

You're not delusional enough to think that you might get anything like a 'please' out of him but the noises he's making are almost as good, and with one hand on the controls it's easy to keep him squirming until you decide to stop. Not that that's going to happen anytime soon because he looks delicious like this, knuckles white as he grips the covers and just barely stopping himself from thrusting all the way down your throat. It's a dizzying feeling, being able to reduce him to this desperate thing, his usual tight control slowly crumbling as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. When you slide your tongue against the sensitive underside of his tip and give him a few slow sucks, the sound falling from his slack mouth can only generously be called anything other than a whimper.

"Keep doing that, fuck..." His head falls back, the pale column of his neck almost too lovely as he gives a throaty little laugh, sliding a hand around the back of your head. "Don't stop," he moans, "don't you fucking dare."

His grip is soft enough that you could probably pull away if you wanted, but the point of this isn't to leave him hanging, at least not any more than you already have. Not that he's ever been anything close to shy with you, but when he pulses on your tongue and finally spills it might be the most noise you've ever heard him make, or close to it. The way he floods your mouth has you struggling not to choke and for a few moments you're stuck between turning the power off and having to focus on swallowing fast enough to keep up.

In the end you don't quite manage either, leaving you with come dripping down your chin and him trembling from over-stimulation, his legs nearly snapping together like a steel trap. Then he's pushing you away, back arching off the bed, and for a minute you consider leaving the machine on for just a little while longer. But ultimately you decide against it and cut the power, leaving him splayed out on the covers. Removing everything is a delicate affair as he shivers under your touch, but too sated to move yet.

Watching him come down you try to clean yourself up a bit, and you think that there is possibly something to be said about self respect, or perhaps your apparent lack of it. You had known from the start that getting involved with him in any way was a terrible idea and that it would end in tears, at least on your part. But that doesn't mean it's any easier to resist, especially when he's stretched out next to you all spent and relaxed. Vulnerable. Even though you know damn well that all of this is nothing, means less than nothing, your heart still swells until it feels like you might choke on that, too. It's a melting, humiliating thing, but if he'd ask you'd let him crack your ribcage open and lick it out of you like so much molten marrow.

"Not that this wasn't fun, but," he rakes a hand through his hair, oblivious. Or maybe not, who knows. "I should probably get back to work."

"Yeah, probably." He's always quick at getting dressed at your place, so fast that he could probably teach a class on how to slip into skinny jeans in under ten seconds. It would maybe be funnier if he wasn't nearly always so eager to leave. Rather than wallowing in self-pity, you busy yourself with tidying up, tossing the relevant things into a 'to clean' pile. "I'll see you later?"

"Sure," he grabs his jacket and then he's swanning out the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll call you."

[delululiaa]

i will wisp out all the air out of my lungs to talk to you about my life but you're not interested.

do you avert your attention to how desperate i seem everytime i want you to pay attention to what i say?

my heartstrings hang for you to align your hand and touch my heart, please listen to me. my lungs are the first to die from the exhaustion of wanting youㅡ needing you, following with my heart because you squeeze and deprave them of my blood so i stop talking. i know you don't wanna listen.

but i'll force myself to believe you're willing toㅡ i'll hold your wrists and let you hurt me repeatedly. just please lend me your ears. let me feel you listen to my heart beat as you won't listen to my words.

[alex-unjust-vibing]

even She doesn’t even hold as close to as much power as a god!! if alex and then i could shut her up, why shouldn’t i do the same to you? do you need an incentive?

[haha. no more talking for you.]

perchance ill let you speak again if you could be so kind as to do what i fucking said.

["Fuck," he tries to say out loud. But he can't.]

[HE SCREAMS AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS]

[...But his lungs may as well be 2 dimensional.]

[A thought fills his head. He has a knife. Maybe the gods cannot reach him in hell?]

[̷̙͎̋B̷͕̞̔Ů̷̱͆Ṫ̷̬̋ ̸̖̜̃H̶̖̾Ė̶̙̘'̷̪̜̃͝S̵̯̑͘ ̵̖̿Ṱ̷͌̔O̸͍̽O̶̞̍ ̴̪̈́̒M̶̲̈́U̸̳̭͋̃Č̸̬͎H̵̬̉̊ ̷͓̣͘Ǒ̴̩̭F̶̛�� ̷̰͌A̴͖̺͋̕ ̶̻̫̌̽C̵͓̾Ơ̷̮̟̋W̸̤̾A̶̦̍͋Ṙ̴̦͎͒D̵̝̓ ̵̹͉͘F̶̝̼͐O̴̬̠͗̒R̴̻͇̆ ̴͈̕T̸̮̋Ȟ̸̨͝Ȧ̴͜T̶̲̾̉,̶̥͋̑ ̸̺̹͂̍H̴̲̤͝E̸͕͑ ̴̯̪̐Ṭ̷̉H̶͇̿ͅI̷͎̿N̵͈̠̂͆K̶̑̽͜Ś̴̭̭͂.̶̹̎]̶̻̃̐

[̷̣̮͕̯̼̤̜̮̩̱̪̞͎̫̝̖̐̂̈́̓̎̅̕͝J̴̨̬̻̺̩̞͇͚͐̀Ú̶͔͙̳͓̯͖̟͖͔̉̑̇̈́͋̕͝S̷̟͋̈́̒͗̔̀̏̓̕̕Ţ̸̺̠̳̝͔̉̿ͅ ̵̹̬͈̰̩͛͊͜D̷̛̥͍̥̤̘̩̗̈̆͑̂͗́͑̽́̕O̴̡̧̤͕͇̙͔̘̬͖̪̗͖̜͌̂̊̌̑̀ ̴̖̫̝̞̮̘̖̝͙̒̒I̵̧̡͚̪̙̬̩̱̞͍͙͔͍̊̀̃͂́̆̑͆ͅT̴̢͈͔̗̦͍̮͆͛̾͋̈̉͑̃̅̕͠͝͝͠ ̶̛͉͖̝̊͛̏́̉̆͑̐̎͌̓̚͠͝J̶̻̑͛̈́̎̒̅̉͋̚͝͝Ų̷̛͉̱͇̦̃͛͌̈̽̔͆́̋̿̌̉͛ͅͅŜ̷̯̹͍͕̮̻̭͇̩͚̰̤̿̃͛̾̐͠͝ͅT̶̡͎̦̝̯̤͈̮̥̘̹͈͕̖̝̲̍̌̈́̾̓̈́́̾̽͐̒̚͝͠ͅ ̷̬͙̬̣͙̥̭͇̤̉͛̎̈́̅́̒̊̀̈́͑͌̏͘͠͝D̴̤͎̗̦͎̟̩̖̯̥͍̤̱͙̈́̑̚Õ̴̢̧̗̝̮͓̗̜̹̻̮̹̹͕͕͔̓̄̑̌̎̇̓͐͆̀͂̎̈̄̃̕ ̸̥͔͎̫̟͇̻͙̪̼̳̉̅͑́̽̓̍̏͘͘͝Į̷̦̤̖͖̰̥̥̩̖̭̀̎̅̕͜T̵͉͉̮̆̐̓̉̈́ ̴̛͕̼̰̒͋́̓̑̉̀̚͜J̷̙͙͇̙̥̹̟̻̳̖̗͇̹̺̀͆̈̄͋̑̚ͅȔ̴͉̪̤̫̩̭̮̰̝̮͕̭̂̆͠ͅS̴̡̡̩̦͎̙̠̼̜̟̦̼͋̎̃̍͌͊̇͆͋̈́͋̕͜͠ͅͅŢ̵̢͓͓͕̯̼̞͙͈͕̰̫͓͔̓̓ͅ ̸̢̡̺̹͚͔̭̯͍̣̝̌͋̓̾̌̓͐̇̏͗̃͝͝Ḍ̴̢̬̻̪̺̩̮̼̦̜̬̼̤̝̏̀͑̿͂̇̈̈̆͜͝Ơ̶̰͎̭̬̠͔̲̦̻͓͚̔͜͝͝ ̴̧̺̩̹̓̐̿͑ͅI̷̩̫͐̂̽̓͛͒̌͊͌̂͐̎͘̕͝T̴͔̐͂̔͊̈̃̉̚̕͝ ̸̢̨̛̬̻̰̼̞̒̿͑͐̄̾̅̽͌̋̆͂ͅÏ̷ͅŢ̴̳̩̭̪̠̤͖̲̦̋͘͘'̷̢͓̞̦͔͙̋̾͐̓̓̄́Ṡ̶̢̡̠̭͈͕̯͙͓͔͉̱̫̍̄͗̒̄̉͐̓̏͝͝ ̸̻̂̊̾Ţ̴̨̖̪͕͕̗̠̭͓̠̘͍͇̐͐̀̂̆̾̔͑̎̊͐̀͊̒͘͝ͅH̴̡̫̤̖͈̫͇͈̅̒̀̄̀̇̇͊͝͠E̴̯͈͍̪͓̟̞͒͌͛̀͌̀͌̂ ̴̖͓͓̳͇̙͙͍͙̪͎̭̙̫͇͆̑͜͜O̸̧̧̗̗̻͕̝̩̓̍̐̓̎͂̂͜͝͝N̸̛̛̦͓͈̙͚̘̘̳͙͙͉̗͍̖͑͑̉̿̅̀̂̃͘L̷̨̡̧̛͍͉̗̪̰̻̅͐̉̾̿̈́̀̿̓̀̿͒Ŷ̶̢̪͉̥͋̇̌̄̔͗̈́͑͘̚͘͜ ̴̧̟͈̣̜̱̰̠̻͚̰͔͑͛͆̈́̀̈́͗̏͘W̴̛̺͚͕̓̍̎̄̃̃̀̋̍̔̓͒͌̑̕̕͜Ȃ̴͇̥̗͈͓̈́̆͐Y̶̧̨̛̛̰͎̺̙̑͑͑̉͂͗̊͘͘͘͝͝ ̴̰͉̻̪̆̋̽̔͗́̿̏͊̓͋̅̄͘͠͝O̵̡̘̥̝̻̳̺͕̭̫̳̰̯̽Ų̷̲̘̫͇͔̜̗̰̥̘͚̌͒̎̀̎͆͆́̓̈́͐̕͝͝͝T̵̛̥͉͆́̆̊̈́-̶̬̪̠̝͉̮̗̥̺̯̅̒͠ͅ-̴̨͓̺̲̭̞͙̞̜̥̳̺̖̰̈́̔̓̀̽̊͌̿̉̒͒̈́͘͜-̷̧͍͙̙̜͖̭̜̫͈̝͉̱̱͈̥̥̊̽͊̄̑̎̿͘-̵̧̳͈̮̘͖̪͙̻̹̠̘̳͔̍̇̓̅̓͋͌̉̎̿͌̕̕̕͝ͅ-̶̰̳͇͖̦̗̖̐͠

[...Still can't even grab the damn thing. Ḫ̶̛̦̮̍̐̋e̶̮̯͕̋̑̕ ̴̥̬̠̤̟̾ẘ̶̦͍́́̃ĩ̷͈̩͓͐̉́͝s̶̨̤͕͐̋̚h̴̦̲̯̺͒e̶̙̺̎̽s̷̛̩̈́̀͝ ̴͎̼̳͐͋̚͝͝h̸̛͎͖̗͛͑͑͘͜e̴͇͋̈́ ̸͇̻͒͊͝c̵̨͍͖͙̪̓̋̽ô̴͔̩̯̔u̶̢̘̣̬̾̊̏̚ľ̷̦̦̱͖d̸̳̯̏͒̚,̷͖͛̉̚ ̴̗̬̺̹̝͝t̴̜̓̓ĥ̴͔̼̟̜̊̾͐o̶͇̙͛̇͘ǘ̴̬̬̺̒̔̋̏g̶͇͙̐̃͑͂̈h̷̩̲͉͛̋͒͋.̴͕̣̳̤͍̓̽̃]

[... If not that, then what? He wishes it was Wednesday, for once.]

[...Both of those would hinge on being unreachable down there in the first place. That's a bold claim, he knows. What is he to do?]

[He's not begging. He knows the i̸n̵h̵u̵m̶a̷n̴ ̴t̸h̵i̶n̴g̶ ̵t̷o̷r̶m̶e̴n̸t̷i̶n̴g̶ ̷h̵i̴m̸ ̸o̶v̴e̸r̵ ̴a̶n̴d̵ ̸o̸v̴e̵r̶ ̷a̵n̴d̵ ̶o̸v̶e̵r̷ ̵a̵n̶d̵ ̴o̷v̸e̴r̶ can read his thoughts. It'd be easy to beg. But he won't. He can't. Nausea overwhelms him just thinking about it. He'd rather die. He's done it before.]

[...He won't do it. So, he appeals to a lower power.]

["Oh, great devil of hell whose torment I am of the utmost fearing. Lend me your assistance, please. I am willing to pay prices of negotiation, just free me from this divine being."]

[...Ugh, that prayer also felt disgusting. But at least villains normally commune with the devil. And it's still slightly above begging on his knees.]

[Now, he waits. This won't save him. He knows. But he'd rather wait than do what was asked.]

[stonecoldpinkerton]

Won't you lend your lungs to me?

Mine are collapsing

Plant my feet and bitterly breathe

Up the time that's passing.

Breath I'll take and breath I'll give

Pray the day ain't poison

Stand among the ones that live

In lonely indecision.

Fingers walk the darkness down

Mind is on the midnight

Gather up the gold you've found

You fool, it's only moonlight.

If you try to take it home

Your hands will turn to butter

You better leave this dream alone

Try to find another.

Salvation sat and crossed herself

Called the devil partner

Wisdom burned upon a shelf

Who'll kill the raging cancer

Seal the river at it's mouth

Take the water prisoner

Fill the sky with screams and cries

Bathe in fiery answers

Jesus was an only son

And love his only concept

Strangers cry in foreign tongues

And dirty up the doorstep

And I for one, and you for two

Ain't got the time for outside

Just keep your injured looks to you

We'll tell the world we tried

[guerrilla-operator]

Townes Van Zandt // Lungs (Live)

Won't you lend your lungs to me? Mine are collapsing Plant my feet and bitterly breathe up the time that's passing Breath I'll take and breath I'll give, pray the day's not poison Stand among the ones that live in lonely indecision

[fleet-off]

Five favorite things about your latest fic, GO!

Eep! Thanks for the lovely ask, anon. So my favorite thing post-posting is all the ways people are pairing “this is bizarre” with compliments in the comments--variations on “strangest kink, somehow wholesome,” “compellingly odd and stunning,” “super weird, I love it,” “didn’t think I’d like this concept as much as I did.” I am so happy to have created something strange that connected with people.

But I think you’re asking about the fic itself, so! Here are five things I got jazzed about while working on won't give up these ghosts. (This...may get long. I am an analytical dork.)

1. Favorite Love Motif: Handholding

Sandalwood smoke tickles his nose and snakes into his lungs. The world is a narrow peninsula--the island of Pete’s body on the table and the familiar hand anchoring him to lands beyond.

For all the consuming, transformative, codependent ways Vegas and Pete love each other--sometimes they’re not very good at it! Figuring it out is a piecemeal process, and one I paralleled with the holding of hands.

Vegas fails to hold Pete’s hand during the faux-funeral. Pete attributes the struggle to lack of practice, but…his own lack of response isn’t helping. He isn’t reading Vegas’s signals--likewise when Vegas practically strangles his hand during the flashback, and Pete accepts his own numb fingers without recognizing the depths of Vegas’s fear.

Of course, Pete does eventually notice. During the aftercare, their hands skim without catching as they check each other for damage. Pete wraps Vegas’s fingers around the water bottle and makes him drink, Vegas grabs Pete’s wrist to get him under the blanket. They’re trying to care for each other’s needs without facing up to their own.

The sex scene contains indirect progression--Vegas ties Pete’s hands together in a prayer pose. The bondage works for both of them and constitutes handholding by proxy, since Vegas is the worshipper here. Pete becomes the shared vessel of their mutual existence.

Pete takes hand-holding initiative in the aftermath--a reciprocation that precipitates Vegas admitting what Pete’s pseudo-deaths do to him. They talk towards a solution, and--with the Great Coffin Compromise--finally manage to tangle their fingers comfortably. Vegas and Pete are learning to make it work.

2. Favorite Too-Clever (Pejorative) Line: Faux-Corpse Repose

Two spots of red bloomed in the man’s chest and gut. The body staggered and fell, performing the twitching dance of a corpse that doesn’t know it’s dead yet. […] So Pete lay on the floor of his and Vegas’s bedroom, limbs askew in the repose of a corpse that has recently received and accepted the news of its passing, and let all thought and emotion leak from his body into the carpet under his head.

Sorry, this juxtaposition always gets me giggling. It’s the sort of device that thinks itself moderately clever, when really it’s modestly clever at best. But this is fanfiction, and it does serve the story, so I allowed myself the indulgence.

…Also the line about how a hole is a hole, Pete’s is full and the grave’s empty, please let’s fuck. I thought I was going to have to cut that and I was so sad about it. It’s crass, it’s very Pete-practical, and it has about three rhetorical devices attached that lend it just this slight poetic edge. It makes me laugh an awful lot. (Thanks to Lily @theflowergirl for encouraging me to keep thinking on this line instead of cutting it!)

3. Favorite Scene Transition: Void

“It’s like being the only stillness in the world,” he said at last. “The wet sand digs into your feet, and the sea is this massive moving thing you’re not a part of, and all you can see is water and sky and dark. And it sees you, but there’s nothing there to see of you. You’re safe. You’re--a void.” *** Death is a void. Death is the bumps and jolts on the road out of Bangkok with Pete strapped across the backseat. Death is the sunbeams slanting through the car window and warming his shroud, and Vegas behind the steering wheel taking care of his body after its intended use has run out.

It’s cheating when there are only two scene transitions in the fic, but what can I say? I've been thinking more on first lines since I read @giraffeter's gorgeous last ten on an ask meme, and I think I managed to start each scene fairly strong in this story! And I am chuffed by the repetition-as-transition here and by this new-scene para more broadly. There's the juxtaposition between dark and light, between being invisible before a limitless sea and being the center of Vegas’s world…and then there’s the throughline--the void, the physical rocking, the safety.

4. Favorite Glimpse of Vegas-POV: Building the Bier

Vegas who loves breaking things and hates to see him broken; Vegas who lives in fear and awe of his shattering. Vegas’s stoic face, hidden from him as he laid the blindfold over Pete’s eyes and made a funeral bier of their dining table. The apology Pete never got to hear.

I loved slipping hints of Vegas’s read for this scene into the story, because parts of it vary wildly from Pete’s interpretations and Pete has no idea. “Made a funeral bier of their dining table” is one of those throwaway lines a Vegas POV would have absolutely fixated on. The significance of transforming the place where they eat, removing its purpose for the sake of a scene where Vegas starves himself to provide for Pete’s needs? Vegas would chew the fuck out of that idea! (And you just know he’d make some contradictory unholy communion of having Pete’s body spread across that table. So many doomed savior metaphors there.)

And because I still can’t help myself with the hole-is-a-hole line--second place is Pete knowing that Vegas must get something from the symbolism of laying claim to him beside the hole he dug to lay him in the ground. Because of course he does. Vegas is absolutely thinking “his body is the crypt, let me be buried here, let me be reborn in him” and a host of similar weird-ass thoughts.

5. Favorite Life Motif: Heartbeat.

Pete is alive as small things are alive the moment before the kill.

Ending with another motif! I threaded Pete’s heartbeat throughout the fic as the physical manifestation of the “buzz” of life. The first portion of the story is disruptions of heartbeat (buried by the blast of his gun, interrupted by the clicker). As Pete fades during the drive, his heartbeat is replaced by facsimiles--the pulse of the engine, the rhythmic thud of the shovel. Not coincidentally, both of these sounds correspond to Vegas taking care of Pete in his afterlife mental space.

Pete’s heartbeat roars back following his safeword, paired with the panic of realizing that the scene hurt Vegas. Then the sex scene marks a sharing of heartbeat--Pete offers “the pounding rhythm that rocks his soul.” This is set up partially via predator/prey imagery (sans any fear from the supposed “prey”), with Vegas biting at Pete's chest and the pulse in his neck. Pete’s heartbeat is overwhelmed at the climax by Vegas’s presence.

And yet! As the death roleplay was a simulation of death without dying, the sex scene is a simulation of dying without death, and all the more life-affirming for it. Pete’s lays Vegas’s head against his pulse in the after, giving him the chance to hear it. And where Vegas’s experience of Pete’s “death” was as his own dying, Pete now feels Vegas’s heartbeat and takes his turn as the simulated predator vampire-style by biting down on the pulse in Vegas’s wrist.

Thanks again for the ask, anon! This is probably more than you asked for, but I had a very fun time thinking on it. ^^

[bruinescence]

@reining-disaster cont.

The description alone was enough to earn a sympathetic, side-long glance from the accompanying beast. He was far from a fan of the parts of nature that fed upon others without killing them out right. More so the ones that slowly changed what a being was meant to be. Though, just because he wasn't a fan didn't mean he did not accept that they too were a part of nature's plan. But the tadpoles were far from natural, the way he saw it. "I'm certain there must be a concoction out there that may dull the squirming, at the least. I've heard you've talked with Nettie...unfortunately, her method is-...a tad more fatal than desired." Or whatever one would call swallowing wyrm poison.

As his company settled alongside him, Halsin found space by his side to drop and tend to his paw. Thankfully elves had far less down time for such minor inconveniences as sore ankles. Though a bit of aggressive massaging via bear tongue would certainly speed the process along. Given he was not alone with the task also helped lift the mood of the place. The Shadow Curse had grown worse in his time away from it some hundred years ago. It had taken a great deal of patience of studying endless tomes, scriptures, and maintaining the grove for Silvanus's favor to grant him the power with which he had used to part the veil and drag Thaniel's lifeless form into a no better environment than where he'd plucked him.

His ears flat against his skull at the thought and how long he had taken and how much the fey spirit had suffered on his own inability, he only relaxed once a scratch to his great head registered and prompted a content snort from the bear's maw. Oh but he might sleep should such treatment continue. To prevent such, he roused himself with a light shake of his scruff. He should have known the other might find the tale amusing. He supposed it was, in a way-...though only in hindsight. The slash of a she-bear scorned was far greater a sting than even the venomous bite of a cave spider.

"Oh believe me when I say that I tried to forcibly remove myself. But I was young still- barely grazing a hundred, and she easily dwarfed my rendition at the time." A soft chuckle in the form of a deep rumble from his chest vibrated out to the thigh he'd claimed as his chinrest. Tilting a furry face up at the other's tale curiously, he remained quiet save for the occasional deep and shaking exhale demanded of such expansive lungs.

"...I should like to say, you are far from a bore. All the more so in a place like this." He added, pushing up to a sitting position on his haunches after a moment's consideration. "Your rage is as wild nature is. To seek control over such a force would be foolhardy. But woe to those that must find themselves within the path of such a storm." Another pause lended itself to an expression far too soft for a beast to express outside of the company of a shivering cub. He gave the other's hand that guarded his cheek a light lick as if it might set his mind straight as it did his ankle. "I would understand your plight as my own. The bear often breaks out of my grasp- a rage that won't be held back as much as yours to you."

Another deep sigh broke free - though this one seemed more at ease. "This power between you and I...it is hungry for the kill. But you must always remember - this hunger? It isn't you. You are but the gateway to impossibly wild things. But their beauty is but a reflection of the source."

The echo of his natural form from somewhere tangled in the bear's reflection spoke for itself, and its smile was just as doting as the elf at its center.

[ntlazer]

Your town is forced to take a drug to keep them permanently happy, but it makes the residents violent to those who appear sad. You're off the meds, and your medicated family are downstairs

I rubbed my eyes and reached over to my nightstand. The bottle was still empty. My heart felt heavy for a moment. I remembered running out last night before bed, but it seemed like everything was fine at the time. I couldn't feel the meds in my system at all right now. I was controlling my emotions on my own to some degree. I would have to put up a façade or else--

"You up, yet? Your mom made some amazing eggs!!" my dad called.

"Awesome, I'll be down in a minute!" I rubbed the tire from my eyes and looked in the mirror. Not happy enough. I used my fingers to stretch my mouth into the smile and widened my eyes a bit more. That made me look passable. Like I was on the tail end of the meds. I froze my face in that fashion and made my way downstairs.

"Morning Mom! Morning Dad! Morning Kelsie! Morning Brandon!" I said as jovially as I could when I made it to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Dominic!!" they all called in unison, faces beaming.

"How did you sleep, honey?" Mom asked, dropping some eggs on my plate.

"It was ok-- it was really good! I slept like a king. Err.. a baby. A baby king!"

Everyone at the table chucked. They weren't paying me too much attention. Family was rare to realize when another family member was off the meds. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t vigilant in my presenting a smile.

"Dad, can we grab some more meds as soon as we finish breakfast? I'm running low."

"Sure thing, sport. Wouldn't want you to be a degenerate."

Everyone chuckled again and I joined in. That meant I had a two hour window to have to fake it. I'd never gone that long before.

"Howdy neighbor!!"

I almost fell out of my seat. What was that? Fear? My body felt really tight. I made sure my smile was still on.

"Howdy Frank!" Dad jumped up to greet him, running to the window, "Join us for some eggs?"

"You know how much I love Debra's cooking, but I'm gonna have to--"

He stopped talking. I looked up. Frank was staring daggers into me. His smile wide.

"Something wrong Frank?" Dad cocked his head to the side playfully.

"What's up Dom?" he asked, ignoring my father. "How'd you sleep?"

I hesitated.

"Like a baby king!" I thrusted a fist in the air for added effect.

"Excellent!" he broke eye-contact immediately. He pulled my dad in close to talk to him more privately.

"You excited for something?" asked Kelsie.

I was shaking. It took everything in my power to breath out slowly and control myself without letting go of my smile.

"Yeah! I have a new game coming in the mail today! I'm gonna--"

"Don't you know Dom?" Frank spoke up again from the window, "It's Sunday. Mail won't be coming in today." It no longer sounded innocent. He was accusing me. He turned to Dad,

"You know, I am pretty famished."

My dad put his hand up.

"Say no more! Come on in, buddy."

Brandon hopped out of his seat to pull out another chair for him next to Dad's seat. When Frank came in, he pulled the chair from Dad's seat and set it right next to me. He slapped my back. Hard.

"Sorry to move the chair and take your elbow room! I just don't like the sun in my eyes when I eat." He gestured to the the sun behind us.

He was lying. No one had ever lied on the meds before. Not unless they were on the hunt for a nonmedicated person.

My heart dropped.

I lied about the mail coming in. Frank was giving me a mischievous smile.

"No need to apologize!" I forced myself to say. "Dad probably smells, too!"

Everyone laughed again, Frank significantly louder than the rest. He leaned in close to me as Mom served him some eggs.

"Could you lend me your knife?"

He could probably hear my heart through my chest at this point. I was sweating, and my body was tingling anxiously.

"I would be happy to." I moved to pick up the knife, but he lunged at it. He picked it up first.

"Ouch." he said under his breath. He had cut himself when he grabbed my knife.

Every head at the table had darted to look at him. Nobody moved. Not a single mouth chewed its contents.

"What was that Frank?" Mom asked, angelically.

Pain! That was the answer!

I slowly moved to pick up my fork as he made his smooth response.

"All good! Everything's fine here! Just nicked myself onnnn ouch!" His face gave way to a different emotion of scrunched up pain. In that split-instant of faltering, my family was at their feet. I twisted my fork in him beneath the table as he turned to stab me, but he faltered. The smile on my face was genuine. Relief. It threw him off when trying to weed out whether my joy was natural or medicine induced.

"Is there something wrong with my wife's cooking??" Dad couldn't mask the venom in his voice.

I continued to twist my fork, forcing Frank to only wince and groan instead of respond.

"That look just isn't sitting well with me," I said, shaking my head with a massive smile. There was nodding around the table.

Everyone picked up their knife and surrounded Frank, stabbing him repeatedly. The more he cried out in pain, the deeper everyone stabbed at him. I was hits with dots of his blood. His cries finally stopped when Kelsie when straight for the neck and cut across. Everyone backed off as he started gagging and grabbing at his neck.

In his last act, he turned to make eye-contact with me. I saw something in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated, fear.

He collapsed on the table. My family went back to sit at their seat at the table.

"Frank got his blood on my strawberries!" Kelsie said, sounding like it was a hair in her food.

"Don't go eating degenerate blood." Dad said, calmly.

I looked at all the blood on me and smiled as hard as I could.

"Can I go get cleaned up, please?"

"Sure, honey. Don't let any of it seep into your system. And keep the clothes out to be burned."

"Okie doke!" I got up slowly, resisting every urge to shake.

"Howdy neighbor!" Sally yelled from the window. "I heard all the commotion and wanted to--" she stopped when she saw the scene.

No, she was looking at me.

"Hey Dom. How you feeling?"

I kept my gaze fixed on the blood on my clothes.

"Do you even need to ask, Sally?" I managed a chuckle at the end of that sentence.

"You're right, how silly of me! What happened to Frank?" She pointed at him with a nod of her head.

"Degenerate!" Kelsie jumped as she said it.

"Ewwww," she said playfully to her, "a degenerate at breakfast?"

"Yeah! We were just having some eggs that Momma made, then Frank started getting really ugly and mean. He was being mean to Dominic for no reason. We got rid of him, though, so everything is okay now!" Kelsie explained.

"Mean to Dominic? Why, I can't imagine what for..." she said, never ceasing eye contact with me as she said it.

"I'm gonna go get into a nicer pair of clothes!" I ran up the stairs two at a time and slammed the door to my room.

I threw off my clothes and ran into my bathroom, one of the few rooms in the house with a lock on it. I locked the door and took a moment to catch my breath and listen to what was going on downstairs. I was especially keen to make sure nobody was following me up the stairs... Nothing. They were just talking.

I checked the clock on the counter and made note of the time before I hopped into the shower. My shower shouldn't be any longer than five minutes. It was a known fact that only depressed people showered for a longer period of time. It was only when I turned on the shower that I realized that I was still smiling. I allowed my face to go slack and closed my eyes.

It couldn't be long now. I just needed to get through a car ride with Dad and I would be fine. He wasn't much of a talker, so I could even pull of the whole ride in silence and ask him to go inside by himself to avoid risking anything. I started scrubbing the blood off my skin and allowed my body to shake away all of the new sensations I was experiencing.

Fear. Anxiety. Anger. I manipulated my family to kill a man. I frowned. I couldn't let myself be complacent with my isolated situation. I would be out again in only a few minutes. I had to appreciate the time that I didn’t need to smile for a few seconds longer.

I scanned my body and was satisfied with the result. No more red. I turned off the water and checked the time. Good, it'd only been three minutes. Once I dried myself, I put my ear up to my bathroom door again to listen to the conversation downstairs again. I heard a clang of silverware against plates. They were eating again? I made sure nobody was coming up the stairs. I put my towel around my wait and opened my bathroom door.

Sally was sitting at the edge of my bed, facing me. I yelped and immediately stepped back and slammed the door behind me, locking it.

"Dom!" The one syllable sounded like she was admonishing me. I realized I didn't take the time to start smiling before I exited the bathroom and she had seen that. "Dom!!" she yelled a bit louder.

She started banging at the door with something metal. My baseball bat? This was insane. I couldn't figure a way out!

"Everything ok up there?" my mom called up, in her maternal fashion.

"Everything's fine!!" Sally yelled, her voice incredibly even for the smashing she was doing to my door. Cracks were beginning to appear.

Everything is fine? She was lying! The door was starting to fall apart now, a few splinters falling in on my side. But then I realized. What was stopping me from lying? But what would get me out of this with one lie?

"Sally!" I screamed, making it seem like a loud conversation I was having, "Why are you frowning!?"

Two things happened at once. The head of my bat broke through the door and all of the silverware was dropped on the table downstairs. My family stomped their way upstairs. I noticed through the hole in the door that Sally was checking her reflection out in the mirror in my room. She was touching the edges of her lips. Did she believe my lie as well? She noticed me looking and turned toward me, smiling.

"Sally, that frown really makes you look like a degenerate!!" I yelled, keeping my desperation as suppressed as possible.

"NOT IN MY HOUSE!" Dad bellowed as he climbed the last few steps. It was a stoke of luck that Sally was turned towards me when he came through the door. He might have stopped if he saw the smile on her face. He raised his fist and dropped her to the floor with one swing. I watched as Sally's face turned from her smile to shock as she fell.

The bat clanged next to her and Dad pounced for it, grabbed it, and raised it high above his head.

"Stay away from my family!!!" he brought it down, but it didn't clang as it made contact. It squelched. I watched through the broken door, my fingers keeping my face in a happy placement. The worst part was watching Dad hammer her head into a pancake with the happiest look on his face. Like he wouldn't trade his place smashing her corpse for anything in the world.

I would have asked for him to stop, but I was afraid that I would let some of my fear show. Instead, I heard Kelsie and Brandon from my doorway.

"Yeah, Dad, get her!" yelled Brandon.

"Show her who's boss!" yelled Kelsie.

I noticed that even through the small hole, I was again covered in blood. Twice in the span of ten minutes. I started shivering. I needed to get away from them. Not even the bathroom was safe.

"Thanks Dad! I'm gonna take another shower to--" I tasted bile in my mouth and had to suppress it-- "to wash this degenerate blood off!"

Dad eyed me warily, noticing the hesitation in my voice. He approached the door, his cheeks curving even further upwards.

"Sure thing, sport" he was speaking very cautiously, "just hand me the bloody towel through the door, all right? I'll take that right off your hands."

"Thanks Dad!" I said again, passing it through the hole. He grabbed my wrist, tightly. He started pulling me through the hole, slowly.

"Everything all right, sport? They didn't get to you did they? I thought I saw something on your face, and it wasn’t a smile."

It took all my power not to squirm or shake. He couldn't see my face. I had no options. I was done. Naked and covered in blood. What a way to go. What a laughable way to go!

Mustering the last of my energy, I started laughing at the top of my lungs. A forced laugh, sure but it sounded like a laugh nonetheless. I immediately felt the grip on me loosen. I didn't pull away.

"That tickles Dad!"

With that, he released me and put his face up to the hole in the door, a caring smile on his face.

"I'm gonna go get your meds, all right, sport? You sit tight and get cleaned up. I'll ask Brandon and Kelsie to clean your room in the meantime."

"Thanks Dad! Love you!" I said, no longer forcing my laughter. I was almost crying of relief.

"Love you, too, sport." He left my room and I did the only thing I could do. I collapsed to the floor, all my energy spent. And I allowed myself to fall asleep.

With a huge smile on my face.

[phosphenemoth]

Won't you lend your lungs to me? Mine are collapsing.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Deadly Detention (2017)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Take The Breakfast Club and rip out everything charming about it. Replace them all with scenes from Friday the 13th (the original). Then, rip out all the scares and tension. Replace them with humour so poorly executed that the audience will wonder if this horror-comedy is trying to make you laugh on purpose. Now, you have an idea of what Deadly Detention is like.

Star athlete Jessica (Sarah Davenport), troublemaker Lexie (Alex Frnka), hottie Barrett (Henry Zaga), Bible-devotee Kevin (Coy Stewart) and skateboarder Taylor (Jennifer Robyn Jacobs) have received detention under the supervision of Ms. Presley (Gillian Vigman). Unfortunately, the school is currently being fumigated, which means the teens are being sent to an abandoned prison. Worse, there’s a killer on the loose!

If you can’t spot the killer within 30 seconds, I don’t know what to tell you. There are only seven people in this film - the last one is the bus driver/security guard, Pete (Kevin Blake). As soon as the shadiest character appears, it takes every fiber of restraint in your body not to yell “GUILTY!” at the top of your lungs. Your instinct is correct. Even though the foreshadowing and hints about the killer’s identity are so badly handled you shouldn’t be able to figure out who they are, you will. It makes you wonder if writers Casie Tabanou and Alison Spuck McNeely or director Blair Hayes have ever seen a slasher movie. You can’t have your victims running around getting picked off for a reason that’s only revealed at the end and without any flashbacks. Not unless your objective is to waste the audience’s time.

Wasting our time must’ve been the goal. Minimal efforts were put into the script, after all. In what reality would a state lend a dirty abandoned prison to a school for a couple of hours on a Saturday to punish five students for crimes as benign as writing “Jesus ate my homework” on the school’s walls? It makes no sense, and that’s just the setup. This is one of those movies where the killer can do whatever they want and are unimpeded by things like walls and distance. At one point, Barrett grabs a door handle and pretends to be electrocuted to scare his “friends” - because joking around while pursued by a murderer is a great idea. He has a brief laugh, then grabs the handle again. This time it IS connected to a current of electricity and he nearly dies. So let me get this straight. The revenge-motivated butcher just HAPPENED to be standing on the other side of that door, listening in to their conversation, didn’t turn on the electricity when he reached for the handle the first time, but did the second time, just to have a laugh?

Deadly Detention a.k.a. The Detained has fewer laughs than a decapitated cadaver has heads. The characters are so paper-thin that even when the script tries to roll with the stereotypes it’s exploiting, you can’t muster a smile. They’re written to a level so cartoonish they stop making any sense and the dialogue doesn’t do the actors any favours. Universally, the performances are terrible but I’ll give the cast the benefit of the doubt. It's not like the people in charge knew what they were doing.

Deadly Detention also fails as a horror comedy because it is never scary. In terms of violence, this is the most tame slasher film I’ve ever seen. It’s a slasher movie… with NO SLASHING! Every single death is off-screen. When the picture started, I was convinced that the comically oversized “Principal of the Year” award Ms. Presley brought with her would be used to skewer someone - Black Christmas style - but no.

Deadly Detention is a complete waste of time. It’s not funny. It’s not scary. It has no gore and no nudity either - despite two sex scenes! It’s contrived from the beginning and the end is preposterous. Unless you were involved in its production, it would be impossible to enjoy. (October 31, 2020)