pathofamystic

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

[samkerrworshipper]

the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[moonstruckme]

vampire!james is such a fun concept!

what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him

like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?

because blood sharing is intimate :P

Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)

vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words

James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 

He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.

“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”

“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 

James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 

“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 

It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 

You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 

“Can we do that?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 

It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 

James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 

You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 

“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 

Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 

“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 

James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 

It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 

One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 

He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 

He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 

One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 

“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 

Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 

He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 

You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 

“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 

There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 

“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 

“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 

[gotham-daydreams]

Falling into Place

Day 2 {Challenge Masterlist}

It was a simple question, a simple conversation. However, this is obviously bigger than they think.

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide, cults, occult like activities, death, blood, poisoning, violence, brief descriptions of fighting, descriptions of suicide.] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Sorry for the huge delay! Got hit with a bit of burnout at the worst moment... whoops!

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

It was well into the morning when Bruce was just about finishing up whatever personal research he could gather. By the time Duke was heading out, Bruce was still by the batcomputer, trying to gather all he could on his own - and though he didn’t learn as much as he’d like, he knew enough to tell Duke to keep him posted on any activity he ran into during the day.

Again, Bruce wasn’t able to gather much, especially since the group themselves didn’t seem to have an official name, but based on what he was told the previous night, he had just enough to find what he could with a group that supposedly had no name. One thing he gathered is that they were more active in the day, but even then, they weren’t exactly known for grand or flashy displays - working and tampering in more odd and underground areas, which explains how they managed to slip past him for a while. Though, what he still couldn’t get was when, exactly, they arrived in Gotham, and when they seemed to leave Metropolis. That was one of the more important questions Bruce had wanted to answer, but, again, no luck.

It was then that Bruce had a choice. He could either keep going at this by himself, and risk spending more time than necessary on just trying to gather information when this cult was out there, doing god knows what in his city, and striving to achieve… well, whatever their end goal is - or he could ask for help, and potentially get things moving along faster so he can handle this quicker and much more efficiently.

There are countless reasons why Bruce didn’t want to make that call, a big one was that he didn’t want to involve more people into what was clearly a Gotham problem. These were people he was dealing with, humans, he’s supposed to be able to handle it on his own. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Yet, if those in the manor with him now couldn’t sense anything… not even Cassandra and Damian… something was wrong. Not to mention that there was just a weird feeling Bruce was getting from all this. It all felt off in a way he didn’t know how to explain.

So, reluctantly, Bruce makes the call - but not after a few minutes of staring at his phone, and brooding.

In his defense, it was too early for something like this… for him, anyway, seeing as it was only ten o’clock.

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

When Clark came over, it was Alfred who greeted him, and let him in. The butler swiftly led the super to the batcave, and offered tea along with some biscuits and other things Alfred had prepared that morning as they walked. Of course, Clark took Alfred up on his offers, and when he reached the batcave, he had finished his tea, and had a few crackers in hand.

There, as usual, Bruce didn’t bother with greetings or formalities, and instead got straight to business.

“Tell me everything you know about this cult.”

Clark had to take a small moment to swallow down the cracker he had been chewing on just as he walked in, “Which one?”

Bruce exhaled heavily, “The one that came from your city, to mine.”

Now, that made Clark pause in his movements. Taking a breath, he took a few steps forward, and got more situated within the confines of the cave. “They came here? I mean- I heard them start to move, but I didn’t think they’d settle in Gotham too,” Clark admits, looking at Bruce, clearly concerned.

Bruce furrows his brows at the response, “‘too’? They went to other areas-?”

Just before the question could fully escape the detective, Duke’s commlink buzzes to life.

[“Uh, Signal, reporting in.”] Bruce looks over to the computer, shooting a glance at Clark before bringing his full attention to Duke.

“Anything come up?” He asks, hearing a short huff on the other end.

[Collecting his thoughts, Duke takes a moment before saying, “Beside the usual small fry, there’s nothing to report. Some guys just tried to vandalize the library and wreck the place, buuuuuut I don’t think that there’s much else-”]

“Have any bakeries or floral shops been attacked or stolen from? Maybe a grocery store, or something like that?” Clark suddenly chips in, now paying more attention to the screens too, “Something like a large pot, a whole shopping cart or basket of food items?”

[“Oh- okay, um, another flower shop was stolen from, and some guy was trying to steal another pot of, uh, what did the guy call them- irises? And someone was trying to break into the greenhouse- but even if I was able to stop them, someone must’ve snuck in during the night or earlier this morning before my patrol, since whatever virus that other place had got there too. And y’know how things are taken care of in the greenhouse, there’s no way something like that got there naturally and got so bad-”]

Clark’s brows furrowed, and he caressed his chin, deep in thought, but a strange detail was evident - he was nervous.

Noticing a change in the super’s demeanor quickly, Bruce asks, “What’s wrong, Clark?”

Not getting a response right away was suspicious enough, and the longer Clark took to say anything, the worse Bruce felt. Narrowing his eyes, the vigilante continues to inspect his friend - as if he could catch what was wrong before Clark could put it to words.

The super was tense and on edge, that much was obvious. Looking noticeably disturbed, almost pale - Bruce knew that whatever Clark was thinking about, obviously wasn’t helping - but that was the thing. Was Clark thinking about something, or did Duke’s response spark a memory of some kind? After all, from what Bruce could gather, he’s been dealing with this group for much longer, and if the earliest, possible headline he could find was anything to go off of - the super has been dealing with this group for a couple of months at the very least. About five if he had to give a specific number. It wasn’t a long time, but it was more time than Bruce, and that was the biggest difference. Clark knew the group, Bruce didn’t. Not yet.

Yet whatever the super was recalling now clearly disturbed him, and Clark was getting worse by the minute.

“Clark, talk to me-”

[“OH! Uh, Hi? [Last Name], right? What’re you doing here-?”]

That seemed to snap Clark out of whatever trance he was in, and draw Bruce’s focus away from Clark for the time being. The single mention of that name caught both of their attention - but for two different reasons. One out of familiarity, and the other out of slight suspicion.

“They’re awake at this time-?”

“Officer [Last Name] is with you, Signal?” Clark asks, tone a touch lighter now, his complexion becoming a bit better - and Bruce had to wonder if it was because Clark knew the officer, or something else was going on between the two for the super to act in such a way. Was it a matter of a simple, brief distraction? Or was there some history here that Bruce didn’t know about?

Something bubbled in Bruce’s gut, and he looked back to the screen once again. Nothing about this felt particularly good, and there was that sense again, of convenience. He wouldn’t call it easy per say, no, it just all felt too… simple. Like they were being led down some kind of path. Like he was being guided down a certain train of thought, or being purposefully put on some kind of path. By who, or why, Bruce doesn’t know yet, but he will. He always finds out.

Regardless, just sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to do him any favors, and frankly, he was wasting time - everyone was, and you seemed to be conveniently tied to this case too, so he might as well take this opportunity while it’s given to him. If this turned out to be some kind of play, or was another means to set him on a certain path… well, he has a few cards to play too. The house always wins, and Bruce practically owns this place. This is his territory, and no one can trick him while on his playing field. No one.

“Bring [Last Name] to the manor.” Bruce says, suddenly cutting into the conversation Clark and Duke were having.

[Duke is shocked into silence for a second, before he quickly recovers and utters a small, “Are you sure?” Which, yeah. While Bruce always seems to know what he’s doing, the young vigilante couldn’t help but hesitate and feel unsure. Was that the best idea? And even then, why did Bruce want to see you? Duke feels like he’s missing something here.]

“Yes, now, send them over, Duke.” After getting a reluctant ‘alright,’ in response, the connection is cut, and Bruce turns to look at the super standing beside him - who looks at him curiously and a bit confused.

Straightening out his posture, Bruce only says, “Clark, meet me out in front, and leave the glasses here.”

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

Arriving at Wayne Manor felt strange enough, but being guided there and given a ride by one of Bruce Wayne’s supposed adopted children felt weirder. The building practically loomed over you, and sure, you were used to the feeling since you came from the city, but something felt different about it now as compared to every other instance before. Like even the shadow it casted over you held a deep secret.

Honestly, something like this was bound to happen, but to be here now, and actually at the foot of the door leading into the manor? Well, you could certainly understand why so many people feared the Waynes just as much as others respected them. The building certainly reflected the people it housed incredibly well, almost unnervingly so.

Regardless, just as you didn’t think the situation could get any stranger, just as you were about to knock on the door, a gust of wind blew behind you, and you felt an all too familiar presence as the wind settled. It was only then that you decided to ring the doorbell instead, and straightened yourself out as you made small fixes to your attire and appearance.

“Didn’t expect to be seeing you here, Superman,” You greet, glancing over you shoulder to look at the superhero, who floated in the air beside you before deciding he had enough of the air, and touched the ground with practiced ease. One can’t help but wonder just how long it took him to land in such a way that didn’t shatter the earth beneath his feet upon impact, but, ah, those were questions for another day, perhaps.

Giving you that bright, charming smile he was known for, the hero nods, “Mr. Wayne gave me a call too, but honestly I’m a little surprised!” He chuckles casually, the gesture just as broad as his frame and smile, “It’s good to see you though, [Last Name], some of the officers miss you back in Metropolis - and some other folks too. You must be incredibly social to have so many friends!”

At that, you give a small shrug that matches the hero’s tone, “I have a big family, y’know? And it never hurts to be friendly, especially with so much trouble around, y’know?” You give a chuckle of your own, though it’s more light, and kept a touch low, “Though, it’s a little funny, honestly.”

Superman gives you a curious look, “What is?”

You give a smile of your own to the hero, “The fact that a man like him, can get someone like you to call him ‘Mr.Wayne’ instead of just ‘Bruce’.”

He raises his brows, and snickers a little himself, “Really? Well… I guess it is a little funny when you put it that way, but what makes you say that?”

“Hm, let’s just say I had the impression you two would be closer than that.”

Before Superman could ask you any more questions, the door is finally answered, and you’re greeted with the sight of a butler. Your attention immediately shifts to the older man, who you greet with a simple smile as you look away from the hero. ‘This must be Alfred Pennyworth. Honestly, he looks better than I thought - much healthier too.’ You think to yourself, and are subsequently proven right when he speaks.

“Sorry for the delay, Master Bruce is ready for you two now. Please, come in,” the words fell out of his mouth with a certain grace that couldn’t be ignored, and the voice he had just naturally commanded attention - holding elegance, authority, and yet in a way that none of it felt impolite or rude. All things that you didn’t see very often, and suddenly, you found yourself liking this ‘Alfred’ character more and more by the second, even if you had only met him today.

Still, you wave off his words, “Please, there’s no need to apologize, the wait wasn’t long at all,” and step inside while half way through your sentence. Superman follows in right after you, agreeing and saying something similar. It was small, subtle, but you could help but sense a feeling of familiarity between the two interacting, but brushed it off. Now wasn’t the time to focus on such things, and besides, you couldn’t waste this opportunity, could you? After all, it’s not every day someone is given the chance to just waltz into Wayne Manor - and you were lucky enough to be given such a chance. Really, you almost felt honored.

Moving on, Alfred led both you and the hero through the gigantic building, and eventually stopped just before a room. Once Alfred opened the door, you took a brief look around, and hummed, a bit impressed. For something that you assumed to be akin to a common room, or sitting room of sorts, it still looked very well furnished and taken care of - but having a lot of money certainly help with that, even if you’ve heard that Alfred is the only servant at the manor. He must be a very skilled and particular man, but still, it seems odd to see only one butler no matter how capable he is - that couldn’t be very efficient, could it? Hm.

Nevertheless, it took little effort at all to spot Bruce Wayne in all of his glory, and to your slight surprise, he didn’t look like he had just rolled out of bed - though, even for small, sudden invites like this, a celebrity must keep appearances, you suppose.

He gestures for you and Superman to take a seat, saying to “Make yourselves at home,” to which, you both promptly do so and take a seat to the couch opposite to Bruce with a comfortable amount of distance between the three of you.

You let Superman ask, “So, what did you need us for, Mr. Wayne?” since it seemed to make the most sense to have him ask instead of yourself. While he does so, you take the time to get a bit comfortable. Leaning back against the cushions, crossing one leg over the other, and taking the cup of tea that’s offered to you when Alfred comes up next to you with the tray.

As you take a sip of the tea while it’s still hot, Bruce simply replies, “Ah, I guess I should’ve offered some kind of explanation beforehand, my apologies .” Offering a carefree smile, and you had to give him some credit, for someone with a reputation like his, he does little to disprove any of the rumors you’ve heard. Though, maybe that’s a little rude - seeing as he’s only just spoken. “I’m also sorry for the short notice, but- you see, I’ve heard that something is going on in Gotham, and I’d like to hear all about it from those that seem to know the most about it!... From what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Now that makes you raise a brow, hm.

You’re plenty aware that Bruce Wayne may as well own the city, and it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest he likes to keep up to date on what’s going on, more so than him knowing to reach out to you and Superman. The group has been careful, and yes, while it makes sense for Bruce to have connections to people who could inform him of anything going on anywhere - and he certainly has the wealth to manage such a system - you still can’t help but be curious as to why he asked for you. Did he know the group came from Metropolis? That explains why you and Superman are here, but how did Bruce know that? How?

You pull the porcelain cup away from your lips. Now he’s really got your attention.

The most obvious question comes to mind first, “Where you’d hear that from, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Wayne?”

The wealthy man chuckles, a sort of naturally charming smirk growing on his face, “I have my ways,” of course someone like him would say that, “and, please, call me Bruce- ‘Mr. Wayne’ was my father.” With that, he took a sip of… what you assumed to be coffee by the faint smell. Curious.

“It’s fine, I insist,” your smile grows a bit before you move the conversation along, already getting a feel what was at play here, “anyway, what would you like to know, and about what, Mr. Wayne?” The huff that escapes him at your ‘insistence’ is incredibly amusing to hear, but you see he just brushes it off, and also decides to leave it be.

“Very well then, I’m sure you’ve seen it- or at least heard of it, officer, but…” Bruce goes onto explain the little he can, and though he is only able to vaguely describe what he means, you know what he’s talking about, and Superman seems to as well. Though, curiously enough, he asks you for details first.

Of course, you insist that Superman is more than suitable to give basic details, but when the hero himself insists, well, it doesn’t take much for you to relent.

When told to start from the beginning, you just say how originally there was a call about some loud and strange noises coming from someone’s neighbor, so, being the officer closest to the building, naturally you were put to the task to deal with the problem. The only thing was that, when you got there, well, the sight was gruesome, and when you finally got the door open thanks to a stray shot someone had taken - well, they were just about finishing up. You stated how originally you thought you had walked in a group suicide, and didn’t think anything else was going on until a similar instance popped up, and then another, and another. How, before you knew it, you were following a loose, bread crumb trail of similar situations that had the same outcome once an outsider arrived at the scene.

“Really, no one knows what it was, at first,” you try to explain, “but, again, before you know it, we’re trying to catch these guys before they even know we’re there, and find them doing these weird meetings, chanting, doing all sorts of rituals, and the like. They wouldn’t wear robes and do all of that cliche stuff- but they did all have some kind of marking somewhere on their person, nothing really seemed to connect the deaths besides the marking, and the most we could gather is that the place of the mark on a person’s body was symbolic to them. Though, that’s just a running theory. We haven’t had anyone able to actually confirm that yet.”

Bruce raises a brow, “Like… a similar injury or something? A symbol?”

You make a so-so gesture with your hand, “Yes, but it can differ from each person. It’s odd, but it’s like their way of showing some kind of connection, without making it too obvious that they’re all connected. Though, there are some similarities, like how the marking is carved into the skin, and represents a star or circle or eclipse of some kind.”

Superman agrees, adding, “I haven’t seen many of the symbols myself, but those I have did seem to show the sun in some way, but more often than not, it’s like they were trying to imply a blocked out sun.”

“Like a solar eclipse?” Bruce tries to confirm, brows furrowing.

“Yes,” Superman nods, though you notice how he starts to pale slightly. Hm.

From there, you go on and explain what you can - not going into full detail, but seemingly giving all the information you could provide, and to a civilian at that. With Superman chipping in every now and again, including some of what he’s seen and experienced on his own as well, which was… enlightening. More so than you thought when you originally saw him, but interesting all the same. Though, you do take note of just how little he’s giving as well. Most of his powers are no secret if you know who to ask, and just from that alone, you knew he wasn’t saying as much as he could, but didn’t press or even try to push. After all, you were just a police officer, weren’t you?

Regardless, the conversation goes on for a little longer. With you even mentioning how the group is normally separated, and each subdivision acts as their own entity despite reacting the same to being ‘caught’ and having very similar practices. Some will try to spread what they preach through acting as a church, and only letting in their most devout followers, to more lowkey approaches such as hiding what they’re really doing through parties, or college club activities, and so on. No official name is known about the group, and aside from the markings, similarities in practices, and whatever it is they preach, there is another thing that ties them together - and it’s arguably the biggest tie all the groups have to one another.

“It’s an event they keep mentioning, but no one knows what it really is. Considering their other… practices, everyones a little concerned to find out what it entails, but if you ask me, it could also be something they use to scare new followers- even if it sounds… well, for lack of a better term, ‘edgy’.” Bruce raises a brow at your words, and gestures for you to continue.

“Well… don’t leave me hanging, what’s the event called?”

“The Red Dawn.”

“... Do you have any idea what they even mean by that?”

“Not a clue, sorry, Mr. Wayne. Though, I doubt it’s anything to worry about. The only ones these people seem to be hurting is themselves, after all, and while I do intend to stop them and put an end to this, I doubt they’ll hurt anyone outside of their little ‘circle’.”

“Oh… alrighty, then.” Taking a sip of his cup, Bruce lets the information settle in before deciding to ask, “Do you think that could be the name of their group? Especially if they care about that ‘event’ so much, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that, right? Not the most creative thing to do… but it makes some kind of sense, no?”

You offer a small smile, as if trying to reassure the man, “I highly doubt it. If that was their name, we would’ve known by now with the months that have passed, and besides, while that does seem to be an event they are focused on- I think it's only that. Just another small thing that just so happens to connect all the groups together or a name they go by as a collective, and even then it would suggest a kind of unity that we just don’t see in the group. As similar as they are, they are still divided. Well, from what we could gather, anyway.”

Bruce only gives a nod, “I see…”

With that, after a bit longer of conversing, you’re essentially let go. Bruce thanks you for the information, and sends you on your way, but not before mentioning a party he plans to host on Halloween with one last flash of a smile despite the conversation you just had, and Superman gives you a wave, saying he hopes to see you back in Metropolis soon, and to keep up the good work - but only when he’s essentially made to stay when Bruce says he has more questions to ask the hero. You don’t bother to question it, and just let Alfred lead you to the door - who wishes you the best of luck on the case, and to have a good day. Bruce Wayne was rich, you wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he had some special relationship with half the heroes on Earth, but that wasn’t worth thinking about now.

Especially not when you noticed someone at the door.

“... Should I ask why a kid like you is trying to hide in his own bushes, or is it just some ‘teenager thing’ I don’t understand, Thomas?” At the sound of your voice, and the sudden call out, Duke tenses and practically springs to life all over again as he jumps and practically scrambles to keep himself straight. You raise a brow at the defensive stance he initially takes, but upon noticing you, the teenager eases, and lets out a sigh of relief.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, hi, officer [Last Name]! I… didn’t realize it would be over so soon! Haha!” His nervous response gets a snicker out of you, which only seems to further his own embarrassment, and thus, makes you more amused.

Though, you spare him some of the torment and don’t openly laugh at him, and instead just ask, “What’re you doing out here, kid? Can’t you just head inside? Since, y’know, you live here?” You tease a little, resting your hands on your hips, “Or am I mistaken?”

Duke chuckles awkwardly at your words, straightening himself out, shifting in place a bit, “No- no, I just… wanted some air?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself, but you let the teenager be, and just gave a nod.

“Right. Well, enjoy the outdoors in the bushes, Thomas, I’ll see you soon.” With one last amused grin, you take your leave, and once again wave behind you.

Honestly, you thought you’d just walk off silently once again, but this time, a yell is heard from behind you after you hear some shuffling around and the sound of rustling leaves.

“Wait-! Uh- Thanks for the muffin and small snacks from yesterday! They were really good!” You hear Duke shout, “Have a good day!” He seems to mumble something under his breath, but you’re too far away to hear it.

Regardless, you just continue to walk, and soon shove both your hands in your pockets.

You walk away with a smile.

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

Back in the Manor, Bruce takes a long sip of his coffee, and looks over to Clark - who looks down at the cup of tea in his hands.

“So?”

The super runs a hand through his hair, taking a moment to respond, but even then he seems confused, almost distressed, “It lines up, but I’ll be honest, Bruce. I don’t remember half of what they mentioned. Even the half I did remember… some of it I could barely recall.”

The vigilante stops, becoming too still to pause, and yet not stiff enough to freeze as he just stares at Clark. It’s only after a few beats of silence, and setting his cup to the side that he’s able to ask the only sensible question to a response like that, “What do you mean?”

Clark takes another second, running his hand down from his hair, to his neck and rubbing the muscle there, as if trying to soothe himself before taking in a deep breath, “Y’know that church [Last Name] mentioned? Yeah, I tried to do some research of my own, and went in as a curious journalist who was just trying to see what the church was like, and so on- you know how it is. I got there for the first sermon, bright and early, but when the pastor started to talk… well, the next thing I know is that I’m outside of the church, the service ended, and it’s now night. I was there all day, but didn’t remember any of it. I even checked my notes and everything- nothing. Like all I did was just… sit there, and then leave after everything was done.” It’s then that he looks at Bruce, distress a little clearer now.

“Of course, I tried a few more times, but the same thing kept happening, and the only thing that changed was that I started to feel sick- just really… gross and horrible all over, like going to each service was literally draining the energy out of me- and I noticed it wasn’t just the church either. I’d try to help out with bigger cases that dealt with the group and sometimes I’d just suddenly end up somewhere totally different, with no memory of how I got there, or what I did during that time.” He takes a breath, caressing the fragile china in his hands, and he raises the cup to his lips, but doesn’t take a sip right away. Instead, he lets it sit there, barely an inch in front of his face. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a few seconds or minutes lost with nothing really being done- it was harmless, just a little disorientating at times, but nothing to really worry about. But then… then it got longer the more I tried to help and involved myself with solving the problem. I lost countless minutes, even hours, and ended up in areas with little to no memory of how I got there, and decided it was best to pull away when an entire week had passed, with me having no memory of what happened, what I did, or where I even was- which was hundreds of miles away from Metropolis.”

It’s only as Clark takes another sip of his tea, which is a little cold by now, does Bruce use that opportunity to speak. Not only to get to the bottom of this, but to help his friend with this as well - since it’s clearly distressing the super one way or another.

“Do you think it’s some form of mind control?” When Clark shakes his head, Bruce gives him time to gather his thoughts and explain.

“I’m… not sure. Naturally, I tried to not get as involved, but couldn’t let the group spread or- or let them do whatever they wanted freely, so I asked for some help and it had… varying results.” He takes a moment to sigh, finishing the tea as he sets it to the side, and tries to find a way to say what he was thinking, “Some of those who are nonhuman were like me- they’d start to feel horribly sick after a few days, and lose track of time, starting out in small amounts, and eventually jumping to days and weeks, the others… well, they were like our human allies.”

The vigilante’s brows crease at that, “... Which means?”

Clark scratches the back of his neck, looking away as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I don’t know how exactly to explain it- but after some time, they’d become… too interested in the case. Trying to get more involved with things then they needed to be, and basically became… well, I don’t know if there’s a better term to use, but they almost seemed obsessed with the group, Bruce. It was.. horrible to watch, and I guess I just want to say…” he drags on, not sure if he should add more or not, but his heart gets the best of him, and he sighs heavily. Looking back at Bruce, he continues, “Please, be careful with this. You and your family. I really mean it, please.”

Bruce takes a moment to look at his friend, and take in the concerned look on his face. This wasn’t the first time the super had expressed his concerns, but if there was ever a moment that felt like Clark would genuinely do something if Bruce didn’t listen, or really wanted him to take what he was saying seriously, since Clark himself knew how Bruce is and could be - this would be one of them. The super was always openly and naturally caring, even if he worried too much at times, but something felt different this time around, and that was saying something.

Still, Bruce could only nod after a sigh of his own, “We’ll try our best,” is the best he could give.

… A moment of silence passes. With Alfred taking the opportunity to refill Clark’s cup, and allowing Bruce to finish his. It’s a gesture, in a way, to let the super relax, and to remind him that if he needed a small break, then he was more than welcome to take it here - and Clark seemed to realize that as he let himself ease slightly. This whole thing had taken its toll on the super, that was obvious from how he’s been acting all day thus far, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t even over. However, there also wasn’t an immediate need to acknowledge that right now, and so, both men took in this little breather, knowing they’d have to get back to work once it ended - and when that happens, who knows when they’ll get a chance to breathe like this again?

It’s that very thought that makes it stretch on for just a little longer, lasting until Bruce is on his second cup, and Clark is nearly on his third - and only then is it broken when Bruce asks, “What were you talking about before, when you said you didn’t think they’d ‘settle’ in Gotham too?”

With one last small sip, Clark says, “A while ago, I heard some of the voices I recognized as members of the group were getting further away, almost spreading out. I couldn’t tell where they were headed exactly, but they just seemed to… disburse. Go their separate ways,” a brow of his furrows again as he adds, “I don’t know if anything caused them to move, or if the directions they went in and the cities they possibly went to, was some calculated move- but I do suspect it was an organized effort. For what? I couldn’t say, but more mentions of that ‘Red Dawn’ [Last Name] talked about earlier did pop up around the city for a day or two before anyone went anywhere.”

Bruce hums at the information, taking mental notes before asking, “Is it possible that some members might still be in Metropolis and other cities near there?”

The super thinks for a moment, but eventually nods, “I wouldn’t see why not, and I could check to find out as many groups as I can, and try to keep you updated on that end.”

“That’d be a big help, Clark. Thanks,” Bruce gives a nod of his own, and Clark smiles.

“Of course! Anything to help, Bruce.”

———————————————

Despite the morning that had transpired, the night was relatively normal - it was for Jason, anyway. If anything, it seemed to lack a little more action than it usually did, but hey, the night was still young, and in Gotham it was always too early to make that kind of call.

Regardless, Jason just went about his night. Taking out a few criminals he ran into here and there, staying out of sight of his old man and Cass, the usual. Nothing stood out, and honestly Jason was starting to think that nothing outside of the ordinary would actually happen. Though, that is until he notices some shady looking people sneak their way behind a building, and hears a garage door open from where he was standing. Now, what was going on there…?

“BOO!”

Just as Jason took a step forward, about to tail the shady figures, he felt a sudden weight on his head, shoulders - which caused him to stumble on his footing, and though he barely caught himself, the vigilante found himself irritated as he yelped out a, “WHAT THE HELL-?!”

Giggling could be heard above him, “Did I scare ya? Admit it! I got you that time!” The grin was even evident in her voice, and Jason didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Get the hell off of me, Steph!” Jason hissed out instead, completely ignoring the fact he had ‘caught’ her on instinct, not wanting her to fall off and risk hurting herself with her reckless behavior.

“Aw, c’mon! I totally got you!” Stephanie said loudly with a laugh, only to yelp when she was practically thrown off of Jason’s shoulders, and even if she swiftly caught herself she still looked at Jason and huffs, crossing her arms, “Why can’t you just admit it? There’s no need to be so rude about it, y’know!”

Jason just scoffs, “You didn’t get me, okay? Just leave me alone, squirt.”

Stephanie, of course, doesn’t and sticks around - and as annoyed as Jason acts, he does little to actually push her away. The banter continues, and for a moment they are more than just two vigilantes, but instead, family in their own simple yet messy way. Both of their definitions of such a thing skewed, warped, and changed as they’ve grown up and lived through their lives, along with their definition of love, but now, something like that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t, and even as they went after the shady figures Jason had seen earlier, it only seemed to matter less as the banter continued.

Dealing with crime in Gotham was always the same, and growing up on the streets made it easier to adapt to the different locations criminals liked to tuck themselves into - so much so that each location almost felt the same. The routine was familiar, sneak into the place, try to pick up on whatever was going on, and put a stop to it. Smugglers were common, nothing new, but what was curious was seeing how much of their supplies they had - guys must’ve been stacking up for weeks, maybe longer, but that didn’t matter. A trade of some kind was clearly going on, and as always, it was their job to figure out what was going on and to stop it.

Sticking to the shadows was second nature for numerous reasons, and the conversation they overheard sounded like the same one they’ve heard time and time again - seriously, did anyone ever think of something new to say? Or any other way to say things?

“You’ve got it?” “The load of it that was designated to us, yes.” “Is it ready?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “You know we can’t stall. Just take the load, and take it to the next destination.”

“Right.”

Just as the other spokes person made a gesture for the people behind them to gather the goods, that’s when the first strike was dealt. Stephanie had snuck up on a guy, and got things started, and as usual, the people pulled their guns - so Jason got to work.

Yet, just as he fired the first shot at someone’s shoulder, and they fired their own, did the vigilantes realize where the guns were actually pointed.

The criminals had their guns pointed at one another.

The shot Jason fired hit its mark, but so did the other as in one instance, Stephanie had someone in a chokehold, and in the next - there was no brain to send air too anymore. No eyes to roll back, and while the body went limp, what remained of the head was splattered on the young vigilante, and the space behind her.

More went off, and it took Jason a second too late to spring into action, and Stephanie a few more as the gunshots kept going off - and yet not a single bullet got close to her direction, unlike that first one. There was always a body in the way, and god, all she felt was sick. Though, when practically shoved to the side by Jason did she snap out of it a little, and try to save whoever was left.

They worked in a frenzy, trying to do what they could - even if Jason found out very quickly that just getting them out of the way wasn’t enough, as he heard a weird crunch come from the mouth of the woman he just saved, only for her to give a twisted smile before she started to seize, foam at the mouth, and he could do nothing as he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head but curse.

“DON’T LET THEM CLOSE THEIR MOUTHS! THEY’RE POISONING THEMSELVES!”

Oh, but Jason said it too late, as Stephanie also had the vial pleasure of watching the body seize and subsequently die in her arms despite her own attempts. They still tried, of course, because what else could they really do? Yet, the result was the same. It was like watching a massacre, except… well, the very people who died caused it.

All wasn’t lost as they were able to save two people out of the handful they had run into in the storage space, but at least it was something, right?

One of the criminals didn’t speak, and only glared at the vigilantes, while the other laughed suddenly as the two tried to catch their breaths. The man’s gruff laugh cutting through the deafening silence, blood now coating the walls, bodies lying about… how could anyone laugh at a time like this? Especially when his supposed comrades have just died right in front of him?... Not that the person glaring at them looks any more distraught or distressed at all by this turn of events.

When the man starts to speak, that sickened feeling Stephanie felt before grows, and a similar seed is planted in Jason’s gut - and that really said something, since they’ve heard maniacs go on all kinds of long winded rants unprompted… but this felt different. It lacked the sick humor of Joker explaining his schemes, or the thought and linguists put behind Riddler’s verbal puzzles, and just felt misplaced. As a pair, as vigilantes they’ve heard plenty of talks just like this, and yet… something about it stopped Jason from pulling the trigger early, or from either of them doing something to stop the man, and to just shut him up. Perhaps the sight they just witnessed was taking its toll on them now, but that coupled with this? This wasn’t just some run of the mill thing. This was deliberate, but wasn’t a trap either.

Still, the man goes on, even when his voice becomes hoarse as his vocals fight against the restraint put in between his teeth - just enough space to make him unable to not poison himself with… whatever chemical he had that’d do him in like the others who still had their heads intact. They strain as he wheezes out a laugh, actions rough for someone tied down, and left sitting on his ass. Just as his nails bloody as he scratches at his restraints, his own words scratch at his throat the more he speaks. So much so that instead of spit, blood flies out as he continues, going on about some higher being, how they’ve helped him see the light, and how just their presence alone has made him understand what ‘needs to be done’. How he knows they will guide him to a better end, because he can feel it when he’s close, that he is doing the right thing, and that they have become so connected with… whoever he’s describing, that even being in the city now satisfies him enough, and makes him see sense even in the most vial of situations.

It’s all nonsense, it has to be, of course it is - yet they listen anyway, unwillingly, unable to move, and he doesn’t stop. Will he ever?

“This world will experience a new beginning! A chance to be reborn anew, to be remade! And only by the best, as they are the only one who can be trusted with such a task!” The man’s laugh almost sounds like a bowl coupled with a growl at this point, “The skies will turn red, the night will vanish and be replaced with a light never seen before as we are all accepted into paradise! The sun will encapsulate the sky in a way it never has before, and reveal the true colors that the world has kept away from us! It will be one! We will be one! It was always meant to be one!”

Red runs down from his lips, and yet he continues despite the strain in his voice as his shouts become louder, practically booming in the small space, “The waters will churn like acid in the stomach, eyes will be drawn to the vessel who will bring upon the awakening of the world, and everyone’s hearts will be taken ahold of as they all come to realize that we are in good hands! Everyone should just accept the end for it is already upon us!” A wheeze escaped instead of a chuckle, but what it is intended to be is not lost on anyone.

“Just a few more measly days remain! Just a little longer and we will all be blessed with the sight of a new day! A new life! A new purpose! The Red Dawn w-”

Finally, it all comes to an abrupt end with one last gun shot. A shot, which goes through the man’s head, and pierces through it so cleanly, that it goes into the other person who was beside him, and drills a similar hole in their head - only stopping when it digs enough to crawl out of that second head, and land on the ground. The gleam of its shine almost innocent, as if it hadn’t killed the last two people who remained of the self-massacre - and now, it is only that. A complete, and utter massacre.

The shot brought both Stephanie and Jason out of the strange trance they found themselves under and tried to recover as quickly as they could. Jason sprung to action and tried to rush out and find whoever killed the people they tried to save- with Stephanie reporting to Bruce.

She tried to explain everything that had happened as hurriedly as she could, feeling sicker than ever and having to force herself to look away from the bodies, along the two new additions to the pile. Honestly, she didn’t even realize she had been hyperventilating until Bruce had her try to calm down, and take deep breaths - and yet every breath she took, she could only smell blood, earth, and an odd hint of something sweet that settled on the back of her tongue. Everything about it made her want to throw up, but she managed and tried to compose herself as much as she could.

When asked what was being smuggled, Stephanie looked over to the sacks stacked on top of each other neatly against the wall. Stepping over a few of the bodies, and trying to not look down more than she needed to - she took down one of the sacks and… what?

“It’s- it’s soil?” Why had these people killed themselves over this? There’s no way that this dirt could be worth dying over, right? Maybe it was a cover up. It has to be. It has to.

So, she cuts the bag open and soil spills out, except it looks… weird, “It- it’s either dirt or some weird moss, because there is no way this stuff is supposed to look this red.”

That does it for Bruce, and on his end, he quietly glances at Cassandra before looking out to the city once again, “Bring some of it in if you can, and bring Jason with you.” His voice is firm, and leaves no room for argument… as always.

[“Right, talk to you in a bit, B.”] With that, the connection is temporarily disconnected, and Bruce switches the lines, and immediately talks to Barbara again. Something about how while Superman is doing his search, they have to cover their own bases, and Barbara offers to call Dick to see if he’s run into something similar, and if he’s willing to help out here so they can get everything figured out faster, and Bruce lets her get to it would a simple thanks.

Cassandra can’t help but simply observe, curious as to what’s really going on, but getting a feeling that it’s nothing good. She can see that in the posture of Bruce, but it’s not just him - it’s the commissioner, the officers at the station, and so on. Yet kept so underwraps, that only does actively searching for it can feel it, as the civilians remain unaware, and go on with their lives. Though, something does bother her a little.

She didn’t see you much tonight, but when she did, you seemed just as tired and drained as you did the other night, and yet, there was no evidence of distress. Yes, there was some form of stress there, but you weren’t overly tense or even panicked, and while Cassandra didn’t know much, she could gather enough that something big could be happening. So why weren’t you more concerned? More… paranoid and just generally showed more signs of some inner turmoil like her father? You’ve been involved in this case for longer than he has, and yet… you’re the calmest one compared to everyone else. Cassandra can’t help but wonder why.

… Perhaps it’s about time she helped out in whatever was going on.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Private Affairs

Author's Note: This was just supposed to be a random thirst, but my hands wouldn't leave the keyboard 😵‍💫 Part 2 coming later today!

Pairings: Dan Heng x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Dan Heng, breeding kink, Dan Heng's hole is referred to as "pussy, cunt, & boypussy", implied Caelus/Dan Heng/Reader at the end

For once, Dan Heng was thankful that the door to his room could be locked. While he normally had no problem with people visiting out of the blue, well… if anyone walked in at this very moment, they'd probably find themselves at the end of his spear.

So, of course, the usual occupants of the Astral Express would need his assistance. Every last one of them, to be more precise.

The first to stop by is March 7th. Her perky voice chirps just outside of the room; “Hey, Dan Heng, are you busy? I need your opinion on something!”

“Y-yeah– a little busy right now. Can it wait?”

There's a strain in his voice that's not normally present. March picks up on the change immediately, questioning in a suspicious tone. “Are you feeling ok? You sound funny…”

She can't see it, but she can almost feel Dan Heng roll his eyes. “I am… I'm just– unf~ mm~ just searching for something in the archives…” His chest bangs into the wall, and from his parted lips flows a noise that he prays his friend didn't hear. “AaAAaaHhhH~ Something deep in the archives… oh fuck–!”

She eventually leaves, though she has to be reassured a few times. What she also didn't see was her friend pressed up against the wall on the other side of the door, biting his sleeve and digging his fingers into the wall while you—Dan Heng's good ol' pal—breed his hole.

You're still holding onto his waist when Pom Pom rushes up to the door, shouting something about the lighting in the cars…?

“I-I'll be out there to look at it in a bit…” Dan Heng stutters, hoping the lop-eared conductor will take that as a sufficient answer.

Just as soon as you hear their little footsteps disappear, you're sliding back inside, dead set on emptying another load into your "friend's" boypussy.

In typical Dan Heng fashion, he's chastising you about "getting caught" or "someone hearing you" and "you're such a pervert". But as he's saying all of these things, he's still not stopping you from pounding his cunt — in fact, he's even giving you orders to "at least fuck me like you mean it".

As luck would have it, Himeko passes by next — who most likely hears the sickening slick noises of your dick as it breaches new territory, going even deeper into Dan Heng's fucked out hole.

“Dan Heng, is everything alright…?”

This time, you have to answer, because if your "good friend" dares to speak right now, something other than words would spill out. “Heeeyy Himeko! We're a little busy at the moment. Did you need something?”

The knowing smile on her lips comes through as she hums “Oh, it's nothing. Don't let me interrupt~”

Well…at least you can count on her not to rat either of you out…

Even with the countless interruptions, you've managed to keep a bruising pace — you even have Dan Heng on the cusp of becoming nonverbal. His perfect ass bounces with your rough thrusts, taking your cock like a perfect little angel.

You lift his leg up, and with this new angle you're able to slam into his prostate. The garbled sounds pushing their way out of him—as well as his cunt clenching down on your cock—drive you mad, and you end up breeding him again just as Welt stops by–

“Dan Heng, hello?” Everything comes to a halt — Dan Heng's cock slaps against his stomach as you shove your dick all the way inside, plugging him up and forcing him to stand on his tiptoes. His eyes cross, and before he can moan so loudly the entire train would be able to hear it, you cover his mouth.

“Yes?” you reply.

“Y/n? Is Dan Heng with you?”

You feel your cock throb, and you're sure Dan Heng does too. You can also feel the heavy amount of cum stuck inside of him—unable to drip out with your dick still inside. His hole grips your shaft tightly, and you suppress a groan before answering the man outside of the door; “Yeah, he's sorta focused on looking up something.”

No indication that Welt suspects anything. “I see. If you could both find me later, there's something I wanted to show you. It's no rush.” His footsteps fade back to the parlor car.

Dan Heng gradually slumps against the wall, held up only by your tight grip in his hair and the other hand on his waist. Not even the energy to glare at you as he whines.

Another set of footsteps approaches — your last visitor is none other than Caelus. What absolute perfect timing.

Caelus knocks on the door, sounding surprised when your voice is the one that greets him. “Hey, trailblazer, need something?”

“Just looking for Dan Heng. Is he in there?”

“Sure is. You can come in.” you reach over and unlock the door with an audible clunk.

!!!!!!

“O-oh! I um…” the silver haired man stares at his two friends. Dan Heng — flushed and whining. His dick still dripping a bit of cum onto the floor. And you — a little worn out, but cocky as you remain buried inside of Mr. Cold Dragon Young, with a creamy ring around the base of your cock.

Caelus' hands shake as he fumbles for the door handle, but it's no use. You slide Dan Heng's door shut and lock it again, finally speaking in an expectant tone. “Well—gonna stand there like a deer in headlights, or do you wanna help me clean up?”

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❛ it's not the alcohol, i swear! ❜ ♡

pairing: kinich x reader (uses she/her) synopsis: kinich never touches alcohol. the one night he does, he has a very pleasant secret to spill. banner artist: @/Lion_2929 on twitter/x !! wordcount: 1.7k words warnings: lots of alcohol consumption, kinda crack, kinich is drunk the way i feel like he'd be like if he was drunk (talkative and childish) cho's notes: heavily inspired by beer by the itchyworms. hihi happy reads!

Maybe it was a bad idea to go to this party.

“Believe me! I AM the hydro archon!” mualani cried, weakly shoving at chasca’s shoulder.

Definitely a bad idea.

The ignited torches set a cozy atmosphere into the weary inn, the instruments being strung by performers and high spirits of the natlanese only made it more comforting. It was a cold night out, and you had been invited earlier in the day to a party to celebrate the victory of Natlan over the abyss, a week after the intense battle.

Mualani was the one who sent you the invitation, giving another one to kinich when your group were lounging together. kachina threw a small tantrum, whining: “why can’t I go?” making mualani sigh, patting the small child on the head, “sorry kachina, it’s strictly an adult party. And i mean it! I really can’t sneak you in this time.” “I can’t believe they’d send a kid to war, but not to a grown up party.”

Mualani mentioned there would be alcohol, which made your eyes immediately dart to kinich, your close friend along with the other two. You knew he absolutely despised alcohol and he didn’t want to be anywhere near it, given his past surrounding the vice. You noticed how his shoulders had slightly tensed, only to slowly relax again. 

“So? Are you guys going~?” mualani coed, trying to convince the both of you to attend.

“I dont know.. I don’t think it’d be fair if only the both of us will-”

“I’ll be there.” You and mualani’s jaw immediately hang, looking at the stone-cold kinich absolutely bewildered. You quickly composed yourself as kinich raised his brow at you, almost saying ‘do you want me to change my mind?’ with his expression alone.

“A-Alright. We’ll be there.”

It was supposed to be a calm party, with only a few drinks. 

You only indulged in a glass or two, to join in on the festivities and to really be in the spirits of the party. You were barely tipsy, just a bit flushed with slightly fuzzy thoughts.

Mualani had almost gulped down 4 bottles of beer on her own, thinking and speaking had become one action to her. But that was normal. Mualani was known as the party girl anyway, it was her who carried the mood and laughter, even when she wasn’t making sense. What wasn’t normal, was when kinich decided to become drunk too.

“You.. are not the hydro archon. Stop.. *hic* disrespecting Fontainians.” He mumbled grumpily, slamming his glass onto the wood table with a thud. It was a rare sight; Kinich with his hair a little messier, with rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes. You felt your heart beating a little harder at the sight.

You knew you liked kinich, but there was never a perfect opportunity to confess it. And in the end, you had just decided to keep all the sappy feelings to yourself, not wanting to ruin the perfect friendship the both of you shared.

It caught everyone off guard, when kinich had asked for a taller glass of cold beer after the initial toast. Then he ordered another one, then another.. Then some more. 

“But I am! It came to me in a dream!” Mualani continued crying, drunk-stupid tears flowing down her face, frantically turning to him.

“Well i dreamt that i had normal friends, do you think i do?” he spat bitterly, looking at her with narrowed eyes. Kinich was a bit meaner while he was drunk, but he didn’t mean it. 

Again, It was supposed to be a calm party, with only a few drinks. 

But mualani started trying to turn one of the tables into a surfboard, citlali encouraged her behavior and was even trying to show her ‘how to do it properly’, chasca was nowhere to be found, and kinich was about to release ajaw. The atmosphere was still borderline calm, but if the circus continued to unfold you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You quickly grabbed kinich’s wrist before he could do anything, and suggested a walk. “We do not need ajaw making things worse. Let’s go take a breather.” Kinich’s eyes seemed to fill with some sort of determination for a second, before going back to being expressionless. He took one last bottle of beer with him, and followed your steps.

You brought him out of the weary inn, the cold atmosphere stinging your skin for a moment— It was a beautiful night. The moon was suspended high into the sky, illuminating in its beautiful full circle. with only a few clouds around. It was the perfect night to greet after a party. You walked with kinich out of the stadium, following a random path of pavement.

“I didn’t expect you’d want to get drunk tonight kinich.” You looked at him with a small smile, and admired the new side of him no one really knew.

“Do I always come off boring and lame to you?—” he sighed, bringing the bottle close and popping the cork off with his fingers easily. A subtle flex of his strength. “—I just.. wanted to try something different.” he said, picking his words carefully.

Something about kinich was different.

“Are you alright? You seem.. A little out of it.” you mumbled. He looked like he was avoiding something, or his head was filled with thoughts he so badly wanted to address. His breathing was heavier, his hands were trying to find purpose, and he avoided your eyes. 

“I-i’m fine. Just drunk. What’s the big deal?” he mumbled, still apprehensive and shuffled his steps. “..Just drunk, nothing more. Nothing less. Not hiding anything. Hiding nothing at all.”

“Okay okay. Fine.” 

You decided to fall silent, and let your eyes linger in the nature around you; Your heart ached a little. The trees slightly swayed to faint music, chatter, and crickets. The stars twinkled high above your heads and it was almost the perfect night. One more thing was missing: Kinich, but sober. 

in your mind, the night would've been perfect, if kinich loved you too.

“I can do this.” you turned your head to the dark-haired boozer next to you talking to himself, only to see him drinking the large bottle whole. “ki-kinich! slow down!” You tried to snatch the vessel out of his grasp, but he only turned his head until it quickly ran half-empty, a loud gulp coming from his throat.

He stopped in his tracks and brought the bottle off of his mouth, and wiped the extra carbonation off of his shiny lips and let out a hiccup before meeting your eyes.

“Y/n. I like you.” 

“Huh?”

“I like you. Like.. the romantic kind of like. Not the friend kind of like, I mean that I really want to be your boyfriend, kind of like.”

Kinich was a lot more talkative while he was drunk, but you prayed he wasn't a joker too.

Your mind fell silent, running out of words to say. You could suddenly hear your heart beat in your ears, and feel like the world shrunk around the both of you. ‘he's just drunk-'

“And before you say anything.. No. it’s not *hic* the beer. It’s not the alcohol. In fact, i-it’s the beer that’s helping me say everything right now. And if you decide to reject me right now, it’s *hic* also what’s going to make me forget this i-in the morning. Which is why i’m *hic*  drinking so m-much.”

He looked so serious, you knew he truly meant his words. His deep emerald eyes stared right into your soul, you almost felt violated. A deep heat rushed to your face, but you were still out of words.

You tried to speak. “B-but.. How? I mean. You never seemed to take interest in me. I thought-”

Kinich quickly takes the bottle back to lips, drinking down the rest and tossing the bottle to the side, burying it into the tall grass. He breathes out a ‘ha!’ sound before his liquid courage started speaking for him again:

“Never took interest in you!? All I ever do is stare at you, *hic* and listen to your stories, and br-briing you fruit, and help you whenever *hic* you break something! All free of charge! And I am a man of mora! Its literally my ancient name!” he whined; it was so unlike him. He was always so composed, mature. He had transformed into a whiny child throwing a fit in 5 bottles of alcohol.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you, but it was you who never seemed interested.” tears started pooling in his lower eyelids, and you feel a sense of panic combining into the butterflies causing a frenzy inside of you.

“Y-you always seemed to *hic* stiff up when i-i tried to compliment you, or you’d always go to other people when you wanted to *hic* ask for an opinion on how you looked or what you should wear. I have opinions too!” tears started streaming down his face. You quickly take his arm and put it over your shoulders, supporting him before he’d drop face-down into the dirt.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry i never asked for your opinion!”

“A-and you always gave a forehead kiss goodnight to kachina and mualani during sleepovers. Why did i never get one!”

“B-because i thought you didn’t want one!”

“Well I did! I really, *hic* really did!” 

“okay i’m sorry please stop crying now!” your free hand reaches out to wipe a tear off of his heated face, before your lips planted a quick kiss on his skin. “Can that make up for it for now?”

His cheeks get impossibly rosier, and he thinks to himself, before humming. “...mhm.” his tears slowly coming to a stop, until he's just snifling.

an awkward silence fell between the both of you, as you continued walking down the path. your face still hot, your trying to piece every memory of kinich and you together, trying to see a different angle where he was trying to show you his affections.

“Wait..” his eyes look away from you, and its almost like he tried to piece together a jigsaw puzzle in his head. Like a lightbulb had turned on, he turned back to you with his eyes livelier than they’ve ever been before, a sparkle appearing back into his gradient eyes.

“So do you like me back?” he mumbled meekly, like he tried to hide while asking.

“I do. I really, really do.”

[alvojake]

Hate Me, Please | J.WY

「prompt」 : nothing else to tell you 「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.2k

「synopsis」 : wooyoung, following his father's words, packed to leave even as you tried to figure out why. he didn't want you to chase after him like he knew you would so he did the only thing he could think of, make you hate him. yet he didn't know that you could never hate him, no matter what he did.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : cussing, crying, mentions of threats, wooyoung's dad is kind of a dick, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : wow... there's just one more day of angstober left, guys. this has been a long and angsty road, but I have to admit I enjoyed it. I feel like it was refreshing to write something a little different than your regular kinktober... anywho tomorrow is the final day, and I'm a little sad that it's ending, but I'll be back on my normal agenda soon. ALSO there is another Halloween special that is coming out tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that!!

masterlist �� navi. ─ angstober list

Walking into your and Wooyoung’s apartment, you were met with the sound of loud rustling. Tossing your keys to the side, you quickly slipped off your shoes and made your way to your bedroom, where the noise was coming from. Looking into the room, you find your boyfriend tossing things from the closet onto the bed.

“Woo…” you called out to the male softly as you noticed the large luggage bag on the bed filled almost to the brim with his things. Seeing all of this could only make you think of one thing: that he was leaving, and it made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

Wooyoung hadn’t heard a thing you said to him, far too occupied in his own mind to pay attention to the outside world. Until he turned around and found you standing in the doorway, staring at him with shocked and confused eyes.

He cursed under his breath; you weren’t supposed to be home until after he was gone. Averting his gaze, Wooyoung moved over to the bed and started folding more of the clothes to stick in his suitcase. Not saying a single word to you, which only made you feel more confused.

“Wooyoung, what’s going on?” Your voice shook slightly as you walked up to him, but he didn’t pay you any mind.

He wanted to have this all done before you got home so he wouldn’t have to see this look of heartbreak and confusion on your face. The last thing he wanted to do was leave you and everything you had built together behind, but he wasn’t left with much of a choice. His father had threatened your life if he didn’t listen, and he knew that his father would stick to his word, so he had to go.

Sure, he could have sat down with you and explained everything, but he knew you. You have tried to talk him out of it, saying that there were ways that he could get around this or even take you with him, and he knew that it would work because he always gave in to what you wanted. However, this time, he couldn’t. He also knew that you would go looking for him if he just up and disappeared, so he did the only thing he could think of to prevent that.

To make you hate him.

“I’m leaving. What does it look like?” His voice was cold. He spared you a single glance, and he instantly regretted seeing the hurt in your eyes.

“What?” You were hurt and confused, but by far more confused than anything; why had he decided to leave all of a sudden? Did something happen? You had so many questions you wanted to ask, but none of them would leave your tongue as you watched him continue to pack.

“I said I’m leaving. What about that do you not get?” He glared at you, and you took a small step back, completely bewildered by his behavior. "Now, if you’re just going to stand there asking stupid questions, then leave.”

Tears started to brim in your eyes, but you bit your lip, refusing to let them fall. You tried to think of any logical thing that you’ve done that would make him act like this, but you were coming up blank. Yet something about this didn’t seem right; it felt off.

That’s when something Wooyoung’s brother had said the other day clicked in your head.

‘Dad’s getting impatient. How much longer do you think you can push this off?’

He had been talking to Wooyoung in the office when you happened to walk up and overhear. You didn’t pay it any mind because his dad has always been on Wooyoung’s ass about certain things, which of course, you found mildly annoying, but what could you do?

“Does this have to do with your dad?” Your question made him freeze for a split second, and you knew you had your answer even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

Wooyoung swallowed thickly, trying his best to keep his composure as he packed. How could you have known? Did you happen to overhear something one day? He started to rack his brain for any plausible cause of you finding out that he hadn’t even noticed you walking up to him.

“Wooyoung…” You called out to him, reaching for his arm but stopped short when you heard sniffles. The sound alone made your heartbreak, but when he turned with teary eyes, it completely shattered your soul.

“Why couldn’t you just let me make you hate me?” He asked, tears starting to fall from the corner of his eyes as he stared at you. He then turned and sat down on the bed, burying his face in his hands to hide the tears.

“Oh, my love, even if you were to leave like that, I would never hate you.” You spoke softly as you moved to stand in front of him, hand reaching out to lay on his shoulder, “I love you far too much to ever hate you.”

You didn’t even have a chance to react when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and burying his face in your stomach. There were no words spoken as you let him cry, trying to fight back your own tears as you ran your fingers through his hair.

After a few moments, you licked your lips and asked the dreaded question, “When do you leave?”

“My flight leaves tonight.” His voice was muffled against your skin as he didn’t move an inch, scared to let you go.

Silence filled the room once more as you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair while trying to keep your composure. You tried to think of any possible solution that would get him out of leaving, but knowing how his father is, that wasn’t an option. Then you thought about possibly going with him, but it wasn’t like you could just up and leave your job on such short notice without repercussions.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, maybe a year at most.” Wooyoung pulled away just a smidge to look up at you, his eyes bloodshot from crying, and tear streaks stained his cheeks. You reached down, cupping his face in your hands and wiping away any of the stray tears with a small, sad smile.

“I’ll wait for you," you told him confidently, and he opened his mouth to object, but you wouldn’t let him. "You could be gone for a month, six months, a year, or even five years, and I would still wait for you, Wooyoung.”

Your words struck him deeply, and more tears started to pool in his eyes as he stared up at you, wondering where he ever got lucky enough to find someone like you. He didn’t deserve you or your time, but you were more than willing to give all of your time if it meant he would still come back home to you.

Maybe his initial plan didn’t go as he thought it would, but he would much rather have this outcome than anything else. Even if it meant he had to say goodbye for a little while, he knew that you would be there waiting for him with open arms when he finally came back home.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜ��ʟʏ.

[javier-pena]

back in july, i started a little monthly fic rec project and then immediately life got in the way of me reading fics and i had to skip august and september. so this list isn't just fics i read in october but also fics i read during the other two months.

that being said, i sure read some absolutely life-changing stories these past few months and i'm so so excited for more people to discover these fics! please check the warnings on the stories before reading them and please please let the authors know that you loved their work!!

i’m also always looking for fic recommendations, so feel free to send me your favorites!

billy butcher (the boys)

fucking diabolical by @macfrog

you move in across the street. butcher notices.

logan howlett/wolverine (x2)

all's fair in love and viscera... by @sceletaflores

logan wants to spar...

oberyn martell + dave york (game of thrones/the equalizer 2)

gold rush by @guiltyasdave

“you like him, princess?” oberyn asks, a grin obvious in his tone. you nod silently, your eyes still trained on the man behind the boat’s steering wheel. “so do I.” 

joel miller (the last of us)

a helping hand by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Living in your best friends house while yours is getting renovated leaves you getting to know her husband Joel better. After finding out your husband is cheating on you, and learning Joel is about to serve his wife with the divorce papers, a drunk midnight phone sex call from your husband leaves you and Joel to finally give in to your growing feelings for each other.

a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike

a mysterious man with a motorcycle saves you from a terrible date.

bad habit by @strang3lov3

After Joel catches you smoking, he gives you something else to put between your lips.

brat! by @shellshocklove

joel is having a brat summer.

decode by @tonysopranosrobe

joel really loves doing favours for you. like hiring you as a babysitter and teaching you how to suck dick.

do your worst, little dove by @mountainsandmayhem

joel lets you take charge for once.

heavenly bound by @ozarkthedog

the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

inhale, exhale by @sp00kymulderr

this world is not made for intimacy and both of you know it.

my kink is karma by @alltheirdamn

your boyfriend breaks up with you, so you decide to get revenge ...

shhh...just a little bit more, part three by @mountainsandmayhem

joel miller caught you working where you shouldn’t be after you promised to quit. now he’s taking matters into his own hands.

frankie morales (triple frontier)

sit back, baby by @almostfoxglove

you’ve got a crush on your neighbor across the hall and finally get the chance to show him you care.

take you to the hilltop, and tell you you're pretty by @jolapeno

you book a guided hike tour for one when on your trip, not at all expecting your guide to be so damn hot.

frankie morales + santiago garcia + benny miller (triple frontier)

in the woods by @tonysopranosrobe

a camping trip with your boyfriend frankie and his friends takes a turn when you stumble upon a mysterious substance in the woods.

javier peña (narcos)

like a fever by @pedgito

there’s sweaty javi p and office sex, that’s all you need to know.

the man who has returned home by @jolapeno

this week’s sex diary - the man who has returned home

unscripted desire by @gothcsz

you’re a camerawoman that shoots pornos. javier peña is the pornstar you can’t stand. why is it that you’re always so affected by him?

dave york (the equalizer 2)

a long time coming by @guiltyasdave

you were supposed to go to a concert with your best friend. you end up going with her dad instead.

my own fic from october :)

three's a crowd (frankie morales + joel miller)

you’re in love with frankie and he is in love with you, but you both have no idea how to act on it. until joel miller comes along.

[jinkoh]

sins of the flesh

younghoon x fem!reader x demon!hyunjae

summary: how could you possibly say no when the sweet, sweet reverend asks for your help with a holy ritual?

wc: 5.2k

tags: smut (mdni), manipulation, could be read as dubcon, religious themes, purity/corruption themes, voyeurism, teasing, praise kink, pet names, oral (f receiving), kissing, overstimulation, after care, a lot of plot for sth that was supposed to be pwp, warnings: blood, consumption of dubious liquids, uuuuh demon tongue? 🫣

a/n: forgive me father for this fic is just one big sin 😔🙏🏻 (that ends on a surprisingly soft note) anyway--happy halloween

masterlist

“It’s really lucky that I ran into you,” Younghoon said as he unlocked the heavy doors of the church to let the both of you inside. “You’re really my savior today.”

“Oh, no, of course, Reverend,” you stumbled over your own words, feeling way too nervous about being alone with him. You knew your little crush on him was pointless, after all he was the pastor of the local church and no matter how charming and sweet he was, he would always be off limits. He was upright and virtuous, and you felt guilty for the way you desired him, as if just your thoughts of him were already tainting his purity. Still, you couldn’t stop the way your heart was fluttering now that it was just the two of you at this late hour.

He held the door open for you and you followed inside, the church looking scary and looming after dark without any candles to light it up. Younghoon, attentive as he was, seemed to notice your uneasiness. “Just a second,” he reassured with those gentle eyes you loved so much. He reached for an oil lamp and lit it up, the flickering light illuminating your surroundings.

“So, uh,” you started, your voice giving away your nerves, “what did you need my help with again?”

“I’ll explain in a bit. Let’s go to the crypt first.” He started walking towards the stairs that led down into the cellar vaults where you knew the crypt was. You’d never been down there though, and you didn’t think you should be—not just anyone was allowed to set foot into the holy halls beneath the church. But if Younghoon was the one to invite you, it was surely okay, wasn’t it?

“Really,” he said on your descent, “I’m so grateful you’re willing to help out. You’re the perfect person for this, I couldn’t have asked anyone else.”

You felt your cheeks flush with heat. “I’m always glad to be of  help to you, Reverend. And uhm—” you hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were being too bold, but then you decided to say it anyway, “if anything comes up again you can always ask me.”

He briefly turned around to bless you with a smile so wide it made little creases form in the corners of his eyes. “That makes me really happy to hear. I will remember it,” he said as he took the last few steps down. It was darker here, not even the dim light of the moon coming in through the windows. Only the flicker of Younghoon’s oil lamp brought some light into the darkness, but it didn’t help to make the place less scary. A gate made of black iron bars waited at the end of the stairway, keeping unwanted guests out of the crypt. Younghoon fumbled with some keys before he found the right one, unlocking the gate and pushing it open with an uncomfortable creaking noise.

“After you.” He motioned for you to go in first and you did as you were told, even if you’d feel a lot more comfortable following behind him, his tall, broad back in front of you giving you a sense of security. Still, you stumbled inside and towards the altar your eyes could make out through the darkness.

“Don’t be scared,” he said as if he’d read your mind, “what place could be safer than this?”

“Of course, Reverend, you’re right,” you were quick to agree, worried that your guardedness was perhaps offensive to him.

“You know,” he said from right behind you, his voice sounding closer than expected. “You can call me by my name when it’s just the two of us."

Your heart was racing in your chest so quickly, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d heard it. “O-okay.”

“Hmm?”

“Younghoon,” you croaked.

He hummed contentedly. “Good.” You thought you felt his hands ghosting over your back before they came to rest on your shoulders, gently pushing you further towards the altar, past a few rows of stone benches in front of it. He only let go when you’d almost reached it, stepping past you to light the candles framing it. You could make out more of the surroundings now and it only made you more confused about the kind of help Younghoon was hoping to get from you. Despite your studies, you didn’t know enough about religion to recognize the symbols that were painted onto the floor surrounding the altar, nor did you recognize the ornament that stood in the middle of the altar where you’d usually find the cross. But even a rookie like you could tell that all of this belonged to some kind of intricate ritual. 

“Are you sure I’m the right person to help you?” 

“Very sure,” Younghoon turned around from where he’d lit the last candle at the edge of the altar. “In fact, there’s no one better than you for this.”

“So what exactly is this?”

“It’s a cleansing ritual,” he explained. “You know, with everyone confessing their sins within the walls of this church, the bad aura will accumulate if nothing is done about it. So, from time to time it needs to be purified with a little ceremony.”

You’d never heard of anything like that, but it made sense to you. Still—“I don’t know much about ceremonies though.”

“What matters isn’t knowledge, y/n, it’s the purity of your soul.” He came a little closer giving you a reassuring smile. “You have a pure soul, don’t you?”

You nodded, ignoring the little voice in the back of your mind that wanted to remind you of all the impure feelings of affection you harbored for the man in front of you. 

“See? Then it’s all good.” 

He asked you to change into a white gown, showing you to a small chamber so you’d have some privacy. It wasn’t unusual to have a dress code in religious contexts, and Younghoon too was wearing his neat black cassock (that suited him a little too well) so you weren’t thinking anything weird of this. You took off your clothes and left them on a small stool in the corner, neatly folded up, before slipping into the simple white dress. It was  almost reminiscent of the choir robes, but it was shorter than that, the fabric ending right above your knees. You felt exposed when you stepped back into the main vault, the stone floor cold beneath your naked feet, your black socks, too, left behind in the little chamber.

“It suits you,” Younghoon said when you approached him. “Just perfect.”

You didn’t know how to respond, your cheeks burning hot under his attention, so you quickly avoided his gaze. “So, what now?”

He smiled. “Come here.”

As instructed you walked over, careful not to step onto any of the intricate symbols painted on the floor because you weren’t sure if you should. Your gaze flickered to the cup, and more importantly, the small silver dagger that were sitting on the altar, making uneasiness bubble up in your stomach. But Younghoon reached out his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and pulling your attention back to him. It felt too close, too intimate, but you knew you were reading too much into this. Younghoon wouldn’t have any such impure intentions.

“Are you nervous?” He asked.

You shrugged.

“Do you trust me?”

A small glance to the dagger, but then you quickly looked back at him. You knew he was a good person. “Yes.”

“Good.” Younghoon leaned in, his lips briefly brushing your forehead, like a small sign of blessing, before his hand reached for the cup. He closed his eyes and mumbled something in a language you couldn’t understand, Latin maybe, but you knew it must have been a prayer. You watched him, the way his lips moved around the words and the way his eyelids fluttered open once he was done. 

“Here,” he held out the cup for you to drink, and without questioning it you took a sip of the red liquid inside. Wine, you realized, except it tasted sweeter than any wine you’d ever had. Assuming it was enough, you wanted to draw back, but Younghoon kept the cup up against your lips, using his free hand on your jaw to coax you to keep drinking. “All of it.”

The sticky sweet liquid felt warm and heavy in your stomach, but you drank it all, until not a drop of it was left. Only then did he set aside the cup. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, gathering up the last bits of liquid before pushing it into your mouth. “Well done,” he praised and you felt tense under his  gaze, your body pulsing with a weird heat that you decided to blame on the alcohol. You only got pulled out of your trance when Younghoon reached for the silver dagger. You visibly flinched, a newfound rush of panic surging through your veins.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he assured, almost as if he was talking to a frightened kitten. “I wouldn’t do anything bad to you, you know that, don’t you?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling intimidated.

“There’s no need to be scared, y/n. I promise. We just need a tiny bit of blood.”

“Blood?” you repeated, your voice hoarse.

“Just the tiniest drop. It’s not scary at all, and it will barely hurt, love.”

You ignored the way the pet name made your skin tingle, trying to focus on the important matters at hand instead. Slowly but surely, you were feeling like something was odd about all of this. But it seemed a little too late to back out now, and how could you when Younghoon was looking at you so sweetly? You bit your lower lip, your gaze flickering between him and the silver dagger. “It won’t hurt?”

“Just a little sting.”

“...okay.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead once more, more of a praise than a blessing this time, before he took your left hand in his, drawing the silver blade over your palm in a swift motion. You let out a whimper at the sharp pain that surged through you, teary eyes fixed on the red dots gathering where the dagger had cut through your skin. Younghoon gently guided you to outstretch your arm above one of the more intricate circle designs on the floor, his hand around yours pushing your fingers into a tight fist that made you hiss in pain, your teeth digging into your lower lip to silence yourself. Blood started to gather in your wound, a drop of it rolling down your skin and falling onto the stone below. As soon as it hit the floor Younghoon let go, cupping your cheeks instead and wiping away your tears that had started spilling out.

“Don’t cry, it’s all okay, y/n,” he comforted. His lips grazed your cheeks, kissing away the last of your tears, and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes and drowning yourself in his warmth.  “It’s already over," he whispered, the words ticklish against your skin.

“Already over?” a strange voice suddenly asked from behind you, making you jerk around in Younghoon’s embrace.

Right there, in front of the altar was now a tall figure eyeing you with a mischievous grin on his handsome face. “I don’t think so,” he continued as he came over to you. “How could it be over before I even arrived?”

“W-who…?” you rasped out, looking up helplessly at Younghoon.

“He’ll help with the ritual. He is a… friend of mine,” he explained but it didn’t feel entirely truthful. 

“Oh?” The other guy seemed amused, “Are we friends now?”

Younghoon huffed a laugh. “What would you call it then, Hyunjae?”

“Hmm. Partners?” Hyunjae stepped a little closer, as if he wasn’t already close enough. He tilted his head down to get on eye level with you, his pitch black eyes taking in every detail of your face, before his gaze wandered over your body down to your feet and back up again. “Though, I guess strictly speaking, my partner is this one?”

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

Hyunjae reached for your wounded hand and held it up to inspect it. He swiped up some of your blood with his index finger. “It means,” he said, bringing it up to his lips and licking the red liquid away, “that you called me here.” Your eyes were automatically drawn to the movement, following the way his tongue darted out before he savored the taste of your blood like it was something delicious.

“You’re scaring her,” Younghoon interfered, and he was right, you were scared, but there was also something else, a weird sense of heat building in your guts that you couldn’t quite explain.

“She doesn’t look that scared to me,” Hyunjae remarked with a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Do you?” 

You felt caught and ashamed, even more so since Younghoon was right there. Instead of answering his question you gave him a defiant glare. “What do you want?”

“Younghoon really didn’t explain anything, huh? I’m here to feed on all the delicious sins that he collected for me.”

“Feed on?” You didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean at all. “But only demons—” You didn’t dare to finish your sentence out loud, the thought of it too absurd to be put into words. You instinctively retreated further into Younghoon’s arms, whose hands on your shoulders made you feel a little more safe.

“Precisely,” Hyunjae grinned and his teeth suddenly looked a little too sharp to be human. 

“But this is a church.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised about all the things that happen in holy halls when the faithful church goers aren’t looking.”

Confused, you turned to the man behind you, “Younghoon, what—”

“It’s okay,” his hands rubbed little circles into your skin. “He’s not here to cause harm. He will leave once the sins have been taken care of.”

“Where are those sins?” you pressed out.

Hyunjae’s eyes seemed to darken with unabashed joy. “Well, where do you think they are?” He leaned in so close, you could feel his breath on your face as his thumb brushed over your lower lip, almost the same way Younghoon had done before. “Wasn’t that wine so sweet?”

Your eyes widened in shock and your hand instinctively came up to your throat, as if you could somehow undo it all, undrink the wine that had rolled down your tongue.

“No,” you whispered barely audible, the panic more present than ever. Had Younghoon lied to you? Were you nothing but a mere sacrifice? Would he just let you be devoured for the sake of the ceremony? “You promised,” you choked out, feeling a new wave of tears welling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hyunjae chuckled at your reaction, something akin to pity in his expression. His hand was still on your jaw, his thumb now coming up to wipe away your tears. The touch wasn’t as soft and gentle as Younghoon’s and you couldn’t bring yourself to feel comforted by it. “I won’t literally eat you, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, hm? Just enjoy.”

With that he brushed his lips against yours, and you wanted to hate it, your precious first kiss taken like that, but it felt so good. Something about Hyunjae seemed to be electrifying, small sparks tingling beneath your skin at the touch of his lips. It made you want to forget the absurdity of the situation and give in to the pleasure of it all. His fingers moved to your waist, strong hands keeping you in place, as if you had any intention of running away. You closed your eyes to indulge the feeling, small sighs unconsciously escaping your lips. He used the chance to slip in his tongue, and it felt long and sharp and entirely inhuman. He completely devoured you while you could do nothing but pathetically moan into his mouth. But then Hyunjae suddenly pulled away, making you chase the kiss.

“What’s that grim face for?” You heard him ask. You opened your eyes in a confused trance, finding that he wasn’t looking at you but Younghoon instead. The realization that you’d eagerly parted your lips for someone else while the man you’d been harboring feelings for all this time had been right there behind you made your skin crawl with shame.

“Are you not enjoying the show? I’m sure I can draw out even more of those pretty little sounds,” Hyunjae continued, “or do you perhaps wish it was you instead? Feeling a little possessive after all?”

You felt the grip on your shoulders tighten. 

“Don’t pout,” Hyunjae pulled away from you, his hand reaching up to cup Younghoon’s jaw. “You can kiss her all you want later. But we can’t have you get affected by the sins, right? You knew this, when you chose her."

“I’m not pouting,” Younghoon mumbled.

Hyunjae huffed a laugh. “Mhm, sure.” He left a small peck on Younghoon’s nose, right on that pretty little freckle. You felt surprised about the gentle affection of it all and it made you feel jealous, though you weren’t sure whom exactly you were jealous of. Your fingers dug into the skin of Hyunjae’s arm that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding onto all this time.

“Oh? Feeling left out?” Hyunjae turned his focus back to you with a grin. “Don’t worry, you haven’t been forgotten. We’ll take care of you real good.”

He kissed you again, lips devouring yours until you felt weak in the knees, Younghoon’s arms finding your hips to hold you up.

“Let’s move,” he whispered close to your ear, but you weren’t sure if he was talking to you, because Hyunjae was the one who replied, pulling away from your lips to give a quick approval. Before you could even register it, the demon had already picked you up, practically throwing you over his shoulder, leaving you to wonder where you were headed to. But it only took a few steps before you were welcomed by Younghoon’s arms, who pulled your back into his chest again, helping you get comfortable between his legs—as comfortable as it could get on the hard surface of the altar that you found yourself sitting on. 

“Is this better?” he asked, his arms around you comfortable and warm. You tilted your head to look at him, his face so impossibly close to your own. He looked at you with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and yet there was also that burning desire in his eyes. You wanted to kiss him.

When you started to lean in, you were suddenly stopped by a hand covering your lips though.

“You can’t,” Hyunjae tutted, hovering in your personal space again. He must have pulled himself up onto the altar too, while you’d been distracted. With a firm grip he turned your head back to face him. “You don’t want to put him into danger, do you?”

You shook your head as best as you could with his hand on your jaw.

“Then no kissing him. Not yet.”

“When?” You asked, feeling a little pouty. It just seemed so unfair.

“As soon as we’ve eaten up all those sweet little sins,” he explained with a grin.

“Eat them quickly then.” You closed your eyes and pushed out your jaw, readying yourself to be devoured by him all over again.

“Sure, let’s hurry it along, shall we?” His breath was fanning your lips when he chuckled, but instead of kissing you he pulled away. You flinched when you felt his hand travel up the insides of your legs and you instinctively pressed your knees together when he was about to reach your thighs.

“Oh?” Hyunjae tilted his head in surprise.

“Don’t do that, hm?” Younghoon whispered behind you, his hands traveling down your body to your thighs, gently urging them to open. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Feeling unsure, you turned your head to glance back at him, legs still pressed together. You thought you wanted to say something, but with the way he was looking at you so sweetly, you forgot all about it.

“Hm?” he hummed, “Aren’t you?” 

You hesitated for a second longer, but then you relaxed in his hold, letting him push your legs apart. “Well done,” he whispered and the words made you tingle with a weird sense of pride. "Such a good girl indeed."

His hands gently caressed the skin on your thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. But then there was another pair of hands, their grip stronger, more fierce as they pushed your legs to open a little further.

“Not sure if I should be grateful or jealous that you listen to our Younghoon so well,” Hyunjae mumbled with a little shake of his head, before scooting down further.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a trembling voice.

“Eating,” Hyunjae replied easily, fingers pushing at your gown that had already ridden up quite a bit.

“It’s okay,” Younghoon soothed, taking over and pulling the white fabric all the way up to your chest, leaving you exposed to both him and the demon between your legs. “See,” he whispered, his hand moving to your lower stomach and your eyes automatically followed the movement, confused about the weird mark that had appeared on your skin, right above the hem of your underwear. “We have to get rid of this,” he explained. “Hyunjae will get rid of it for you, hm?”

You glanced at the demon and he briefly darted out his sharp tongue. “I’ll be sure to make it enjoyable for you, sweetheart.” The demon's hands found purchase on your hips as he leaned in close, tracing the weird mark on your lower stomach with his soft lips. The sensation made you feel ticklish and you tried to back away, but the hold on your hips was strong and Younghoon behind you didn't give you much room to back away anyway. 

"You're already this nervous? We haven't even started yet," Hyunjae said as his fingers hooked under your panties. Panic rose up in you as you felt the way he slowly started to drag the fabric down and your hands immediately flew to his arms, trying to push him away. "No, don't," you whimpered, feeling tears well up in your eyes for the nth time that night.

"Haven't we been over this?" Younghoon whispered into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin. His fingers reached for your wrists and pulled them close to your chest, holding them in place. "We need to let him do his job, hm?"

"But it's scary," you choked out, hands still pushing at Hyunjae’s shoulders.

"It's not scary at all," Younghoon whispered.

"Promise?"

"Of course, love. I wouldn't lie to you." 

"Okay," you pressed out and you didn't resist this time when Hyunjae was slowly pulling your panties down your trembling legs.

"I won’t hurt you," the demon whispered as he pressed another kiss to the mark. "I'll make it feel so good." His lips moved a little lower, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake as he moved to your now exposed core. When you felt his breath fanning over your most private parts you wanted to close your legs again but as if he knew, Younghoon was giving your wrists a little squeeze and you kept them open.

"So obedient," Hyunjae commented with a grin and then suddenly you felt his tongue on you, licking over your clit and making you gasp out at the unfamiliar sensation. He didn't give you much time to get used to it though, starting to suck on your sensitive bud and making you shiver.

"See? It's not scary at all," Younghoon whispered into your ear.

"Feels weird," you whined, a strangled moan escaping your lips when you suddenly felt a finger prodding at your entrance.

"It's not weird at all," Younghoon pecked your cheek, "It feels good."

"Feels good," you repeated dumbly and the man behind you hummed  contently.

Hyunjae’s mouth kept assaulting your clit while his finger was quickly joined by a second one, the stretch making you squirm in Younghoon’s embrace. The strange heat that had been bubbling in your guts since before seemed to be building up to something more, something unfamiliar that you couldn’t place. Small noises escaped your throat and you desperately tried to keep quiet by pressing your lips together, but Younghoon wasn’t having any of that. He moved your wrists into one hand, softly coaxing your mouth open with the other.

“Let him hear you, love,” he mumbled as his thumb pushed into your mouth, “let him know how good he’s making you feel.”

Unable to keep yourself silenced with Younghoon’s thumb between your lips, you let out a wanton moan. Hyunjae groaned in response, the vibrations of it making you shiver.

“You sound so good,” he praised, removing his lips from your clit to look up at you with hungry eyes. You felt yourself clench around his fingers and it drew a small chuckle out of the demon. “You like that?” He asked almost sweetly, “Like being told how good you are for us?” The whine you let out in response was all the answer he needed.

“That’s so cute,” Younghoon whispered into your ears. Right then, Hyunjae pulled his fingers from your core, making you feel empty and cold until he replaced them with his warm tongue. It’d already felt different when he’d kissed you before, but this was on a whole new level. It was long and big as it moved inside of you, easily reaching places his fingers hadn’t even touched. The sensation was entirely too strong, but the moment you tried to close your legs, Hyunjae’s hands were back on your thighs, holding you open for him to devour.

“‘S too much,” you slurred, heart racing and eyes blurry.

“Just a bit more,” Younghoon left sweet little kisses on your neck that didn’t seem to match the intensity of Hyunjae’s tongue on you at all. “Doing so well.”

“I can’t” you shook your head, overwhelmed by the unbearable heat in your guts. “‘m scared.”

“There’s no need to be scared,” he assured, while Hyunjae kept on with his ministrations. “I’m right here, my love.”

“Too much,” you choked out again, but then it was as if the heat inside of you snapped, an overwhelming sensation washing over you and taking all coherency with it. You shook as Hyunjae kept going, prolonging the feeling until you were a whimpering mess, begging him to stop. He left a peck on your overly sensitive clit that drew another whine from you, before finally drawing back.

“You did so well,” Younghoon praised.”

“Did I?” you mumbled hazily, still dazed with the aftershocks. 

“Didn’t she?” He turned to the demon that was now hovering above you, his eyes glowing in a pretty gold color that drew you in. “So well,” he agreed before he leaned in to kiss you, the taste of your own release invading your senses. “And you’ll do well again, right?”

“Again?”

“Mhm,” Younghoon hummed close to your ear, his hand moving to thumb over the mark on your stomach that seemed to have gotten a little more faint but was far from gone, “Just a few more times. But it’s not scary at all, right?”

“‘s not scary” you agreed,“Feels good.”

“Good,” Hyunjae smiled, pecking your lips again in a way that almost felt sweet and way too affectionate for someone who is supposedly a creature from the underworld. But what did you know? It wasn’t anything for your fuzzy mind to contemplate over anyway, not with the way his lips trailed back down your body, making you shiver in anticipation of what you knew was to come.

Hyunjae pushed you over the edge again and again, making you feel so high on pleasure and adrenaline, you almost forgot the point of all this. All you knew was how good his tongue made you feel, and how warm Younghoon’s arms were around you.

“Can’t,” you babbled as you felt the familiar build up in your core yet another time, “‘m empty already.”

“Not quite,” Younghoon traced the faint remains of the mark on your stomach, “just one more, hm?”

“N-no,” you choked out, your fingers burying themselves in Hyunjae’s hair, without actually trying to push him away. His tongue was working you relentlessly and you felt like you were going to pass out if he kept going—but then it also felt so good. When he got the heat inside of you to snap one more time, the intensity of it had you seeing stars and you swore you left earth for a moment there. When you came back to your senses, both of them were littering you with soft pecks and praises.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” Younghoon whispered into your ear, “took it all so well.”

“‘S over?” you asked drowsily, and when he nodded you relaxed further into his embrace, letting your eyes fall shut and just bathing in the warmth and comfort they were showering you with. Your hands eventually found their way to the back of Hyunjae’s neck, fingers running through his hair.

“Wanna kiss you,” you mumbled thoughtlessly.

“Yeah?” He asked, leaning in until you felt his breath on your lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do it then,” he whispered and you didn’t hesitate to brush your lips against him. He reciprocated the kiss, slow and tender in a way you didn’t think demons should be capable of. You leaned into it, opening your mouth for him and letting him explore you slow like that.

“I like this,” you eventually mumbled into his mouth, before letting your head fall back against Younghoon’s shoulder. “Wanna kiss you, too.”

“You can.”

“I can?” The happy disbelief in your voice drew a chuckle from him. “Mhm,” he nuzzled your neck, “Hyunjae ate all the sins right up, so you can.”

You turned to look at him as good as you could, nose brushing against his due to the proximity. “And do you want to?” you asked carefully, gaze flickering between his eyes and the pretty, pretty lips you’d been dreaming about one too many times. Instead of a reply, he leaned in and closed the distance, just a brief touch that was over way too quickly.

“I do,” he whispered, “I do want to.”

“Then do it properly,” you complained and it caused him to chuckle all over again, before he relented and kissed you properly, lips moving together with yours just the way you’d dreamed it up.

Lost in the kiss, you almost didn’t notice the way Hyunjae was drawing back, but the absence of his warm body against yours made you feel cold.

“Where are you going?” you asked, hand grabbing his before he could leave for real, “Don’t go.”

“Don’t worry, we're all done, you’re all pure again.”

“Don’t go,” you repeated anyway.

The demon looked surprised, staring at you with wide eyes and the faintest tint of red on his cheeks. “You want me to stay?”

“I guess she took a liking to you,” Younghoon said and you felt him smile against your neck.

“Yeah,” you didn’t even bother hiding it, “so, don’t go.”

The timid little smile on Hyunjae’s lips didn’t go unnoticed as he settled back down, arms coming around your waist and head resting against your chest. “I guess I could stay a bit…”

masterlist 🍷 pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this 🍷

[ennn]

The kiss did kill Agatha but it was because she made it happen. "That's cute, but you know that [absorbing Rio's powers] would kill me" they had that line for a reason and having the line again on the previously on was to remind the audience of that. So a normal agathario kiss wouldn't cause death, but Agatha actually absorbing Rio's powers while kissing definitely would.

That being said, I agree with all the things you highlighted that you liked. May I ask which things you would've done different or didn't love as much, maybe?

Also, from the most neutral point of view, do you think Agatha still loves Rio? Did she ever?

I agree with that read! Note: this also means Rio would have needed to let her magic go into Agatha. Agatha can only take when blasted with magic, not by touching people, so Rio was aware she was killing her but it was Agatha's choice to take it on the mouth

Ooh good questions, time to play editor / script doctor for a bit. This is probably going to be long... and can be negative so I'm keeping it under a cut.

Things I did not love / would have done differently — not comprehensive — just off the top of my head:

For the love of god use a different ghost SFX. I hate the current one with the fire of 10,000 suns. It makes it hard to see the actor's performance, their outfit, and it messes with their body language as well. Outside the fantastical reality of the Road, it's too distracting.

Burn that white-grey wig for ghost!Agatha. Between this and the SFX I was struggling to focus on the scenes and their pathos. I think Episode 5 wasn't so bad because Evanora didn't really do much except float around in a smock and say some mean lines but Agatha's moving around, talking a lot, and trying to land some emotional beats.

The whole showdown in the garden feels weird to me, and I think you can tell that Aubrey Plaza wasn't on-location for much of it except for the kiss? I suspect that's why we have shots focused on Billy hitting the greenhouse, Death on the house, and a very very short magical fight. You also don't get proper reactions from Rio on what could have been a couple of revealing beats like when Agatha initially offers Billy up and walks away.

The big one: I'm not convinced Agatha had a proper arc here. If it was planned I don't think it landed for me. You get a hint of Agatha making some peace with how death just happens at the end of the earth trial: "Sometimes boys die" – beautiful moment -– but it doesn't seem to follow through? Yes, she ultimately makes a choice that allows Rio to continue pursuing her (because Rio would have kept her word if Agatha handed Billy over). But coming to terms with her grief and Nicky's death? Has she forgiven Rio? Has she forgiven herself? It feels unresolved to me imho.

Agatha being protective of Billy is... some development I guess but she was already instinctively protective of him in like Episode 3, and by then she already knew he wasn't Nicky. I needed more growth from Agatha, I think?

I'm not sure about the whole mental messaging power of Billy's. Is it supposed to imply he's also reading Agatha's mind? Did he not say it out loud because then we'd have to get a reaction from Rio and Plaza isn't available?

Cast a younger kid for Nicky lol. I know there are production limitations but to me that kid looks too old for a 6-7 year old. Is it just me? I don't usually hang out with kids.

Streamline the flashbacks with Agatha and Nicky. We get it: she loves him, it's their song, he's not a fan of the murdering, he dies. I'd fit in a scene (it can be a short one) to underline how Rio did care about Nicky (she visits him?) and show Agatha having conflicting feelings about loving but fearing Death.

In an ideal world, not have Billy in his superhero outfit because that should have had some build-up for a reveal. I know it's Marvel and they need to sell merch and stuff but there really was enough stuff going on and how the hell did Billy get that suit anyway? The crown I can overlook but the rest is weird to me. --

For your last question about Agatha loving Rio I'll tackle it in another Anon Ask coming up that's similar!

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: ??? months “Hallow’s eve party”

The streets of Hyper city’s commercial district were quiet. It was just past sundown and all the common folk had huddled up in their homes to protect from the chilling winds that cut through fur and coats alike. Most stores were closing, either the end of the day, or not expected customers. There was one place with lights and sounds abound. A clinic festooned with jack-o-lanterns of different animals, and hanging skeletons that looks just a little too real. Dr. Theodore Hans Erian’s clinic for human removal therapy was still open for anyone looking to party the night away.

“I don’t recall ever approving of this, Ms. Mulberry. In fact, I believe I stated quite clearly I wanted no part in this nor did I want you to invite your friends to turn our lobby into a party room. I made it spacious for potentially large therians! Not a potentially large crowd of therians. I can barely hear myself think with all the noise.”

Mayday sighed. She did that a lot whenever Erian spoke. She’d just recently remembered how to form ears and vocal cords and the first thing she had to do with them was argue with Erian about how important this party would be. It felt nice to be surrounded by others who could relate. She had learned that therian solidarity was one of the strongest things in the world after all.

She readied a comeback, but when she looked up to retort, he was wearing some crazy wig. It took her a while to realize he was in costume. Most of it was just his normal lab equipment. He barely put in any effort besides putting some test tubes in a breast pocket and singing the tips of a bad store bought wig.

“What the heck are you wearing Erian?” Mayday spoke in a raspy tone. One that showed how recently she remembered how to talk.

“If you must know, I’m going to be at two parties tonight. You’ll be joining the THEMS halloween party, won’t you?”

“Who in the right mind invited you to that? Well no, We’re not attending, we got an invitation but we didn’t feel right going.”

“Care to explain?”

“No.”

“Hm, I suppose I don’t have the time to pry further anyways. I have other things I need to take care of either way. Enjoy your party Mayday.”

“we’re raiding your liquor cabinet tonight for anyone who isn’t allergic to it.”

Erian let out a miffed grunt, as he took his time moseying over to the door and haphazardly cutting in between multiple conversations in a still somehow, direct path out of the clinic. One less party killer, off on his way to make a nuisance of himself somewhere else.

Mayday’s attention turned to the other guests here. She did her best to keep the mood up. Plenty of food and drink, candy galore, several pinatas of Erian hung from the ceiling, nearly all smashed to bits. Purple lights and multiple halloween decorations did their absolute best to wall off the feeling of being in an office waiting room. She even hired a witch to summon a dance floor for the night. But all Mayday planned to do was keep people from running into Erian’s office, no matter how fun it would be.

At the party there’s a gloriously long, masculine, naga with a cobra-esque hood in front of one of the many snack tables. Drae must be about 16 feet in length with that tail! Draer’s hood was lined with gemstones that were reflecting the party lights and the naga’s colors were a mottling of greens and blacks. Drae was piling a few blueberry pastries onto draer plate, but was approached from behind by a brown-furred feminine cow wearing a stylized costume of a popular anime pirate. She was about to tap the naga’s left shoulder, but just as she did, a purple furred creature that appeared to be some combination of tiger and cow and dressed as a sort of wrestler, was tapping the naga’s right shoulder! Immediately drae turned around and was met with the site of these two bovines having a stare off, each clearly wanting to ask this naga for draer hand on the dance floor. Before long all three started talking and laughing and soon both of these cows took a hand of the naga, all three making their way to the other dancers, laughing and smiling all the way.

In a quieter part of the room, a white tiger therian, Alexis, is dressed in futuristic grey and black military armor, with a prop pistol at her right side and a glowing orange blade over her left arm, her left hand holding a cane. An insignia reading 'N7' is visible on the top part of her chestplate. She is engaged in conversation with a lamia otherkin, and is asking various questions with a curious, but mildly concerned tone.

"So this is all going okay for you? You're comfortable with the changes, and your memory is filling in okay?" She said, smiling happily, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and she carried a look that could be well described as 'haunted'. It's the face of a woman carrying a heavy mental weight, who is trying desperately to not make her friends worry about her.

The Lamia is scratching the back of her neck, dressed in her black tank top that now has a few ghosts taped to it, plus a witch hat that sits atop her head. Her arms are sporting some purple scales in contrast to her overall otherwise blue and cream color scheme.

"It's uh-… a bit odd… pretty sure I'm actually getting some wings-… at least I hope it's wings and not a third pair of arms!" she chuckled. "As for my memory… it's uh.. getting somewhere. Been told to let it come back slowly and not rush too much… but I'm slowly remembering everyone's names, even started to really feel Aria as my name again!" She smiled at the white tiger therian in front of her, trying to reassure to the best of her ability. "The changes are a bit… hmmm…. after all never thought about going that route… but uh-… it's not unwanted! just unplanned."

The mimic couldn’t help but approach tentatively. She knew these people. At least, she was pretty sure she did. Terrified yet determined to talk to these two. She hadn’t seen them in so long, and now of all places they both show up here. “Alexis? Aria? Is… that you? You look different. I haven’t seen either of you in so long I was getting worried.” Her broken voice cracked and growled out every other word. She’d be embarrassed by it if this wasn’t important. “What happened?”

Aria turns her head and raises an eyebrow. From this angle now the mimic could see an electrical burn scar running along the lamias neck up to her chin. “Oh! Uh-… Oh god you’re… Mary… May…. Mayday! Right! Uhm-… Yeah about that I uh-… think it’s best you ask Alexis…Good to see you though!”

Alexis froze up at being put on the spot, and she seemed to be avoiding looking Mayday in the eyes. Was that fear? No, more like… shame. "Oh, uh… Hey, Mayday. Sorry I haven't been around much. I, uh… I ate something rotten, and it fucked me up for a good long while. I… I'm still kind of recovering, but I can at least keep meals down now. I didn't mean to worry you, I promise. …Are you having a good time?”

“About as good a time as I can working under Erian. There’s only so many biting comments I can stomach, y’know? But in all honesty, the past few months have been quite… revealing? I’ve ended up learning a lot about mimics and myself, more than I wanted to. Oh but more importantly I heard a lot of stuff is happening with the zoo right now. Are you safe Aria? Is everyone else there safe?” Aria reels back a little, as she got quite nervous when that topic got brought up… nervously scratching at the back of her neck.

“Ah-… yeah uhm… sadly i don’t really know what happened to the others… didn’t really have the chance to exchange numbers or anything. I… honestly hope they are doing well… I’m safe for now! Got a place that took me in! Even gave me some work and uh-…. Something doctor Therkin probably would go ballistic about… a secondary hrt to deal with my memory loss.” She then raises an eyebrow. “Wait- you’re working with that Erian guy?”

“They’re doing okay.”, Alexis answered, perhaps a bit distantly. “We, THEMS that is, managed to find next of kin or close friends for a bunch of them, and we’re taking care of all the rest ourselves until we can find a better option. Makes my job real complicated trying to keep track of everything they need, but honestly I’m just happy to be working again.” She seemed remarkably unfazed about Aria’s secondary HRT, or about Mayday working with Erian.

“That’s good to hear THEMS is working on it,” Mayday beamed. “If anyone can do it, I’m sure it’s you Alexis. Glad to hear you’re back too… Does that mean you’ll be coming back to the support group? Not to pressure you or anything, but it would be nice. And yes, Aria, I’m working for Erian right now. It’s been. Interesting. Not as bad as you’d think. There’s only been two breakdowns in this office. Heh heh… That was a joke…”

Alexis smiled again, and this time it seemed more genuine. “Yeah, I’ve actually really missed seeing everyone, and I’m looking forward to just… sitting down in that friendly space again, you know? I’ve… learned a thing or two about living with my animal instincts, too, so hopefully I’m better equipped to help others with that.” She offered a smirk at the joke. “Knowing Theodore, I’d say only two breakdowns is pretty good.”

Aria gives a look towards Alexis when asked when she would return, before looking back to Mayday. “I Uh-… I want to! I just need to… get ready to go back into that building again. Had a less than pleasant interaction with a … skunk…” She then takes a deep breath. “But uhm, glad your work is uh, working out i guess! It’s pretty cool you get to know yourself better.”

Bashful, Mayday looks down. “It’s certainly been a journey of discovery. I know you mentioned you have a lot to say on animal instincts, but I’ve certainly learned a lot too. Maybe a bit too much on how mimics work. I’m happy though, that I can get the chance to tell you all about it. Maybe the next time we’re all together I can tell you what happened. It’s a tad… eldritch though. I know there’s people out there who do poorly with that.”

Alexis lets out a quiet laugh. “Heh, I turned myself into a tiger, moved to an interdimensional nexus point, learned to use real-ass witch magic, and personally know an alien collective I used to think were just video game monsters. At this point I can deal with things getting a little eldritch on me.”

Aria giggled. “You know, I am becoming something of an eldritch being myself~” She then put her finger over her mouth, winking with one of her four eyes. “But psst~ that is a little secret so no mention to that doctor okay?”

“I’m sure Dr. Therkin wouldn’t mind,” Mayday quickly noted. “I’ve only heard nice things about her. But I suppose anyone would be a bit concerned with extraterrestrial stuffs. So like, when you say eldritch, did you also get thrown into the void? Cause I did and it wasn’t fun, I did get to meet myself and I think they still live in my brain now? It’s complicated. What about you guys? Sounds like you’ve had some fun adventures too.” The more Mayday spoke the more her voice started to shift back into how it originally was, less scratchy and more jubilant. Though eventually she realized her oversharing and held back.

“… Uh-… no? The only thing so far is that… I hear them from time to time but… it’s all muffled and hurts my head so they tend to not use the hivemind around me. It’s odd though… as soon as i start remembering things… it also feels like everything is getting blurry… Though uh-… I guess my eldritch experience is kinda different to yours then? Your’s sounds more… like those really big and scary ones…”

“I didn’t know there were others that weren’t the big scary ones.” Mayday looks genuinely perplexed. “Like you mean something eldritch but… more normally existing here?”

“Yeah!” She nods with a smile. “Alexis met them too, they are pretty chill these days but still classify as eldritch i’d say! At least that’s what I heard from Aik… Uh a friend of mine that also goes on the same HRT!”

Alexis nods. “Can confirm, the Black Arms are actually pretty chill. It’s… partly because of them that I’m really getting used to how weird Hyper City can get. And speaking of eldritch stuff, I don’t know if this is, like, common knowledge, but it turns out being a witch means I can… see things differently, sort of like a sixth sense. It still takes a lot of focus, but I can sort of… read auras and intentions, sometimes it’s almost like I know what’s about to happen before it actually does, and I can subconsciously tell when there’s magic around, even if it’s subtle.”

“Ohhh! That sounds cool! Gotta ask you to teach me some of that!” Aria said smiling. “Then i could at least warrant running around with a witch costume around some actual witches-”

Mayday takes a moment to sit down. She can’t help but smile at both of their enthusiasm. Despite everything that must have happened to them, They’re happy. Sure things will probably get bad again in some way down the road. But that’s not what matters. It’s a Halloween party. It’s fun! “You two are so enthusiastic today. It’s infectious, good thing we’re at a clinic.” She can’t help but let out an embarrassing snort, as she laughs at her own joke. “It’s so weird how little I know you, and yet it feels like you both mean the world to me. Stars above, I missed both of you so much.”

Alexis gives a gentle smile and lets out a happy chuff. "It makes sense to me, this is a solid community we've built, with a real sense of loyalty and togetherness about it. You're part of that too, even if you haven’t been with us as long. Besides, I owe you a huge debt for telling me where Aria was." She turns to Aria. "As for teaching you, I think you'd take to it well, honestly... Your mind's already open to the strange and unusual, probably more than most, being an otherkin. Remind me after tonight, I'll introduce you to the witch who's been giving me a few pointers."

Aria tilts her head confused as she looks over to Mayday, then back to Alexis. “She did?… Oh wow, then uh- thanks! I was wondering how you found me! But uh-… how did YOU know, Mayday?” But before waiting for an answer she right away beamed again with excitement as she looked at Alexis again. “Sure will do! Though-… before we start i rather ask my new doc if it’s safe for me to practice magic at the moment… with my head being all messy and all…”

Mayday looked a bit uneasy with Aria’s description of her mental state. “Yeah, you don’t want to mess with magical forces when you’re not mentally healthy. Learned that tidbit from experience. I suppose it was cathartic in a way. Buuuuuut therapy would probably be the healthier choice. Like the therapy I get from bullying Erian all day. You want to see his alcohol collection he keeps in a medical building? I don’t want to drink it, I just want to see what he’d do if we poured it out in the sink.”

Alexis chuckles. “Hey, don’t be too mean to him, the man provides an important service, even if he is kind of a butt. Speaking of alcohol, though, I should probably get going to the THEMS party, I promised I’d be on hand in case anyone gets too rowdy. …Or tries to fight Theodore. I’ll catch up with you two later, okay?”

“Ah uh-….” Aria fiddled with all four of her hands in front of her nervously… “If-… if there is a party at THEMS… and you’re going, i’d like to try to go there too! I was just being a wallflower here anyway-… Maybe you could join us too Mayday?”

“Oh, I’d love to, but, I’m the only employee here tonight, so I have to stay until everyone leaves, and then I have to finish cleaning up my office. There’s still about a full bag of salt left on the floor. But thank you for the offer. I would have loved to join you.” Mayday grabs her arm and grimaces, showing considerable displeasure about having to stick around here. The arm shifts and wriggles to find a form that can be anywhere else. It settles on human.

Aria frowns.. Looking at Mayday with a bit of a sad expression. “Actually… I think I'll stay here for a bit longer. Sorry about that back and forth Alexis~”

Mayday immediately grows scared of the suggestion. “Please don’t stay on my account. You should both get to THEMS. I’m happy you decided to show up to this random party I threw in the first place. You two can take your leave when you want. We can talk another time.”

“I can’t speak for Aria, but… how about this? After the party at THEMS wraps up, I’ll come back here and help you clean up. Many paws make light work, right?” Alexis smirked a little. “And before you ask, no, I really don’t mind. I’ve missed hanging out with you, and it’ll give us a chance to catch up. For now, though…” She double-checked that she had all of her things, and started walking to the front door. “Do you want to come with, Aria? No pressure at all if you’d rather stay here.”

Aria looked between Alexis and Mayday, letting out a few pensive tongue flicks and growls… Her tail tip idly vibrated before she finally burst out “Fiiiiiine! I go to the THEMS party, but you be damn sure i come here to help clean too and catch up! 6 arms are better than two!” She turned to Alexis with a pensive smile. “… Though while at THEMS you gotta stay close okay?…”

Alexis smiled back and placed a paw on Aria’s shoulder reassuringly. “I will, I promise. Just let me know if you start to get uncomfortable and we can find you somewhere quiet to cool down.”

Aria smiled and nodded. “Yeah- ssssure will do!” She then turned to Mayday and waved. “Sssee you later, Mayday!”

Mayday smiles and waves back. “See you later! Oh and happy Halloween!”

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Start - Prev - Next

Hey y'all, Navi here. It has been a bit since we uploaded a new chapter and I want to thank everyone for being patient. Besides just wanting to wait until it was Halloween to post this. October has been incredibly rough for us financially and we're still not out of the woods yet, but hopefully November will go much smoother.

Cameos & Writers

Cool cobra: @thecrystalmountainsystem

Two cool cows: @josphitia

Alexis: @tigergirltail

Aria: @ariathelamia

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Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop, @nyxthewary, @lunadook

[thatpyroblogs]

Long 600 Strike Rant

Spoilers for the song 600 Strike below

Had a night to think over what I saw and man I am still so disappointed by that song and, mostly specifically, the animation. Now I want to clarify that I mean what the animation showed (and thus what Jorge asked the animator to do) not the quality of the animation (it was nicely made). I just really hated the windbag jetpack. I know Jorge has repeatedly talked about how anime is a big inspiration for him and also how he would like Epic to be turned into a videogame, but man that jetpack is just came out of nowhere to me.

Not a big fan of beating a god with what appears to be the strength of his 600 dead men (and I'm not sure how many of them would want to help him given how some of them die). I'm also wondering what is supposed to keep Poseidon from just flooding Ithaca after he heals back up. I can't imagine him actually being so scared of Odysseus that he won't try and get revenge. The man lives on a tiny island! Poseidon has destroyed bigger before!

I think part of what I'm really hating is I see a way it could have worked. If Jorge had had Athena met back up with Odysseus at some point before 600 strikes. She would still be weak and messed up from God Games, but her and Odysseus working together would even the playing field in the fight against Poseidon.

This would bring the musical story back on track with the actual story. In the story Athena calms Poseidon's storm for Odysseus allowing him to get to the safety of Phaecia. Epic could have continued with the plan to skip Phaeacia and just had Athena's Epic version of calming of the storm be her and Odysseus reconciling and working together to take down Poseidon.

My version of 600 Strike would have had Athena pulling the drowning Odysseus into quick time where they reconcile and agree to work together to defeat Poseidon. Odysseus still uses the windbag, but only to escape the water (no jetpack). If the whole flying still has to happen why not divine owl wings from Athena or something similar? Either way together they should be able to take on Poseidon as there is precedent for Athena giving mortals the ability to kick godly butt (looking at you Diomedes).

Then after that Odysseus can still end up stuck on the rock with a weakened Poseidon. Athena, who again still hasn't recovered from God Games, no longer has the energy to keep pumping divine energy into Odysseus, thus he returns to being a mortal man . Poseidon taunts the two just like in the song since Odysseus has no divine help now and he opened the windbag allowing Poseidon's storm to now trap him.

Odysseus would still pick up the trident and torture Poseidon. Now you can even have Poseidon begging Athena to call off her champion and her refusing to stop Odysseus as he gets his vengeance. Poseidon eventually agrees to let Odysseus go with the knowledge he is now protected once more by Athena.

Though I'm still not sure that solves the whole Poseidon being petty and drowning Ithaca or Odysseus at a later date issue. Maybe during the torture bit have Poseidon say something about how the other gods won't let Odysseus get away with what he is doing to him. Then you can have Athena reveal that Zeus has sanctioned what is happening to Poseidon. I feel like if Zeus is thrown in as supposedly having interest in Ithaca/Odysseus than Poseidon would be less likely to retaliate at a later date.

Of course maybe I'm overthinking something that won't turn out to be a plot hole. Maybe there will be some info given in one of the last songs that will reveal why Poseidon can't just come back later and ruin Odysseus's life. I'm really hoping that happens and 600 Strike can just become the one song where I ignore the official animation. I'm also hoping we get Athena back at some point before the end of the musical. I really don't want God Games to be her last appearance. I'm afraid how she is handled might end up being another disappointing bit to this musical.

[otaku553]

Procrastination doodles of sabo for the king sabo au :)

[doodleodds]

Happy Valentines, Akira. Happy Valentines, Asshole.

If you can’t read what Akechi’s secondary inner-dialogue says cause I obscured it too much behind his regular dialogue, here’s a transcription in panel order: Hello, you fucking- Ah- Hello, Akira! Fuck off, why should I tell you- Just a soda- there’s a new flavor.

I don’t want your shitty gift. Oh- haha! You’re so sweet.

I hope I choke. They’re lovely, thank you.

Like hell. Likewise. There’s no way it’s just a coincidence. Still though, it’s a funny coincidence.

[essektheylyss]

She doesn’t deserve it—none of them do, of course, but she’s the first one who turns, so she’s the one he has to worry about.

He’s not thinking about it though. He didn’t think back in the war, he sure as hell didn’t think when the lieutenant yelled at him to move in the path of an oncoming train, and he’s not thinking now.

But he is regarding her, like an animal regards prey—analyzing for weakness, and she’s got plenty of them—that nasty looking mass of tissue all the way up her back, between the hanging fringe of her jacket that she’s been gingerly holding together since the minefield, preserving what she’s got left of her dignity.

He doesn’t begrudge it of her. He’s glad, actually. Glad that she’s got some left to hold onto, because that is something she does deserve.

And glad that the fraying remnants keep most of the fresh wound obscured, the bloody pink mass of flesh that was sometimes all that was left of the guys that got marched into her tent, back in the day.

The hand, too, holding the pistol—her fingers aren’t shaking, still maintaining a surgeon’s precision, but her elbow trembles, probably from the way the pain from a spinal injury reverberates down the nerves at the slightest movement.

Mostly, though, he regards her eyes, narrowed and exacting. There’s not a question in her mind—not the way he follows orders, blindly and unflinchingly, but the way a good doctor doesn’t need somebody on their operating table to have paper skin to know where exactly to find the artery, the bone, the best place to make an incision, and the doc is good, the best.

And behind her, at eye level, Marion with those big puppy eyes, following her the way Sean follows LT. A split second after she knows, he knows, and Sean’s outnumbered.

Neither of them deserve it, but he’s got orders to follow, and “deserve”’s really got nothing to do with it.

She’s weak though; she can’t take much more. LT, Auntie Bea, he could probably knock out, but the moment she takes a blow to the head she’s gonna be on the ground and it’s gonna take way too long for her to go.

One shot, clean. That’s the least he can do. It’s also the most he can do, under the circumstances.

He doesn’t have the time to explain that though, that he’s making this as neat as he can, and he’s not sure she’d understand anyway—keeping Ma safe, sure, she’d get that, but Jean doesn’t really have the kind of skillset that requires hurting somebody to save somebody else. Surgery is messy and there’s not always enough drugs to go around, so it hurts, sure, but in theory the point is to stop the hurt.

He’s not a healer, and the kinds of things he’s gotta contend with can’t be stitched up clean.

A head shot’s about as clean as it gets with a shotgun.

Hopefully once she’s down, LT will come running, and Marion will stay right where he is, catch her body. Marion can’t take him, in the state he’s in, but LT might manage it.

He doesn’t have the time to say I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t mean it, really. He’s just doing what he’s always done, following orders.

A lot of the time folks get medals for that, just like Tony.

[journey-to-the-attic]

hmm not sure how to feel about obey me running the same pop quiz concurrently in both games

there's a weird disconnect - the new ui and sfx of nightbringer did a good job of giving that disjointed feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar, but given that the pop quiz seems to be taking place in the present that mc came from, the nightbringer ui just feels.... off in the wrong way

given that i've got more resources there i'll probably keep using the original game to play the pop quizzes, but since you can get devil points for s ranking a rhythm stage in nightbringer, seems like these events will be a good place to farm some!

(though in the first place i'd rather they finish the nightbringer story before adding supplementary content like this)