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myocsfanfictions · 5 months

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South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

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Chapter 11

Canada.

Frank Gallagher was in Canada.

“How’s it possible?” Desna had asked with wide eyes observing V that had just entered the house to inform her.

“Steve apparently,” Veronica had said taking a breath.

“That’s fucked up,” Desna had said.

Her eyes followed Carl and Debbie play in the playgrounds. Since Kevin and Veronica were the only two with passports they went with Steve to cross the border and bring Frank back in America. It was unbelievable that Steve had take the man and left him in Canada, but on the other hand Desna didn’t feel like blame him. The girl looked at the children play, running around as she was sitting on the swing. She was Carl’s age when she was taken away from her family. Her mother was drunk since a young age and she had tried to get sober more than once, the last time she tried social service took Desna into foster care, she must have been Liam’s age at that point. Her first memories started when her mother was sober, cooking, playing, normal stuff… it was in that period that Kev had met Desna and her mother, he was a neighbor and Desna remembered that she liked to play with Kev even if she could not remember it clearly.

But when she was seven year old he came into their life.

She remembered him the first time he meet her, so charming, so nice and friendly. Everyone in the neighborhood liked him. Desna liked him as well, finally seeing her mother happy and serene. And Desna was finally feeling like she could have a normal family, like the one her friends at school had. The day her mother had married that man, he promised that he would have taken care of her, protect them and that they would have been happy. And they believed it. But they were wrong.

It didn’t take long for him to show his true face; a violent drug dealer, violent and egoistic. He got angry at everything at anything, and he would beat her mother almost everyday. Desna was eight and he had terrorized her, telling her that if she would have tell what was happening to anyone he would have killed them both. It didn’t take long for her mother to relapse. She started to drink. And the worst part was that she said that she loved him, and that he was right. She did nothing to protect herself, or her daughter. And once his attention moved to Desna, she did nothing.

What kind of parents let their children suffer? What kind of parents choose themselves over their kids? They could not defend themselves, they were there to show them the way, not to keep drinking so that that could struggle all their life.

Social services saved her life. When Kev knew what had happened, he looked for her and decided to take her in with V.

If Frank Gallagher would have left probably social services would have taken the Gallaghers away. But that could not happen.

She observed Debbie and Carl.

Desna was alone, they weren’t, and no one cared to keep siblings together.

They were stuck, a shit of a father or the perspective to face the future alone, without the people that they relied the most on.

“D,” as she cared Karen’s voice, Desna had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“You know my name very well, Karen,” she said without turning, “Cut the shit out.”

Karen giggled sitting on the swing next to her, “Someone is stressed, why don’t you go fuck, Lip?” Then she gasped, “Oh wait, you can’t.”

Desna turned to Karen, “What do you want?”

“Always knew you were the jealous time,” Karen seemed very amused by what was going on, “I bet you can’t even think at how many things me and Lip are doing right now.”

That made Desna scoff.

“It’s not about that,” Desna answered, before turning away, “You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

She could feel Karen’s eyes on her, and she just wished that she would have left soon.

“You think you’re better than me?” Karen challenged.

On Desna’s lips appeared a smile as her eyes moved back to the girl next to her, “Yeah,” Karen seemed taken aback by her words.

“I give a shit about who I care about,” Desna said, “And in return I want to know where I stand. Sex is fun, but I’m not a whore,” then she stood up calling for the kids, “Honestly Karen, you two can fuck how much you want, I’m not jealous of you. I’m jealous that you have a space in his life.”

The days went by, Frank was back, and their usual life came back again. She went to school, studied and went to work. She worked almost everyday, she had nothing else to do so why not earn some more money? She didn’t went to the Gallaghers as much, especially when she knew that Lip was at home. And when they met they didn’t really speak, they avoided look at each other more than they had to. And she missed him, but she was not going to tell him anything. Probably it was better like that.

“Why do I need to even study French?” Ian complained on top of the ladder as he was organizing the goods on a shelf.

“Culture?” Desna asked teasingly, “Helping an handsome Frenchguy in need?” He glared at her when she passed him a bag of chips.

“It’s easy for you,” he complained, “You’ve got all straight A in French,” then it turned with a frown, “Are you taking Spanish classes as well?”

“Claro que sí,” he gave her another glare, and that made her giggle as she passed him another goods, “Come on, let me brag a little bit, these are the only classes where I got good grades,” she then took a break, “Since I’ve stopped seeing Lip even those went down.”

“What other things went down?” Ian asked with a teasing smile.

Desna tilted his head, “My patience to deal with smartasses,” Ian chuckled getting down the ladder.

“I didn’t think you’d resist to much without seeing each other,” Ian said as he got closer to another shelf and Desna followed him taking a breath.

“Yeah, well…” she said, “I’m not planning to see him any time soon,” Ian turned to her leaning his arm on the ladder, with a frown.

“I admit that I don’t understand the whole Karen’s thing, and you like him,” He was saying and her brown moved up in a frown.

“That’s not why I broke it off,” Desna stopped him. And her words took him by surprise.

“Then what happened?”

“I thought he told you,” she answered confused.

“He told me you left him,” he said, his face serious as he observed her looking away with a scoff.

“Did he mention what he told me?” She asked crossing her arms over her chest. And when he shook his head, she spoke again, “Lip is very vocal in calling Karen his best friend,” then she shrugged her shoulders, “That’s fine, I don’t care. But when I’ve asked him what am I to him, his answer was ‘a good fuck’,” Ian eyes widened.

“Exact words?” He asked.

“Yep,” she said bitterly nodding her head,

“Shit…” he muttered.

Then Desna took a breath “I-I knew that he didn’t want a relationship,” she said, “And I knew that he has a thing for Karen, but… I don’t know…”

Ian observed her, “Did you two talked about you’re umm… situationship?”

“Not at first,” she answered honestly, “I mean after the first time we had sex, we’d started to jump at each other at any moment we could,” they really did. After that night on the couch they just couldn’t keep their hands for each other, and what started as steamy sex started out of nowhere, became real encounters.

“I just wanted to know if he cares about me just a little,” she admitted, “And it hurt me that he does not see anything else in me, if not sex.”

Ian’s hand moved to touch her arm and she smiled a little at his touch, “I think he’s just an asshole,” he said making her turn with a frown, “He can say whatever, but he would not be that upset if he didn’t care just a little.”

“Is he upset? Even now?” She asked with wide eyes and Ian nodded his head. If he was upset then maybe he cared, even just a little. Maybe he missed her. And for some reason she could not stop the smile on her face, “Am I a bitch if it feels good to know?”

Ian chuckled, “No,” and that made her laugh.

As they were laughing the door of the shop opened making the two of them turn. Desna looked at Ian when she noticed Mandy Milkovich stepping in the shop.

“She is here for you,” Desna muttered. Ian shoved her a little.

Mandy was Mikey’s sister and she was in the same grade as Ian and Desna. History class together. And lately she had started to give Ian lots of attention, trying to talk to him every time she could. Desna had told that to Ian but he usually dismissed her, saying that she was imagining things.

“I’m telling you, man, she is here to flirt with you,” she said, her eyes on Mandy that was looking around.

“She is here to shop,” Ian said firmly.

“Of course she is, you’re a snack,” at her answer he glared at her, and that made her giggle.

“Ian!” Mandy greeted him as she walked closer.

“I’mma go,” Desna said, she felt Ian hand trying to grab her, but she dodged him. She had noticed how Mandy seemed not to like when Desna talked to Ian, and for how much she loved him, she really didn’t want any more troubles with any Milkovich. She waved at Ian as she exited the shop, feeling a little bad and a little amused by how he was looking at her.

Desna was walking back home, her mind thinking about it’s favorite subject once again. Lip apparently was upset for some reason, and a part of her felt great about it, maybe he really missed her, maybe he really cared, but the other part of her told her that it was sex that he missed, only that, end her joy started to die down a little.

“Hello,” the voice of Iggy Milkovich made her stop. He was standing in front of her, observing her body with that gaze that really made her feel uneasy.

“What do you want?” She asked, unconsciously making a step back when he got closer. On his lips a viscous smirk.

“You know what I want,” he said moving his hand, but as his fingers touched her face, she slapped his hand away.

“I told you not to touch me!” She exclaimed and he raided his hands with a low chuckle.

“No worries,” he said, “I’m not going to do anything that you’ll not agree doing.”

Her eyes studied his movements in case of any possible action from him, “That’ll never happen,” she stated firmly, but that chuckle left his lips again as he leaned forward.

“Don’t worry, you will,” he said.

“Why would I do that?” She asked with a shaky voice, she didn’t like his eyes. Her breath get caught in her throat when he moved to speak into her ear.

“You’ll see,” those words made her feel suddenly cold, unable to move. Iggy looked at her one more time before walking past her.

He was starting to terrorize her. She didn’t like his eyes, there’s was only lust in them. He wanted to have her again and she coursed herself for having put herself in that situation. She did exactly what she should have to avoid. As she felt him far from her she let out a shaky breath. He was not going to hurt her, he couldn’t. She tried to convince herself that Iggy Milkovich would have not touched her, but her hands started shaking again.

********

Tag List @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit

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pascaloverx · 5 months

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Hit The Road

Chapter Six

previous chapter next chapter

Summary: You are a hunter of supernatural beings who is forced to experience a new reality: being a vampire. The only thing stronger than your thirst for blood is your thirst for revenge.

Author's note: the characters mentioned here were created by Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec, based on the book series of the same name by author L. J. Smith. They don't belong to me. That said, this fanfic will be short. This fanfic may address scenes of violence, inappropriate language and adult content. Minors should not interact with this story.

Running might not have been the best option, you admit. Or maybe it was the best option, just not for someone who doesn't know where they are. Mystic Falls could easily be Lost Falls. Another terrible idea was stealing a car instead of using your super speed. You have no idea who this car is, you just needed to get away from the Salvatores as quickly as possible. When you locate the city bar you feel like you can relax at least a little. But that doesn't last long, because apparently Damon doesn't understand the notion of you having a moment alone.

"Do you usually run away from other people's houses like you're crazy, or is it just mine?" Damon seems to be angry, which you try to ignore.

"I need a drink, preferably a strong double or triple one." You ask the bartender, ignoring Damon's presence, as honestly, he was the last person you wanted to face right now.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong with you?" Damon questions, arching his eyebrows and staring at you as you drink whatever strong concoction the bartender handed you. You then order a beer from the bartender, who says he'll get it for you. You reach into your pants pocket for payment, and when you're about to pay, Damon is behind the counter. Obviously, he'll do anything to get your attention, including manipulating the bartender to serve tables while he takes care of the bar.

"Damon, could you leave me alone for the next few hours?" You ask, grabbing the beer that Damon is holding out of his hands.

He looks at you in a different way, as if he wants to understand you but you're making it difficult. Before he can say anything, a blonde woman calls his name, and both of you turn to see who it is.

"Does Elena know you're serving other women as a pastime, or is it another dirty secret of Damon Salvatore?" The blonde says with a certain arrogance. You observe her and then turn to look at Damon, who has a mischievous smile on his face.

"Caroline Forbes and her presumptions. You, better than anyone, should know that I don't owe explanations to Elena anymore, just as she doesn't owe me anything. Now, if you're done playing the curious Barbie, you can go back to taking care of your own life." Damon says sarcastically. It seems he has some familiarity with Caroline, whom you imagine is a friend of Elena. You find yourself thinking that maybe it would have been better never to have sought out Damon.

"It's part of my life to ensure that one of my best friends has a decent boyfriend, as much as possible. I don't like that it's you, but if you're going to be, at least be worthy of her." Caroline says. You feel uncomfortable, as if you're a person tainted on the inside. I mean, you had a fling with two brothers, and now you're interfering in the love life of one of them, which doesn't seem right.

"If you claim to be her best friend, you know that she and I are no longer together. Now, it's important to respect each other's choices and boundaries." Damon seems almost sensible saying that, putting Caroline in an awkward position. You simply observe them, thinking that Elena must mean a lot to both of them.

"Look, I don't know you, and I have no idea why you know this guy, but understand that all women are like puzzles to him. Once he's done putting you together, he'll discard you and move on to another game." Caroline warns you. She looks directly at you, as if she wants to seriously warn you; Damon seems a bit upset by what she said. You shake your head as if you don't know what to say. Caroline leaves like a storm about to erupt. Without saying anything, you head towards the exit.

"Are you really going to ignore me?" Damon says, following you after several attempts to get your attention by calling your name. You get into the car, which, by the way, might even be his, and he joins you, taking the passenger seat.

"Do you think we made a mistake getting romantically involved with each other?" You look at Damon, seeking answers in his gaze. The atmosphere in the car becomes tense, laden with the uncertainty of what the shared past might mean for the present.

"Maybe we were a mistake, but you're definitely not a regret for me. Even if you don't remember what you mean to me." Damon says. You don't know how to react.

"Did you know that Stefan and I had an affair?" You ask Damon. You have to make sure he has no idea what you're talking about.

"You told me, right before this all happened. I wasn't happy about it but you know my situation with Elena so I can't criticize you for it." Damon says looking at you with a certain annoyed look. You wonder if he cares about you enough to not want to share you with Stefan.

"What if my destiny is to love your brother?" You ask, unsure if you even want an answer from Damon. The truth is, you don't know who you love, don't know who you truly want – you only know that being close to the Salvatore brothers makes you feel... alive.

"You once told me that your destiny only depended on you." He replies subtly. I guess this situation must be commonplace for him. Have I never truly loved him, or have I loved him too much?

You looked at him as if you understood what he's trying to convey. And then, you realize something is in front of the car. A werewolf, in the middle of the road. It's alone and seems angry. The curious thing is that you didn't notice the werewolf before crashing the car into it. The werewolf gets angry and starts attacking the car with me and Damon inside. You know that a werewolf's bite on a vampire is lethal. So you fear, dying or watching Damon die. The car crash thankfully only caused superficial injuries Damon seems more concerned with seeing if I'm okay with protecting himself. And for a moment you black out, being flooded with yet another vision.

"Can you do it or not?" You ask the mysterious woman in front of you, she looks at you with a look full of doubt.

"Not that I don't understand why you want to erase Damon and Stefan from your head but don't think it's a bit radical?" The woman says looking at you, while you two are in that same cabin in the middle forest.

"Bonnie I just want to know if you can do it or not. I don't need a therapy session, I need my biggest weakness outside of myself." You look honestly exhausted, like you're at your limit.

"There could be consequences if you regain your memory, bad things could happen. Are you sure you want me to do this?" Bonnie asks, holding her mother. You try to think that anything is better to be a hunter who fell in love with two vampires.

"I am sure." You respond as you see the woman pick up an old book from the small table near the cabin's entrance. Everything goes dark after that, you just feel unbearable pain.

Pain makes you regain the consciousness that had been lost. When you wake up, you see blood running down your arm and you feel something burn inside you. Your blurred vision doesn't let you see anything other than Stefan's face. You're relieved to see him but immediately panic when you see your arm completely. You were bitten by a werewolf and worse, Damon is nowhere you can see.

#damon x reader #spotify #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore fanfiction #stefan x reader #stefan salvatore x reader #tvd angst #tvdu #tvd fanfiction #tvd smut #the vampire diaries #Spotify

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toxinoire · 9 months

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This is gonna be a wild ride. (Mean Girls + Heathers skit)

Inspired by something I saw on Tiktok

~~~~

Janis: Isn't the party tomorrow?

Cady: Apparently, it's a week long party.

Janis: Oh.

Gretchen: That explains why the guests are arriving now and well...every other day ago.

Karen: What's everyone supposed to do then?

Aaron: Not sure.

Damian: Yeah, Jan, can you greet some of them?

Janis: Yeah I guess.

(At the door)

Janis: Hey Kurt Kelly, you can put your stuff over there.

Kurt: Woo, didn't expect to be greeted by a hottie like you.

Janis: Dude, I'm gay-

Janis: REGINA DID YOU JUST PUNCH HIM-

~~~~

Janis: Ram Sweeney, over there.

Ram: You look tense sweetheart.

Ram: Need a hug~

Janis: Oh no I don't-

Janis: REGINA STOP PUNCHING PEOPLE-

(Later)

Janis: Alright then, Heather Chandler. You can put your stuff over there.

Janis: ...And...who are you? And why do we look alike?

Veronica: Uh- Huh, we do look alike... Anyway...

Veronica: I'm her friend, Veronica Sawyer.

Janis:

Janis: Interesting.

Veronica: I have a bad feeling about this.

~~~~~

Janis: Ah you're from Ohio...

Veronica: Oh fuck off. Anyway, the party is tomorrow?

Janis: It appears so.

Janis: So that blonde demon you were with..?

Veronica: Oh you mean Heather? Yeah, she kinda just dragged me into this. I didn't want to go.

Janis: Relatable

Janis: And you have a thing for her, right?

Veronica: HUH- She's my friend...

Janis: *wheezes*

Janis: Oh wait, you were serious?

(Later)

Veronica: Oh, hi Heather.

Janis: *whispers* Wait, watch this.

Veronica: Wait, what? No-

Janis: Hey, Heather, you'll be happy to know that you're little friend over here just got asked to the party by that boy Kevin G.

Veronica: *whisper shouts* No I wasn't.

Janis: Shhh.

Janis: See, look how upset she is as she storms away!

Veronica: Why are you saying that like it's a good thing?

Janis: Oh, I have so much to teach you.

Regina: Janis, who's this?

Regina: And why does she look a lot like you?

Janis: Oh Regina. This is my new friend, Veronica Sawyer.

Veronica: *awkwardly* Hi...

Janis: Anyway, Reggie, you gonna ask anyone to the party.

Regina: Uh-

Regina: No one.

Janis: No one?

Janis: Uh- well I just got asked. And I said yes-

Janis: Asked by- Heather Chandler-

Janis: Yeah.

Janis: Oh you look mad-

Janis, walking away: *to herself* Yeah that was a bad choice...

Veronica: Does she always lack that much self awareness?

Cady: Yeah.

Veronica: AH- Oh it's just another human being.

Cady:

Cady: What.

Veronica: Anyway, don't worry Regina. I'm sure Heather treats her dates well.

Veronica: Judging by the rage in your eyes, I made things worse.

~~~~

Janis: Yoooo Heather Chandler, right? I take it you're enjoying the shit in this party.

Janis: Anyway, so I'm gonna you to pretend to be my date to the party to make Regina jealous.

Heather: What? No-

Janis: Oh, I wasn't asking you, I was telling you.

Heather: I-

Heather: *realizes it could possibly help her situation with Veronica*

Heather: Fine.

Janis: Nice.

Veronica: How did you do that?

Janis: I don't know, but it doesn't matter.

Veronica: Your friends must have a hard time dealing with you.

Janis: Don't take Damian and Cady's side-

(Later)

Veronica: Hi, Regina?

Veronica: Sorry to interrupt you throwing darts at a picture of...Heather...

Veronica: I was just wondering, if you didn't want Janis to go to the party with Heather, why didn't you just ask her yourself?

Regina: *throws dart at Veronica*

Veronica: *dodges* Okay, so you two clearly don't do well with logic.

~~~~~

Janis: Heather, this is a disaster.

Janis: Especially since the party is tomorrow and we both know you'd rather go with Veronica and I'd rather go with Regina.

Heather: What- I don't wanna-

Janis: Oh, don't try to lie. This isn't my first rodeo.

Heather: ...Okay yeah, I wanna go with Veronica.

Janis: See? Was that so hard to admit?

~~~~

Veronica: Okay, Regina, is there anything you'd like to say to Janis?

Regina: Uh-

Regina:

Regina: Get me punch.

Veronica:

Janis: Bitch- okay fine. *leaves*

Veronica: Dude why?

Veronica: You could've just- you had the chance to- ugh.

Veronica: Heather, these people are insane.

Heather: Yeah, I can see that.

Veronica: Geez, this is why you should never fall for someone you're friends with that you used to hate.

Veronica: Especially when they're THAT oblivious!

Heather: ...

Veronica: Why are you looking at me like that?

(The next day)

Janis: This is the last party I'm ever going too.

Janis: Would you get in here?

Veronica: I feel ridiculous.

Janis: The fuck you mean? You look awesome.

Janis: Oh, and there's your date. Kevin, get over here!

Veronica: Is he reading a calculus book?

Janis: Oh, I forgot to mention that most of the things he talks about is math.

Janis: Anyway- have fun!

Veronica: Oh that bitch.

~~~~

Janis: Yo Heather, you clean up nice.

Heather: Obviously.

Janis: Well aren't you cocky.

(Meanwhile)

Veronica: Hi Regina, are you ok?

Regina: Yeah, why?

Veronica: Cause you're very angrily staring at Heather and Janis.

Veronica: And you just poked a hole through your paper cup.

Veronica: The punch is dripping on the carpet.

~~~~

Janis: Hey Heather- you have something in you hair-

Janis: Oh shit, my bracelet is stuck.

Janis: Maybe if I turn this way...

Veronica: Oh, are they about to k- AH!

Janis: AH!

Janis: Oh shit, Regina just pushed her to the table.

Veronica: OUR BLONDES ARE GONNA KILL EACH OTHER!

Janis: Entertainment.

Veronica: What- Why do you have that look on your face?

Janis: Oh, I'm not wearing a bracelet.

Veronica: Oh you sick son of a bitch.

Janis: Alright Regina! Get her with your left hook!

Veronica: WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING THIS?!

Janis: Oh, cause it's fun.

Veronica: It's my fault for asking...

Veronica: ALRIGHT THAT'S IT YOU TWO BREAK IT UP!

Veronica: Shit, Heather, are you okay?

Heather: I mean, my face is swollen so no.

Veronica: Yeah, let me see. Does it hurt that bad?

Heather: It stings, yeah.

Veronica: Okay, don't worry, we can put an ice pack on that and you'll be fine.

Janis, watching them: My work here is done.

Janis:

Janis: Oh hey Reggie- you got a little bruise over there- Oh you look angry.

Regina: Heh, come here. *starts chasing Janis*

Janis: Regina don't be rash- *runs away*

Veronica: There goes the two most dysfunctional people I've ever met.

Veronica: Heather, why are you laughing?

Veronica: Wait...Were you in on that?

Heather: Pfft- Yeah.

Veronica: *smacks Heather at the back of her haad* You big idiot! I was so worried about you!

Veronica: I mean not you- I was worried because um-

Heather: Pfft-

Veronica: Shut up.

(The next day)

Veronica: Yeah, so we're heading out.

Janis: Really? Well, have a safe trip back. It was nice meeting you.

Veronica: Yeah...you know what, here's my phone number.

Veronica: If you ever wanna talk about anything, just give me a call.

Janis: Aww that's sweet. But I already got it from Heather yesterday. I already left six messages.

Veronica: Of course you did.

Veronica: Well, good luck with Regina.

Janis: Oh thanks, good luck with Heather.

Veronica: Oh thanks, but Heather and I really are just friends. Anyway, bye!

Janis: Whatever you say Ronnie. Have fun with that. Bye!

Janis: I miss being that stupid.

Damian:

Cady:

Gretchen:

Karen:

Aaron:

Damian: You're still-

Janis: I meant THAT level of stupid, Damian.

~~~~

That was wild. I don't know what this was lol.

#veronica sawyer #heathers the musical #heathers the movie #heather chandler #chansaw #mean girls the musical #rejanis #regina george #janis sarkisian #cady heron #aaron samuels #karen smith #gretchen wieners #damian hubbard #mean girls kevin

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lou-struck · 10 months

Text

Countdown

Belphegor x reader

Prompt: 😴+hypnosis

~ You and Belphie stumble across a hypnotist’s show while on a date in the human world.

WC: 1.8k

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the Masterlist on my welcome page.

a/n: I’m not the biggest fan of hypnosis, it has always made me feel a bit uncomfortable, so I decided to put a spin on it and relate it back to the last time I saw a hypnotist perform.

You have been in the Devildom far too long and were in dire need of a bit of sunlight and some good ole fashion people’s food. And, as much as the Devildom may try to make a decent cup of coffee, it will never measure up to the real thing.

You take a deep breath in and smell the fresh air and the faint aroma of ground coffee beans before turning to your yawning companion; After accidentally sleeping through your movie date last night, Belpheghor had begged to join you on your little trip to the Human world to make up for it. Which you, of course, agreed with.

He is all too aware of the soft spot you have for him. But neither of you mind.

“Thank you for coming with me today Belphie,” you smile, leading him into the shop. “I didn’t want to come up here all by myself for the day.

“Thank you for letting me,” He sighs, looking just a bit guilty as he rubs the back of his neck. “I really want to make it up to you after I fell asleep last night. Those chairs were just too comfy, and I always sleep better next to you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Behlpie; it was an accident,” you say as the two of you make your way through the modest line. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it happened to me, and it’s already so hard to get time with you.” he chuckles before looking at you with his deep purple gaze, “Sometimes, I don’t even want to share you with Beel.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words but try to remain composed by scanning the menu. The coffee shop has added some summertime drink specials that look so refreshing you just have to try them. You order a honey lavender iced latte for yourself and a sweet cold brew for Belphie since he needs all the help he can get to stay awake.

“Hey, what’s that over there by the stage?” He asks, glancing out the window. Following his gaze, you see that in the park across the street, there is a large crowd gathered next to the outdoor stage.

It must be a show,” you say, squinting to get a better look at the scene. A few people have already set out blankets on the ground, and more are on their way. “Do you want to check it out?”

He shrugs, “Sure, why not? It’s a good day for it.” The Togo bell is rung, and you go to pick up your drinks at the counter. Your name is horribly misspelled, but it’s nostalgic and makes the drink taste just a bit better as you and your Demon exit the shop.

It’s only a short walk to the stage, but the crowd makes it take longer than you had expected it would. By the time you make it to the foot of the stage, your drink is half finished.

Just to your left is a large sign for the entertainment. Apparently, performing today is a hypnotist who goes by the name ‘The Amazing, The Astounding…Kevin’

“Oh, it’s a Hypnotist,” you say aloud, and Belphie looks at you with wide eyes.

“So this guy is just practicing magic out in the open, and no one thinks it’s weird?” he asks, reading the sign.

“I don’t know if I would call it magic,” you say, trying your best to comfort the Demon, who has quite a different outlook on the concept of hypnosis thanks to a certain lustful older brother of his. “Hypnosis in the human world is more psychological than supernatural. It’s more about people responding to suggestions than being forced to do anything they don’t want to do,” you explain, hoping that you actually know what you’re talking about.

“That makes us sound kind of evil, doesn’t it?” He asks while taking a sip of his drink; you can tell that he is enjoying it based on the considerable amount he has had so far.

“Not evil, just different,” you say, leading him to the seating area. The statement is comforting to him, but you can tell he doesn’t want to think about that any longer. It’s then, a man in a powder blue suit steps onto the stage. Who must be The Amazing Kevin? He introduces himself to the crowd and begins his show as you lean over to whisper into Belphie’s ear.

“I have no idea how he can wear a three-piece suit in this heat.” you number, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“Oh hey,” you whisper again. “He’ll take volunteers from the audience, so if you want to volunteer, either raise your hand or try and listen to him.”

“Are you going to try to get hypnotized?” The Demon asks, looking around at all the eager volunteers waving their hands to get the Hypnotist’s attention.

The Hypnotist selects a few of them but makes sure to leave a few chairs open just in case there are a few people in the audience who are more suggestible as the show goes on.

You shake your head, “I think I just wanna watch. Let someone else enjoy it today.”

As the two of you talk quietly, the Hypnotist chooses a few of his volunteers and starts to tell them to relax.

“10…”

“9…”

“8…”

“Feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier as you begin to relax.”

At the Hypnotist’s suggestion, you see the volunteers on stage already sinking deeper into their folded chairs, and the crowd gasps.

Belphie nudges you slightly, speaking to you in a hushed whisper. “Are they really falling for that? I guess the guy has a boring voice.”

And despite the situation you are in, the laugh that slips past your lips is much louder than you had anticipated drawing a few curious looks from the people around you.

But what you don’t notice is that you have caught the attention of the Hypnotist on the stage.

“7…”

“6…”

“5…”

The Hypnotist scans the audience looking for anyone drifting off at his command but continues speaking. A few volunteers fall harmlessly off their chairs and sprawl out onto the stage.

“4…”

“3…”

“2…”

The last of the volunteers slump down and lean against each other, appearing to be deep in sleep. You look over at Blephie and see that he is dozing off, his hand holds yours tightly, but he still nestles in closer to you. Which tells you one thing.

He fell asleep on his own.

Kevin sees this and smiles victoriously. “Oh my, it looks like we have another volunteer in the audience, Ladies and gentlemen.” he makes his way down the steps of the stage and over to your seat. “I see you’ve been hiding your friend from us.” he grins before leaning close to you and whispering, “This is what you get for talking through my show.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, Sir, he’s not hypnotized. He just fell asleep.” you try to explain as kindly as you can, but he shushes you.

“That’s what they all say.” He scoffs into his mic and turns his attention to Belphie, placing his hand on the Demon’s shoulder and looking at you impatiently.

“What’s his name?”

This isn’t going to end well, but The Amazing Kevin is kinda rude, so you’re okay with messing with him just a bit. “It’s Belphie,” you mumble. “But he really just fell asleep,” warning him one last time eases your conscience as he waves off your remark and continues on with the show.

With his hand still on Belphies shoulder, he speaks to him calmly through the mic. “Now, Belphie,” he starts, “Listen only to my voice and allow yourself to fall deeper into relaxation.”

Belphie doesn’t even stir, continuing to rest peacefully against you.

Kevin takes this as a sign that the hypnosis is working and continues. “You feel amazing when your body is so relaxed; you can do anything and be anything.” His statement is meant to be inspirational, but you have a feeling he is going to try and use Belphie for the crowd’s entertainment. “So why not be a chicken?”

The crowd is all giggling at the Hypnotist’s words, ready to see your sleepy boyfriend perform for them. “Belphie, when I tap you on the head. You will be a chicken; you will act how you think a chicken would act and make your way up to the stage.”

With no hesitation, he taps the Avatar of Sloth on the head and waits for him to start clucking, but just as you said, he doesn’t budge.

“And you are a chicken,” he says again, sounding a bit frustrated, this time tapping him much harder on the head. Getting no reaction at all.

The crowd murmurs in confusion amongst themselves, and he taps him again, shaking his head a bit. “Chicken!” he commands loudly, not even trying to hide the desperation in his voice.

“Mmm, what are you doing?” Belphie groans tiredly, smacking away the Hypnotist’s hand and earning a chuckle from the crowd. “I was comfy.”

The Not-So-Amazing Kevin blinks in surprise and looks at you in disbelief. “You were telling the truth?”

You nod, and Belphie sits up, looking at you apologetically. “Sorry, I guess I fell asleep, Mc. I really thought the coffee would keep me awake longer. Is the show over?”

“No, we are right in the middle of it.” you laugh, giving him a reassuring squeeze on his hand to let him know you are not upset. He smiles thankfully and finally notices the stunned performer in front of him.

“Oh, it’s you?” he says, “Why are you down here and not on stage with the volunteers?”

At the mention of the volunteers, the Hypnotist realizes that he has forgotten about the ten people currently passed out on stage and rushes away from you rather embarrassedly.

“Should we go?” Belphie asks as the Hypnotist makes his way back up to the stage, “For some reason, I don’t like this guy. He seems mad at us.”

“He may be just a bit upset,” you giggle, already halfway out of your seat. “But we should go get something to eat.”

He nods and extends a hand, “That would be great.” You pull him to his feet, and walk away from the stage. A few people look at you as you walk away, but their attention is fleeting.

“You wanna know something, Mc?” Belphie asks, glancing back lazily at the stage.

“What’s up?”

"It’s odd, but for some reason, I am really craving some chicken right now.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me Belphegor #obey me x reader #Belphegor x reader #belphie x reader #om! belphegor #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #x reader

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garglyswoof · 7 months

Note

:D Ahhh, prompt prompt prompt - how about a mash up, vampires meet kastle?? :D

She found out about it purely by chance. Some part of her had been thinking of life in Vermont that day, the skies in New York the same sheet metal grey as the dreariest of days in Fagan Corners. Her thoughts drifted enough for her to battle with her phone in a losing effort that ended with her searching the surprisingly online tiny local paper. She’d trawled through the articles, smiling at the news of 4H Club awards and greased pig races. There was a comfort in these reminders of her small town history, and when she hit the obituaries section she continued out of morbid curiosity. Was old Mrs. Wilkie still alive? Stern in her housecoat, fuzzy slippers, and ever-present broom like some modern-aged witch? How about the bank president who had tried to buy coke from her? Sure, it was a college town, but it was also a small town and most people didn’t ever get out. She had certainly felt trapped.

“Former Penny’s Place owner Paxton Page…” The words crept into her brain slowly, as if reluctant to enter. She dropped her phone, her hand rising to stifle the sharp intake of breath.

Dad.

Things willfully ignored; things pushed back, hidden, and thought drowned rose to the surface, crested, and broke. She slid down to the floor, her hand shaking and still cupped over her mouth as if to hold it all in.

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

The drive was a long one and she went alone with her thoughts. She knew Foggy would have dropped everything to come along, and part of her still wished she’d asked, but…. this was better. She’d face this alone rather than explaining, though she owed Foggy the truth soon. She just wasn’t…she wanted a little more time, ok? From Kevin to Allied to almost dying in a prison to Fisk to now, Karen hadn’t had much good in her life, and Foggy and Matt, when he was tempered by apologies and guilt, were good.

Sometimes your heart makes judgments that aren’t logical, fueled by something just on the edge of your vision, just out of reach. In hindsight it’s why she latched on to them so quickly, something in her recognizing something in them. Enough to have her paying Matt’s bills when he’d vanished for months, enough to have her jumping right in as a strangely happy unpaid employee of Murdock and Nelson. Her heart panged at the memory of those first days, replete with casseroles and more flan than she could possibly eat in a week. Stretching the dollars to keep them afloat, the sound of Matt’s text to speech software and Foggy’s muffled curses whenever he tried to fill out forms on the ancient typewriter and failed miserably.

A flash of brake lights ahead jolted her out of her reverie and into the present, barrelling down the highway directly to a place she’d been forced to leave behind. Dad.

One hand gripped the wheel tighter, to prevent the shake, and the other hit the console in frustrated grief. Her phone jostled in its cubby from the motion and she wet her lips as she glanced at the screen, a picture of her and Foggy at Rosie’s, making bunny ears over what they’d thought was Matt’s oblivious face. Heh. She still loved it. If anything it made her realize that Matt had loved it too.

Damn it. “Call Foggy”

“Mmpf? Karen?” His voice sounded far away, muffled.

“Did i wake you?”

“Yes but it’s ok because apparently,” she heard the sheets rustle, “ I am lying in a puddle of my own drool and it’s clearly time to flip.”

Karen smiled, her cheeks stinging with the stretch of it. “Late night at Rosie’s?”

“I’ll have you know I also frequent high class establishments.” A pause. “But then I went to Rosie’s. We missed you there.” His voice was losing the grittiness of sleep and she could tell he must be upright now, imagined his hair stuck up in 10 different directions like it did after a face first desk nap.

“Yeah I uh, I went to bed early. I’m driving to Vermont.”

“What’s in Vermont?” Karen could hear the subtle eagerness in his voice and her heart panged with it. She really hadn’t told them much about her life, and she vowed to change it.

“Grew up there. Needed to take care of some family stuff.” She’d failed her first chance to open up, clearly, and tried to make it less obvious. “Dumb paperwork!” Even though she was driving she closed her eyes for a brief moment from the awkwardness of it.

Foggy was quiet for a moment, his voice soft when he spoke. “Well be safe, Karen. You back soon?”

“Yeah.” Her throat was closing up and she had to end the call soon. “Just, let’s hang out when I get back? Sunday maybe?”

“Of course.” Still soft, still accepting. Still more than she deserved.

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

The town was bright with spring green as her old Cherokee rumbled onto Main Street. She passed the hardware store, sun-faded display from her childhood still advertising weedkiller, the old barrel she’d always tried to climb on top of anchoring the door open. Many shops were closed, and she saw that most of them had town curfew signs plastered in the windows. When had that started up, she wondered.

She wasn’t immune to nostalgia, obviously, or she’d never… her heart clenched with the reality of what she was here for, and she turned on Sycamore, right on Laurel, her blinker clacking loudly. There were a lot of church signs up, not something she remembered from last time she was here. Not…not signs saying “St Luke’s Lutheran Church” either, these were like that weird stretch of road Marcie had talked about on I-70 outside Kansas, where every other billboard was Hellfire and Brimstone.

THE DEVIL WILL TAKE YOU

FAGAN CORNERS IS DAMNED

She thought it strange, but when she crested the hill the diner was a shock piled on top of another. The sign was bright and clean, Sue’s Vittles, and she felt the rage rise up in her, an urge to tear it down, before she came to her senses. It wouldn’t just… have sat there forever. The town had to move on. She wondered when her dad had lost it, and how far in debt he’d taken Penny's Place. She wondered if she could have saved it.

She knew she could have, if he’d let her.

The return home tour continued on, her eyes rimmed with red now, wet with tears both shed and not. She had never felt so alone in her life. She drove three miles in the wrong direction to avoid the bridge and tried to think of what she was doing here even as she pulled into the town cemetery. She knew he’d be buried next to mom, and pulled a small bouquet of peonies out of the passenger seat as the engine settled, ticking.

There was a new stone next to her moms, and she knelt, tracing the letters with her fingers. Paxton Page. She remembered her and Kevin making fun, popping the syllables, “Paxton and Penny Page” before they’d dissolve into giggles. Everything she thought of made her heart ache.

She sat there for hours, talking to her mom, saying what she couldn’t say to her dad. That she’d thought herself beyond redemption until Father Lantom had gotten through to her, that she still did, sometimes. She told her mom about Foggy and Matt, and then she told her about Frank. God, she’d needed this. She knew her mom would understand, more than anyone, about seeing through to the heart of people. She wondered where Frank was, wished she knew, wished she had some way of contacting him. Despite their last meeting and her anger towards him, she would never let go, not really.

“Sometimes, just someone makes you feel safe, at least when you’re with them. And then when you’re not… I don’t know.” She shifted, sitting back on her haunches and idly rubbing a peony petal between her fingers.

“Me and Frank. Wrong place, wrong time, maybe that’s what it will always be for us.” She said, staring at her mother’s name, carved in stone.

The gravestone stared back, mute, as the light dimmed and she ached with the silence. Evening fell quick in this neck of the woods, without the conflagration of light that made up the city. She shivered in the fall of the spring evening, her throat aching with tears spent but feeling better in the spending of them.

She leaned over the gravestones one last time, peonies settled at the base, and said goodbye.

Gathering her things she startled at the sound of a footfall, the first time she’d heard any noise since she’d settled in. It was hard to see in the fading light, but the man standing at the hood of her car looked like no one she knew, though she waved anyway, small town and all. He didn’t wave back and she shrugged and rounded the back of her car, warily eyeing him as she slipped behind the wheel, the curfew signs flashing in her mind.

Was there some sort of crime ring? Her brain ticked as she started her engine and the man stepped away from the Jeep, a dark slick of a smile caught in the headlights. Karen felt a frisson of fear and pulled away back onto the gravel, eyes in the rearview as she turned down the lanes that led to -

A closed gate, though she remembered from illicit midnights with friends that it was like a fence gate, unbolted and something she could lift and swing out. Karen reached into her purse and felt the comforting weight of her gun slip into her palm. The man wasn’t in her rearview mirror, but it was too dark to tell where he was. She put the Jeep in park and left it running, sliding quickly out of the seat and lifting the gate latch, spinning around and slipping her other hand up to grip the gun two-handed. It was no use, the darkness was complete, no lights to break up the dim beyond the Jeep's headlights, and she rounded the vehicle, shoulders tense, her mind racing, her -

A hand across her mouth, an arm across her chest, pulling her arms down and pointing the gun at the ground. She screamed behind the clamped hand, stamped her foot where she thought the man’s instep would be, snaked a hand up and smashed her elbow backward, hearing a satisfying grunt as the blow landed. She spun away from the arm banded across her middle, trying to transfer the gun to her now free hand, but he was too fast. Her wrist wrenched back, pain shooting up it, the gun falling to the gravel below.

She could see him now, his hair dark, unkempt, his face attractive if it weren’t for the gleam of satisfaction in his gaze, if not for the - oh god oh god she’d known they were real Matt and Foggy had made fun of her but she’d known it and oh god she fought she kept fighting she had to escape, her arms thrashing, trying to duck and use his weight against him, but nothing shook that iron bar of an arm loose from her chest and the smile descended and with it those fangs, sharp and oh god she closed her eyes she let them slip closed because maybe this was redemption, this was closure, maybe this was…

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

ONE MONTH LATER

The city reeked of hot dogs. Hot dogs approaching rancid as the last of the summer sun baked the scent of an overturned delivery truck’s escapees into the street. Frank’s nose wrinkled with the stench as he ducked into an alleyway. The smell of piss here wasn’t much better, but Frank wasn’t here to avoid smells, knocking hard on an unmarked door. He waited, knocked again, heard an irritated voice shout back at him, accent thick even through the door.

“Don’t expect a delivery til -”

Frank lodged his foot in before the man could pull the door closed, stepping in and locking the man in a headlock with an athlete’s grace.

“Get the fuck off -”

“Shut the fuck up.” Frank squeezed tighter, feeling the trachea beneath his arm.

The man floundered feebly, choked gasps ragged as he lost the air to function. Frank maneuvered him into an office close to the door, pulling out some duct tape and lashing him to the chair, gagging him for good measure.

The warehouse would be empty this late in the day - Frank had been monitoring it for weeks. Still, he let the captive’s head loll as Frank pushed out of the office and scanned the warehouse, moving low to the ground in a room clearing pattern ingrained into his bones. Clear. He checked the warehouse door, ensuring it was locked, and placed a nearby bucket of loose hardware on the lip of the door’s bottom edge, advance warning should someone decide to open it.

He circled back through the warehouse, eyes still darting about, up to the loft, behind the stacked crates, his footsteps less than a whisper on the concrete as he circled back to the office, unfolding a chair and straddling it, arms propped on the headrest, waiting for the man to awaken.

He did with a start, his eyes bulging and curses muffled behind the tape.

“I’m just here for a few questions Aron,” Frank said, watching as the man’s eyes widened at the use of his name. “Word on the street is that your little Albanian enterprise here is bigger than Rudaj ever was,” Frank said. “Something about a secret weapon, huh?”

Aron’s eyes narrowed. You didn’t live long if you weren’t able to face a little questioning, and something in Frank’s demeanor told him that Aron held all the cards here. Frank needed to flip the program.

He looked up, spotted the beam he’d seen in blueprints, and rummaged through his bag for some rope, tossing it over the beam before knotting one end through a set of shelves and forming a noose in the other. He slipped it around Aron's neck, patting the man on the cheek with a smile, before hoisting the man up to his feet, looping the slack in the shelves.

He removed the tape at his mouth then, deftly avoiding the spit and rolling his eyes at Aaron’s Balkan curses. “So what can you tell me?”

Silence, and once again a discomfiting smile spread across Aron’s face. Frank hated when they were difficult. He pulled the rope, reknotted it. Aron's back was rigid now, spine stretched as far as it could to lessen the pressure, breath harsh in the closed space of the office.

“If you don’t already know,” Aron smiled despite his struggle to breathe, “There’s no harm in telling you. You’ll be dead within a matter of hours.”

“Yeh? Good to know.”

“Even if you are the Punisher.” A ragged breath. “Yes your reputation precedes you. It also means nothing.”

Aron’s idle threats were wearing thin. “Okay.” A tug at the rope.

“Superhumans.” Aron rattled out. “Stronger than you. Faster than you.” His eyes glittered. “They’ll drain you dry.” He coughed, and Frank caught what it was trying to cover. A shift in the eyes to a point over his shoulder. Frank ducked and rolled and heard the swish of air above his head, shot back with an elbow and caught air himself. A faint footfall, a flap of fabric, where the fuck was this guy?

Fast. Too fast. Impossibly fast, Frank thought as he was thrown out of the room, his head cracking on the wall outside. He shook it off even as he was moving, realizing he needed to put distance between him and the threat. He vaulted into the main warehouse, analyzing the terrain, potential weapons. Superhuman. Drain me dry, huh? He knew he had only seconds, ducked behind a crate and backed against a wall where pallets stood leaning. A flash of movement and Frank heard laughter as the heel of a hand smashed against his ribs. Broken, he had a moment to consider while the other hand closed around his throat.. Pain and rage clouded his vision and he knew he had one chance, one chance or it was all over.

In hindsight he’d probably wonder if it was worth the choice, but for now survival instincts kicked in and he cracked a plank off the pallet behind him and brought it up with all of his strength, trying not to breathe in to avoid the pain dulling the blow. His assailant’s grip on his throat proved his downfall, removing the advantage of speed. The plank hit its mark, the adrenaline and training allow the jagged edges to pierce through skin and muscle, through ribs. A high-pitched keening, terrible in its inhuman sound, issued from the assailant’s throat, and Frank watched features swim in and out of view. Pale skin, a jagged scar cutting across a pair of thinned lips. A mouth split in pain, and there, there - he couldn’t be sure but he also knew it couldn’t be anything else - incisors long and sharp.

The hand tightened on his throat briefly, muscles trying to continue past the ceasing of life, and the vampire in front of him dropped to the floor, wheedling noise still issuing from its throat, fading now with the dying of light in his eyes. The eyes, Frank thought, were the worst. Sclera shot through with red, but so human. Equal in death, the light gone. He fought his failing consciousness, he needed to get out of here before more showed up. He knew that face. Knew him from the papers, when he was human. The Albanians leg up on gang activities needed no more explanation than this, he thought as every inhale felt like ground glass in his bruised throat, his chest.

He stumbled back towards the office, lurched through the doorway to the shocked face of the mobster who still stood, throat noosed. Frank tugged at the rope anchored to the shelving and looped it a few more times with the rest of his strength, ignoring Aron’s choked breaths and gasps.

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

Lana almost killed him when he returned. The pit bull / boxer mix hadn’t yet learned to not jump up, and her paws on his chest earned a pained grunt.

“Fuck. Down, Lana. I need you to be a good girl, please.” She tilted her head at him, boxer jowls flopping. He couldn’t help smiling through his pain. Pushing past her into the small kitchen, he grabbed a steak out of the freezer and some aspirin and eased himself down on the couch, steak pressed against his ribs.

This was as close to home as he’d had in a long while, this warehouse unit in Queens. Secure enough with Micro’s help - he still couldn’t call him David. David was for the married guy, with kids, that Frank shouldn’t be bothering. The separation helped. His chest panged again, but not from pain this time, as he thought of those he’d lost in his unceasing war. Curtis had let him go. David wanted nothing to do with him. Karen -

Karen had disappeared off the face of the earth a month ago and it was driving him crazy. If he knew where she was, if he just knew, then she was safe. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a grimace as Lana’s tail thwacked against the couch cushions, her brows alternating as she looked up at Frank, face nestled in her paws.

He found her last byline - a little over a month ago - a report on the growing presence of Eastern European crime families, actually. It…didn’t seem enough of a report for her to be targeted but who knows what she had gotten into. He knew her, she was persistent beyond what was safe. Karen wouldn’t let go.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want her to, despite his claims otherwise.

So where was she? He slid a palm down his face, frustrated.

He checked his sources, found nothing. Reaching over his shoulder with difficulty - you forget that the simplest of actions is immeasurably harder when you’ve got a broken rib - he flipped on the police scanner. He and Lana listened for news of vampires, caught no mentions, nothing unexplained. The warehouse he’d invaded was off the radar, so he had some time before that would be circling around the airwaves, at least police ones. The steak was partially thawed now, so he tossed it in the dog bowl where Lana inhaled it as if it were her only meal in weeks.

Where was she?

-----

TWO WEEKS LATER

The Albanians were still expanding their empire, despite the setback at the warehouse. Frank wondered how many vampires there were. It clearly wasn’t an epidemic, which he’d feared initially but understood now - hard to keep power when you’re just spreading the source of that power around. Frank was on the streets, ribs starting to heal but deep breaths still causing sharp twists. He knew he needed more time. He also knew he didn’t have it.

He had to find her, and so he was here in Hell’s Kitchen, eyeing the neon Rosie’s sign as he approached, it flickered Ro ie' tonight, the esses flickering in and out. He didn’t want Red catching him out here, instead hoping his friend would be the first to leave. It was a flip of the coin whether Murdock would find a way to turn him in, that high-and-mighty morality of his a ticking time bomb, Frank thought.

His eyes shifted from the flickering sign as a voice called out.

“Spare some change?”

That voice...he'd know it anywhere. “You’re alive, oh god I thought -”

Karen laughed, blanket wrapped over her telltale locks, ball cap pulled low over her brow. “Nice to see you too, Frank.” She reached out a hand, as if to take change from him, and pressed a folded paper into his grip. He held on a beat too long, her grip cold in his own, taking in the details of her face, what he could anyway. He ducked down to catch her eyes and her own darted away.

“Not now, ok?”

He nodded and walked away, waiting until he was back in the warehouse to open the paper. The smile spread unbidden across his face.

Grand Ferry Park. You know where. 1 hour.

She sure had a sense of drama, he thought, thinking of a time long past, jokes of hipsters and her hair a bright flag in the breeze off the water. He thought of the softness of her cheek, and when he took a deep breath this time he didn’t even notice the pain.

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

Lana was losing her mind, and not in a good way. He’d brought her with him, knowing Karen loved dogs, but she was having none of this meeting. This sweetheart of a dog had her hackles raised, growl low and deep as Karen put up her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, as if pained.

“What is wrong with you, girl?” He knelt down beside Lana, hand tight at her collar and glancing up apologetically at Karen. “Sorry, she’s the calmest dog usually, I thought you might like to see her.”

Karen slowly lowered to the ground, her hand held out. “Do you have a treat I can give her? Maybe that will help.”

“Yeh, sure.” He tossed her a packet from his bag and she opened it, shaking out some near where she knelt. Lana licked her chops but still growled low in her throat, if a bit more of a confused growl.

“Here, what’s her name?” A glance up at Frank as he responded. He noticed her hand shaking. “Lana, sweet girl. Got a treat for you!”

Frank encouraged Lana when she looked up at him, her expression almost hilariously human and clearly saying “you trust this lady??” The dog edged forward, tentative, and snatched the treat from the ground where Karen had placed it, backing up but calming her growl.

“Well, progress at least.”

Her smile was just as he’d remembered.

“Where have you been, Karen?”

A flash in her eyes. “Didn’t know you kept tabs on me, Frank. You seemed pretty clear about me staying away.”

It hit him like a blow he deserved, and he fought for a response and lost. There was nothing he could say, he knew that, but he still wanted to try. It came to him in as he saw her eyes damp and hard, but still not hiding the hope behind them.

“I’ll always want you to be safe, Karen.”

She scoffed at that and stood up. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“What, what is it, what happened to you? Do I need to punch Red’s light’s out?”

Karen laughed at this, bitter and so unlike her it closed his throat. He did this.

“Just…stop, Frank. I need you to listen.” A barge horn sounded in the distance as if to punctuate her words and her brows eased, just a little, at the humor of it. “I’m…” She stepped closer, Lana alert at the motion, and cupped his face in a hand. “I know the Albanians are after you. The vampire you killed was one of their sires from the old country. I don’t even - Only you, Frank. Older vampires are so strong, you had a one in a million chance.” She shook her head at this, as if still disbelieving.

“How do you know?” he asked, leaning into her touch, cold yet still a comfort. He searched her eyes, gripped Lana’s collar a little tighter.

“I know, because I’m one of them.”

He tore away from her, the motion and the tension in him sending Lana into a fit of barking, her muzzle flecked with spittle. He couldn’t - he heard that high-pitched keen in his head, tried to reconcile it with the expression on Karen’s face. He pulled his Beretta out, trained it on Karen’s anguished face, looked around for bystanders. He backed away towards the railing bracketing the East River. If he needed to he’d escape in the water. But Lana…

He’d let down his guard, bringing her here. Letting himself dream and hope and wish and here was Karen and goddamn she looked beautiful, her eyes bright and hair streaming in the wind off the river and he could not reconcile the pieces.

His voice was a shadow of itself when it rasped from his mouth. “Explain, Karen. Tell me you’re not a monster. Tell me -” he stopped, unable to say more.

He saw her eyes close and the resoluteness stiffen her spine. Hope bloomed in his chest. She…she was still her. Her stubbornness, her implacable will.

“I’m not a monster, in the same way you aren’t.”

He worked his jaw, thinking, eyes casting about, settling on anything but her now. Her words were ones he’d normally deny in his heart, but it seemed the stakes had shifted, and his gut reactions fell flat in the face of the fact that Karen Page was here, and she was a vampire.

“Guess that’s why Lana’s losing her mind,” he said finally.

Karen laughed at that and goddamn if it still didn’t make his heart flip with the sound. What was wrong with him.

“Look I -” she started, uncertain. “I was bitten a month ago in Vermont.” She noticed his quizzical expression. “My Dad, he…I saw his obituary in the paper, so I drove up there. The town was riddled with vamps, some offshoot of the Albanians taking root in Fagan Corners of all places. They’ve locked it down since, but lucky for me!” She lifted her hands, her tone mocking. “Not my favorite trip ever. One star.” She joked, and cast her eyes down when it fell flat.

“Came back and have been feeding off criminals. Not like they're hard to find in this town. Frank -” She caught his gaze in her own. “I wanted to see you, wanted to see you and…I don't think anything can stop them, not anything human." She stopped, searched his eyes.

He wasn’t sure if she found what she was looking for but somehow knew what her next words would be all the same. Still, he let the pause linger. It was a moment, one to let go in. If there was anyone he trusted, it was her, goddamn, and maybe...maybe it was finally time to show that.

She inhaled then, and he idly wondered if that was force of habit or if vampires needed oxygen. He breathed a breath of his own, rib aching with the effort, and drew closer, sliding his hand into the silk of her hair, fingers sifting through it. He looked at her then, full on, not letting his gaze wander, not letting himself look away. He nodded then, an answer to the questions in her eyes, and bared his neck to her.

also on ao3

#kastle #kastle fanfiction #kastle ff #idk what genre to tag this as tbh #hello i will be editing this after posting like an insane person #gotta stop this has been swirling for two weeks in my brain i hate how slow i am #tw: parent death

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unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin · 1 year

Note

Can you do a story for yandere Bray Wyatt where he falls for Sami Zayn's sister, who's in the bloodline?

Come Back My Little Lamb (chapter 1/?)

Story Summary: There was a time you would give anything for bray, where you belonged to him. But after leaving you for Alexa, you were broken and Sami had to pick up the pieces. But now he’s back and ready to take you back. series masterlist

Chapter Summary: After your brother turned on the bloodline, you are put in a familiar situation.

An: I really liked this idea, so I decided to make this a short series. I don’t know how many chapters, but I want to keep it shorter.

warnings: yandere!bray wyatt, nightmares, phycological abuse, physical abuse,

Taglist: @fiskers7136 @peachmango-kombucha @kcloveswrestling @bellalutionn @xkennyxomegax @tummyyellin @legit9thlunaticwarrior @auburnwrites @melissahausen @thesusbunny @writtingrose

You were frozen in place, horrified at what had happened. Your brother, Sami, had attacked Roman. After a year of proving ourselves to the bloodline, he had attacked them over Kevin. And of course, they retaliated. Now, the bloodline had left the ring and medics were helping your brother and Kevin.

And you were crouching in the corner of the ring. Alone.

The sound of the crowed had completely disappeared, and you were only pulled away from your mind when the ref touched your arm.

“Come on,” he motioned for you to exit the ring. You just nodded, following the man backstage. You felt the eyes of people following you, and without thinking your arms wrapped around your body. As though trying to hide from anyone.

What the hell were you supposed to do now? When Sami came up with the idea of joining the bloodline, you thought it was stupid. Why the hell would a group so focused on family let two random siblings join them?

But, you agreed to follow him. You owed it to Sami after everything he had done for you over almost two years. Even when they let you both in, you were careful about it. The last time you were in a group you were destroyed, and you didn’t want to end up there again.

“Paul!” You called out, seeing the Wise man backstage. He turned, his face falling when he saw you. He hurried over, pulling you to the side of the hall.

“Y/n, I have to suggest you leave the tribal chief and everyone alone for a couple of days.” You frowned at his words.

“Paul, I didn’t know this was going to happen! I-“

“I believe you y/n, I really do,” he cut you off. “Everyone knows your… commitment to this, but you have to see their side of it,” he explained.

“How long?” You practically whispered, anxiety rolling through your body.

“Just… give it time,” he repeated. He clasped you on the shoulder then walked away, leaving you alone.

“Ok,” you mumbled to yourself.

You gave it another hour before going to the locker room, finding your things neatly placed next to the door. At least they didn’t take their anger out on this. You grabbed your things and found an exit, but stoped in your tracks. You didn’t have a ride back to the hotel. The bloodline was gone, and Sami must have gotten a ride from someone. Apparently you should have found a ride instead of hiding backstage.

“Fuck..”

“You should watch your tongue,” a voice spoke from behind you. A voice that haunted your nightmares.

You stood still, refusing to give him any attention, but you could hear him coming up behind you.

“I know you heard me love,” he whispered, now next to you. He was silent after that, watching you. His gaze felt like fire, and you finally looked up at him. He had changed into more comfortable clothes, and his braids were pulled away from his face.

“I saw what happened, are you ok?”

“Quit the question for you to ask,” you mumbled. You wanted to turn away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“I worry about you,” he reached out to run his finger down your face, cupping your chin lightly. Without thinking, you leaned into the feeling. No matter how dangerous he was, he always brought a feeling of safety. “My little lamb…”

Those words seemed to snap you out of it, and practically jumped away from him. “Don’t!” You snapped, glaring at him. “Don’t ever call me that again.” You wanted him to look hurt, or angry, but instead he looked amused.

“How are you getting home sweetheart?” He smirked, knowing you didn’t have a ride. While think of an excuse, you caught a glimpse of Bianca and Montez. You didn’t really know them, but it was your escape.

“Bianca!” You called out, waving for her. She looked confused for a moment, but when she spotted Bray she seemed to understand. She whispered something to Montez before walking towards you.

“Hey! How are you doing?”

“Not nearly as good as you. A hell of a match,” you complimented.

“Thanks for waiting, you ready to go?” Montez asked, motioning to the bags next to you.

“Don’t worry about it!”

“Can we help You?” Bianca asked, looking at Bray.

“Just saying hello to an old friend,” you smiled at them. “Have a wonderful Night y/n.” You couldn’t remember the last time he called you by your actual name. You watched him walk away before Bianca touched your arm.

“You ok?”

“Not sure,” you admitted. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Montez offered a smile.

“You need a ride, right?” Bianca asked.

“Ya,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed. You arrived with the biggest name in wwe, and now you didn’t have a ride to the hotel.

“Come on,” Montez grabbed a bag, and you quickly tried to take it back.

“I can get my own bag-“

“I’ve got it,” he assured while Bianca grabbed her and her husband’s bags. You sighed but picked up your own bag to follow them.

The ride to the hotel was silent, and uncomfortable. You hated asking them for a ride, it made you feel weak. Like you couldn’t handle yourself. When you arrived at the hotel, you practically jumped out of the car with your things.

“Thank you, again. I really appreciate it,” you told the two of them.

“Seriously, it’s no trouble,” Bianca assured you. She pulled you into a hug, and it surprised you but you returned it. “If you need anything, give me a call,” she whispered in your ear. You didn’t tell her you didn’t have her number.

While the two of them went to their room, you went to the front desk. You had been sharing a room with Sami, but you weren’t sure you wanted to see him.

“Can I help You?” The worker asked when you approached her.

“I was wondering if you had an empty room?” She typed something on the computer in front of you, and just the look on her face told you it was bad news. “I’m sorry ma’am, but we are completely booked for the night.” Your eyes slid closed for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you for checking.” You mumbled and walked away. You left the building, pulling your phone out to search for the closest place to rent a car. You’d have to get a car, sleep in it for the night, and drive home tomorrow. ———————

You hummed lightly, your head resting against Bray’s knee. He was in his rocking chair, slowly petting your hair.

“You did so well tonight, my lamb,” he whispered. His hand moved to tilt your chin up, giving him a look at the bruise growing in your face. While helping him win a match you had got super kicked, almost getting knocked out.

“Really?”

He smiled at the look you were giving him. Your eyes were wide, staring at him like he was a god. Exactly how he wanted you to.

“Really. I’m so proud of you,” he pulled his hands away, making your smile fall. “Come here my little lamb,” he motioned for you to rise and climb onto his lap. Which you immediately did.

“Give me a kiss, little lamb.” You listened, leaning in to kiss him. You allowed him to control the speed of the kiss, loving the way his hands rubbed your hips. His touch was like drugs, and you were addicted. “Stupid little lamb…” he mumbled against your lips, making you frown.

“What..?” Before you could fully ask he shoved you to the ground roughly, your head hitting the ground causing you to let out a small moan.

“You got distracted, and if you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I thought you were smartes then that.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I wasn’t distracted!”

“So I’m a liar?”

“No! That’s not-“

“It doesn’t matter, you should have gotten involved sooner.” Your head fell, tears flowing freely down your face. The pain in your head was nothing compared to the pain his words caused.

He stood up, and walked to where you were kneeling. “Look at me.”

You glanced up, jumping slightly when it was Roman instead of Bray. You also noticed your gear had changed as you were now wearing a blood line shirt. He grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look up.

“This is your fault. You should have gotten involved sooner!” He shiver your face away.

—————

You shot up, trying to catch your breath. Your neck hurt from sleeping in the car, and you were sweating from your nightmare. You hadn’t dreamed about him I’m so long, and you never dreamed about Roman. You wouldn’t let history repeat itself. You would stay with the blood line, you had to.

#wwe #requests #Yandere #wwe series #fanfiction #bray wyatt #bray wyatt x reader #yandere!bray wyatt

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 10 months

Text

Collected - a Magnus Archives fic

Jon floated for a thousand years as the pupil of the Eye - by choice, a place he ran, after Martin's death undid him.

Now, he finds himself pulled from that hell and into a new, weird world - one in which many versions of the people he knew are trying to make a new life.

And who is behind this, apparently? Jurgen Leitner.

Jon barely feels like a person again, and trusts nothing but Martin. This is, perhaps, wise.

Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.

Part two of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

--------

I stared at myself in the small mirror, but no matter how hard I looked, I still felt unfamiliar.

I looked like someone related to me, perhaps—someone who had made a lot of pilgrimages, or lived entirely on vegetables, or inspired some ridiculous motion picture about a holy man or tapasvi.

I thought this insult of a film might star Kevin Costner or Dustin Hoffman, aping whatever culture seemed most “exotic” at the box office. Then I remembered that these actors had been dead for nearly a thousand years, had only been popular in my childhood, and likely existed nowhere now beyond my memory.

Our memory. The Eye was, after all, here.

They were all here. Multidimensional, evidently, though Martin didn’t really want to explain.

The man in the mirror looked mournfully back at me. His beard was nearly trimmed, more white than black. His hair…

It had always been thick, but I’d never let it grow beyond a student-appropriate scruff, and certainly kept it short when in the workplace. Well, centuries floating as the Pupil of the Eye had taken care of that.

It was long and very thick. More than a little wavy, heavily streaked with white. It made me look like an entirely different person.

Why had Sasha not cut it? The aesthetic, she’d said.

I had no idea what that meant until I did, knowledge dropped into me, and now I felt very silly. I wasn’t some… young and stylish thing, but whatever.

I was an entirely different person. Sasha told me my body was far from human now. It looked human—if I concentrated, keeping my many eyes closed—but it was not. Evidently, it swung back and forth between being hundreds of eyeballs in a man-shaped sack, or some kind of light beams which defied all attempts to study it. Fiber optics came to mind—knowledge transmitted via light.

Honestly, both descriptions were horrifying. Or they should have been. I… found them more baffling than anything else. For heaven’s sake, how was I producing saliva? How did my tongue articulate? How was I capable of erection?

Careful, Sims. That way danger lies.

The Eye wanted to tell me—to show me what it had done—but if I let it commune that clearly with me again, I might have trouble coming back to myself.

It’d had enough time monopolizing Playground Jon. My turn was overdue.

I fisted my hair (which felt neither like eyeballs, nor light). Martin liked it. So. I would not cut it off. Brushed and kept it would be.

“You okay in there?” Sasha called from the other room.

“Not at all, I’m afraid,” I called back, and walked out to join her.

She smiled. Sasha James looked largely like she had, but somewhere around the time I died at Ny-Ålesund in her world, she’d fallen in with the Flesh.

She was half a foot taller than she’d been when I knew her.

She’d somehow gone on to end the world for the Flesh, too, and had not elaborated how. I could know, but that felt like violation, so I kept that door shut.

There were many doors to keep shut, these days.

“Feeling up for it?” she said.

I knew what she was asking: was I ready to meet my benefactor?

I was not. I still felt as though I were pretending to be a person. It had taken me two weeks just to be able to keep all my extra eyes closed. “Must I do this?” I drawled. “Is it really necessary?”

“Yep.”

“What if I faked an illness?”

“Mm,” she said, and tapped her chin with one sharp, purple fingernail. “That’d be quite the feat, considering you’re immune to pretty much everything now.”

She would know.

I sighed. “I could pretend to madness. Earn a few more days.”

“Martin’s willing to go with you,” she said.

I may not have a heart anymore, but something in my chest still ached. Such an offer cost him.

After he killed my counterpart, the Lonely had him for fifteen years. By the time Tim and Manuela opened a shocking door of fire and crackling sound above his wine-dark sea, Martin had drifted so long in cold, crushing silence that he couldn’t remember how to talk.

He struggled, now, to accept a world with people. Struggled not to loathe everyone and everything. Except me. And I don’t know how I held a sweet place in his heart after what I did.

If he was willing to do this, then I would go through with it. “All right.”

“Come on. You look fine.”

I looked down. Green button-down; jeans. Ankle boots. None of it I picked out, but as I still looked human outwardly, going naked was neither comfortable for anyone, nor practical for me. “Should I look scary instead? Go all eyes,” I said, glancing up at her.

She wore the extra inches she’d given herself quite well. “Don’t think it matters. Jurgen’s seen it all.”

“I doubt that.” My tone was dry.

“Well, he did say you’re the first you he’s met.”

I’d been warned there were multiple versions of us out there. “How the hell does that even work, anyway? Are there multiple versions of… all of us here?”

“Some of us.”

“How is it determined who is brought here?”

“I’m not part of that process,” she said. “You’ll have to ask him.”

The Eye offered to tell me. No. I may be unable to avoid things like the colloquial definition of the aesthetic being dropped into my head, but I could refuse the bigger ones.

I’d had no choice in that before, neither when I was still human, nor during the apocalypse, I wasn’t yet certain if this were a new skill I possessed, or something to do with the place I now found myself in.

With my benefactor.

Jurgen Leitner. I was still struggling with this.

My Leitner (a dubious epithet) had been brutally murdered by a lead pipe. I had never met this one. “How many of the others has he met?”

“That’s a lovely question to ask him!” She beamed.

I sighed. “You’re being awful about all of this, you know.”

“It’s not my job to answer questions. It is my job to prod you into being a better version of yourself,” she said. “Actually, I think it kind of always was?”

“Ha-ha,” I allowed, and we walked out the door to Martin’s smiling face, and the moment I saw him, all my stresses ceased to matter.

It was something of a grim apartment block—a gray courtyard-rectangle, framed by two building-rectangles, which were comprised of even smaller flat-rectangles that formed our homes. Each flat was precisely two and a half rooms: a bedroom, a sort of general space for whatever else, and a closet-sized bathroom.

I had a trunk at the foot of my bed with gifted clothes.

There was no kitchen. I didn’t need to eat. Neither, evidently, did anyone else in the place.

We could eat. There was a communal kitchen in the bottom floor of the west building—a conscious choice, so Sasha told me, because it encouraged us to spend at least a little bit of time together.

A week ago, after I left the hospital, I grew curious enough to wander down there and found Jane Prentiss sitting by the refrigerator, staring into a teacup filled with cockroaches.

I fled, and had yet to return.

“You look so good,” said Martin, kissing my cheek.

I leaned in. I would never forget the hollowness of his death—the loss, the tearing, hopeless horror. I would never take his affection, his love, for granted. “You always do.”

“And when I don’t, nobody will ever know,” Martin grinned. He was fully visible today, so he knew how good he looked; a light jumper, comfortable jeans, boots like mine. His curly hair was frost-kissed, the red and white both glinting in the sun.

Laugh lines around his eyes, above his freckles. Eyes that some days were less green, gone almost colorless; but on those days, he also didn’t bother to be fully visible.

Except to me.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” I said, running my fingers through his curls. “Alive. You. Here. I…” Damned throat tightness. (And how did that even work, anyway? What, were the eyeballs constricting? Pupils exhibiting tension dysphonia?)

“Me, neither—and you’re welcome to butter me up more, but we’re still going to meet some people today,” said Martin, because his choice to be social included forcing it upon me.

“Do I have to?” I said. “You know, it could make me late for Leitner. Better skip this bit.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned in and kissed me.

Mm. Alright. Anything he asked would do.

��Don’t be a coward,” he said.

“I am a coward,” I said. “Apparently, that’s half my appeal.”

He held me close, and his impossible heartbeat echoed my own. Right here, right now, I felt like a person. I remembered how. I knew what it was like, and I melted in his arms.

“Come on,” he murmured against my head. “Nobody’s going to hurt you—and we’re… we’re sort of family, now. All of us. We all share kind of a big thing, you know?”

“We all ended the world,” I whisper.

“Yes.”

I swallowed. (Did I have an eyeball instead of an Adam’s Apple? Precisely what was constricting?) “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

He shrugged. “Who would? Come on, or we actually will be late for Leitner.” With his hand in mine, he led me into the communal dining hall.

I’d hardly gotten a good look at it the first time. It was your basic cafeteria: tables and chairs, a sort of kitchen area behind a wide, white counter. Checkered floor tiles. Awful lighting.

This time, Mike Crew was in there, along with Oliver Banks, seated at a little square table with tea.

Both of them stared at me.

I stared back.

The Eye tried to give me their stories.

I resisted. “We all just live here?” I blurted.

“Smooth,” said Martin, waving at them. “Hi.”

Mike looked Martin up and down as though he were made of chocolate.

Martin ignored it.

So that happened.

“Wow,” said Oliver, smiling at me. “That’s a good look for you.”

“What?” I managed like an idiot.

Mike sipped his tea. The cup sparked, as if it were secretly made of electrostatic particles. “Huh,” he said. “I killed you in my timeline.”

This was going splendidly. “When I came to see you?” I guessed.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Cop followed you. Didn’t appreciate it too much, so.” He made a swooping motion with his hand. “Off you both went.”

“Daisy, too?” I said.

“Was that her name?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t sound less stiff.

He didn’t care. “Cool.”

“I didn’t kill you,” Oliver said, and looked sad. “I just didn’t manage to wake you.”

“The coma?” I guessed.

“You chose to stay human.”

Dear lord. “What happened after that?”

Oliver sighed. “The Archivist’s death somehow… empowered me? I don’t honestly know. There was a lot of manipulation from others, and… it was really a mess. I didn’t actually mean to end anything.”

Oh, gods. “I’m so sorry. I know what that’s like. To be used.”

“I meant to do it,” said Mike, chipper and friendly. “We all fell forever in the sky. It was honestly lovely until there wasn’t anyone else left to tumble.”

My swallow was audible. (And just how did my eye-filled throat replicate the sound of a pharynx gulping?)

“What’s on offer?” said Martin, as though none of this were awkward.

Mike looked at his tea. “Green, I think?”

“Silver needle,” said Oliver.

“Not bad,” said Martin. “I don’t see any baked goods. Jack’s not been by today?”

“No, and don’t ask about him,” said Mike. “They’re on the outs again.”

Martin sighed. “I’m not the type of person to say this, normally, but if they’d just fuck already…”

Both the other men laughed.

I didn’t. I stared at him.

“Agnes,” he said.

“Jack Barnabas?”

“Yeah.”

“How is he—he wasn’t an avatar of anything! How did—”

“He’s just here, for some re-”

“Did he end the world, too?” I blurted. “What did he do, boil the world in coffee?”

Mike laughed. “Nikola said you were funny.”

Right, no one mentioned that. “Nikola. She’s here. Like Jane Prentiss.”

“Not like Jane. Imprisoned,” said Martin. “She's not loose.”

“Why the hell is Jane loose?”

“Because she behaves. She doesn’t attack anyone, and she’s got a job handling rubbish dumps.”

I stared at him. “She hated me.”

“She hated the Archives. I have no idea if she’ll hate you now,” said Martin. “There are no Archives here.”

The Archives were the Eye. I am pretty much all eyes. I rubbed my face.

“Cheer up,” said Mike. “Sit down. Have a cuppa. You’ll feel better.”

Come to think of it, Mike wasn’t such a hero, either. “So we all ended the world, by choice or otherwise, and now we’re playing… Game On?”

Mike laughed. It was such a friendly laugh from a sociopath. “Game On? That’s a blast from the past. You watched that show?”

“My grandmother approved of it, for some reason,” I muttered, looking down.

“Martin, you were right,” said Mike chummily. “He’s adorable.”

“Told you,” said Martin.

I was made of eyes, had been removed from my floating, emotionless hell for all of a month, and this was the conversation? “I… I’m not.”

“Would you look at that expression?” said Mike brightly. “Like someone walked over his grave.”

Suddenly, I felt watched.

This… this was a test?

I knew it was.

From whom? Why? Leitner, maybe. I didn’t dare reach for more information, reach into the Eye when I don’t yet know if I could do that and return. But this—whether any of them knew it—was a test. I was just coming out of my cocoon, and here was a man who’d hurt me, lightly flirting with my lover.

A man who sounded nice, but was not. A man who behaved amicably, yet had not cared when his parents died due to his mistake with the Corruption.

He wasn’t being aggressive, but still pressing buttons as if to trigger a response.

Who the hell was watching this? What, was I going to be “imprisoned” like Nikola if I did this wrong?

That was a leap, logically. All I knew was this was a test—possibly without the consent of anyone here—and I did not know why yet. I would not live in paranoia again.

(Let me show you whispered the One who’d had me for damn near a thousand years, and I shuddered.)

“Jon?” said Martin.

“It’s a lot,” I said, going for the truth. I somehow doubt floating in facts for a millennia made me any better of a liar. “I don’t… are we even on different sides, anymore?”

“Sides?” said Mike. “Sure. I’m on the ‘let’s don’t die’ side. You?”

Oliver looked sad. “Sorry, Jon. It is a lot. But you have time to figure it out.”

And suddenly, I wanted a test of my own—to see how they’d react to questions. “But why is this happening? What is the point of it all? What, are we all just being… collected, or something?”

“Damned if I know,” said Mike, and toasted me with his tea. “But I, for one, am grateful to be here. Wasn’t fun, toward the end. I was all that was left.”

I got it, suddenly. “Your god fed on you.”

A crack appeared in his cheer. “My god fed on me. I… I’m still Vast. But I can’t forget that. I can’t just let it go.” He looked down.

Oliver put his arm around Mike’s shoulders. “We’ve all got a lot to process, still.”

The Eye dropped a meme into my head. Vulnerability? In MY sociopath? It’s more likely than you think!

Stop that, I thought at It.

“Text me if Jack brings anything by, okay?” said Martin. “Come on, Jon. Time to meet our benefactor.”

Oliver perked up. “Oh! Good. You’ll like him.”

Mike shrugged. “He’s not awful.” He kept his eyes down; Oliver’s arm stayed around his shoulder.

I didn’t know how to read that after the look Mike had given Martin. Blast it all, what was this drama? This was worse than secondary.

I let Martin lead me away.

The gray rectangles opened onto a lovely street I had not yet seen. It was quiet; a park bloomed across the way, bright with bird-speak and pretty flowers. A few red post-boxes and yellow fire hydrants fit the spring weather and the early bloom.

London, but not one I knew.

There were no cars. I couldn’t hear any, at least. More buildings like ours stretched down the street on this side; there were no shops.

We stopped at the curb and waited.

I couldn’t wait, though, any longer. “Jane Prentiss. Nikola Orsinov. Explain.”

“I’d really rather let Leitner do it,” said Martin.

“But—”

“I hate… all of this. I don’t want to think about so many people. It hurts, Jon.”

I dropped that like a hot potato. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He took a deep breath and, instead of a potato, dropped a bomb: “It was thoughts of you that fueled me, you know.”

“Wh… what?” I managed, and at that moment, a car came around the far corner.

It was the first one I’d seen here; expensive and black, rather large, but silent—like someone took a Bentley and refitted it to be electric. It pulled without a sound to a stop in front of us and waited, windows tinted.

“Absolutely haunted,” I proclaimed.

Martin laughed and opened the back door.

Maybe it was haunted. The quarter glass was tinted, too, and whoever was behind it never spoke.

“What’s he like?” I said, soft.

Martin shrugged. “If Mick Jagger and Neo from The Matrix had a baby,” he began.

“Stop.” I raised my hands. “Dear lord, Martin, you’re going to summon something.”

He laughed again, then leaned forward and took my hands between his eyes. Tears glistened on his lashes. “I forgot to laugh until you came back. I mean… I’d do it. For people. Because I… I’m trying, Jon. I’m trying so hard.” He stopped to swallow around the roughness in his voice. “But you’re the only one I don't have to try for. I’m tired.”

Don’t panic, I told myself, because I didn’t think I had the power to save him. Don’t panic, I told myself, because I wasn’t even comfortable in my own skin yet, and here if I failed, I might drag him down with me. Don’t panic,I told myself, because this was Martin, and I would do anything to keep him safe.

I brought his hands to my lips and kissed them. “I don’t know what I can do for you. I’m just… I’m just me. Whatever that is anymore. I don’t know. But whatever I am, all that I am, Martin… I’m yours.”

He met my eyes. His own had gone silver with dark gray radial streaks and an eerie limbal ring of blue.

I took a breath and held it, unable to move. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

So… so horrible, what was I thinking? What was this? Was he in pain? Was he slipping away? Was—

He leaned in, gripped the back of my head, and kissed me with warm breath and warm lips and nary a hint of mist or fading, and I clutched his shoulders and pulled him in for more.

“Silly,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m fine. I saw that look, Jonathan Sims. You got all spooked.”

“I know you’re fine,” I lied, clinging.

“I’m not a ghost, either,” he said.

I was still laughing when the car pulled to a stop and the door was opened by a surprise.

Jared Hopworth bent down nearly double to peer into the back seat, chauffeur cap jaunty on his head, elephantine suit straining at his shoulders. “Come on, lovebirds,” he said. “You ain’t the only job I got today, so move it.”

I gawked at him.

Martin dragged me out of the back. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Jared gave Martin the same look Mike had.

Maybe I had gone mad, after all. Maybe this was entirely my subconscious inventing a world, revolving around the fact that Martin was desirable, even to me (which was something), and so it only made sense that all the characters with speaking parts would want him.

Or maybe I was just jealous, and had never been good at reading people, anyway.

Jared drove off, the vehicle silent.

Ahead of us rose a ridiculous building that could’ve gone head-to-head with the Magnus Institute, but instead of Victorian academia, this one was a gods-damned church.

It rose in ridiculous splendor, its doorways a pointed arches, its enormous rose window portraying some strange-looking knight battling a hydra. Ornately carved flowers and fluting patterned the building’s facade.

“Why are we meeting in a church?” I said.

“I think it’ll make more sense when you meet him,” said Martin. “He’s, um. Dramatic?”

“Wonderful.”

He smiled and opened the heavy door for me. It was unlocked.

The inside of the gothic church was… a gothic church. Flying buttresses. Vaulted ceilings. The pews had been removed, replaced with desks and filing cabinets; boxes of files lined the walls.

Then I caught a glimpse of another Martin and damn near fell over my own feet.

Another—

Another Martin?

Another—

“Steady,” said Martin. “That one’s… that one was never yours.”

“What?” I said, staring at the other Martin.

The other Martin looked spooked and skedaddled. A door slammed.

Everybody else here looked at us.

There were… there were people I did not know, and I was deeply glad of that. But there were also people I did.

Two Jude Perrys, for one, sitting side by side, with wildly different hairstyles. A Melanie, with both her eyes; one, two, three Georgies, who seemed to be focused on some sort of project building a tower from tarot cards.

I couldn’t move. Are we all just being collected? I’d asked Mike, and for one dizzying moment, wondered if I were right.

“I thought Sasha warned you,” Martin whispered.

“Not… really,” I managed.

Another door opened, and all heads turned away from me and toward the other end. “Well, well, well!” boomed a voice I knew—a voice like Christopher Lee’s, a voice with weight and wealth and the wide confidence of a man who rarely hears a no.

It looked like Jurgen Leitner—if Leitner came wrapped in black leather, wearing a pair of green-lensed spectacles (small and round lenses, very trendy, I supposed), numerous rings that sparked with some power tickling the back of my senses, and a gods-damned sword strapped to his hip.

Right. That cinched it. I had definitely gone mad.

“Come on, come on,” he said, gesturing. “Come along, now—nobody’s going to bite you, Jon. May I call you Jon?”

“Please,” I said, years of training in social norms finally coming to use as the parts of my brain in charge of voluntary behavior seemed to have stalled. (The image of a skull full of eyes rolling back in an Edwardian fainting spell did not help at all.)

“Come on, now. Come on!” He held open the door back there—another deep, pointed-arch affair—and beamed.

There were smiles among some of the people here. They still watched me; wary, to a one, and far too many with baggage, but no one yet seemed inclined to attack me, or anything.

All three Georgies looked sad, which was awful.

Martin tugged my arm.

Right. For him, I would do this, and not turn around and run away down the street as fast as I could and hide in the bushes and hope to die a quiet, eye-rolling death where I could harm no one and no one could harm me.

Leitner was taller than I remembered, but then, I’d not been in a good place when we met. “There you are,” he said with great satisfaction, and stepped aside for us to enter his office.

“I think I’m in shock, just so you know,” I informed him as I stepped inside.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” he said with great cheer, and closed the door behind us.

------

Notes:

Looks like this monsterverse AU is go. Oh, boy, what have I gotten myself into?

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #magnus pod #the magnus archives fic #magnus pod fic #mike crew #jonathan sims #oliver banks #the archivist #tma spoilers #martin blackwood #sasha james #jmart #jonmartin #teaholding #monster!jon #monster!martin #magnus monsterverse

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braveveth · 4 months

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This is by no means an comprehensive list of aftg fic I very much adore and since I don’t know what you like it’s kind of a wild mix. But maybe there is something that catches your eye (and you don’t already know). Sometimes I have shortened the summaries to just a few tags so you might want to look that up for further information. It’s also a lot of AUs and so far only Neil/Andrew. If you are also interested in Kevin, Jean, Jeremy in some kind of combination- that’s a whole other list. If you’ve got questions, let me know. Otherwise: Enjoy :)

Push to talk by alexjosten | Firewatch AU: Neil needs a fresh start. He has a new name and a new job in the middle of nowhere, miles away from anything to do with Exy. The only person he speaks to is Andrew, who knows nothing about him... until Neil's past catches up with him.

And we‘ll be running by allysavedtheday | Band AU: It had been six months ago when Kevin called him, sounding drunk off his ass and on the verge of a breakdown, begging Neil for help as guitarist for The Monsters until Andrew comes back. First it was just something to vill the void. Now he doesn’t want to leave..

Sleeping with ghosts by boybeaulieu | Band AU / breakup and makeup: The Band AU where Andrew and his Monsters learn how to deal with notoriety while performing for an emo, grunge crowd. But what kind of musician has never experienced heartbreak? Not even Andrew, apparently.

Andrew Minyard‘s Diary by fuzzballsheltiepants | Bridget Jones AU: In which Andrew is Bridget Jones, Kevin is Daniel Cleaver, and Neil is Mark Darcy. Except none of them are like their inspiration characters at all.

We used to be friends by gluupor | Veronica Mars AU

No mourners, no funerals by gluupor | Six of Crows AU

Pie another day by gluupor | Basically a Pushing Daisies AU: very humorous

Murder boyfriends by justadreamfox | High School AU / Inspired by the movie heathers: It’s 1989. Riko Moriyama rules Westerburg High School and The Butcher rules Baltimore. Neil and Andrew are so, so over it. Shit’s about to get real

Such a fool for sacrifice by likeareacord | Bodyguard AU: Neil is a successful author with a stalker who seems to know a little too much about his past. He needs a bodyguard for his upcoming book tour. Enter: Andrew Minyard.

Meow Meow Lullaby by moonix | Library AU: When the existence of their library is threatened, rival librarians Neil and Andrew must team up to save it.

Much Ado by puddlejumper99 | Shakespeare AU: Loosely following the plot of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, avowed bachelor Neil is determined never to marry, and also determined to insult Andrew into an early grave. Meanwhile, Riko is plotting to ruin Matt and Dan's wedding.

(dont‘t fear) the reaper srcibbleb_red | Under world AU: Andrew and Neil don’t meet in life. They meet in limbo. Andrew is a Reaper – a ‘ferryman’ charged with taking the souls of the recently deceased through limbo to the Other Side. Neil wakes up dead – killed by his father – or so he believes. But as ever for our Foxes, nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

honey don‘t feed me (I will come back) by talls | Greek Mythology AU: There’s a new god in the pantheon; Andrew remembers hearing about the scandal a while back, the newest Demeter having a child with the current Zeus and then going on the run, child in tow. They call him Persephone, the god of springtime and new life, the antithesis of Andrew's realm. It would be ludicrous of Persephone to ever interact with Andrew at all. If only someone told Persephone that.

under the kitchen lights by ephemeralsky | Neighbours AU: in which Andrew and Neil are neighbors who do various neighborly things

Back to the start by fuzzballsheltiepants | Amenesia / hurt/comfort: Andrew has been on his pro team for 6 months when he takes a ball to the head. Neil flies to Boston to see him - only to find that Andrew doesn't remember him.

Feels like falling by gluupor | Post canon / Getting back together: After college Andrew left behind both exy and Neil. Five years later, he’s built himself a stable life with nothing wanting. Or so he thinks, until a chance encounter brings him back in contact with Neil.

hello world by lolainslackss | Canon Divergence / Enemies to lovers / Professional Exy: Everyone on the US national team knows that Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten hate each other, so of course they all think it's hilarious to force them to share a room in the name of 'team harmony' for the entirety of the Exy World Cup.

LIFE SAVER!!! this is wonderful tysm<3 very excited about a lot of these. that firewatch au… and the underworld one….

totally get you about it being a wild mix btw. i’m the first to admit i can be pretty picky about characterisation but with these books you could genuinely be reading the wildest of au’s and it could still be incredibly in character (and vice versa). so i’m up to try a lot and this is giving me a whole lot to try!!

#gonna post this for others to see #i’ve read and we’ll be running would HIGHLY rec #the bodyguard au as well but v recently and soooo good too #fic rec #aftg #chatter #a-chorus-of-storytellers

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more-than-a-princess · 3 months

Note

Hi! Love your sonia characterisation and from your ooc posting, I see your tastes are great~ Can I ask the mun: do you have any recommendations for books or TV series? c:

Hi anon! Thank you so much for your kind words regarding my IC content and OOC ramblings, that's really nice of you to say. I'm happy to recommend some things (I admit I did a 'Stitch laughing maniacally on a pile of wreckage' when I got this ask because anon, I am not sure you know what you have asked to unleash!).

However, I wasn't sure if you were asking for recommendations for books/TV series that have directly inspired my Sonia portrayal, or recommendations of things I enjoy in general. With that in mind, I'm going to be sharing a long list of books, TV series, manga/webtoons, and story-based video games that I just happen to like.

If you're looking for media that has directly inspired my portrayal though, please send another ask and I'd be happy to narrow it down for you!

In order not to keep the dash tidy, everything is under a cut, with notes (some important, some just me making jokes) beside a few of them. I hope you find a new favorite book/series to enjoy!

Books:

General Notes: For book series where the first book title isn't the series name, I've indicated which book to start with, save for the historical romances because that's easier to find online and there's a lot of them. I hope that helps! Additionally, for all romance series, assume that there is some mention of sexual content in various degrees of description, aka. "spice." Depending on your comfort level of literary sex, I highly recommend checking out each title on https://www.romance.io/ for their spice level rating, at the very least. The site will also show you tropes found in each book as well as reviews.

Contemporary Romance:

The Time-Travelers Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

American Royals series by Katharine McGee

Crazy Rich Asians series by Kevin Kwan (way, way better than the movie! It's a trilogy, followed by China Rich Girlfriend and Rich People Problems. I'd highly recommend this if you are writing a modern wealthy character of East Asian descent. Yes it's romance, humor, and contemporary family drama, but it gives what's apparently a very accurate look at high society)

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade (if you are looking for contemporary romance with plus size heroines, you want to check out Olivia Dade! Also Mary Warren and for young adult romance, Kelsie Stelting)

Modern Royals series by Aven Ellis (start with A Royal Shade of Blue)

The Royal Runaway by Lindsay Emory

The Royal We by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan (and its sequel, The Heir Affair)

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston (this was better than Red, White, and Royal Blue, IMO)

Fantasy Romance:

Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Crescent City series by Sarah J. Maas

A note about SJM series: I highly suggest reading TOG or ACOTAR first, with the understanding the first three or so TOG books and the first ACOTAR books have a slower pace and are more about worldbuilding than anything else. Read Crescent City after these two (CC 1 is also a big, long worldbuilding book). You must read ACOTAR to read CC, but you do not need to read TOG to read CC (though you'll miss some of the references/easter eggs!).

The Empyrean series by Rebecca Yarros (Start with Fourth Wing)

The Shepherd King duology by Rachel Gillig (Start with One Dark Window)

The All-Souls Trilogy/series by Deborah Harkness (Start with A Discovery of Witches)

Historical Romance:

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend by Emma Alban

Love by Numbers series by Sarah MacLean (start with Nine Rules to Break While Romancing a Rake. If you finish this series and like her writing, move on to the Bareknuckle Bastards series and the Rules of Scoundrels series)

Spindle Cove series by Tessa Dare (start with A Night to Surrender. If you liked this series, move on to the Castles Ever After series and the Girl Meets Duke series)

pretty much anything by Lisa Kleypas (Bridgerton fans? This is how you get over your hangover/wait between finishing the books and/or Season 3. start with the Wallflowers or the Hathaways series, then move onto the Ravenels and the Bow Street Runners series. This is mostly historically the chronological order with crossover characters between the Wallflowers and Hathaways. Bow Street Runners is chronologically before Wallflowers but it's disappointing if you read it first, trust me!)

everything by Jane Austen. Just everything.

Series/books I'm in the middle of/currently on my TBR list so I can't recommend them fully yet but I'm actively reading them:

The Folk of the Air series by Holly Black (start with The Cruel Prince)

Letters of Enchantment duology by Rebecca Ross (start with Divine Rivals)

Crowns of Nyaxia series by Carissa Broadbent (Start with The Serpent and the Wings of Night)

Hades x Persephone saga by Scarlett St. Clair (Start with A Touch of Darkness)

The Shadow and Bone trilogy by Leigh Bardugo (and Six of Crows. And everything else: I've yet to dive into Bardugo's series)

A League of Extraordinary Women series by Evie Dunmore (Start with Bringing Down the Duke)

Royals series by Rachel Hawkins (start with Prince Charming)

Infamous by Lex Croucher

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree

Deliciously Dark Fairytales series by K.F. Greene (Start with A Ruin of Roses)

TV series:

Downton Abbey (my love for this show runs deep. It changed my life!)

The Gilded Age (Carrie Coon deserves an Emmy for this at some point I s2g)

The Crown (Claire Foy is the best QEII, Elizabeth Debicki is the best Diana, Josh O'Connor is the best Charles)

Gossip Girl (original 2007 series, not the remake)

The Royals (the E! show)

Succession (Come for Brian Cox emotionally and verbally harass his children, stay for Kieran Culkin, Jeremy Strong, Sarah Snook, Matthew MacFayden, Conheads, and a Ludicrously Capacious Bag.)

The White Lotus (Tanya is ICONIC.)

Miss Scarlet and the Duke

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (If you like Miss Scarlet, I can almost guarantee you will like Miss Fisher. And vice-versa.)

All Creatures Great and Small (the remake)

Sanditon

Black Mirror

Skins (UK series only)

Sex Education

The IT Crowd (the creator is an ass. The show is eternal.)

The Great

The Sopranos

The Empress

The Fall of the House of Usher

Midnight Mass (arguably the best Flanagan series. Fight me.)

Marie Antoinette (2022 TV series)

Dickinson

Euphoria

Stranger Things

The Tudors

Versailles

Unforgotten

Endeavour (you don't need to have seen Inspector Morse beforehand but it helps contextualize where some of this cast ends up in the future! Endeavour is the best murder mystery show ever written, IMO. Unforgotten is a close contender for second place.)

Outlander

Sherlock

Mad Men

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

American Horror Story (earlier seasons are way better than the later ones)

Gentleman Jack

Ted Lasso

Emily in Paris

Pride and Prejudice (the 1995 miniseries with Colin Firth)

Books and TV (that is, read and watch both!):

Bridgerton (books by Julia Quinn)

Magpie Murders (books by Anthony Horowitz. One of my few book recs that isn't a romance! Horowitz is a wonderful contemporary mystery writer)

Webtoons/manga:

(Because some people prefer manga/webtoons to novels! I have read all of these on MangaKatana. Mostly fantasy romance and contemporary romance, several have been made into J or K-dramas)

Under The Oak Tree

See You In My 19th Life

What's Wrong With Secretary Kim?

Like Wind on a Dry Branch

Marriage of Convenience

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married!

We Are Not Ourselves Today

An Hour of Romance

Innocent (The sole historical drama over here. Every sex and violence trigger warning you can imagine applies to this manga. It is also one of the most beautifully-drawn and intriguing stories I've ever read. Rose of Versailles fans, this is for you: this is your fave but darker.)

Marry My Husband

Video games with excellent storytelling:

(mostly. These are primarily otome games, mystery visual novels, and horror visual novels):

Zero Escape: The Nonary Games (there are three games in this series: 999, Virtue's Last Reward, and Zero Time Dilemma)

AI: The Somnium Files (There are currently two games in this series, AITSF and AITSF: Nirvana Initiative. Zero Escape and Somnium Files are basically required to play after Danganronpa. I said what I said: the storytelling is better)

Code: Realize (The best storytelling of all otome games, hands down. Do not watch the anime: it sucks. The first game is the best and really the only one you need to play. The other two games have okay side stories and are mostly romantic continuations of the first game's routes)

Collar x Malice

Cupid Parasite (mostly for the last two routes, though: if you're using a walkthrough guide. Generally much lighter than your usual otome...save for the last two routes that serve to break you.)

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (you could watch both seasons of the original anime if you really want to, but the games are better)

Umineko no Naku Koro ni (Note: please keep in mind this was written 10+ years ago in Japan, especially when you get to the Big Reveals in the final game. There are Some Takes that would go over poorly today. Like Code: Realize, do not watch the anime: IT SUCKS.)

Spirit Hunter: Death Mark

Spirit Hunter: NG (You don't technically have to play Death Mark first but it makes one of the endings far more impactful if you do!)

Honorable mentions:

Hakuoki (so many routes, so very long! But if you like Japanese history around this time, you may like this)

Olympia Soiree (good on the more mature content, bad on some of the LIs giving me pause like 'this is not a good romance idea')

Amnesia: Memories (I'm not a fan of the female main character or two of the LIs. At all.)

Piofiore (Similar complaints as Amnesia.)

#more-than-a-princess answered #more-than-a-princess musings #(Doing a Munday post today for my daily queued offering!)#(I've wanted a place to write down everything I recommend to read/watch/play and this ask was a great place for it)#(Thank you anon!)#(I'll link this in my bio too for future reference)#(LMK if you end up loving anything from this list!)

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twistedtummies2 · 4 months

Text

Year of the Bat - Number 27

Welcome to Year of the Bat! In honor of Kevin Conroy, Arleen Sorkin, and Richard Moll, I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Episodes of “Batman: The Animated Series” throughout this January. TODAY’S EPISODE QUOTE: “Live from Gotham City! The show that nobody wants to see, but everyone will watch!” Number 27 is…Christmas With the Joker.

Our previous entry was the highly depressing “Growing Pains,” which many – myself included – consider one of the darkest and most disturbing episodes of the series. In stark contrast, “Christmas With the Joker” is widely regarded as one of the silliest…perhaps to a fault, many would argue. In all sincerity, I’ve always found it ASTONISHING that, apparently, not a lot of people actually like this episode! This includes the show’s creators: according to Bruce Timm, in particular, the creative team behind B:TAS had a really hard time figuring out their take on the Joker. His first two or three appearances, in Timm’s opinion, were sub-par to what came later. And of those three earlier outings, “Christmas With the Joker” – the Clown Prince of Crimes very first appearance – seems to be considered the worst of the bunch. I will never understand this, to be perfectly honest, because – in my opinion – this probably one of Mr. J.’s BEST outings, and is as traditional around Christmastime for me as any version of “A Christmas Carol” or “The Nutcracker” may be. I absolutely LOVE this episode. Is it dark or complex? Not especially. Does it really do anything to expand on the Joker as a character? Not really. Is it a lot of fun to watch? HELL. YES. Honestly, for a first outing for the Joker, a Christmas-themed story may seem like a bizarre choice, but the creative decisions made are just absolute and pure “Joker,” and help to establish this character and his whole persona beautifully. The premise is as follows: after escaping from Arkham Asylum via a rocket-powered Christmas Tree (oh, don’t pretend you don’t have one of THOSE kicking around somewhere), the Joker kidnaps Commissioner Gordon, Harvey Bullock, and reporter Summer Gleeson. He then hijacks Gotham’s TV station signals, to broadcast “the first annual Christmas With the Joker” holiday special! Via television, the Ace of Knaves poses the following challenge to Batman: if he can find the Joker’s hideout and save the hostages before midnight, the Joker will give him a special “Christmas gift.” Otherwise, the three victims will be dunked into the traditional Yuletide vat of acid. (Again, don’t pretend you don’t have one of those somewhere.) Batman must thus try to find the Joker’s lair, all while the Joker – as part of the “entertainment” for his Christmas special – starts causing chaos all around Gotham City and its environs. What I love about this whole thing is how “Joker” it all feels, as I said before. To make a long story short, if the Joker was going to put on a Christmas special, this is EXACTLY how I would expect it to go down. I also love the utter randomness of the villainy he perpetrates here: he doesn’t seem to have any particular REASON to do all this, he’s just causing chaos because…well…it’s what he does! He’s the Joker! I also love the twist about Batman’s “Christmas Present”: a couple times in the episode, the Joker teases that he’s planning to give the Caped Crusader a “special gift,” and of course, we’re expecting something horrible. Some kind of trap, an ambush, a bomb, etc. And what does it turn out to be? A pie in the face. Yep. Just…a pie in the face. It’s not even laced with cyanide, or acid, it’s…just…a pie in the face. I’m gonna be honest…that might the most Joker-ish thing the Joker does in the ENTIRE SERIES. He goes through all this trouble and does so many terrible things – kidnapping people, hijacking television signals, blowing up bridges, spraying bullets and rockets willy-nilly, creating giant killer robots, and so on – and all of this, ALL OF THIS, is just for the chance to hopefully bean Batman in the face with a cream pie. It does not get much more Joker than that: “I will cause mass panic and attempt to sew random death on a scale untold, and I am going to do it with style and panache…literally just so I can mess with you and get a few good laughs.” Again, why don’t more people like this episode? XD

Tomorrow we move on to Number 26! Hint: “They’ll never slip past me again.”

#list #countdown #best #favorites #new year's special #year of the bat #top 31 btas episodes #btas #batman: the animated series #dcau #dc #batman #animation #tv #number 27 #christmas with the joker #joker

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tameodesza · 1 year

Text

Birthday Boy (BretShawn)

AO3 link | masterlist

Bret takes care of a drunk Shawn on his birthday

“Do you think these earrings look better? Or should I put on the ones I had on earlier?”

It was the third time Shawn had changed his earrings, this time wearing the diamond studs Bret had gifted him earlier in the day.

Bret leaned on the wall, legs crossed and arms folded as he watched fondly as Shawn further scrutinized his appearance in the hallway mirror. “You look beautiful.”

Shawn’s eyes shifted from his earrings to Bret’s eyes in the mirror, frowning as he whined, “That’s not what I asked.”

It was Shawn’s 33rd birthday, and the blond didn’t look a day over 25 in Bret’s opinion, an opinion that Shawn strongly disagreed with.

Bret pushed himself off the wall, walking up behind Shawn before snugly wrapping his arms around the younger man. He whispered, “They look good, Shawn.”

Shawn gave a soft smile, reaching a hand up to pet Bret’s head affectionately. “You said that about the last pair, too.”

“That’s because you look good in anything.”

Shawn tilted his head back slightly to give Bret a peck, narrowing his eyes before asking, “You’re not just saying that because you’re my husband, are you?”

That got a chuckle out of Bret. “No, you look good. Seriously.”

He really did. Shawn had his hair down and was wearing a light leather jacket, black pants, a black choker, and the cherry on top was his mesh black shirt that left nothing to the imagination, his belly button ring shining proudly through the sheer material. It was an outfit that made Bret want to keep Shawn all to himself.

That was originally the plan.

Bret had spent the day spoiling Shawn with various gifts and affection – two of Shawn’s favorite things. And he’d planned on making the night special for Shawn as well, but plans changed when the blond received a call from Hunter a few hours ago. Apparently, the ‘kliq’ was in town and wanted to take Shawn out that night for his birthday.

Bret continued, “I just wish that you were dressing like this for me, instead.”

Bret’s not the jealous type, but he was unashamed to admit that he wished Shawn had turned down the invite. Bret had just returned home the day before from being on the road, making it just in time for Shawn’s birthday, and aside from celebrating having another year with Shawn, he wanted to make up for lost time.

Those plans flew out the window now that Shawn’s friends were on the way. However, despite his bitterness towards the situation, the excitement radiating off of Shawn was well-worth seeing. It’d been awhile since the blond had seen all of his friends at once – Hunter, Kevin, Scott, and Sean – so Shawn was giddy with glee as he got ready for the night.

As much as Bret tried to hide it, Shawn was pretty insightful and knew his husband was a little bothered, which didn’t sit right with him.

Shawn turned in Bret’s arms to face him, bringing up his arms to wrap them around Bret’s shoulders. “You should come out with us.”

Bret looked up past Shawn’s head to see that the time on the clock was approaching 10:45PM. He sneered, “It’s about my bedtime.”

Shawn burst out laughing saying, “Right. I forgot I married an old man.”

“Hey,” Bret said defensively, lightly pinching Shawn’s waist in retaliation. “You better be glad it’s your birthday.”

“Or what,” Shawn asked mischievously.

Bret’s comment was interrupted by the sound of a loud car horn honking obnoxiously.

“That must be them,” said Shawn, detaching himself from Bret before walking to the front door to put on the black boots he’d left there.

Bret followed behind Shawn, watching him struggle to pull his boots on, somberly asking, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?”

Shawn huffed in triumph as he got the first boot on, moving to put on the second one as he answered, “My friends are outside, babe. I can’t bail now.”

Bret fidgeted, rubbing a hand awkwardly on his neck as he uttered, “Yeah, well, I know…but I heard it’s going to be pretty cold out there tonight. You hate the cold, remember?”

Shawn paused, answering monotonously, “Bret…it’s July. Even Canada’s forgiving in the summer. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“But I won’t be.”

Finally done with his boots, Shawn looked up, catching the frown Bret was sporting. He smiled to himself as he stood up, walking towards Bret and wrapping his arms around the older man’s shoulders as he said, “Aww, are you going to miss me?”

Bret sighed, wrapping his arms around Shawn’s waist. “Of course. I always do.”

They were interrupted by another string of loud honks followed by Hunter faintly yelling, “Come on, birthday boy! We don’t have all night!”

Shawn rolled his eyes at the front door before turning his attention back to Bret. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

As soon as Shawn had ended his phone call with Hunter earlier, he’d been quick to invite Bret out with them. Being surrounded by his friends and his husband seemed like a perfect way to end his night.

However, Bret swiftly shut down the idea. Although Shawn’s friends were a bit more…tolerable these days compared to when he’d first met Shawn, Bret wasn’t friends with any of them, his closest relationship being with Hunter who was more of an acquaintance only because he interacted with him the most.

Besides, he knew the men were expecting Shawn only, and Bret didn’t want to be a third (sixth?) wheel to the group.

He shook his head, turning down Shawn’s invite yet again. “I don’t want to intrude-”

“Fuck them. It’s about what I want today. If you want to come, I want you there.”

Bret couldn’t help but smile in appreciation at Shawn. The younger man always put his feelings first, not caring who he’d offend as long as Bret was ok, his husband always being his priority.

However, Bret didn’t want to hover over Shawn. He wanted the man to know he could enjoy himself without Bret having to be around, looking over his shoulder. It was important to him that Shawn felt like he was free to do whatever he wanted.

He’d already spent most of the day with Shawn anyway, and he had a few more things planned for him the next day. So he could survive a few hours without Shawn – not that he wanted to.

“It’s ok,” Bret reassured. “Go have fun with your friends. I’ll see you when you get back, ok?”

“Ok,” Shawn said hesitantly. He really didn’t want to leave Bret alone, but the man was adamant that he was fine. So Shawn gave Bret a quick kiss before stepping away, opening the front door as he exclaimed, “I’m coming!”

It certainly was a wild night.

Instead of heading off to bed, Bret stayed up all night waiting for Shawn. Although he knew Shawn was in good hands, he couldn’t sleep comfortably worrying about his husband’s wellbeing. He tried distracting himself with a movie, and when that didn’t work, he called Owen. But their phone call didn’t last as long as he’d liked it to since his little brother had his own family to tend to.

Bret had taken a nap at one point on the living room couch, losing the battle against sleep as his drowsiness settled in.

He wasn’t sure how long his nap was, but he was startled awake by the sound of a fist banging on the front door. Shawn must’ve forgotten his key, Bret thought to himself.

He let out a yawn as he groggily sat up, wiping his bleary eyes as he checked the time – 3:50 AM. Despite the late hour, Bret got off the couch with a bit of a pep in his step, ready to have his husband in his arms safe and sound.

What he didn’t expect to see when he opened the door was Hunter standing there struggling to hold up an obviously wasted Shawn, one arm slung haphazardly onto Hunter’s shoulders as he hung off the man with dead weight.

“I believe this belongs to you,” said Hunter, avoiding eye contact with Bret, it being awkward since the older man answered the door in only his boxers.

Bret took in the sight of Shawn, slightly irritated that Shawn’s friends allowed him to get this intoxicated, but he kept his comments to himself.

“I’ll take it from here,” said Bret, grabbing Shawn as Hunter carefully motioned the man forward.

“There you go, Shawn” Hunter said as Shawn latched himself onto Bret, smiling in content once he realized he was with his husband. “Can you have him call me later on once he’s rested,” Hunter asked Bret.

Bret had an intrusive thought to slam the door in Hunter’s face but decided against it. “Sure.”

Hunter nodded awkwardly, backing away as he said, “I’ll be going now. Take care of him, please.” There goes that intrusive thought again. “See you, Shawn.”

Shawn barely grumbled a response, too engrossed in being wrapped around Bret.

Bret closed the door, struggling a bit as Shawn stumbled along with him. Bret smiled slightly as he placed a gentle hand on Shawn’s face, the blond closing his eyes as Bret lightly stroked his cheek. “Did you have fun,” Bret asked.

Shawn nodded slowly, prompting Bret to ask, “Too much to drink?”

Shawn nodded again, letting out a deep breath as he leaned more of his body weight onto Bret.

Bret slowly walked the two of them towards the living room, cautious not to move too fast so Shawn wouldn’t trip. “Want to tell me about your night,” he asked softly.

Shawn gave a brief recap, slightly slurring as he said, “We bar hopped. Kevin got into a fight. And we ended up at a strip club.”

Bret paused their movement, lifting a brow as he asked, “A strip club?” The fact that Bret cared more about the strip club than Kevin getting into a fight spoke wonders.

Shawn looked up at Bret, snickering at his expression as he answered, “I was hungry, and they have good wings there.”

Bret asked jokingly, “Is that all you enjoyed there?”

Shawn smirked, resting his head in the crook of Bret’s neck, mumbling, “The strippers were women, so there was nothing for me to enjoy except the wings. Hunter enjoyed it though. Why?” He lifted his head, hovering his lips over Bret’s asking, “Are you jealous?”

Bret grinned, “Seeing as you like men, no.”

“Good,” said Shawn as he smiled lazily at Bret, struggling to keep his eyes open. “I missed you,” he whispered, leaning down to nuzzle his nose into Bret’s neck before sticking out his tongue, licking and kissing on a certain sensitive area on the side of Bret’s neck that he knew would get the man aroused.

Bret let out a breathy, “Shawn,” wondering how they’d escalated so quickly to this point.

Instead of answering, Shawn lifted his head, backing Bret into the nearest wall before planting his lips onto Bret’s, making out sloppily with only one thing in mind, his hand hastily traveling down to Bret’s boxer’s.

Unfortunately for Shawn, that was what it took to snap Bret out of whatever spell Shawn had him under. Bret, albeit very turned on, stopped Shawn in his tracks, grabbing the blond’s wrist as he said breathlessly, “No. You’re drunk.”

Shawn sank in disappointment, pouting as he pinched Bret’s left ass cheek, causing the man to jump. “But it’s my birthday, Bret. I at least want to have birthday sex. You promised.”

Bret had indeed promised Shawn earlier that day that he would get said birthday sex. But that was before the kliq decided to get his husband so drunk to the point that he could barely hold himself up without leaning on someone for support. Bret needed to take care of him, and although he knew Shawn wouldn’t mind, Bret didn’t want to take advantage of him.

However, Shawn could be very convincing.

“No, Sh-shawn,” Bret stuttered as Shawn continued his antics, grinding onto Bret as he worked on giving the man a hickey.

Bret groaned, fighting temptation as the bulge in his boxers grew more evident. The last of his sanity dissipated when Shawn reached his hand down again, this time successfully stroking Bret through his underwear.

No longer able to resist, Bret switched their positions, pinning Shawn against the wall as he slammed his lips onto the blond’s, ravishing his mouth with no remorse, tasting the liquor that still lingered on Shawn’s tongue.

Shawn happily reciprocated, moaning in pleasure as Bret’s hands roamed his body, pressing both of them closer. Shawn couldn’t help grinning, knowing he was getting what he wanted as always when it came to Bret.

Sadly, their heated kiss didn’t last as the reality of the situation hit.

Shawn was panting heavily, Bret’s kisses now traveling down to his neck, when he felt a sudden rush come up his throat – a feeling he knew all too well.

In a panic, he quickly broke away from Bret, stumbling as he ran towards the downstairs bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before hurling everything he’d consumed that night.

There goes those wings.

Stunned by the sudden movement, Bret frantically followed behind Shawn. As soon as he saw why Shawn had to urgently make a beeline to the bathroom, Bret was overtaken by immense guilt and disappointment in himself as a husband. Instead of letting lust take over, he knew he should have tended to Shawn as soon as the man walked in the front door.

Bret kneeled next to Shawn, pulling the blond’s hair away from his face and holding it in place with one hand as he rubbed gentle circles on Shawn’s back with his other hand. “Let it all out. There you go,” he coaxed.

Shawn went at it for a little longer before spitting out the last of it, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He let out a deep breath, sitting up in clear exhaustion. “That was so not sexy.”

Even in a time like this, Shawn always found time to joke around. Bret pulled his hand away from Shawn’s hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear as he said, “You’ll always be sexy to me. Throw up and all.”

Shawn wrinkled his nose, “That’s gross.”

Continuing his strokes on Shawn’s back, Bret asked, “Are you ok?”

Shawn nodded, placing his head in one of his hands as he felt a headache coming on. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Knowing that Shawn was ok, Bret decided to bring up something that was really bugging him. “Why did your friends allow you to drink so much?”

Head still in his hand, Shawn turned slightly to look at Bret, “Hey, don’t be mad at them, ok? They just wanted to make sure I was having a good time. And to be fair, Hunter did tell me to slow down, but I didn’t listen. I have no one to blame but myself.”

Bret quirked a brow, asking, “So, it’s your fault you’re like this?”

Shawn rubbed at his face, groaning as he pleaded, “Babe, can we talk about this later? I can’t think straight right now.”

Shawn was right, Bret concluded judging by the miserable look Shawn was giving him. He did intend on talking to him about his drinking habits, but it’d have to wait.

“Ok, come on,” said Bret as he stood up, helping Shawn do the same. “Let me take care of you.”

Shawn stood up sluggishly, leaning against Bret as he asked, “So no sex?”

Bret shook his head no, amused that sex was still on Shawn’s mind after what had just happened. Shawn whined as Bret led them upstairs to their bedroom.

Bret helped Shawn wash up, brush his teeth, and slip on his pjs before helping him settle into bed. Of course, Shawn didn’t give up trying to seduce Bret in the process, still adamant on having birthday sex on his actual birthday.

However, as soon as Shawn’s head hit the sheets, he was out like a light.

a/n: Shawn’s outfit insp lol 🫣

#divider cr: @saradika #househusband!au #shawn michaels #bret hart #bret hart x shawn michaels #hartbreak #triple h #the kliq #wwf #wwe fanfiction #alternate universe #wrote this fic instead of studying oop-#👀#justice for Shawn #no bday sex on his actual bday is a crime #he makes sure Bret never forgets

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mcgnussen · 1 year

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every day i come to this site and find new bullshit about haas. while i love being on here, it’s also extremely draining to see all these half truths and rumours being spread around as fact. this is going to be the last post i make about mick and haas. i am so done with this subject.

the new thing is that apparently mick found out in a hotel lobby that he would no longer be driving for haas. we can all agree that is not the optimal setting if this is true. however, what was mentioned in the same article that people purposefully ignore is that there apparently was never any negotiation between haas and mick at all. if there were no negotiations, mick has known for a long time that he would not get the seat.

funnily enough, i can actually use my own life as an example for once. the contract i have with my workplace is up november 30th and they have not approached me about extending said contract. i have used my common sense to figure out that the contract is not going to get extended and my last day at work will be november 30th. i am not getting fired, the contract is just up. imagine how deluded i would be if i came into work december 1st and then claimed “well, you never technically fired me, so i still work here, right?” you cannot get a seat without negotiating with the team. f1 does not work like that, ordinary life does not work like that.

the whole haas-mick timeline makes no sense if you believe all the rumours. apparently at first it was claimed that haas stopped mick from negotiating with williams because they kept dangling the haas seat in front of him, but now we are all told that mick and haas never negotiated at all, but also somehow guenther mercilessly told him in a hotel lobby... despite the fact mick has never been promised anything at all since they did not negotiate? it makes absolutely no sense.

luna christofi, the danish reporter who has followed haas closely for a long time because of kevin, has said that the reason the announcement came late was because guenther hoped mick would find another seat somewhere, so mick could announce being part of a new team before haas announced nico. he was basically waiting to sign officially with nico for that reason. and it’s pretty shitty if he did that to help mick out while all the stans have been going around and claiming he did not care.

in my opinion, based on all these rumours and half truths flying around, i think mick engaged in a game of chicken with haas. he saw that every other seat available was given to someone else. i think he definitely did try and get them, but ultimately lost out to other drivers. haas did not negotiate with him. so instead, mick kept on and hoped for the best. but he saw the writing on the wall a long time ago, his management must have done so too. guenther tried to protect mick’s reputation by pretending haas did consider keeping him to the media, but then had a hard time officially telling mick, so it ended up becoming this rushed end-of-season announcement.

should guenther just have bitten the bullet and told everyone that mick was out during the summer break? yeah, i think so. it would have been some awkward months, but at least we all would have known and there would be no room for misunderstandings and spin. however, don’t forget that guenther did actually tell us that no negotiating was taking place. he said months ago that the two camps were not talking about a new contract and haas really wanted to know what mick’s plans were. all of this line up with the timeline and reasons luna provided. and should mick have done more to not get himself in this situation? absolutely. i think it was a strategic move from mick’s management to have played it like they have. i am also very aware all these rumours and half truths all come from german media, which i do not think is a coincidence at all. don’t forget that getting dropped from a team is bad for your career. mick and his management have good reasons for wishing to control the narrative of mick’s departure from haas.

#mick schumacher #haas f1 team

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renyerokami · 4 months

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domestic problems venting

I can be having a good/meh/ok day home alone. and then my partner comes home and I say one thing wrong. not even thinking that it could be something that could be taken badly, and my night is ruined. because if I apologize for upsetting him it's "overacting" or "turning him into the bad guy" and I'm "being too much" around him after he's had a bad day. which half the time I don't even know he's had a rough time because he won't have spoken to me at all while he's at work. so then I have to spend the rest of the night being completely neutral while not being too obvious in my body language, or tone, or anything that I'm at all upset. because that will only make things worse. the best I can hope for is that he will ignore me the rest of the night. most likely there will be a panic attack and I'll be left scrambling for how best to help him when I now don't have the emotional energy left to want to. and at worst he'll find something to get angry about, start a fight/start yelling at me, and then leave me with the silent treatment for a few days (which can happen after a panic attack too but usually without the aura of hostility).

today for me started off with not having the energy to leave bed until after 10am, then sitting around in decision paralysis until 2pm. finally opening the game that I had been planning to play all day and then my Partner started messaging me to figure out dinner. in there was a single mention of "I'd really rather not run to Walmart, I'm having enough issues today". that was the only notice I had that things weren't ok for him. he asked me to bring down a shirt when he got home and when I did I started talking about what I found out while playing BG3. he says "thanks for the spoilers" and I stopped and apologized. I just get excited when I learn things and I wanted to share it. but then he told me to stop "overplaying my sorrow and start making dinner". in hindsight i should have seen that as him being overstressed but i thought he was just mad about the spoilers. with him there isnt much difference in outward show. but that the last words he spoke to me. instead he ranted loudly in the shower for a while and then went silent to me when he got out. 2 hours later I got this discord message:

I can't tell you how much I genuinely want to believe you give one flying fuck about me anymore. I said I'd been having a lot of issues today and apparently out right saying it isn't even enough to get something resembling legitimate care or concern from you. When you came into the bathroom to give me my shirt I could feel the exhaustion and misery on my face so I can only imagine it must have been pretty noticeable. What did you give me? A smile, a slight chuckle, and then you started going off about meaningless bullshit. You couldn't even be bothered to give me a hug or ask me how I was doing/what was wrong. Honestly, it fucking hurt. It hurt a lot and this is just one part in an ever growing pattern of behavior that I have tried to make you aware of and you've shown little to no sign that you are, or even care to, work on it. The best I get are seemingly empty platitudes of " I'm going to talk about it in therapy" or "I'm working on that woth Kevin", but there never seems to be any signs of actual progress, so I'm left to question if you are actually doing any of what you are saying you are doing, or just feeding me lies that you think I want to hear. I don't expect you to be perfect and get it right everytime I'm feeling down or have had a bad day, but honestly it doesn't even feel like you try to support me anymore, and that really stings because I have been working really hard and putting in an honest effort into fixing my shit so I can be a better person, not just for myself, but for you and everyone else I give a damn about.

Now I feel like complete shit because I didn't notice that he was having a bad day. and I've been doing nothing but support him for the past 14 years. yes things got rough a couple years ago when I needed him to help me too, when my own mental health couldn't handle things anymore during the pandemic. but through all of the struggles I have been there for him as best as I could. and I am working on things in therapy, but when even simple things can get taken the wrong way or a missed phrase in a message can lead to being ripped to shreds it leaves me feeling like the best way I can fix things is by removing myself. because I can't mess things up if I'm not around to.

#just needed to put this somewhere #mental health #feeling like a failure #I won't actually do anything #I'm to much of a coward to #but it doesn't keep my brain from telling me it's the only way to make the pain stop

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raymondebidochonlifechoices · 2 years

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To summarise:

Welcome to Riverdale, the town where you can’t stop progress. The secret, of course, is not to make any, to begin with.

The episode starts with Betty taking off her sunglasses as a reminder of her superpower. Don’t worry, Riverdale, we haven’t forgotten.

Remember how Archie couldn’t help Tabitha because he had his ass handed to him by Percival? That was last week. This week he can in fact go against Percival. Emboldened by their 6x10 failure, Barchie and Jabitha talk about staging a “coup de town”.

Alice overhears them and tells Percival, who implements a curfew at sundown on the pretext of foggy weather.

Instead of moving their meeting re: the coup before sundown, our heroes decide to a) postpone it and b) ignore the curfew anyway. No comment.

Time Alert: it was not yet September when Hiram’s bomb exploded but as per Betty’s calendar it’s now January 15th. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, everybody!

Side note: I too use a huge-ass wall calendar in my office to mark down my period.

Not.

Now that he’s a deputy, I didn’t expect to see Kevin in RHS and yet there he is, at the teachers’ lounge, sans uniform, ready to drink some coffee. Either those RHS coffee machines make a mean cup of joe or Kevin’s still part-time teaching sex-ed at RHS.

Toni and Kevin have a face-off on the subject of Baby Anthony and what his parents’ lifestyle choices should be. It’s Riverdale, so said choices are: gang membership or compulsive cruising. Kevin is still not related to either the baby or the baby’s parents, so this debate is Moose. Sorry, moot.

Penelope is back! After she was banished from Thornhill, she travelled the world searching for sanctuary and eventually found herself in the Himalayas, at the original convent of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Unlike me, Madelaine Petsch is a professional actress who can sip her tea without spit-taking. Kudos.

Penelope is Penelope, therefore, instead of the Dalai Lama, in the Himalayas she found Jesus. She understands that, after all the gaslighting, her daughter’s skeptical, but she goes on with her plan. 1 riverdollar says she’s gaslighting Cheryl again.

Much like Martin Luther King’s assassination, Hiram’s bomb is a fixed point in time, which means that Jughead cannot get his hearing back through Tabitha changing the timeline. Not that it matters: he seems to be doing just fine after that ASL teacher inspired him to learn how to draw back in 6x7. Woke Stories.

Betty opens her front door to go to Archie’s house and sees someone lurking. He doesn’t emit a red aura but the head of Riverdale’s F.B.I. office and catcher of multiple serial killers is spooked. Therefore, she decides to use the back door. To go to Archie’s house. Which is … across from her own. Like … what’s the difference, Yale girl?

Barchie don’t have anything else to say after greeting each other, so they hop into bed for some sex. (Note: after rebuilding his house, Archie is still staying at his childhood room under the roof)

Barchie’s afterglow talk includes: questioning whether they’re dating or not and the fact that Betty’s late. Barchie’s baby talk must be the world’s most awkward segue to serial killer-induced trauma.

Archie mentions Fred, which I take to be Varchie foreshadowing: after all, partners who are obsessed with their daddykins together, get back together.

Meanwhile, back at Pop’s, Jabitha have defied Percival’s curfew by keeping the Diner open for no reason at all.

Tabitha is upset because Jughead, who now hears thoughts instead of sounds, read her mind. That’s an invasion of privacy! (Also, the only way the writers could think of introducing a new plot point: what is Tabitha hiding from Jughead??)

Fresh Stories™: The narrative of serial killers appreciating Betty’s Darkness™ returns.

Nothing spells romance like a good dismemberment story. Twenty-two episodes after the first mention of TBK back in 5x4, we finally learn what happened to Betty while she was held hostage by him. Apparently, he gave her an electric carving knife and told her to dismember a dead body, which is a bit disappointing: I expected him to give her the chainsaw. Baby steps, I guess.

Armed with a deadly weapon, F.B.I. trainee and all-around badass Betty Cooper, instead of going after TBK, dismembered the body. Ok.

Archie wonders why he’s in Riverdale. He must be getting even denser, as he says it’s because he wants to raise a family there. I, however, remember it’s because General Taylor sent him back to manage the RROTC program at RHS.

He assures Betty that he’s not going anywhere. We know this is true, because he told Veronica exactly the same thing in 5x18: like bad writing, Archie is never leaving Riverdale.

In the Babylonium there’s another couple that doesn’t care about Percival’s curfew: Veggie play strip poker in front of daddykins’ portrait and then have sex in one of the champagne suites. They proceed to have the only real adult conversation in the show ever since the time-jump and call it quits for fear of perpetuating their parents’ toxic dynamics. If Riverdale is good at one thing, that is spelling things out.

Back at Pop’s the 6-figure CEO from Chicago doesn’t have enough gas for the diner’s generator. While Jughead wonders around the parking lot with an empty tank, Tabitha listens to the phone call that saved Barchie from Hiram’s bomb on a ham radio, because … why not?

Everybody’s got candles but no one, NO ONE, like Cheryl Blossom. Penelope gives Cheryl the letters Heather, her junior high school belle, sent her. She admits she hated Cheryl because of internalized homophobia. This actually tracks: in Riverdale, all the fathers are douches and dead and all the mothers are douches and gay. Except from FP, who is a douche, alive and probably gay too.

At the Fogarty-Topaz residence, Fangs and Toni eat some tostitos. This also tracks: Doritos are for legends only. Man, I miss Hiram.

Fangs wants Baby Anthony to be raised the same way that he and Toni were. Which, I surmise, means, with a sick mother for whose medicine he’d have to pay by selling fizzle rocks (like Fangs) and a homophobic uncle who would lock him out of the trailer (like Toni). Oooookay.

You won’t effing believe it but Kevin and Moose are also violating Percival’s curfew by being at school after sundown. Kevin still works as a teacher at RHS after all. He says that the deputy stuff is a part-time job but the fact that he was unaware that Moose is the new PE teacher, makes me think it’s the other way around.

Fangs’ ex asks Fangs’ ex if he got back together with his ex. (That would be Fangs). They didn’t, so they decide to put the ‘ex’ in ‘sex’.

Meanwhile, Fangs is mad that Kevin hasn’t come by the house as promised. He wants to go out and find him but instead stays at home to make out with Toni.

Back at the Diner, Jabitha also make out share a hug.

While everyone -but Jabitha- had been fornicating, Percival made a coup of his own and became mayor of Riverdale. Thanks for giving him the idea in the first place, Archibald. If this isn’t the biggest incentive about contraception, I don’t know what is.

Tabitha says she has time-travelled 1.384 times. Off-screen, of course - the show’s budget is limited. No wonder Jabitha don’t have any sex. Girl must be exhausted!

She says they manage to beat Percival twice but Jughead always dies. Jughead, who has died and come back quite a few times, remains unbothered by the news. For good measure, he hugs Tabitha again.

Toffee was also on a ham radio contacting her accountant. Her candle making side hustle is doing really well and she’s searching for new investment opportunities.

#Riverdale season 6 spoilers #Riverdale season 6 #s6 recaps #my goal for s6 is to give Toffee as many side gigs as Archie

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michaelmilligan · 2 years

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Endversetober Day 24: Home

(explanation post) (compilation post)

It took a while before Michael and Adam had recovered enough to get out of bed, and then some more time until they managed to do anything more exhausting than to walk a few paces.

Comparatively, the recovery was quick, of course. They had broken so many bones that most at the camp had believed they would never stand up again at all.

Still, for Michael, it was a very slow and difficult process. Adam tended to agree, though at this point he had practice with just hanging out in the back of his own mind and waiting for things to happen.

By now, Adam had introduced himself to the people at the camp, and had given them a brief outline of who Michael and him were. At first, a lot of people didn't seem to believe them, but as time went on, they could see the difference between them, clear as day.

Michael's posture was different, Kevin had told Adam once, so he could spot if it was him even when he had his back turned to him. That plus the different ways they acted, down to the way they talked, eventually convinced people that they were separate people.

Whether or not they believed that Michael was a supernatural being differed from person to person. Some seemed to think Adam just had a split personality.

Adam didn't argue with them. If they didn't want to believe in angels, that probably fell under religious freedom or whatever.

One day, though, it got more difficult to ignore the theological implications in the room. It was the day that more survivors walked into the camp.

Angel survivors, to be precise.

Raphael was the one who asked to speak to the leader, which made people lead them to Rufus's cabin. They talked for quiet a bit in there, angels and humans loitering outside, throwing each other wary looks.

Gabriel had stayed outside with the others, possibly to keep them calm, since he was busy mingling with his own, and obviously trying to draw them into conversation with the humans.

At some point, he dragged Samandriel over to a group of people Adam stood close to.

Upon noticing him, Gabriel seemed to forget he still had a hand around Samandriel's arm, and just blinked at Adam. “Michael?” he asked incredulously.

“No. I mean, yeah, technically, but not right now.” Adam sighed. “Hang on a second.”

To everyone's credit, they only flinched a little bit as Michael and Adam traded control. Apparently, with Michael's grace still low, their eyes didn't flash so much as they rolled back into their head.

It was a neat party trick, Adam supposed, though he could have lived without children running away from him screaming.

“Gabriel.” Michael looked his brother up and down, eyes coming to rest on the sad excuse for wings that were just barely visible to him anymore. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” Gabriel said sarcastically. “Where the hell have you been?”

The other angels, who must have heard their commander's name, drew closer. In turn, the humans started backing away.

“Incapacitated,” Michael said, and glanced at Samandriel. “I'm sure you know the feeling by now.”

Gabriel nodded seriously. “Something is wrong. Even our powers are failing.”

“Heaven is closed to us. Our connection to our Father...” Michael broke off, shaking his head.

“I haven't been connected to Heaven for a long time, and I was always fine,” Gabriel argued. “But now... it's like someone turned off the tap. The well is running dry. We're out of gas in the middle of a-”

“I get it,” Michael interrupted his brother's rambling. On second thought, Gabriel looked a bit frantic, the measly remains of his wings twitching erratically.

“Can we stay here?” an angel asked anxiously, stepping forward.

As Michael fixed his eyes on them, a pang of sadness echoed through his grace. There was still a glimmer of something non-human in his brethren, but it was so weak he had trouble making out who this even was.

“That's not my decision,” Michael simply said, much to the chagrin of the group.

“Well, will you ask them for us?” someone else asked hotly.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Raphael is already doing that.”

They just want to know you're on their side, Adam told him. They're scared, they need to know someone is taking care of them.

Raphael is, Michael said curtly.

It was still weird that his voice was so small, no longer the booming voice of an archangel. Still undeniably Michael, though.

You were their leader for centuries, right?

Millions of years, actually.

Oh, okay. Wow. Um... you think maybe they're used to you calling the shots, so now they're looking to you to call the shots?

Probably.

Adam sighed. And are you gonna take that responsibility, or are you gonna be a little bitch about it?

I'm not a- I don't have to listen to this, Michael grumbled.

You kinda do. With Michael being so weak right now, he couldn't just keep Adam down. Not that he'd ever really done that, except during his fighting frenzy, which had probably been unintentional. But he could have, at any time during their acquaintance, and there was practically nothing Adam could have done to prevent it.

Now, it would be an almost even struggle.

“Don't mind him, he's just being a stubborn ass,” Gabriel told the congregation at large, just as Adam and Michael traded control again.

“I'll put in a good word for you.”

Gabriel looked at him suspiciously, searching his face until he apparently found something. “And who are you?”

“Adam.” He extended his hand, but Gabriel didn't take it. “I'm the original owner of this body. You know. Before the archangel rented it out. Grew it myself for nineteen years.”

Actually, your body is a reconstruction. Your brothers burned the original one, Michael said.

“Damn, for real?” Adam asked, then realized he'd said that out loud. “Uh, I mean... if Rufus is being difficult, I can ask him to reconsider. Or I'll ask Linda, and she'll yell at Rufus until he caves.”

Gabriel looked him up and down. “You know everyone in this camp?”

“Uh, yeah? We kinda live here now.”

“I mean, like... Michael lets you out?”

Adam shrugged. “Not like he's got that much of a choice anymore. But also, yeah, he's been doing that. Occasionally. He always makes me do kitchen duty. Potato skins are like, his mortal enemy.”

It's beneath me to peel a stupid veget-

Yeah, yeah. And it's not because you cut yourself on the first try, I know.

Michael pouted. With his emotions being a lot less overwhelming to experience now, just like his voice, you would expect that they would be far more clearer cut. Instead, they seemed to be a bit more vague, more muddled.

But Adam could still recognize a pout when he felt one.

He would have teased Michael about it if Rufus hadn't chosen that moment to come back out of the cabin with Raphael.

“Attention, everyone!” Conversations died down as people turned towards him, humans and angels alike. “Raphael here has explained to me what the situation is. These people are basically refugees, in some – hell, in pretty much every sense of the world. I'm sure you have more questions-” Rufus' voice became louder as murmuring started up “- and Raphael has agreed to answer them in a public forum. But for now, how about we get these guys put up in some of the empty cabins, yeah?”

“There's too many!” someone from the human side of the crowd shouted.

“They can share. Apparently they don't need much sleep or food, so space and supply shouldn't be much of a problem. Think... you know, think Michael and Adam, times twenty or whatever.”

There was more murmuring, but there were also some nods, as several people seemed to accept the situation.

“Where's the rest, anyway?” Adam asked Gabriel while Rufus divided everyone into groups to organize the integration of the angels. “There's a lot more angels than the guys you brought, right?”

“We're not actually sure where they are. I mean... some died.” Gabriel watched grimly as people scampered off to clean and repair the unused cabins. “Others, we lost contact with when our powers started fading. And then some... I don't know.”

He straightened as Raphael motioned for him to come over, and then he walked off. Looking after him, Adam could feel Michael's contemplative mood.

Did he regret leaving his brethren behind in favour of burning himself out killing zombies? Or was he just wondering how this would all play out, now that he was reunited with them?

Whichever it was, Adam would be there to talk it through with him. Not that he had much of a choice in the whole 'being there' thing – just as Michael wouldn't have much of a choice in the 'talking about it' aspect.

Adam was going to make sure of that.

#Endversetober #Midam #Archangels SPN #Angels SPN #Quick writing

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