#The ominous black coat is goals I want to have it

[willows-escape]

Carpe Diem - Musical!Erik x Reader

Pairing: Musical!Erik x Fem!Reader

Summary: You'd received possibly the worst news a high status woman could receive in their entire life time, and you had only one thought and one goal in mind. Erik had a different one.

Warnings: angst, forced marriage, a lot of crying, jealousy, uninformed consent (?), almost getting caught, oral (f and m receiving), finger sucking, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex, forced mask reveal, mentions of murder, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping

Words: 9570

Notes: sorry this took so long, coursework's a pain in the ass and i've written and deleted what i've wanted to write so many times. i've written seven different stories at this point and rewritten them each at least three times. i decided to pull back all the complexity of what i was originally going for and ending up with this thing.

i tried to make the phantom more submissive because i know people wanted to read that but musical!erik just doesn't feel submissive to me, at least not in this kind of scenario. he's just too much of a control freak i feel and i think he would become more of a switch later into a relationship when he grows comfortable.

hopefully i don't take so long to write my next thing in future, and i pray i continue to improve in my writing skills lol.

You were in flight, your heart pounding a thunderous rhythm in your chest, matching the frenzied drumming of your feet against the opera house's ancient wooden floors. Every sinew in your body screamed in protest, yet you willed yourself to run faster, harder. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowned out all thought, all reason, save for one - you have to get to the rooftop.

Your relentless fate was stealthily stalking you, icy tendrils of fear unfurling down your spine, as you envisioned the pitiless roots of destiny relentlessly chasing you, eager to entangle you within their remorseless clutches. The letter you gripped in your trembling hand was the harbinger of your impending doom, a chilling memento of the ominous vow you had once made.

As you turned the corner, your heart pounded in your chest as you darted up the flight of stairs towards the clandestine meeting point. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, matching the dusky sky's ethereal haze. As nightfall descended, it signalled the time when both of you could shed your public facades and bask in the tranquillity of each other's presence, shrouded in shadows and secrecy.

Every muscle in your thighs and calves screamed in protest, pleading for mercy as you drove yourself onward. You forced yourself through each step. As you pushed through the final barrier, the rooftop door swung open, revealing your destination. A gust of crisp, cold air met your face, a shocking contrast against the sweltering heat of your exertion. The sudden chill cut through the stifling humidity clinging to your skin, offering a brief, but sweet, respite.

"Erik? Erik, where are you?" you called out aimlessly, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

The tension of anticipation didn't linger long. Soon, the haunting familiarity of the black suit and porcelain mask punctuated your line of sight. A smile, so ignorant and blissful, graced his hidden face, while your own mirrored nothing but distress. As your eyes met, his smile faltered and a sense of panic ignited within his gaze.

"Has somebody hurt you?" The first conclusion came tumbling out of his lips as he rushed to stand in front of you, hands reaching out to caress your arms.

An onslaught of feelings of safety and security besieged you. The caress of his gentle touch, his sugar-coated words, and the purity of his love stood stark against the frigid future looming ahead - ice-cold eyes, indifferent touch, and a home that was nothing more than an glorified prison. Your vision blurred, as if submerged underwater, with briny tears carving trails down your icy cheeks. Your body convulsed with splutters and coughs, surrendering to the raw unravelling of your emotions.

"My dear, please, who did this to you?" His voice wavered, desperation tinging his plea. "I can't bare to see you like this," he confessed, his heart aching to draw you into his arms, to cocoon you in a protective embrace. Yet, his hands twitched with uncertainty, unaccustomed to offering unbidden comfort and tormented by the fear of making the wrong choice.

Struggling, you gasped for the words that seemed to evade your grasp. Finally, in a pitiful whimper, you managed to choke out the truth, "My father. It's my father."

"He has hurt you?" His words, taut with restrained fury, barely managed to mask the cataclysmic rage broiling within his core. His eyes flamed with the intensity of a thousand suns, pledging an unspoken oath that he would move heavens and earth to guard you from any harm. He would not let this happen again, his earlier leniency was a mistake he wouldn't repeat.

"No... well, yes, sort of," you stammered, every word a struggle as tears choked your speech. Your sentences, muddled and hardly coherent, tumbled out in a rush. He stood there, a silent pillar of patience amidst your storm. "The curtain had just fallen on tonight's performance, when Madame Giry found me, said someone had come to the Opera Populaire with a letter for me. I ventured backstage, and – and –”

"Take your time," he reassured you, trying to keep his tone soft and soothing when he was feeling anything but that.

"My father," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "He sent this to me," you raised your arm, presenting him with the damning parchment that bore the news, "It declares that I have a single week to make my return... and to dutifully submit to his wishes, to bind myself in marriage to a man he's handpicked for me.”

As the words tore from your lips, a deluge of sobs overpowered you, shattering your composure into fragments. You crumpled onto the frigid concrete, your body convulsing with the ferocity of your wails, echoing the raw torment festering within.

"He has already decided my fate, to wed me to Alexander Beaumont, heir to one of the wealthiest fortunes in Paris. But, Erik, I cannot bear the thought! I'd choose the most excruciating demise before even contemplating marrying him!" Your tears began to mingle with your snot, humiliation gnawing your insides, knowing he was bearing witness to your disarray. Yet, you were powerless to stop it, and no amount of snivelling could quell the impending sense of doom building within you.

Erik was consumed by a fury so intense, it was a blinding white light in his mind. Thousands of brutal scenarios played out in rapid succession, each a unique way he could annihilate the man who dared to pull you away from him. The man who had reduced you to nothing more than a pawn, a puppet to be used in his ruthless climb up the social ladder.

"I've met him before, his gaze piercing through me, speaking of me as though I were a mere fly on the wall... If I were to wed him, I'd be reduced to nothing more than a trophy wife, imprisoned within the confines of a household, expected to bear children annually until nature robs me of the ability," you choked out between sobs, bitterly recalling his elaborate discourse to your father about his archaic aspirations for a wife, a die-hard traditionalist to his core.

"The Opera Populaire, an impossibility now. My friends, forever out of reach. And you... you, I shall never feast my eyes upon again." The tears assaulted you, battering you with the unrelenting force of a tempest as the brutal reality bore down, each tick of the clock amplifying the sting of truth.

"Then don't go," he uttered, his words masquerading as a suggestion, yet ringing with the commanding tone of a demand, "Don't return home, do not bend to your father's will. There's always another escape, always."

"Oh, Erik," your voice broke, anguish seeping into each syllable, "I can't." A hard lump constricted your throat, the bitter reality of your predicament sinking in. "My father...he wields power, he has influence. If I dare not return, all of Paris would be hunting me down, a bounty on my head. I'm cornered, Erik. I'm left with no other choice."

Before he could utter another syllable, you swiftly eradicated the residue that had amassed on your skin and surged to your feet. Your eyes were ablaze with a bloodshot hue, stray teardrops stubbornly tracing a path down your face. Yet, an unyielding determination was etched across your features. You yearned for one final moment, one last poignant memory before the unavoidable reality of leaving him forever would consume you.

"Take me," you urged in a hushed plea, your gaze ensnaring him with such profound intensity that he was left with no room to misconstrue your meaning. Your purpose was undeniable, and it struck him into stillness. "Please, I beg you, do not deny me this final experience, this closing moment of exhilaration. For I am to be condemned.”

Your fragility was palpable, an image of vulnerability and innocence that made the idea of your bodies entwining, your souls merging into one, nearly impossible to suppress. Erik was gripped by a relentless thought; this encounter wouldn't be your last. A scheme was rapidly taking shape in his mind, a bold plan that he was awaiting the opportunity to enact. Yet, beneath it all, he was merely a mortal, how could he resist such a sweet opportunity laid before him?

As though your initial plea wasn't potent enough, you read his silence as a stark rejection. With a desperate urgency, you persisted, "I must experience what it means to unite with someone who harbours a profound love for me, and whom I equally adore, before time steals this chance forever. This is my final request of you, please, grant me this.”

Every trace of Erik's reservations - his mask, his insecurities, his lack of experience - evaporated in an instant. His entire being was consumed by the sight of your pleading eyes and enticing lips, desperately imploring him to make love to you. The intensity of your need, your last request born out of the fear of never seeing him again, ignited a scorching fire in his abdomen. His slacks tightened unbearably as his body responded to the raw desire coursing through him.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his body lunged forward, crashing against yours, his lips desperately colliding with yours in an intoxicating, chaotic ballet. It was flawlessly imperfect, devoid of rhythm or pattern, yet it echoed the sheer intensity of your shared lust and fervour. A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your skin prickling, your stomach churning with a heady mix of anxiety and exhilaration as you passionately kissed him.

Small, desperate gasps and whimpers escaped your trembling lips as they urgently sought his, the icy chill of Paris causing a cascade of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You clung to him with a ferocity born of pure, raw fear, as if you were precariously perched on the brink of an abyss and he was the only tether keeping you from plummeting into the void. He was your sole anchor in a sea of chaos, the only force keeping you alive.

The searing heat of your skin beneath his fingertips sent his mind spiralling, the sensation of you - so soft, so yielding under his hands, a staggering, unfamiliar experience. He could feel the rhythmic surge and ebb of your chest, your breath, a hot whisper against his face as your lips clashed and fused, time and time again - he was certain he could feel the pulsating rhythm of your veins as your blood roared through your body. So vivid, so fiercely alive.

Inescapably, the mask had turned into an intolerable burden. Each movement caused it to ruthlessly scrape against your skin, the epidermis painfully inflamed and raw. With a heavy sense of reluctance, you retreated, your eyes slowly fluttering open to behold the breath taking spectacle of your angel, gasping for air, his eyes wide and darkened with intensity.

"My love," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers nervously fiddling with the lapels of his coat. "I know this is a significant request..." The tension hung heavy in the air between you two. "But, would you consider... removing your mask?" Your heart pounded in your chest as you dared to meet his eyes. "It's been catching on my skin, and it's starting to hurt. If it's too much, I understand! We can find another way. It's just that... I yearn to see all of you, unobstructed."

His expression shifted to one of grave solemnity. Deep within, he had known this moment would arrive, yet he had clung to the hope that it would be delayed, that he could savour more of you and this opportunity before you were cruelly torn from his grasp. Now, his countenance was a spectacle of terror, a sight so horrific that he was certain it would repel you instantly, forever severing any connection you could have had. It was this dread, this fear of losing you, that compelled him to deny your request.

"No," he declared, his voice cold and final, making it clear he had no intention of prolonging this conversation any further.

A lump formed in your throat, a silent reflection of the tension in the air. His features were chiselled, hardened as if sculpted by an unseen force. His eyes, unyielding and intense, bore into you, commanding silence without uttering a single word. You were far from foolish, aware that any protest would shatter the brittle tranquillity of the moment. Respecting his unspoken plea, you held your tongue, allowing the silence to envelop the space between you.

You plunged back into the fervour of your previous kisses, this time contorting awkwardly to keep your face clear of the cold, threatening porcelain weapon. With each passing moment, you fought to maintain the connection, a bizarre dance with a man whose full face you'd never seen. A wave of filth washed over you, a creeping sense you should be drowning in shame, but you found no room for such feelings. Not when his touch set your skin ablaze with desire.

His hands settled on the small of your back, gently rubbing above the fabric of your dress. You naturally moved closer, your soft chest against his solid one. Your hands wandered, touching every part of him within reach.

"Is this what you call a lovers outing, Piangi? It's cold and dirty!" The piercing voice of the renowned prima donna erupted from the rooftop entrance, slicing through the silence. You and Erik froze.

"Ah, forgive me, my love," replied her lover, his familiar Italian accent flooding through his words. His voice sounded awkward and dejected. One could almost imagine his look of shame, realizing his romantic gesture wasn't appreciated. "I wanted to look at the stars with you, but if that's not what you desire-"

"Forget it," Carlotta spat out. The echo of footsteps approaching sent jolts of panic through your veins, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Erik, however, remained calm amongst the chaos. His fingers laced through yours, pulling you urgently towards the shadowed sanctuary of the rooftop's far corner.

"If you get too cold, dear, I have my coat with me. Just say the word and I will give it to you," Piangi spoke, his voice straining with the effort to pierce through Carlotta's gloom.

As their voices clashed in petty discord, a sudden blast of searing air prickled the nape of your neck. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your hair bristling on end. A whispered command, laced with urgency, pierced the tension, "Stay behind me and follow. Make no noise. Not even a whisper."

With a sense of increasing trepidation, you gave a tense nod. You watched, breath held, as Erik emerged from your concealed sanctuary, prowling the expanse of the rooftop with a predator's stealth. He would intermittently halt, shielding himself within various makeshift hideaways. You hastened to mirror his movements, until at last, you found yourself inside the familiar confines of the opera house. His hand ensnared yours, his grip firm yet comforting, as he urged you onwards into the unknown.

It didn't take long before he ceased his steps, drawn like a magnet to the first mirror you encountered. His grip on your hand slackened for a fleeting moment, his fingers dancing over the wall in a cryptic rhythm. There was a tense hush, then the sharp click echoed in the silence, and the mirror slid back with a menacing grace to unveil a hidden passageway.

"What on earth?" you whispered, a tremor in your voice as you gazed upon the hole in the wall where once a mirror was.

Erik wheeled around abruptly, a sense of urgency flickering in his eyes as he extended his hand to you. You paused, uncertainty clouding your features, "Where does this passageway lead? Where are you taking me?"

"Trust me," he implored, his voice barely a whisper, yet carrying an undertone of desperation.

You swallowed, your throat tight with a mix of fear and anticipation. The situation and context around it weighed heavily on your mind, a potent cocktail of potential consequences swirling before you. The silence was deafening as you deliberated, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity. Then, with a deep, steadying breath, you extended a trembling hand towards him, a silent acquiescence. You nodded, a solemn gesture of trust, surrendering your fate into his hands.

He responded with a nod of his own, guiding you towards the opening. The entrance was inconveniently elevated from the ground - not to an extreme where a leap was required - but enough to pose a considerable risk. With a firm grip, he assisted you as you stepped inside, ensuring the voluminous folds of your dress evaded entanglement. He trailed in your wake, the air heavy with anticipation.

With a precise touch, he activated a concealed point on the wall, causing the mirror to slide back into normalcy. The echo of silence descended, the only sound being the synchronization of your breaths reverberating through the confined passageway. A whirlwind of questions swirled in your mind, each one violently dismissed as the realisation of your shared purpose gripped you. Of what you were coming down here to do.

He steered you through a maze of bewildering turns, his whispers of caution echoing in the cold, damp air. His grip on your hand was constant, a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. His familiarity with the convoluted tunnels was unsettling, and a chilling worry gnawed at you, as you wondered what hidden dangers made him tread with such measured care.

Soon you were greeted by a lake, its misty greens and blues shimmering so bright it twinkled like glitter. The view was mesmerising, the many candles scattered around lending the stone walls a glorious golden glow that took your breath away. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, the foliage blending together beautifully as it decorated the walls. You gasped.

He guided you towards a gondola which was tethered to a stout wooden stake driven deep into the ground. With a steadying hand, he aided your entrance into the vessel, ensuring your balance as you nestled into the boat's hollow core. Following your lead, he stepped in with calculated caution, his grip closing around a weathered paddle, poised at the ready to commence the strenuous task of rowing.

"What is this place?" You asked, ogling at the scenery around you.

"My home, my hiding place, the Phantom's lair, the sewers under the opera house..." he drawled off, beginning to row, "whichever one you wish to call it. All apply."

"You live down here?" You questioned, your brow furrowed as the icy air bit harshly at your exposed skin. The beauty of the place was undeniable, yet it held a chilling solitude that whispered of profound isolation, making it a daunting place to inhabit.

"Since I was a young boy," he spoke as if the words that spilled from his lips held no weight.

You couldn't shake the thought that something terrifying lurked beneath the mask. He had warned you, but you'd never considered how truly terrible it could be until now. Your eyebrows shot up, eyes dilating as your mind spun wildly with grotesque possibilities. What could be so monstrous about his visage that he was compelled to conceal it in the depths of a dank cellar?

Clearly, you had no intention of broaching the topic; it would undoubtedly ruin your plans for the evening. Yet, as the journey unfolded, you became lost in a whirlwind of contemplation, feverishly imagining the concealed face beneath the mask. Your affection was unwavering, regardless of how horrific his face was you'd feel the same way, but the mystery added an exhilarating layer of intrigue that consumed you.

Within mere minutes of fervent rowing, the silhouette of land loomed ahead, jolting you from your daze back into reality. You remained in the confines of the boat as Erik disembarked with calculated precision. He secured the boat with a swift, practiced motion, restoring the paddle to its rightful place. Then, he pivoted towards you, his hand outstretched in an offer of assistance, his eyes locked onto yours.

You smiled graciously, accepting his helping hand as you stepped out of the boat. You were enchanted, looking around at his home and how it was decorated. It was beyond your wildest imagination, intriguing and enigmatic, labyrinthine and gothic.

You were struck by the vast arrangement of candles. They casted a dim, dancing light which bathed the walls in an ethereal glow, casting long, eerie shadows on the dank stone. There was a majestic, ornate pipe organ, and a big mirror off to the side. All the way in the farthest corner, you spotted a bed, grand and draped in heavy, dark fabrics. You were in awe.

Erik did not give you long to stand and stare, as he was quick to pull you in the direction of where his bed resided. After a long, unfamiliar journey, you found yourself standing at your ultimate destination.

Anxiety, like a shadowy predator, stalked and then launched itself upon you, its claws sinking deep into your psyche. Your blood surged in a torrent, your heart hammered an urgent rhythm against your ribs, and your palms became slick with cold sweat as the full weight of your hasty agreement descended upon you.

"Now, it's my turn to pose the question," Erik initiated, his every footstep purposefully resonating tension as he incrementally diminished the space between you both. Your eyes, wide and alert, mirrored the mounting suspense. "Will you do this with me? Allow us to feel each other, become one, before you are to leave and never return?"

Tears welled threateningly in your eyes, a bitter reminder to the tortuous ordeal that loomed above. A personal hell was waiting, embodied in the stony indifference of your father and the pitiless gaze of your suitor. Discarding caution and fear, you hurled yourself against him with the force of a dead weight. In the face of despair, your inner flame roared back to life, desperation clawing its way to the surface once more.

His arms coiled around you with an intensity that left your breath hitched, his lips fiercely claiming yours. With a sudden, swift motion, he hoisted you into the air, your legs automatically snaking around his waist in response. He gently, yet assertively, laid you upon the cool sheets of the bed. He loomed over you. He began to crawl atop, compelling your legs to part in silent compliance. A gasp of anticipation escaped your lips, swallowed by his own, as you felt the weight of him gradually descend upon you.

As you kissed, the inadvertent brush of his crotch against your core sent a jolt through you, driving your senses into a wild frenzy. The searing heat from his arousal, even through the barrier of his trousers, was palpable, each pulsating throb a teasing promise of what was to come. Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest, as saliva-slick tongues ventured into uncharted territories, escalating the tension that hung in the air.

Driven by instinct, Erik's hands made a beeline for your sleeves, yanking with an insatiable restlessness, a silent plea for their removal. You countered his advances, pushing him back, a giggle escaping you at his stubborn demeanour. Undeterred, his lips sought new territory, latching onto the sensitive expanse of your neck, peppering kisses and grazing his teeth in a seductive dance that sent shivers down your spine.

Erik's movements against your aching core grew in intensity as he realised what he was brushing against, threatening to silence you completely. Yet, if he truly desired your uninhibited vulnerability, he needed to grant you the space to shed every layer.

"Erik," you tried to infuse your voice with authority, but it faltered, punctuated by your ragged sighs and helpless whimpers, "I'm laced into a corset, it needs to come off. Release me."

He moved with urgency, moving away from your form and allowing the space for you to rise, your knees pressing into the solid mattress. With a focused precision, you began to unbutton your dress, the fabric gliding over your head with a practiced ease, your focus fully enveloped in the task at hand. So engrossed were you, you failed to notice the predatory way his gaze drank in the sight of your bared skin, or the noticeable gulp that resonated from his throat as more and more of you unfolded before his eager eyes.

Your fingers trembled, struggling against the stubborn knot that held the ties of your undergarments in a vice-like grip. It was a battle you were unaccustomed to, always having the help of someone else to aid you with your corset. Your difficulty was palpable, a silent cry for assistance. Lifting your gaze to Erik, your eyes were wide, desperate pools of plea.

"Would you... could you, do the honours?" you asked through gritted teeth, your fingers clawing fruitlessly at the defiant knot, the bulge in the string a mocking testament to the maid's overly-zealous efforts.

In a silent affirmation, he nodded his head, his hand reaching out with an unspoken authority to rotate your form, granting him unimpeded access to your corset. You felt your undergarments grow increasingly wet under his firm handling, a damp patch steadily spreading across the fabric in response to your mounting anticipation. Heat suffused your cheeks, each accidental graze of his fingers against your back as he navigated the complexities of the female attire sending a shocks of tension through your body.

After an intense struggle, he conquered the knot, crafted by your maid's expert hands. But victory left him bewildered.

"Now that it's undone, what's the next step?" His gaze bore into the corset's lacings, a new challenge awaiting him.

With a chuckle rippling through the tension, you interjected, "Allow me." Swiftly, you unhooked the busk at the front, stripping the garment from your form. It cascaded to the floor, disappearing from view.

Bare and unshielded, your form was revealed from the hips upward, only your undergarments veiling what remained. There you were, a portrait of vulnerability, kneeling in anticipation yet turned away, placing a blind faith in him, trusting his unspoken intentions.

His hands seized your hips with an assertive grip, drawing you into his sphere, letting you tumble back onto the mattress as you laid facing him. Your breasts bounded with the abrupt motion, your soft contours and supple skin devoured by his relentless gaze. He studied every detail, every curve and secret of your figure, etching them into his memory.

"You might find this... somewhat audacious," you stammered, your gaze darting around the room, evading his intense stare, "But I've come across something in a book. And I have this... this urge to experience it."

Erik seemed to snap out of a daze, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "And what might that be?" he asked.

You dropped your gaze, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you attempted to muster the courage to voice your desires. "Are you familiar with... cunnilingus?"

A silence fell over the room. Erik appeared shell-shocked, his lips parting but no sound escaping as he tried to comprehend the salacious request that had just spilled from your lips. His experiences with carnal pleasures were extensive, more so after meeting you- he'd spent countless nights engrossed in books filled with varying degrees of erotica. He'd envisioned you and him as the characters, and his fantasies of caressing, embracing, and making passionate love to you had kept him awake many a night.

"Briefly, why?" He asked, his voice steady but his façade barely concealing the turmoil within.

"I want... I want you to do that to me," you managed to utter, swallowing down the embarrassment that threatened to choke you. "My betrothed, he... he wouldn't. I need to know, just once, what it feels like."

A dark shadow passed over his face at your words, the mention of the man you were intended to wed igniting something within him. His lips met your skin with a ferocity that stole your breath away. His body was pressed against yours, a desperate attempt to meld into one, to erase the space that separated you. His kisses trailed a scorching path from your neck downwards, each mark he left with his teeth due to the simmering anger that consumed him.

His hot breath teased against your core, creating a whirl of anticipation that caused your legs to twitch restlessly, your back to curl off the bed. An tingling sensation flowed from your core to the tips of your legs, prompting your thighs to instinctively tighten. He exerted his dominance, forcibly parting your legs to the sides, his chest pulsating with a primal pride as he observed the clear signs of arousal staining your underwear. The thin fabric did nothing to veil your desire for him.

His lips embarked on a deliberate exploration around your intimate area, strategically withholding the direct contact you craved, fueling a desperate need within you. He relished in your quiet pleas, in your desperation for him, for his touch. He wanted to hear it again - your voice, filled with longing, confessing your need for him, your love for him.

A few teasing kisses and feather-light licks over the fabric of your underwear were enough to reduce you to a state of complete disarray. Your head thrown back, lips parted in a silent plea, you begged, "Please, God, please."

He was relentless, persisting in his torturously slow pace and feather-light touches. He was prepared to play this drawn-out game; after all, he'd been fantasizing about moments like this since the dawn of his adolescence. He could wait an eternity if needed.

By the time he finally conceded, you were a whirlwind of emotion, eyes squeezed shut, body writhing as you grappled with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment, struggling to voice your feelings. You appeared as if you had been plucked straight out of a painting, your body seemingly sculpted by celestial forces, the ethereal glow on your skin from your sweat rendering you nothing short of angelic.

His fingers danced along the delicate straps of your underwear, tracing the curve of your hips as he meticulously slid them down your legs. Your underwear was discarded with an impatient kick. He admired how your lips glistened with your wetness, eyes wide and mouth agape as he inspected your parts. His cock felt like it was suffocating in it's tight confinement, begging to be released. He subconsciously rubbed himself against his quilt, hips driving him harder and harder into the fabric.

He didn't allow himself to spend an excessive amount of time simply staring, his fingers gingerly parting the folds of your intimate area as he gradually moved ever closer to the spot where you craved his touch the most. His tongue hesitantly emerged, like a tentative explorer venturing into uncharted territory, testing the waters as he gradually grew accustomed to your unique taste. It was an intoxicating, addictive flavour that he found himself drawn to, your evident arousal dissolving on his tongue like the sweetest candy. As he became more familiar with your body's reactions, his actions started to grow decidedly bolder, his initial cautiousness melting away.

The smooth, cold porcelain of the mask, right where his nose should have been, made direct contact with a particular spot on your body. It was a spot so sensitive, so responsive to his touch, that it turned you into a trembling, moaning mess. Each touch was like heaven, each movement a wave of pleasure that washed over you. It was a sensation you had never experienced before, and it left you weak, gasping for breath.

He pushed himself further into you, his movements becoming more desperate, more needy. His tongue, warm and insistent, ventured into every hidden corner it could find. It was as though he was trying to memorize you, to imprint the taste of you onto his very soul. He was consuming you, devouring you in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The side of his face that wasn't hidden behind the mask was growing wetter with each passing moment. Each new wave of your arousal either swallowed by him or adding to the wet mess on his face. His eyes, dark and intense, never left your face, watching your every reaction, feeding off your pleasure.

With each passing moment, you found yourself teetering on the edge of exquisite pleasure, its intensity growing with a fervour that rendered you breathless. As cries of delight spilled from your lips, your fingers curled into the fabric of his bedsheets, clutching them with a strength that threatened to rip them to shreds. Now that you had experienced such ecstasy, you were unsure how you’d ever live without it again.

The pressure swelled within the depths of your abdomen, escalating dangerously as your eyes lost focus, surrendering willingly to Erik's touch. The burgeoning tension coiled within you like a heated serpent, until it could no longer be contained, compelling it to uncoil and release the pent-up passion that had been simmering within. Everything let go.

Erik's lips found your most sensitive spot again, sucking on it gently, coaxing a symphony of soft whimpers and quivering gasps from deep within your throat.

The intense sensations that flooded your body soon became far too much and left you with no other option but to gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away from your soaked cunt. His visible cheek and chin bore the shiny evidence of your pleasure, an erotic testament to the intimacy that had just transpired. His lips, swollen and red, were slightly parted as he laboured to catch his breath, the aftermath of your intense encounter leaving him just as breathless as you were.

He planted a single kiss on your thigh before he rose, drinking in the sinful sight of you lying beneath him. Your chest heaved, and the intimate area between your thighs was slick with a mixture of saliva and arousal, a mess he alone was responsible for. He was in disbelief at the sight before him - a woman who had pleaded for his touch, who had permitted him to venture into territory he was not meant to traverse.

You felt utterly winded, struggling to regain your breath as your mind remained in a dense fog. As you sat up, the ringing sensation of blood rushing in your ears was almost deafening. You gave him a once-over and let out a weary pout.

“Why am I naked and you are still dressed head to toe?” you playfully whined, clumsily rising up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt.

A wave of panic washed over him. While a less sensitive subject than the removal of his mask, he was still hesitant about the concept of somebody seeing him disrobed. His hand swiftly intercepted yours, worried eyes looking directly into yours.

“We don’t have to do this,” you reminded him, “Removing clothes is quite necessary to engage in intercourse, so if that’s off the table, that is fine and we do not have to go any further.”

The looming threat of your sexual endeavours coming to a halt was so disconcerting that it pushed his fear of being seen nude into a corner of his mind. If you managed to bare all in front of him, then surely, he should be able to do the same. No horrifying disfigurement marred his body, save for a few scars and marks, which offered him a semblance of comfort amid his anxiety. Yet, it felt so extraordinarily odd - prior to you, people avoided him, disdaining him as a bizarre outcast to either laugh at or run away from. But you, you wanted to see him. You saw him.

With his consent, you delicately unfastened the buttons of his shirt, your fingers tracing the contours of his body as you gently slid it off along with his coat. The anticipation heightened as you unbuttoned his trousers, a sense of awe overtaking you as you noticed the visible sign of his desire pressing against the fabric of his underwear. With a slow, tantalizing motion, you slid his slacks down, pooling them around his ankles, leaving him to step out of them. The sight of him in such a state had your mouth watering, the subtle twitching under the thin fabric not going unnoticed. You glanced up, your eyes silently asking for permission before you proceeded to remove his last piece of clothing.

He was perfect - not too intimidating, yet not too modest. A balance that promised pleasure without the prospect of discomfort. A smile graced your lips as your hands were drawn to him, appreciating the prominent veins that adorned his underside and the swollen tip that seemed to crave the soothing touch of your lips. You didn’t have a second thought before you ducked down to take him into your mouth.

The moment that his length was enveloped by the soft, velvety embrace of your mouth, he felt an explosive sensation, as if he might shatter. The intoxicating blend of your warmth and the slippery wetness was an overwhelming sensory overload, causing his eyes to flutter closed as he savoured the sensation in its entirety. His low, primal groans amplified into a resonant hum of pleasure as you explored his length, your tender hand caressing the parts your lips had yet to discover.

You surfaced for air, drawing in a deep breath before giving him a seductive smile. Your hand continued to stroke him, maintaining the rhythm you'd established, "Have you heard of this one too? It's called fellatio. I've heard from men that it feels quite pleasurable, so I wanted to give it a try."

His brows knitted together in confusion and a hint of possessiveness, "Who's been talking to you about things like this?" he hissed, his fingers entangling in the roots of your hair. He didn't tug or pull, but simply let his hand rest there, grounding himself in the sensation of your touch.

“No one, I just overhear a lot,” you winked, a playful glint in your eyes.

Finding yourself drawn back to your prior task, you returned your mouth to its position, delicately licking around the sides and base of his manhood with a renewed vigour. You made a point to explore every contour, every ridge, leaving no part untouched by your careful ministrations. As you took him into your mouth once more, you hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight, welcoming space that made him gasp. You allowed your tongue to wander, tracing the map of protruding veins that decorated his length, making him shiver at your touch. You took your time, adjusting slowly but surely to accommodate his length.

Over time, you found a rhythm that was as steady as it was sensual, each movement drawing forth intoxicating sounds of pleasure from your lover. Your hand was rendered unnecessary, forgotten at your side as your face pressed closer, your nose brushing against the heat of his skin. The taste of him, the intimacy of the act, left you breathless, saliva slipping past your lips. The symphony of his escalating moans and guttural grunts echoed in your ears, signifying the mounting pleasure coursing through him.

Erik was teetering on the edge, every fibre of his being screaming for release. Time had lost all meaning; all he knew was the burning desire to break down your defences and claim you as his own. He tugged urgently at your hair, a silent plea for you to relinquish him from your mouth. His ego soared at the sight of your ravenous gaze and ragged breathing. Sweat was pooling uncomfortably beneath his mask, creating a stifling heat that was nearly unbearable. Yet, he would not — could not — remove it. For your love, he would endure any torment.

With a gentle persuasion, he coaxed you onto the plush solace of the bed, a wordless request to which you surrendered willingly. His fingers, rough yet tender in touch, traced the shape of your lips. You accepted them eagerly, lavishing them with a soft suckle until he withdrew them. Setting off on a slow, teasing journey, his fingers embarked on a path that danced across your lips, before descending the length of your neck. His touch was electrifying, a trail of shivers marking their progress.

His fingers continued their southern movement, drawn to the inviting warmth of your most intimate area. As he approached your yearning core, your breath hitched, a silent supplication mirrored in your eyes as you awaited his touch. He relished the anticipation, playfully circling the edge before carefully penetrating you with one of his fingers. The sensation of being filled by him was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering in sheer overwhelm as he moved in a rhythm that was leisurely and gentle. Every part of your being was tuned to his touch, each motion sending ripples of pleasure cascading through your body.

"Erik," you moaned, unaware of how you just moaning his name made his arms feel like jelly. He pushed through, eager to please and show you how good he could make you feel.

He cautiously inserted another finger, gradually stretching you out around his digits. He was utterly enchanted by the soft, plush feel of your walls, which seemed to welcome him in their embrace. He explored you curiously, his fingers gently probing, reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. It was like he was charting a course through a previously unexplored territory, each new discovery making him yearn for more.

The sounds that escaped your lips - cries of pleasure, of anticipation, of need - were music to his ears. The way your body responded to his touch, the way your breath hitched every time he moved, the way your fingers clung to him - everything about you made him feel weak with desire.

He didn't keep his fingers at work for very long, just enough time to make sure that you were adequately warmed up, ready for what would come next. With a simple gesture, he signalled for you to move further up the bed. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so he guided you to position your head against the plush softness of the pillows that lay strewn at the head of the bed.

His gaze was fixed on you, watching intently as you took the next step. Without needing any words, you communicated your agreement to what was about to unfold. You spat into your hand, a simple but intimate act, sitting up before carefully spreading the moisture over his length.

You allowed yourself to lay back down, your body welcoming the coolness of the sheets beneath you. Erik carefully positioned himself at your sopping wet entrance; his eyes, filled with a mix of anticipation and desire, locked onto yours as he began to push against you. You could feel his bulbous tip as it slowly pushed past your entrance, a sensation so new and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but squeal, your body jolting in response to the sudden intrusion. Erik's mouth hung open in a silent gasp, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt the first part of him slide inside you.

With a slow, cautious movement, he pressed forward further, sinking into you bit by bit, deeper and deeper until he was fully nestled within your warmth. Every inch of him was surrounded by you, his breath hitching once more as he adjusted to the velvety sensation.

For you, it was a fervent blaze, a primal burn that seared through every nerve. His manhood was a stark contrast to his previously tender touch, an unmerciful comparison that seemed impossible to reconcile. A soft whimper of pain broke free, a silent begging for him to pause his movements and allow your body to accommodate his invasion.

You lingered in the throes of this discomfort, each second diluting the initial shock and morphing it into a thrilling wave of bliss. It was a leisurely metamorphosis, a sultry dance between pain and pleasure, until all that was left was pure, unadulterated desire that left you gasping for air and craving more.

Once your body had succumbed to this new sensation, you gave him a silent nod of approval, a signal that he could resume. Erik let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, and his initial gentleness gave way to a carnal rhythm, each slow, deliberate thrust sending ripples of ecstasy that cascaded through your very being.

“So this is what it feels like,” you chuckled, less talking to Erik and more so thinking out loud.

Erik was so utterly focused on you and the indescribable sensations your body was offering him that he found himself unable to formulate an appropriate response. He was completely entranced by the way your intimate area, slick with your abundant arousal, enveloped him so thoroughly. He was lost in the feeling of you, engaged in an internal struggle between wanting to see the expressions of pure pleasure that danced across your face, or to look down and observe the erotic sight of his own manhood disappearing again and again into your inviting warmth.

He draped himself over you, his form a sanctuary, shielding you from the world beyond. His face nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder, an alcove where he could inhale your scent. The cool porcelain of his mask contrasted with your heated skin, tempering the dew of perspiration that glossed your body. Underneath the mask, he endured the humid confinement - a necessary sacrifice for the exquisite torment he was bestowing upon you. Each powerful thrust sent ripples of ecstasy through you, rendering you breathless and dizzy with delight. The potent heat was all-encompassing, filling your consciousness with nothing but unadulterated, exquisite pleasure.

"I love you," you breathed out in a whisper, your voice dripping with desire. Each word was punctuated by a soft moan, the sound of it causing shivers to cascade down his spine, your hot breath against his ear igniting a fire within him.

As if his struggles weren't already overwhelming enough, your words seemed to only add more fuel to the already blazing fire within him. It was as though every syllable you uttered stoked the flames, pushing him further into a realm of passion he had never known before. His arm, strong and certain, forced its way behind your back, pulling you up to hold you close to him. It was a closeness that was almost palpable, almost too much, as he thrusted inside of you.

“I love you too,” he groaned, his words saturated with an intense, raw emotion that welled up in his eyes, the tears threatening to cascade down his face in an uncontrolled torrent of feeling.

You, on the other hand, were no better off, your own tears of sheer joy and devastating heartbreak pooling in your eyes until they were beyond their capacity to hold back any longer. They overflowed, running down your face like precious diamonds, a display of the depth of your misery. Making love to somebody who genuinely loved you back was a concept so beautifully simple, yet tragically forbidden. It was an experience that brimmed with a love so deep, a care so nurturing, and a passion and compassion so profound that it was unparalleled.

You knew you would never encounter such a feeling again in your lifetime. You were merely attempting to stave off the inevitable end, attempting to shield yourself from the stark reality that awaited your return to the surface world. Each moment was a battle against the clock, each second a desperate attempt to extend the blissful ignorance of the impending conclusion.

In that moment, you belonged to him and he to you, your bodies intertwined and connected as the flames consumed you both. You held onto him with a desperation that mirrored your own, your arms wrapping around him, hugging him close. You were a lifeline to each other, two beings lost in a sea of passion and desire, holding on to the only solid thing in a world that was spinning out of control.

With every pulsating sensation, you tried desperately to prevent the impending climax that was steadily building within you. You wrestled against it, mustering all of the strength and willpower you possessed. You didn’t want this magical night, this passion and desire, to end. The thought of the experience drawing to a close was unbearable, and yet there was nothing you could to do stop the familiar building pressure in your abdomen.

And you knew, in the deepest recesses of your mind, that you shouldn't have given in to the temptation- that you should have exercised restraint and kept your wandering hands to yourself. Despite this, you were a prisoner to your own overwhelming curiosity, a force so powerful it threatened to consume you whole.

The haze of pleasure Erik was weaving around you kept intensifying, it ebbed and flowed into every crevice of your consciousness, distorting the boundary between the tangible world and the intoxicating euphoria you found yourself spiralling into. Your hands, as though guided by an insatiable yearning that was wholly their own, found their way to the mask that resided on his head.

Your fingers, trembling with anticipation and anxiety, began to play with the thin string keeping the mask firmly in place, protecting his true form. The tension in your body was mounting, your anxiety and the impending orgasm that threatened to shatter your very being reaching the same intense peak.

The familiar ball of pleasure that had been steadily growing within you finally burst, sending shockwaves of pure ecstasy coursing through your veins. You could feel Erik's hot semen spurt inside you, marking you as his. As the intense waves of your climax washed over you, you summoned the last of your strength and ripped the mask off his face, revealing the man beneath.

You had comprehended the profound severity of Erik's disfigurement when he confessed that he had been residing here since his tender youth. Why else would somebody feel so compelled to withdraw from society? You had determined then, with unyielding resolve, to love him irrespective of his appearance. Your conviction remained unwavering as his visage came sharply into view. His eyes, dilated with raw fear, his mouth trembling on the verge of speech, and his hands, once securely encircling you, now trembled and twitched uncontrollably.

A sigh escaped you, a bright smile lighting up your face as you gazed at him dreamily. You leaned in, your hand tenderly cradling the side of his face which had remained disfigured and concealed until this moment. Tears which had been threatening to spill from his eyes now fell freely, and your own followed suit as the realization of parting hit you.

With a gentleness that belied the depth of your feelings, your fingers traced the lines of his marked skin. Your lips had found his in a passionate kiss, the tears that slid silently down your cheeks mingled with his, a silent symbol of the connection of your souls, a joining so profound that words failed to capture its essence.

With reluctance, you pulled away from the warmth of his body, rising slowly from where you were entwined with him. You wiped your tears away. A wince crossed your face as you felt Erik's softening length slip out of you, the sensation of his release dripping out of you, serving as a lingering reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

"Do you not take issue with that you see?" His voice was laced with an unnerving intensity, his eyes never leaving your form as you searched for your scattered garments. You assumed his weird behaviour was due to his feelings about your impending departure.

"Not when it's you," you confessed, a poignant smile pulling tragically at the corner of your lips, laden with unspoken emotions.

It didn't take long for you to find your garments. You fastened the corset around your waist, making sure it properly supported your bosom. Despite pulling the laces tightly, you found that you needed additional help. Each time you tried to tie the laces, the corset loosened.

"Could you lace this up for me, Erik? I'm struggling," you chuckled, turning back round to find that he had already put his underwear back on. "Corsets are tricky things. I often need someone else's help to put it on and take it off."

"You don't need it," he declared, his face a stoic mask, eyes unblinking and filled with unwavering resolve.

You hesitated, uncertain of how to respond or process his words. You thought he might not understand the full purpose of your undergarment. "I can't be amongst with people without wearing my corset. It's indecent. Without it, people could see my breasts," you said.

"And that's precisely why you don't require it," he shot back, his hardened face rigid with confrontation, eyes locked onto you as you blinked, wrestling with the weight of his words. "You aren't going anywhere."

"What? Erik, I have to leave," you leaped towards him, a wave of dread washing over you as he remained unaffected, "My father wields a lot of power and influence, a fact you're well aware of. Search parties will be dispatched and they'll hunt us down."

Erik's laughter echoed ominously around you, his jarring mirth only amplifying your unease, "He will not pose a threat, my dear. Act as though he doesn’t exist."

"How can you be so sure?" You shot back, eyes narrowing into slits as you regarded him with deep-rooted suspicion.

"Because he won't live to witness the week's end, fortunate if he survives the night," he sneered.

You were petrified, frozen in terror. The uncertain veracity of his words hung heavy in the air, but the fury etched in his gaze was unmistakable. It was a chilling declaration that bulldozed your defences, sending frigid lashes of fear snaking through your bloodstream.

“No, no,” you whispered, face twisted in dread.

"You said it yourself!" he yelled, seemingly unaffected by your flinch. You lifted your hands, ready to protect yourself if needed, but you knew that if he truly wanted to hurt you, you had no chance. "He was the one who tried to separate us, to spoil our love! How can I let him manipulate destiny? It's a sin!"

"Sin or not, he is my father!" you retorted, tearing off your corset and swiftly pulling your dress over your head. You let it fall over your figure. "I have to go."

“You forget yourself,” Erik's voice echoed ominously from the shadows, untouched by your retreat. “Was it not you pleading for me to awaken your senses to the touch of a genuine lover? Were you not weeping to me over the wreckage your father's deeds would cause in your life? Does Monsieur Beaumont need to be added to the list? Is that what you desire? I am merely aiding you!”

Trying to block out his taunting, you jammed your underwear down your bodice and clung to your corset like a lifeline. Panic was on the verge of consuming you, your thoughts spiralling out of control, too swift and chaotic to grasp. The realization of your own foolishness hit you like a punch, a bitter and unforgiving truth.

In your hour of fragility, you had sought solace in the one individual you deemed a sanctuary, a cure to your torments. But he, like a concealed predator, exploited your vulnerability, shrouding his true motives to feast upon your innocence and cast you into never ending isolation. The dread lay not in his visage, but in his very being, a monstrous revelation.

“Even if you escape, your father cannot. He has to pay for what he's done,” he hissed, his voice becoming a menacing whisper, fading into the background as you distanced yourself.

You were approaching the familiar boat, stepping carefully over the wooden structure. You untied the rope and with the paddle in hand, you prepared to set off on your journey.

CLINK, SLAM.

You froze.

“Besides the fact that you have no idea where you’d be going around the sewers and passageways and would probably end up fatally mutilated in one of my many traps,” he spoke once more, trailing off as he watched the light leave your eyes, “You don’t know how to open the gate. Unfortunate.”

What had you done?

any feedback is appreciated! sorry it ended there, i started writing this at 12pm and it's now 5:21am the day later. i have not had a break. it had to end.

#phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera musical #poto #erik destler #erik the phantom #gaston leroux #phantom of the opera x reader #musical #poto x reader #smut #angst #erik x reader #erik destler x reader #ramin karimloo #the phantom x reader #phantom x reader #1990 phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera 1990 #2004 phantom of the opera

[pttucker]

I began walking towards the 'Secretive Plotter'. "…Kim Dokja?" I heard [999] call out to me, but I didn't look back. I undid the [Miniaturisation], and my eye level changed rapidly. The black coat [999] placed on my shoulders wavered along with every step I took. [< Star Stream >'s Probability is now shifting!] [Stream of the great main scenario is now dwelling in you.] Past the canopy of the vine-covered forest, the sea of stars of the < Star Stream > could be seen. On one side of the sky, stars were emitting bright light, while on the other side, ominous-looking galaxies alongside the [Great Hole] were quietly flowing about. Half of it, light, while the other half, darkness. Soon, the final war would begin. And most likely, I would have to stand on one of the sides to witness the end of the world. [Your second Modifier has been decided.] A small star flickered on the far side of the sky. I stared at it for the longest time, before slowly reverting my gaze back to the ground. The 'Outer Gods' were now looking at me. I returned their gazes and finally chose the side I'd stand. [Your second Modifier is the 'Watcher of Light and Darkness'.]

We have a Modifier!!!

Lmfao I jokingly said what it should be a few posts back, and I was both (understandably) way off and actually kind of not? It’s got two opposing parts just like I said! And at this point I’ll take even that as a win since I haven’t known what’s going on for like ten chapters now. I’m just along for the ride.

It's a very Dokja Modifier, just like his first one. Of course when given a choice between A and B, he chooses C. He will watch both sides. He will be both a Demon King and a savior.

And Dokja has officially decided not to follow his own plan. Right after Secretive Plotter got done pointing out that Joonghyuk also hasn’t been following his plan to destroy the Star Stream…

So I assume we're gonna see one final Kim Dokja Scheme. 😁

Though, actually, does it even need to be a scheme considering he seems to be shifting Probability around himself??? Is he the one actively deciding the Main Scenario now????? Not just the “Main Scenario” but the great main scenario, aka what I assume is the goal of the entire rest of the story they’re in?

Ahhhhhhhhhhh! What is happening!

I mean, it makes sense if that’s the case. He has been creating revisions of the novel as he’s gone along, not to mention everything that’s been going on with the whole concept of “he didn’t like the ending that he saw so he decided to change it” with Secretive Plotter coming back onto the frontlines and Dokja knowing how TWSA ended and wanting to give everyone a better one and even the mention of how maybe the author disliked the ending of TWSA and wanted to change it waaaay back in the Peace Land arc iirc and and and…

Also, I just now remembered that Dokja never actually read that final revision.

#orv #orv spoilers #orv novel chapter 422 #omniscient reader’s viewpoint #secretive plotter #kdj #I’m so confused because I SWEAR we’re at the ending of the story but there’s still over 100 chapters left??? #unless the Final Scenario is really going to be that long??? #or we’re gonna go past the Final Scenario…maybe we’ll finally see 1863rd yjh again? #AND STILL I WANT TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH JOONGHYUK’S SPONSOR IS IT DOKJA OR NOT

[marylikesstuff]

Hi, I’d like to gush about my new favorite character. Have a very long winded essay about why I love Hunter de Vil under the cut. 

Warning: Spoilers for 101 Dalmatian Street (especially the season one finale) as well as discussion of abuse.

Hunter de Vil is an antagonist on 101 Dalmatian Street. In early episodes of the show he lurks around ominously in the background.

Eventually he’s revealed to be the grandnephew of Cruella de Vil, and is helping her in trying to catch the decedents of the original dalmatian family from the 1960s. All so Cruella can finally get the coat she’s wanted for literal decades now.

Ok, so characters who start off as villains but deflect to the good side over the course of the story are everywhere nowadays. And though I’ll always be a sucker for this trope personally, I can understand why others might be sick of it due to over-saturation.

But Hunter de Vil struck a chord with me, and I think it’s because the show didn’t try to sugarcoat his abuse.

A lot of time (not always, but a lot of the time) when I see abuse victims in fiction, the negative side effects are hardly (if ever) shown in order to keep the character sympathetic in the eyes of the audience.

With Hunter though, the show equally paints him as both villain and victim. It’s a level of nuance I greatly appreciate.

Plus I was honest-to-god taken aback by what ends up happening to the kid. It’s so absurdly overkill.

This boy, who has been used and manipulated his whole life to do his great aunt’s bidding (all in a hopeless attempt to gain familial love) gets locked in a metal box for SIX MONTHS for his trouble.

The isolation literally drives this kid insane. Not only does he come out unhinged, he also has episodes where he blacks out and thinks he’s a dog. It’s deeply unsettling.

But does great aunt Cruella care? Ha, of course not. She tells him point blank that she didn’t even notice he was missing. All she cares about is her end goal of finally getting that damn coat, and if Hunter can’t get it for her, she’ll disown him from the de Vil family completely.

Hunter doesn’t realize how pointless his efforts are. Nothing he does will ever please his only living family member, but desperate and at rock bottom, he continues to try.

It’s both frightening and tragic to watch. His anger and violent lashing out are not painted in a softer, more palatable light. They’re brutally real.

And like I said, they do not sugarcoat that this kid has been abused. It’s made chillingly clear in the way he breaks down into frightened tears whenever Cruella raises her voice, even during a phone call. And when he’s actually in her presence, he flinches back and cowers in fear.

But you wanna know what the most screwed up part is? He still wants to please his abuser. He still strives for praise. Any tiny scrap of something that even vaguely resembles affection. It’s scary because it’s so realistic to real life abuse victims.

Thanks to his efforts, Hunter and his great aunt actually succeed in capturing the dalmatian family during the season one finale. It’s a near villain victory, until the horrible truth finally comes out and paints everything Hunter has done so far into a new light.

Apparently, this whole time, Hunter was under the impression that Cruella was merely going to have the dogs shaved to get her coat. That they’d be grumpy and bald, but otherwise fine.

Given how young Hunter is, and how he has a pet cat who is also completely hairless but otherwise healthy, I can understand where the ignorant misunderstanding came from.

Hunter reveled in being a bad kid, but he’s still got a moral line.

So he is rightly horrified when he learns the truth. That these dogs are absolutely going to DIE.

And not just die. DIE GRUESOMELY.

It’s wild just how dark this finale is. Cruella has an honest to god Death Machine built, and not only plans to have each cute puppy go through it individually, but she also ties up the pups’ parents in the same the room so they can watch.

Disney cartoon finales don’t play around. Goddamn.

Hunter objects to killing the dogs, which Cruella merely shrugs off. After all, she already got what she wanted. Her grandnephew did his job and is no longer useful to her, so she has him locked up with the dogs.

This is the most nightmarish scenario possible for Hunter. Remember, he was trapped in this same crate alone for six damn months, and now he’s back there again with an army of puppies who are very justifiably angry at him.

It had to be a living hell. Trapped and having no choice but to face his biggest fear, as well as his own overwhelming guilt. All Hunter can do is pathetically try to explain himself. But even then, he can only crumble into tears.

And here it is. The part that gutted me. Like dang it, puppy show. I went into you expecting cute shenanigans. I didn’t sign up for THIS.

“I just want to belong to someone. I’m all alone in the world. You all have each other. You’re a... family.”

It kills me how he words it. Instead of saying he wants to be loved, he says he wants to “belong” to someone. Like he values himself so little.

The puppies, being good dogs and all, take pity on the kid. They’re just kids themselves, and it had to be sobering to see their once most hated enemy at his most vulnerable.

Hunter and the puppies are soon placed elsewhere, so that Cruella can start feeding them into her death machine. And just to add to Hunter’s trauma, he’s placed in a dog crate.

Cruella was going to force him to watch as well. I’m sure that wouldn’t have destroyed what’s left of the kid’s already fragile, diminishing sanity.

Luckily, this being a kid’s show, things turn out all right in the end. Hunter and the dalmatians escape and fight back, but Hunter has one last showdown with his great aunt.

This is my favorite scene in the whole show. It’s the expressions that make it for me. The artists did such a great job making us feel Hunter’s fear and anguish.

And I love that Dorothy (the youngest pup) is the one he happens to end up protecting. She was the one he’d first kidnapped episodes beforehand, so it’s great to see the contrast in who he was back then to who he is now. 

It’s nothing short of gratifying when he finally stands up to his abuser. It had to be the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Not only because he’s been deathly afraid of her his entire life, but also fiercely loyal. He did everything for this woman because all he ever wanted was to be loved back.

Those pained tears speak more than any words ever could.

Cruella is arrested and the dalmatian family goes home. It’s a happy ending.

But things are left kind of ambiguous for Hunter. On the one hand, he’s free. But on the other hand, since his only family is now in prison, what’s going to happen to him?

The kid is still very much traumatized, and he still often blacks out and thinks he’s a dog. It’s a twisted fate, honestly. And since the show has been cancelled due to Disney not advertising it and letting it die on a channel almost nobody has, it looks like there’s not going to be any real resolution for this kid.

Breaks my heart, but I at least appreciate what I got: the story of an abuse victim who, even though he managed to somewhat overcome his situation, was still left scarred by it.

And that’s why I love Hunter de Vil.

He’s tragically what surviving abuse looks like (albeit minus the dog quirk). It’s rare to come out of a bad situation as the perfect victim. The sad truth is that you’re gonna come out of it with messy, negative aspects too.

But that doesn’t make you less worthy of sympathy and help.

TLDR: I like Hunter because he is a good tragic villain. He’s simultaneously gremlin AND baby.

#101 dalmatian street #hunter de vil

[despisydraws]

Saw this around and immediately wanted to participate in @archivistorage 's dtiys challenge!

Its been so long I drew something tma-ish and it was super fun

#I love the motion blur filter too much and there was no way I dont use it in this #Im a little anxious to post this all the other entries were so cool #The ominous black coat is goals I want to have it #The magnus archives #Tma #Yemiellodtiys #Jonathan Sims #Gotta post it on insta too but like... the grain filter distorts in an ugly way when I try #Gotta find a way around that #I forgot that I wanted to give the coat a cool eye pattern too and now Im too lazy to go and fix it so plain black it is #I love how my background and my characters literally never match style-wise ahh #Yet another thing making me insecure about my art #All in all Im kinda satisfied tho #I didnt really think I could make the colors work together like that #eyes tw #Eyestrain #Fire

[undiscovered-horizon]

@oeuryale

Imagine being a vigilante and occasionally taking small jobs for Billy Russo - Part 4

[TW: implications of sex, canon violence]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 5)

"Come on, Billy, what is this?" you asked amused.

The building was empty, only half of the lights stayed on. A black flag with Anvil written on it hang ominously on a shadowy wall. In the middle of the brick room was Billy, surprisingly dressed in something other than a suit: a green t-shirt, cargo pants and heavy boots.

"You're a capable woman," he began. His voice carried well through the spacious, empty toom. "Always achieving the goal. It made me wonder, what exactly is so special about you?" He seemed genuinely curious, thrilled even.

"Dear mister Russo," you said as you dropped your coat in the corner while making a few steps towards him, "I'm not sure how to explain to you that not all problems require a fistfight."

"I'm well aware of that," he had a self-assured grin on his face. "Some require a gunfight but these aren't your strongest suit, sweetheart." You didn't miss his quick glance towards your abdomen, out of which he had pulled a bullet a few days ago. Hopefully, he didn't hold a grudge for ruining both his evening and clothes. Carpet too, probably.

"About that..." You awkwardly rubbed the nape of your neck. "I brought you whiskey but you don't seem to be in a drinking mood." You vaguely pointed at a bottle in a paper bag protruding out of your worn-out coat.

"You didn't answer my question, (Y/N)." His heavy footsteps echoed throughout the empty room as he walked towards you. The scarce lighting in the room made him seem a lot more ominous and attractive. "How do you do it?"

"Oh but a wizard never reveals their tricks." Billy laughed at your words. "But my boss should know, right?" Little did you know that putting him, even figuratively, in a position of authority over you worked like a red cape on a bull charging down the streets of Madrid. There was something inexplicably alluring for Billy in having power over someone as elusive and mysterious as you. The two of you were standing at an arm's length. "Ballroom dancing."

Not that he believed you even for a moment.

Right then, Billy tried to land a punch to your chest but you moved away and grabbed his wrist with one hand, while the other you had pressed against his elbow, able to easily give him a compound fracture with a stronger push.

"Ballroom dancing?" he asked amused.

"Well, the wing-tsun classes were in a ballroom."

Billy got out of your hold and so the two of you began your "dance". Heavy steps and grunts filled the silence of the empty offices. It seemed as though neither of you could properly hit the other - or, perhaps, didn't want to. There was a strange wilderness in Billy's eyes, one filled with excitement and an inexplicable desire. His blows were strong, almost making you lose balance quite a few times. Your moves were significantly faster than his, however, leaving Billy silently astonished at your swiftness and precision. Fistfightig your boss felt almost relaxing.

In a surprising turn of events, you made both of you fall. A heavy thud filled the room. You were sitting on top of Billy (his half-smile revealed he had nothing against such arrangement) with a forearm pressing down his neck. A few tired pants left your mouth before you spoke:

"You're not a very good dancer, mister Russo." Sweat was running down your hot skin, already making your shirt stick to your back.

"I'm good at other things," he answered.

Before you knew it, Billy flipped the two of you over. His hand, consciously or not, glided up your thigh. You moaned softly feeling his lips on your neck and collarbones. That's when you thought to yourself that one of the things he was definitely good at, was making up excuses to get you alone.

#billy russo fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #scenario #marvel #billy russo #marvel scenario #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo x reader #reader insert #the punisher #punisher #netflix punisher #punisher imagine #the punisher imagine #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher scenario #billy russo scenario #billy russo drabble #the punisher drabble #the punisher x reader #the punisher x y/n #the punisher x you

[ddarker-dreams]

Aspiration. Yandere Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part 2! 

Watching others has always been a hobby of yours.

There’s a lot to be learned from observing and watching how people behave and interact. Whether it be for your own simple amusement, or for the sake of gathering information. While some may find it creepy to keep such a keen eye out for others, you don’t look at it that way. Understanding human nature has an endless list of advantages, after all. 

It started as a small side project. When you’d stumble across information on the Phantom Troupe online that wasn’t at a ridiculous price, you found yourself looking more into them. Possible members, possible motivations, surface level stuff. The more you looked into the more you descended into a minor obsession. Questions plagued your mind about their goals, the theories you found too shallow for your taste. 

Through carefully studying their past hits, you came to the conclusion there were no patterns to be found. Nailing down the next possible heist felt like searching for a needle in a haystack, a part of you losing hope at the prospect of ever being in the same area as them. 

So you busied yourself in other ways. From digging through hours of forums and pricey information, you pieced together the most possible members. While they’re all unique in their own right, the apple of your eye has always been their mysterious leader. There have been no solid leads on his real name, much to your chagrin. 

But the leaked autopsies from what’s assumed to be his victims are fascinating. The cause of death was always different! For most nen users who kill, the method of death was typically similar with minor discrepancies. But for whoever this leader was, it almost felt like he had an unlimited amount of abilities. Was that even possible? 

The morality of his actions had never been a strong concern of yours. Wanting nothing more than an opportunity to learn more about him, you brainstormed all you could on how to gain any form of contact. That’s when you got the idea of posting information online yourself, but not about the Troupe. 

From guessing where they might strike next, you posted on hunter websites about information that they might find helpful. Important figures to expect at the events, bodyguard’s abilities that had been confirmed from previous employers. Whether or not the Troupe actually looked and used the information is a mystery, but the prospect of assisting them felt… thrilling. Like you were almost a part of them yourself. 

That leads you to where you are now. A mini road trip of sorts, your last exit approaching fast. 

The Troupe’s realm of possibilities stretched throughout the entire globe, but never close enough where you could investigate in person. But that all changed when rumors of some of the strongest hunters being hired popped up, for a museum exhibit that would be opening tonight. In your city, nonetheless! 

Securing an invitation to the event was a tedious matter, but the possible payoff was enough to keep you motivated. Though being in attendance for too long could be risky if they do actually strike, running surveillance throughout the area would be easier without having to sneak around bouncers. 

Checking your glove department, you find a blurry photo that serves as your hope. It had been posted on a hunter information website earlier today, a credible one at that. Even if obtaining it cost you a pretty jenny, you didn’t think much of it. In the image is what’s believed to be one of the members. A girl wearing a dark turtleneck with equally dark, short hair. 

Having driven around the back of the museum, you lean back into your chair. Stretching your aching muscles, you see why this area is such a hot spot. While the actual exhibit itself didn’t interest you much, it’s evident a lot of effort went into preparing this event. Limousines had lined the entrance, important individuals emerging in expensive outfits; waiting to be escorted inside. 

It’s quieter back here though, with no flashing cameras and chatty socialites. The silence gives you the opportunity to think through your plan once more.

‘I shouldn’t go in unless one of the bodyguards gets suspicious at my loitering. If I’m lucky, maybe, just maybe… I’ll see the Troupe tonight. And their mysterious leader.’ 

Rolling down your windows, you keep a sharp eye on your surroundings. Boredom never gets the opportunity to set in, your own rapidly beating heart never once slowing down. Having flung yourself into a possible lion’s den, the last thing you need to do is relax your concentration; it could be the death of you.

The exhibit opens at 8:00, and it’s currently 7:30. 

The exhaustion from the day starts to weigh on you against your will. All the preparation and anxiety leads to your eyelids feeling heavy, leading you to lightly slap your face. The last thing you need to do is loosen your concentration. That’s when you suddenly feel a strange sensation. 

Perking up almost immediately, your rapidly eyes dart around for the source of this ominous feeling. Only to find nothing out of the ordinary, your car is the only one in this parking lot. Checking your mirrors again, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be dark fabric. 

‘Am I just imagining things?’ 

As far as you see, you have a finite amount of options ahead of you. One, to ignore whatever it is you just saw. Two, to drive off as fast as you can. Three, activating your En to see if anyone is in your immediate area. Staying without doing anything doesn’t feel wise in the slightest, and driving away wouldn’t matter if it is indeed the Phantom Troupe. They’ll catch up to you before you can set any solid distance. 

That leaves using your En. 

It’s risky, but everything about this trip is. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you close your eyes. Activating your En, you feel nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe everything is getting to you after all? It is late, after all. There’s always the possibility that they’re out of your range, but if you were able to see it in your mirror they couldn’t have been that far away.

“So you are a nen user after all?” An unknown voice breaks any semblance of peace you have, scurrying your mind into action. 

Snapping your head to your left, your eyes widen at the sight of a stranger. Not bothering to take a second look, you immediately react by going to start your car. Before you get the opportunity, your car door is pried off by them with ease; their presence threatening. Hands twitching over your keys, you realize they’re faster than you are.

“There’s no need to be hasty,” A deep voice says next to you. “Move back, slowly. What happens to you all depends on your next actions.” 

All you can hear is a mantra of cursing within your own mind. Leaning back as you were told, you hesitantly look to see who your possible assailant is. Much to your surprise, it looks to be a young man around your own age. Wearing a long, leather coat with fur; raven black hair slicked back. 

‘Could this really be…?’

Given the tense situation, this individual doesn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. Is this the confidence a Troupe member normally exudes, if that’s who this is? You can’t help but feel a sense of admiration, that would undoubtedly be stronger if not for the dire circumstance. 

He helps himself to your glove department, rummaging through your insurance information. 

“Ah, your name is [First] then?” he inquires, finally breaking some of the tension in the air. 

It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t humor him with a proper response. He studies your defensive position with analytical eyes, taking in as much information about you as you are about him. You get the feeling that in comparison to him, you’re more of an open book. 

“Do you want my wallet too?” you can’t help but inquire with sarcasm, almost immediately regretting it as his eyes widen. Why you can’t ever keep your mouth shut is beyond you, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“This gives me all I need to know for the time being,” he states with minor indifference, waving your insurance paper with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.” 

Humming in response to his words, you can’t help but throw in another cheap quip. “Something tells me you’re not a police officer.” 

He laughs in good humor at your biting words. “Well, you’d be correct.” 

Before you’re given the opportunity to ask who this person is, he speaks as if he knew what you were intending to ask. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know who I am, [First]. Seeing as you’ve dedicated so much time into researching me.” With this, he places the paper back into the glove compartment with a click. Giving you his full attention, you feel like every aspect of you is being scrutinized. It takes all your will power to hold eye contact, his dark eyes unlike anything you’ve even seen before.

Mouth agape, you speak without thinking. “I take it my VPNs weren’t good enough then.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips at your comment. 

“At first they were. Shalnark had difficulty finding out your identity for a while, but everything can always be traced back to its source,” he leans closer to you, tilting his head. “You’ve been an enigma to me to say the least.” 

“I feel like I should be saying that, not you.” you mumble breathlessly, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. This is either the worst prank in existence, or you’re actually speaking face to face with a member of the Phantom Troupe. While them tracking you down was always an unfortunate possibility in the back of your mind, you never paid much attention to it. 

“You’re free to say what you like. I don’t have any intention of killing you… unless you try something stupid,” he explains to you, straightening his posture. “But you haven’t given me reason to believe you’d do that.” 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips, your attention turning from him to the fists in your lap. Everything in your body is screaming to run, to do something, but you know it’ll be for naught. While he said he wouldn’t kill you, it’s not nearly enough to comfort you. There are fates worse than death, after all. 

“Don’t you have a crown to steal or something? Why waste time with me if you’re not going to kill me?” 

He blinks at your question, before amusing you with an answer. “I’ll get to that later. I’m more interested in seeing what you’re going to do, if I’m being honest.” 

“What I’m going to do…?” you repeat his words back aloud, hoping it’ll help you process the information better.

Knitting your eyebrows together, your mind races to make sense of the implications in his words. This must be how jesters used to feel back in the day, you surmise. Is he expecting you to do something entertaining? Well, given as there’s a solid chance you’re going to be dead in five minutes, why not.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Since I’m likely dying soon, why not tell me your name? It’d be cool to know that much in the afterlife.” 

He considers your words, before responding. “Didn’t I say that as long as you don’t act foolishly I don’t intend on killing you?” 

“I figured talking this much to a Phantom Troupe member counted towards my ‘acting foolishly’ points.” 

“Maybe it does, yes. And to answer your previous question, but my name is Chrollo.” 

The name is one you’ve never heard before. Despite only having met Chrollo a few minutes prior to now, you feel that his foreign name suits him well. Practicing the pronunciation on your tongue in a low tone, you feel a sense of pride at having uncovered this newfound information. It’s more than anyone else has learned.

Chrollo looks down at his watch briefly, before returning his attention back to you. It’s uneasy being incapable of hiding your feelings as well as he does, but you still try your best. Straightening your posture, you try to think of what to say next. This situation is one you never expected to be in. If you had known this would’ve happened, you would’ve prepared some questions at least…

He’s toying with you, you know that much. But it doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent behind it. Rather, a genuine intrigue towards your motives. It could just be hopeful thinking, but you feel like Chrollo wants something from you. Though you’re unsure what. 

“Since I shared my name with you, I believe it’s only fair if I asked you a question of my own,” Chrollo insists, your heart racing for whatever comes next. “Why is it you spend so much time assisting the Spider?” 

You blink. It’s actually a question that you’ve seen before in responses to your posts. People wondering if you were just messing with others by spreading false information, or if you’re an undercover hunter trying to fool the Troupe or something. The question never really sat right with you, since you couldn’t give a good answer to it yourself.

But now that you have a captive audience, you need to think of a coherent response. Vocalizing feelings that you don’t even understand yourself, while under pressure, is certainly anxiety inducing.

Placing a finger to your chin, you articulate your response to the best of your abilities. “I don’t think I have a solid reason. I just found you guys interesting, in a way. No one really knows your motivations, for example. It just adds this mystery element.” 

Chrollo takes in your answer with a slight frown, seemingly not expecting such an unsure response. Since you have no reason to lie at this point, you assume he doesn’t think you’re being untruthful. He’ll undoubtedly call you out on it if he thought you were being dishonest.

“And what do you think our motivations are?” Chrollo continues to press, not settling until you give a satisfactory response.

‘He really isn’t letting me off the hook easily, is he?’

“Well, that’s always been a hot topic. Typically people guess that you do it to spite the rich, or to assert power. I even read one theory that you guys were under a curse and the only way to be free is to steal rare items for the person who cursed you! Weird stuff.” you let out a shaky ramble, scratching your neck with an airy laugh.

“Is that what you believe then?” 

“Not really,” comes your response with a dismissive wave. “I could be wrong, but… I’ve always thought that there isn’t a special motivation. That you do what you want, only for the sake of doing it. There doesn’t always need to be a solid reason for a person’s actions. Sometimes… people just do things.” 

Much to your surprise, Chrollo’s interest remains on you despite your long-winded rant. Why your opinion means anything in the slightest to him is still beyond you, but he seems to be taking in every word seriously.

“For the sake of doing it, huh…?” Chrollo repeats your words back to you, considering them himself. Whatever you said must've struck a chord, as he appears in deep thought by your side. A few moments of tense silence go by, causing you to frown. 

‘Hopefully I didn’t upset him. I didn’t think I said anything that bad, though.’

“You may be right,” Chrollo breaks the brief silence, causing you to jump. “You’re a very strange person, [First].” 

“S-strange? I don’t think you have room to talk,” you blurt out before you can think twice, Chrollo smiling in good nature at your curt response. “I guess you’re kinda right though. Any normal person wouldn’t have been in this situation. I think.” 

“Anyways… since we’re doing some question give and take here, I have some of my own. If that’s okay with you.” 

Amusement flickers in his eyes at your unabashed interest. “Do your worst.” 

“So, there’s always been rumors of one member that I’ve found to be the most intriguing. I’ve seen the most speculation that it’s the leader of the Troupe, but of course no one really knows for sure.” you begin to ponder aloud, Chrollo letting out a soft chuckle at the word leader. 

“Basically, the cause of death is almost always different! I’ve heard of people having a few different types of Hatsu, but never more than two or three. It’s almost like his nen is having unlimited nen abilities? I don’t know, it’s just really fascinating. That’s the only reason that could explain it.” 

“Anyways, you’re probably not too keen on sharing Troupe abilities with a stranger. But like… blink twice if I’m right. Throw me a bone here.” 

Throughout your entire explanation, you paid extra attention to picking up body language. Just anything to see if Chrollo would subconsciously give a hint or two towards your theory being correct. But his ability to control himself is unparalleled. He only looks highly entertained at everything you say. 

“You’re almost right,” Chrollo confirms, making your eyes widen in surprise. “I would know. I’m the boss of the Troupe, after all.” 

His last sentence repeats like a mantra in your mind, your jaw loosening as you realize the full impact of them. 

Not only are you speaking to a member of the Phantom Troupe, but you’re speaking to their leader? This definitely wasn’t what you were expecting when you woke up today. Had you have known you were speaking to the leader, you may have been more polite. 

‘Oh god I’m so fucked.’

“Okay, uh, Mr. Chrollo. Sir. I now just realized I’m definitely gonna be disposed of. So. I have a business proposition. I have a pet cat at home, and if I die, he’s gonna starve. If it’s not too much trouble, can you set him up with like a meal service or something? Here, let me get my venmo…” 

“I’m still not planning on killing you,” Chrollo refutes with a shake of his head at your insistence on the matter. “Though I suppose it’s understandable why you would be worried about that.” 

“So torture it is then?”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind.” 

“Oh…” 

Pursing your lips, you lean back into your seat with a deep sigh. This entire ordeal has been the most stressful time of your life, if not the most notable. The sides of your head feel like they’re pushing against your brain, a massive headache on the way. Sliding down in your seat, your eyes flicker to the time. 

7:43.

‘It’s felt like hours! Only thirteen minutes, huh? I guess time doesn’t fly when you’re speaking to a murderer.’ 

“I do believe it’s my turn to ask you a question now.” Chrollo states, leaning back into the passenger’s seat as if it were his own car. The way he speaks commands such respect, you wonder if it would be impossible for anyone to refute him. You certainly weren’t going to test your luck.

At your lack of rebuttal, he continues. “Why go through all this trouble if not for money? Or prestige?” 

‘Why is he so intent on giving me a midlife crisis?’

“If I had wanted money I would’ve posted detrimental information about you guys,” you respond with an unnatural ease. “But most of the people who do that end up dying. And prestige? Who cares what a bunch of strangers think about me. It’s not gonna do me any good at the end of the day.”

Shaking your head at the thought, you continue. “No, none of those things matter that much. I only wanted to appease my own curiosity. To learn what others tried, only to succeed where they had failed.”

Chrollo hums in response to your heartfelt words. He takes a moment to consider them himself, before leaning in closer to you. At the sudden, unexpected movement; you can’t help but flinch. 

Instead of causing you any harm, he gently places a strand of stray hair behind your ear. Your face ignites in warmth at the tender gesture, your tongue failing to form any coherent words. His cologne almost dulls your senses, overwhelming presence leaving your eyes wide as saucers.

He looks at you with a knowing smile, before retracting his hand and sitting back in the seat. Your hand shakily touches the same area he did, in wild disbelief. 

‘What just happened? Am I dreaming?’ 

“To be truthful, I’ve known about you for a while before now, [First]. I’d been intending on meeting you at some point. It just so happened that everything fell into place the way it did.” Chrollo informs you, serving only to befuddle your feelings further. 

“You’ve fascinated me in the same way I have you. Observation can serve an important purpose, but I’d longed to pick your brain in person instead. Thank you for indulging me.” 

“I-I really don’t know what to say,” you stutter out in response, swallowing thickly. “I knew spending ten dollars on a VPN wasn’t going be enough.” 

“I would’ve found you regardless.” 

‘Good god what is happening? When did breathing become so difficult?’ 

“Oh... well that’s... good to know I think?” 

Chrollo looks at his watch yet again, and you wonder if it means anything detrimental for you. Realistically speaking he probably needs to rekindle with the rest of his group before performing whatever heist they have planned. 

“It looks like our time together has almost run out,” Chrollo says, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “I hadn’t realize how much time went by.” 

Your hunch now confirmed, you once again go over your options. Should he try to do anything to you, there’s still a chance you could make it to the front of the museum in time to alert the bodyguards. If you’re crafty enough, that is. Whether or not you can think coherently in this state is up in the air, as your eyes flicker momentarily to the door handle. 

Hand twitching, you exhale shakily at the thought of your backup plan. What else is there for you to do? Although you’re afraid to test out who’s faster, since you get the feeling it isn’t you. 

Chrollo shakes his head at your obvious thoughts, reaching forward to lock the doors with a dreadful click. 

‘There goes that idea.’

“Still thinking of how to get away, hm?” he asks in a chiding tone, a blush returning to your cheeks at his words. Chrollo seems capable of reading you without even having to try, as frustrating as that is.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do exactly?” you counter, your words coming out shakier than you had hoped. The underlying sarcasm is still there, even with your waning tone. 

“You could come with me instead.” Chrollo offers, in a way that seems too genuine to make any shred of sense. 

“What?” you choke out, spluttering at the implications of his words. 

“Exactly as I said. I’m interested in you, and you know enough now to be considered dangerous,” Chrollo states as if it were obvious. “I know I phrased it like a question, but it’s not exactly a choice."

“In that case, I can’t really say no can I?” you mumble, grasping your hand to hopefully stop it from shaking. Control of your body had slipped through the cracks, leaving you in a constant state of alertness. 

“You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Chrollo looks at you in a way that shows he’s already won. “Instead, you’ll do this.”

“I already have someone monitoring you here -- so running won’t do you any good. Sit here and wait for me to come back. You can do that, can’t you?” 

Biting your lip, all you can do is nod your head. It’s better than dying, you figure. 

Chrollo seems content enough with your obedience, sliding over to leave the same way he had came in. Before he leaves you to your own thoughts, he offers a final quip.

“We’ll have a lot more discuss while we travel together, [First].”

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #chrollo lucilfer x reader #HunterXHunter #Hunter X Hunter #hunter x hunter imagines #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter imagine #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh imagine #hxh #my stuff #commissions

[pangolin-404]

You Know The Drill By Now: the property of hate chapters 5 and 6 laying-in-my-own-thoughts time

“Ideas are immoral” is the funniest sentence. My train of thought went “Hero’s going to show him a new point of view and prove him wrong” to “oh that dog is going to cause harm” real quick because that does not look healthy

meta but. love how the artist draws them, the style is so so good. the ruffle of Hero’s coat, the way they draw RGB, how scrunged and scringly the idea is, the shading and shapes and colors in general, it’s great

while that was a good plan and I do find it a little funny how tv adverts made the idea wither away like a sad dying flower I don’t think RGB is very pleased about getting conked out like that

ok so. I can see where the butterfly is coming from; Hero IS being ordered around and dragged around by RGB, but RGB knows what he’s doing and as much as I dislike this argument, is the adult in the situation, but I can see how planting that seed of annoyance can make Hero unwilling to listen to him, because she’s the hero after all, shouldn’t she have a say in things? RGB withhold information from her is not the smartest move

“You can’t.” HUH? RGB YOU CAN’T LEAVE IT AT THAT?? MY MAN ELABORATE? the look on Hero’s face. man

THE DOUBTS POPPING UP. OOUOUOGHG OW. I can’t tell if he’s being as whimsical and vague as ever or if he’s genuinely trying to go into more detail but the way the world words just isn’t making it easy. He’s pressing the whole fate thing on Hero, insisting she can’t be herself because she agreed to being the hero. SHE CAN’T REMEMBER HER NAME. MAN. RGB I’M GOING TO DRAIN YOU UNTIL YOU LOOK LIKE A SAD MIME. Heroooooo nooo don’t cry >:(

I wonder how many times RGB’s done this. How many times he’s explained, eventually asked, watched people realize they don’t remember their names. I wonder how impatient he. How tired he is of the same song and dance. are his failed attempts people who died? what the hell are you doing man?

nice abstract art looming ominously above you there sure hope that’s fine and normal

loooore. LOOOOOORRREE! RGB experiencing doubts of his own. what IS your goal here sir. better run back and scoop up that child because that’s YOUR kid now buddy

-squints- what the hell kind of mystery flesh pit nightmare am I looking a- THAT’S HERO CHRIST MAN DIG HER OUT SHE’S GETTING EATEN ALIVE

“Not like I wanted this job in the first place.” Then why are you doing it. is someone making you do this. seems like everyone you’ve met thus far doesn’t think what you’re doing is the most important thing ever. why. did you get attached. admit you got attached

If lies and doubts seem to be born from people’s emotions, then I wonder if Hero is scared of RGB, or of what’s happening? I wonder when he’ll realize that, or if he already has.

I wonder if humans are the main draw from which these things pop out of or if everyone in this world is mellow as hell

took me a moment to realize the Grief was crying over RGB. and then I remembered he fears water. someone put him in a bag of rice :(

👁👄👁 hey bro what the hell was that why did rgb lose it and turn black and white mom pick me up im scared. where did he get a scythe. sir you are traumatizing both me and the child 🅱lease cease and desist 

don’t know WHAT just happened but. sure. RGB deserves to black out after that

the flowers in this chapter have symbolism I can feel it. whatever grew around he and Hero

did Hero’s coat turn into a mass of doubt because if so that’s messed up but also her dropping it is probably some fancy meaning about her regaining some level of trust in RGB because he sort of saved her. she’s worried about him! she’s stickin by his side!

static heartbeat RGB static heartbeat RGB static heartbeat RGB st

AAWWW SHE TRIED DOING HIS SNAP TRICK TO GET THE CANE. HERO I CARE FOR YOU DEEPLY

girl you call that a tree i call that the damn circus clown chymus don’t touch that you’ll catch a disease

l-loooooree (slightly more distressed this time) ! I love their dynamic so much. RGB has SECRETS. Hero needs to sit down and have something fully explained to her for once she deserves so many explanations about what’s going on. girl’s being put through so much

#thoughts #the property of hate #tpoh posting #tpoh liveblog

[tigerkirby215]

5e Oleander, the Dark Unicorn build (Them’s Fightin’ Herds)

(Artwork by Mane 6)

My brain completely didn’t register that it was spooky month, even though ironically I made a build for literal Satan last week. Where do you go after making the pure embodiment of evil? …Unicorns are scary, right? I mean they’re certainly scarier than a scarecrow.

GOALS

My magic may be dark, but it will bring light to the world - It seems all you need to do to get phenomenal cosmic power is read a cursed book. We’ll need teleportation, chapter traps, and Eldritch Shadow Blasts.

Or dark; either one - Oli’s got friends on the other side... of the page. FHTNG, I summon thee!

I don't have the time or crayons to teach you how to fight! - You’re still a fighting game character so you’ve still got to be able to throw a punch. Or stab with a horn in your case.

RACE

If you want to be a unicorn the closest you’ll get is Centuar, but even if you ignore the stats Centaur isn’t that great for you. Almost all the abilities are based on keeping in melee range, and you’re mostly played as a zoner.

With that in mind you’re only half under the influence of darkness, so how about a Drow Half-Elf for all the fun of being a Drow without the penalties and lore connotations of being a female Drow? (Feel free to play a full Drow if you wish just realize that you’re getting Sunlight Sensitivity which is seriously obnoxious.) Your Charisma increases by 2 and you can increase another two abilities by 1: Dexterity and Constitution will let you dodge some hits and tank what few hits do connect. You have Darkvision up to 60 feet and your Fey Ancestry gives you advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can’t put you to sleep.

As a Drow Half-Elf you can pick up Drow Magic for a bit of extra spark in your shadow sparks which I’ll go over at the appropriate levels. And you get Common, Elvish, and one additional language of your choice so grab Deep Speech to talk with Fred. (Note: Depending on your DM Fred may not speak Deep Speech.)

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - You’re as nimble as a horse, because you are a horse. (That, and I want this ability score to be even.)

14; CHARISMA - You are the prettiest unicorn with a mane as white as... well it was white.

13; CONSTITUTION - When in the business of fighting cows, ice deer, and sheep with armies of puppies you’ve gotta be able to take a hit.

12; INTELLIGENCE - Read enough books and you’re bound to get some smarts, even if that book is alive and is teaching you how to manipulate darkness.

10; WISDOM - Oli is a smart cookie. Not smart enough to realize that reading the demon book would make your coat black, but still pretty smart.

8; STRENGTH - I’d argue that a head horn is a finesse weapon, and simply put we need everything else more.

BACKGROUND

To find a forbidden shadow book you’ve gotta know your way around a library, and as a Sage you know exactly that. You get proficiency in Arcana and History along with two languages of your choice (to maximize Demonology take Infernal and Abyssal, though you may want to talk to your extended family with Sylvan or Celestial.)

Your Researcher feature will always let you know where to find a book that you may need. It may not be easy to find (if it’s back home with your old friends they probably won’t welcome you in) but you’ll know where to go to grab it.

(Artwork by Linvidia on DeviantArt)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - WARLOCK 1

Hey it’s the funny class I use too much! Jokes aside you literally get your magic from an otherworldly being so what else would you be? Regardless Warlocks get proficiency in two skills from the Warlock list: Investigation will help you search for the key and Intimidation will let you scare away anyone who’ll try to stop you.

Unlike most classes Warlocks choose their subclass at level 1, and there’s certainly a lot to pick from. But without any Shadow patron who is there to choose? Well the Archfey patron can recreate a lot of Fred’s powers. Notably Fey Presence will let Fred give your foes a jump! As an action you can cause each creature near you to make a Wisdom saving throw against your Warlock save DC: the creatures that fail their saving throws are either charmed or frightened by you until the end of your next turn. Consider the charm being you and your natural unicorn beauty. Regardless you can use this action once per short or long rest.

And of course as a Warlock you get access to Pact Magic. You learn two cantrips from the Warlock list and hey look it’s Eldritch Blast: for the shadow spark in you. To rip out some pages take Create Bonfire to lay down some Chapter Traps. Now would also be a good time to mention that thanks to Drow Magic you also get access to the Dancing Lights cantrip, in case you’re in a dark cave and your Darkvision isn’t enough.

You can also learn two first level spells: Arms of Hadar will let you stick a tentacle out of your book to give yourself space to back away from your enemies. To make it easier to get past an opponent’s block Faerie Fire from the Archfey list will light up an opponent’s weak spot to give you and your allies advantage. It helps to know the hitboxes.

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations and oh hello there Agonizing Blast! How did you get here? Jokes aside for your other invocation grab Armor of Shadows to keep it light and still be up for a fight!

You can also learn another spell: Sleep is also from the Archfey list and as the name implies it’ll put your enemies to sleep! No one likes late night fights, especially with net lag.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks can choose their Pact Boon and since your best friend lives in a book you’ve gotta take Pact of the Tome. As a Tome Warlock you get the Unicornomicon Book of Shadows, in which you can inscribe three cantrips from any class’ spell list. Guidance is never a bad thing to have so I’d start with that; get Fred to help you with your research, as he’s literally a living book! Thaumaturgy will let you channel some shadow magic to do spooky stuff like make candles flicker or create ominous whispers. And to channel some of your unicorn magic take Druidcraft to shape nature somewhat.

You can also now learn second level spells: for some short range teleportation take Misty Step to vanish in a puff of darkness. And remember that Faerie Fire spell? Thanks to Drow Magic you can cast it once per long rest without using a spell slot.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement: increase your Charisma to be the prettiest unicorn of darkness.

You can also learn another spell along with another cantrip! For your cantrip take Prestidigitation to complete the trifecta of minor magic mastery. As for leveled spells Mirror Image will let you up your dodging game, putting you in four places at once to make it much harder for your enemy to hit you!

(Artwork by Angelzillah on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation and hopefully you didn’t expect Fred to do nothing but whisper sweet nothings to you, right? With Book of Ancient Secrets you can spend some time reading to cast a variety of spells! When you take this invocation you learn two 1st level spells with the Ritual tag like Detect Magic and Identify to help you find the key or anything else of importance. You can now cast those spells as Ritual spells, as well as any Warlock spells you may learn with the Ritual tag. You can also inscribe new Ritual spells into Fred your Book of Shadows at a cost of 50 gp and 2 hours per level of the spell.

And speaking of spells you can learn third level spells at this level such as Fear, which causes fear in your enemies. Funny how that works. Additionally thanks to Drow Magic you can cast the Darkness spell once per Long Rest, to turn off the lights and let Fred out to play. Sadly you don’t have Fred yet, and it should be mentioned that most people can’t see through the dark.

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Archfey Warlocks get some more potent teleportation with Misty Escape. When you take damage you can use your reaction to turn invisible and teleport up to 60 feet. You remain invisible until the start of your next turn unless you attack or cast a spell. You can only use this super teleport once per short or long rest, but it should be enough for some mix-ups right?

Speaking of mix-ups you can put your opponents in a dizzy state with Hypnotic Pattern. Just remember that hitting them will break them out of it.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks can learn 4th level spells like Dimension Door for some cross-map teleports.

You can also grab another Eldritch Invocation! Trickster’s Escape will let you tech out of grabs. Is Freedom of Movement overly situational? Yes! Are there better invocations to choose? Yes! Are they in character? No! But anything can be in character if you want it to be!

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement so cap off your Charisma to be a master of shadows.

You can also learn another spell and I think it’s about time: Dark spirits, twist the trees, foul the lake, and curse this land! FHTNG I SUMMON THEE! Summon Aberrant Spirit is an Unearthed Arcana spell likely to be in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything that lets you summon a tentacle monster from beyond! Fred can take the form of a Beholderkin, Slaadi, or Star Spawn.

Star Spawn is probably the closest to Fred, attacking a creature’s mind with his attacks and also having an aura that drains at their sanity. The Slaadi is a good tank that can also counter cheese strats by denying healing. And the Beholderkin? Well it can fly and shoot at range. Fred’s a demon of many forms, and he’s also fun at parties!

(Artwork by probablyfakeblonde on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 9

Now that we’ve got our book smarts it’s time to improve our combat smarts. If you’re going to fight predators you need to have the best combat training possible, which is why we’ll be going into the class that is the most well-known for expertise in combat...

BARD 1

The Bard class, master of close-ranged combat with expertise in every skill required to keep you in a fight. Jokes aside first level Bards get proficiency with a skill of their choice (Perception would further help with spotting danger or potential keyholders) and a musical instrument. (Pan Flutes seem in character for a forest child.) Bards also get Bardic Inspiration at first level, letting you pull out an assist to give allies a d6 to attack rolls, skill checks, and saving throws.

But most notably Bards get more Spellcasting! You get two cantrips from the Bard list: to weaponize salt take Vicious Mockery, for BM so bad your opponent messes up. Psychological warfare! And since you don’t have hands of your own as a unicorn (you do as a half-elf though) grab Mage Hand to use your magic to grab things with your horn.

You can also learn 4 spells from the Bard list: for some dark powers manipulating your foes take Dissonant Whispers. For some dark powers helping you take Unseen Servant. To recover more easily from air combos take Feather Fall. And for some push-blocking take Thunderwave for more push and less block.

LEVEL 10 - BARD 2

Second level Bards get Jack of All Trades, letting you add half your proficiency bonus to any skill you aren’t already proficient in. Dark magic works in strange and mysterious ways... and Fred’s a long book. You also get Song of Rest to let your allies heal an extra d6 during short rests, which is nice because you’re going to be short resting a lot as a Warlock. I mean, you’re level 10 so a d6 of healing probably isn’t going to help much but...

You can also learn another spell like Bane, giving your opponents some input lag to open them up for attacks.

LEVEL 11 - BARD 3

Third level Bards get Expertise in two skills of their choice: Arcana will make you the master of the arcane, and Intimidation... you have a literal demon as your best friend.

But more importantly you can choose your Bard college and to actually gain some combat proficiency go into the College of Valor. Along with proficiency in medium armor, martial weapons, and shields (Oli doesn’t wear armor but Medium Armor might be nice. The only weapon you’ll really be using is a rapier but if your DM allows it there’s no reason not to equip a shield?) you also further your assists with Combat Inspiration, allowing your inspiration die to be added to damage rolls and AC; basically the only two things you couldn’t add it to before.

And you can learn second level spells such as Locate Object, because these silly ungulates keep losing their keys!

LEVEL 12 - BARD 4

4th level Bards get an Ability Score Improvement and Dexterity will make you tougher to hit while also increasing the potency of your horn stabs.

You can also learn another spell along with another cantrip! A lot of people say Friends is a bad cantrip because it makes the person you’re talking to hate you after using it but here’s the thing: Friends works on Intimidation checks too. Who cares if they hate you when they fear you? But a spell that people don’t say is bad is Lesser Restoration, which will help you break out of stun lock.

LEVEL 13 - BARD 5

5th level Bards see their Bardic Inspiration increase to a d8 which is great because they also get Font of Inspiration, allowing their Bardic Inspiration to come back on a short rest. Told you you’d be doing a lot of short rests!

You can also learn third level spells like Sending to challenge your friends to a duel, as long as they’re on the same plane of existence. TFH isn’t on the Epic Games Store; thank god.

LEVEL 14 - BARD 6

6th level Valor Bards get an Extra Attack, letting them attack twice with the attack action; it’s really that simple. Well you do also get another spell, and I have no doubt that Oleander’s used to speaking in Tongues... Oh and you get Contercharm which is godawful poop-garbage, letting you spend your action to give your allies advantage against Charms and Fears. Maybe this is why TFH is a 1v1 game; no need to use Countercharm?

(Artwork by SinniePony on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 9

5th level spell time! For a massive single target Shadow Blast grab Negative Energy Flood! Look, just because we’ve never seen Oleander turn someone into a zombie...

You can also grab another invocation and while we’ve never seen Oleander fly Ascendant Step is an insane utility that I’m sure Oli would’ve learnt to reach the high book shelves.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 10

10th level Fey Warlocks have Beguiling Defenses for immunity against charms, and if someone attempts you charm you you can spend your reaction to instead charm them! You can also learn another cantrip like Minor Illusion to manipulate the shadows around you. 

LEVEL 17 - WARLOCK 11

11th level Warlocks get a 6th level Mystic Arcanum, which is a 6th level spell that uses a 6th level slot that comes back after a long rest. There are a lot of nice options at 6th level but if Fred is getting grabby he might send them to a Mental Prison. If they succeed against the spell they take a bunch of psychic damage but if they fail they are surrounded by an illusion which only they can see which has “hideous maws filled with dripping teeth” as one of the available options. Basically Fred sends them to a hellscape and they can either sit there in horror or try to break out, taking 10d10 psychic damage in the process.

You can also learn another regular Warlock spell from the regular Warlock spell list: Dream will let you reach your foes even in their dreams (duh) and let Fred give them a spook to stop them from sleeping! Or you can use it for some otherworldly messaging. Maybe use it to call a smug reindeer a pompous princess?

LEVEL 18 - WARLOCK 12

12th level means an Ability Score Improvement: time to cap off that Dexterity modifier to be quick on your feet and sharp with your horn!

Additionally you get your last Eldritch Invocation at this level: there are a lot of options but none that really feel in-character, so pick whatever you want.

LEVEL 19 - WARLOCK 13

13th level Warlocks get their 7th level Mystic Arcanum: while there are a lot of good options Crown of Stars will let you charge up some powerful shadow blasts, creating 7 stars that float around you and shed light. You can shoot one out as a bonus action to do 4d12 Radiant damage. While you have a star floating above you it also creates light, which might be useful.

And you additionally get another regular Warlock spell: since it’s my build take Synaptic Static, because I like this spell. Have Fred assault your foes minds to make them easier to read!

LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 14

As a 14th level Archfey you can finally pull your foes into Fred’s realm! Dark Delirium gives you a new not-quite-spell: Take an action to choose a creature that you can see within 60 feet of you. It must make a Wisdom saving throw against your warlock spell save DC. On a failed save, it is charmed or frightened by you for 1 minute or until your concentration is broken, though the effect ends early if the creature takes any damage.

Until this illusion ends, the creature thinks it is lost in a misty realm, the appearance of which you choose. The creature can see and hear only itself, you, and the illusion. You must finish a short or long rest before you can use this again, but your time in the pixel lobby to do as you please. Maybe just teabag to taunt them with a unicorn shuffle.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

So naïve trying to beat me - Maxed out Charisma means the best spells you can get. Maxed out Dexterity with Mage Armor means 18 AC (up to 20 if your DM lets you slap a shield on!) And a +2 CON mod means your health isn’t bad either!

Fine, but let's make it quick - A lot of your better features come back on short rests. Both Bardic Inspiration and your 5th level Pact slots are easily refreshable, allowing you to always be ready for a fight.

I have trained years for this; you will not dissuade me - Despite coming from a game without assists you are a master of helping your friends. Jack of All Trades in all skills, Bardic Inspiration for all rolls, plenty of utility spells (including an ungodly amount of cantrips and Book of Ancient Secrets to handle any ritual spells) and plenty of languages to top it off.

CONS

I am no weakling! - Big investment in AC... not so much in saving throws. Your Intelligence, Constitution, and notably Strength all have very low saving throws.

Itty-bitty living space - Low Constitution saves mean a frequent drop of concentration. And speaking of concentration you’ve got a lot of them but can only have one up at a time. Can’t have Fred around if you want to float too.

Need... more... power... - Truthfully there’s a lot I didn’t take from Warlock. I didn’t take any of the better spells from Archfey like Blink, Greater Invisibility, or Dominate Person. You could’ve gotten level 15 Eldritch Invocations like Witch Sight and Shroud of Shadows, but I wanted Extra Attack. Truthfully if you know your campaign will be going to level 20 then Warlock 15 / Bard 5 might be a better build, and nothing is forcing you to take the spell I did.

But you’re used to being underestimated. When it comes to matters of life-and-death any advantage is necessary. So go all out with your friend on the other side! Fight with spell and horn sword to prove that all magic can save the world. Well, perhaps not salt magic...

(Animation by Szafir87 on DeviantArt. Original artwork by OgaraOrCynder on DeviantArt.)

#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd warlock #yup more warlocks xd #dnd bard #tfh #Them's Fightin' Herds #Them's Fightin' Herds Oleander #Oleander #unicorn #tfh unicorn #tfh Oleander #ungulate #demon

[wolveria]

Mechanical Heart - Ch. 1

Pairing: RK800-60 x f!Reader

Summary: RK800 Model 313 248 317 - 60 had the perfect bait to lure in his defective predecessor. He had run the scenario thousands of times, preconstructed his strategy in every conceivable way, and he simply could not fail.

The one scenario 60 didn't anticipate was his sudden instability to the presence of the human, and the desire objective to take from Connor what should be his.

Prompt: Toxic by 2WEI (for my writing challenge at @trashmenofmarvel​)

Chapter Warnings: Noncon, dark fic, violence, psychological abuse

Word Count: 1.7k

AO3

You should’ve known it wasn’t Connor.

The light in his eyes wasn’t warm; it was cruel.

The smile dancing on his lips wasn’t kind; it was mocking.

But people see what they want to see, and you desperately wanted to see your friend again.

Still, you should’ve known it wasn’t Connor.

“Move,” he said, voice pitched low and curled into a snarl.

You hurriedly stepped out of the automated taxi, your bootie slippers sliding for a few inches on the icy ground before gaining traction. The air was frigid and unforgiving, snow landing on your shoulders and biting through the thin material of your pajama shirt.

You might have fallen if not for the vice-like grip on your bicep, barely allowing you to regain your balance before tugging you toward the ugly grandiose tower. Your abductor didn’t spare you a glance as you stumbled clumsily behind him.

Remaining silent even as your heart pounded in distress, you were dragged through the doors into the brightly-lit, geometrically-designed lobby. CyberLife security, cutting imposing figures with state-of-the-art gear and weaponry, flanked you on either side. There was no escape; you were well and truly within the belly of the beast.

“Connor android identified. Scan complete. Accessed authorized,” a passive, robotic voice announced as you were trod through a scanner. The guards were no longer following you. Maybe they knew you didn’t stand a chance of escaping. Not from him.

The deceiver in question bullied you inside a single elevator, all cold glass and unfeeling plastic, not unlike the android beside you.

It wasn’t until the transparent doors slid shut that you found the courage to speak.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile that was far from friendly. How could you not know the moment you’d laid eyes on him that he wasn’t your friend? Your Connor?

Because he’d known exactly what to say and how to say it. The imposter had shown up on your apartment doorstep, soft hair and broad shoulders dusted with snowflakes, his sweet expression molded into aching desperation.

You have to come with me, he’d pled with just the right amount of heart-tugging earnestness. They know who you are.

CyberLife, he’d answered when you asked who he meant, still somehow devastatingly beautiful with his mouth pulled into a grimace. Which means the FBI knows too. They’ll arrest you, charge you with protecting deviants. I have to get you somewhere safe.

You’d known this day would come eventually, had thought the day had arrived when you first met Connor. You hadn’t been surprised when the police had shown up at the UFD to question you and your coworkers. You had been surprised when one of the detectives turned out to be an android, a model you hadn’t recognized.

Everyone had been shocked to learn Rupert Travis had been an android. But not you. You, who had discovered Rupert years ago through the underground network. Had helped him move out of that rundown, condemned building, gotten him a job at the UFD when he didn’t want to go north to cross the border.

You’d denied your knowledge and complacency, skillfully with years of practice. Connor had seen through your lies immediately. A human would have been fooled; an android wasn’t.

Maybe he’d been intrigued by your sympathy toward deviants. Maybe he had calculated there was a chance Rupert would try to get in contact. Either way, he’d kept coming back to see you, and you’d continued to treat him like a person, even a friend. The first human, you suspected, to have done so in his short life.

So when he’d shown up at your doorstep, alive and whole after running off to find where the deviants were hiding, you hadn’t questioned it. Not until the ominous CyberLife tower had grown larger outside the taxi window. Only then did you look to see the discrepancy in his serial numbers.

They ended in 60 instead of 51.

The android—Sixty, you called him in your head, refusing to let him share a name with Connor—said nothing. He looked ahead out of the glass doors, hands clasped neatly behind his back as you ascended the tower at a languid speed.

“I don’t know where the deviants are.” You curled your fists by your side, trying to be brave. They couldn’t make you talk, and they had no authority to keep you here. What this android had done was tantamount to kidnapping. “And I don’t know where Connor is, either.”

You didn’t bother to add and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, because the statement went without saying. Or rather, it was said perfectly clear within your tone, coated with disgust.

The android reached over to the numbered panel and pressed his palm against it, the picture of composure as the elevator came to a stop. It was why you weren’t prepared when he grabbed your arm, spun you around, and shoved you hard against the glass.

His long, slim fingers pressed into your neck, not hard enough to cut off your air but just enough to make your head spin with fear. He dipped his head down, staring with the full force of his gaze. It was the first time he’d really looked after you after the trap had been sprung.

“What is it that makes you so special?” he mused, his brows furrowing carefully. “What is it about you that make the deviants trust so easily?”

You blinked rapidly, your mouth running dry in your mouth. He was referring to the other deviants you’d helped, giving them a safe place to stay on their way to Jericho or the Canadian border. Between you and Rupert, you had saved dozens of androids over the past two years.

But only Connor knew that. He was the only one you’d trusted with that information. How did he know?

Your question was answered in the form of a silky, insidious voice.

“I have his memories. Of the cases. The deviants. You,” the Connor doppelganger murmured. His face was so close the breath of his words tickled your face. You wanted to recoil, but his grip was ironclad. “I have everything I need. All that was missing was the right bait. It’s not your knowledge I require. Your body will suffice.”

“What?” you croaked, a tremble starting at the base of your spine. He was close, too close, one black dress shoe planted between your feet, the silky edges of his jacket brushing against your bare arms. He was so warm you could feel the heat radiating from his chassis under his artificial skin, an unwanted heat source that felt too good after the freezing temperatures had left you chilled.

The android cocked his head to the side, a cruel parody of the way Connor would look at you when you suspected he was scanning your vital signs. You wanted to curl inward, shield yourself from the exposure of his uncaring gaze.

The corner of the android’s mouth pulled into an amused smirk, mismatched by the hardness in his eyes.

“Knowing his past actions and thought-processes, I can calculate what he will do and when he will do it. The raid on Jericho was less successful than the authorities had hoped, and Connor has disconnected his network from CyberLife’s servers. In all probability, he has joined the deviants in their cause.”

You tried, and failed, to keep your expression passive, knowing the widening of your eyes gave you away. Connor wasn’t just alive, he had gone deviant?

The android continued to speak, dark eyes roving over your face in a slow, lazy manner, as if he had all the time in the world. “He will attempt to infiltrate CyberLife with the goal of freeing the millions of androids in the warehouse.”

He leaned closer, one of his hands partially lifting from your neck as his thumb traced the edge of your jaw. You tried to turn away. He tightened his grip, an angry crease appearing between his brows as he forced you to look at him.

“He’s going to fail his mission. He will choose to do so, because the alternative will be your death.”

Your expression folded, chest tightening at the truth of his words. You knew Connor. He would never let you die if he had a choice. After all, he’d let Rupert go to save his human partner’s life.

This bastard knew it too. The triumphant glean in Sixty’s eyes said as much.

“Please,” you said, not caring if your voice was small and pathetic. “You don’t have to do this. It’s too late for CyberLife to stop what they’ve started. Even if they do, this won’t be the last awakening. Androids are living beings, they’re people, and they have every right to exist alongside humans—“

Sixty pressed the pad of his thumb against your trembling lip and pushed. You went still, lax with shock, heart thudding in your ears as his gaze dropped to your partially open mouth.

Something hot and sinuous coiled in your belly. You immediately squeezed your eyes shut, disgust heating your cheeks.

No. This isn’t Connor. This isn’t him!

“Interesting,” he purred. He was still too close, the weight of his lithe but unyielding body pinning you to the glass. You couldn’t open your eyes so you remained still, waiting for whatever cruelty he had in store.

And then, the weight and heat was gone, his hand disappearing from around your throat.

You opened your eyes to find his palm pressed against the panel, jostling you slightly off-balance as the elevator began to move again. He didn’t spare you a second glance, returning to his position in front of the second set of doors, hands clasped behind his back in a perfectly poised demeanor. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his sharp, tailored suit.

His back was to you, broad shoulders relaxed and uncaring as if you weren’t even there. As if he hadn’t just pinned you to the glass seconds ago with the intention of dismantling you.

Or maybe he still would. His posture was composed, but there was a potential there. He reminded you, in that moment, of a relaxed, sunning leopard, seconds before its muscles coiled into steel and its glass claws tore into its prey.

Tearing it apart, piece by screaming piece.

Next Chapter

#detroit become human #dbh #connor #dbh connor #sixty #rk800 #rk800-60 #my fanficiton #my writing #dark fic #mind the tags #trashman2kchallenge

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 3: Feline Tactics

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.  

Word count: 2783

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the magnificent pandabearer

Tien and JoJo hadn’t been back but three minutes before the rest of the pack came sniffing around.  Remi could practically see their animals’ tails arched into question marks of curiosity. Taking a snickerdoodle for herself, Tien set the box on a table and stepped back to let the others swarm.

“Suddenly my cooking’s not good enough for you?” Avery scowled and folded his arms.  “Fine, then you can cook for yourselves.” The lanky male threatened to stop running the kitchen in the communal aerie whenever someone irritated him, which was nearly on a weekly basis.  He never did, though, because the offending party usually made reparations before the next mealtime.

“Hmm, it’s good enough for me, baby.”  Tien nuzzled her nose against his with the soft, lazy smile she reserved for her mate and fed him a bite of snickerdoodle.

Avery chewed thoughtfully before muttering, “Not bad.”  She stroked and petted his back until he wrapped an arm around her and fed her small bites.

“Oh man, I don’t care what you gotta do, we need this woman,” moaned Elijah around a cupcake, the senior soldier’s eyes rolling back into his head.  “ I need this woman.”

“One look at you and she’d run,” Lark snorted and waved her caramel apple at him.  A few slices of pecans fell off his cupcake and Elijah caught them with cat-like reflexes.  He eyed her like he was considering pelting her with them, but after a moment he tossed them in his mouth with another groan.

“Besides, why do you automatically assume she would cook?” Tien frowned at Elijah.

“I’m sure I could coax the kitten into it,” he smirked and licked the frosting from his fingers.  The male never had a shortage of lovers, all of whom looked like the cat that got into the cream when they shared skin privileges.

Normally, Remi would be more concerned about a submissive female tangling with a dominant male, particularly one as deadly as Elijah was under the jokes and openly sensual nature.  Despite a face that was just shy of being beautiful and a body nearly as packed with muscle as his own, Remi doubted the other man could coax the reticent Lorelei into anything.

Remi, on the other hand, was certain he could entice her.

“She turned you down.”  Theo’s quiet, but deep, voice drowned out the yumyumyum noises Elijah was making.

Everyone stilled and turned to look at their alpha.  Merde, he’d hoped to gloss over his failure, but it was too late.

“Do you think I’d get arrested if I kidnapped her?”  Elijah’s musing broke the silence as he contemplated the best way to attack the caramel apple he held.  Remi smacked the back of his head.

“You’re a leopard, not a bear.  Act like it,” he growled. The male soldier waggled his brows and bit into the apple, nearly unhinging his jaws in order to fit the damn thing in.  His unrepentance slackened into concern when the caramel melted around his teeth and he appeared stuck.

“You’re just grumpy because she resisted your charms,” teased Lark.  The sentinel was at the back of the room and therefore safely out of smacking range.  While he knew that the teasing denoted an ease and a sense of safety, sometimes Remi braced himself to see if he would lose his temper.  Some alphas didn’t permit such familiarity, holding more Machiavellian views, and he still worried that he fell into that group.

Instead of taking it as a challenge, his leopard rolled its eyes and flopped on its side with its back to Lark.

“I’ll remember that when the first snow hits and it’s time to do perimeter rotations.”  He narrowed his eyes at Lark.

Elijah managed to break away from his sticky trap, taking half the apple with him.

“How’d she manage to defy our fearless leader?” he asked around the chunk of fruit.  Or at least that’s what Remi assumed the garbled noises coming from the soldier’s mouth were.

“Ms. Maddox doesn’t see the need for pack.”

The soldiers and maternals stared at him.  Most cats were solitary creatures, but their human halves needed community, family.  Dominants needed to protect, and maternals needed to nurture. Each needed the other to feel whole.  Even those who chose to go it alone understood those who preferred pack life.

Moreover, they could not afford to have a predatory Changeling living within their borders that wasn’t one of them, it might give ideas to those with purposes darker than creating sinful concoctions.  RainFire was just large and powerful enough to make outsiders think twice before trespassing, but there were those who would be emboldened by her presence. They couldn’t hold off many repeated comers, and they had to protect their young ones.

None of the soldiers pointed any of that out, but they did exchange glances.  Like him, they were uneasy at the prospect of having to drive Lorelei off, their instincts wanting to bring her in where they could watch over her along with the rest of their vulnerable.  Not all of them had met the ocelot, but all were aware of her, just as they were the herd of elk that occasionally roamed through part of their area, the flight of crows to the east, and each individual non-predatory Changeling who lived on their territory.

“I do enjoy proving people wrong,” Tien said mildly into the silence, momentarily diverting the martially minded.  Sly grins broke out around the room.

“No caveman tactics,” said Remi with a pointed look at Elijah, who gave him wide eyes in return.  “We’re cats; at least try and be sneaky. If you can’t figure that out, I’m sure one of the cubs could give you tips.”  Elijah clasped a hand to his chest as if mortally offended, then grimaced when his t-shirt adhered to his caramel-coated hand.

“Now that you’ve all been bribed and some of you are glued to your seats.”  Elijah shifted and had to pry his palm off the table he sat on. “An email has been circulating in the area.”  Remi brought it up on the screen at the front of the conference room. Everyone’s attention snapped to the display.

He smiled to himself.

The poor baby had no idea what she was in for when an entire pack of cats focused on a single goal.

“Of course they want it delivered,” Lorel muttered sarcastically to herself as she bobbled along the road, which was barely deserving of the name.  A particularly large pothole had her worrying about cracking a tooth.

The hover option in her ancient sedan had given out that morning, and she had neither the time nor the money to get it looked at.  She couldn’t even appreciate the patchwork of trees because she had to keep one eye on the rutted-out dirt track and the other on the cake in the backseat.  If it bounced right up into the ceiling of the car, they weren’t getting a refund. And she was going to charge them to have the car detailed.

The donkey trail dead-ended in a turnabout circle; no buildings appeared to be in sight, the only sign of life was what looked like game trails leading off into the woods.  Did they live in burrows like animals? She didn’t think that there were any caves in this part of the mountains.

Just as Lorel was contemplating whether or not to dump the goods and bail, a tall black woman materialized from the trees and motioned her to the right.  What she’d thought was merely a grassy berm raised on hydraulic lifts to reveal a plas-crete reinforced bunker. The guide loped inside to lead her to an empty spot amongst rows of parked vehicles.

“Come into my parlour,” she muttered as she eased into the space.  The door closed, leaving her in a dimly lit cavern. “That wasn’t ominous at all.”  She popped the back hatch and sweat burst out of every pore when she stepped into the coolly neutral atmosphere of the garage.  “That’s great, go into the leopard’s den reeking of fear.”

She was too busy muttering to herself to notice the man who swooped in and grabbed the cake before she could; she tried not to stare at his size.  The man was built like a freaking tree.

“Thanks.  Is the exit automatic or does someone need to let me out?”   Please say it’s automatic.  The man-tree was too busy admiring the neon green cake crowned with black chocolate that looked like it was oozing; black tentacles and strawberries with fanged maws of frosting emerged from the top.  She was a little worried that he might start drooling. At least the boxes of cookies and cupcakes in her hands had lids and were therefore safe from him.

“If one speck of frosting’s out of place, you get to be the one to tell Tien,” the woman warned him, and shut the hatchback.  He affected a shudder and stepped back to flank Lorel.

The two of them shepherded her towards a door set into the wall at the back of the lot.  A bead of cold sweat slithered down the small of her back. Her cat did not like having two dominant predators at her back pushing her into unknown territory.

They led her through the thick, steel door and up a gently sloping corridor.  It would be easy to move something heavy along the slight incline, like a dead body.  And that thought certainly didn’t help her anxiety.

Her escorts ushered her through another door, also thick and steel, and into a clearing filled with sheer chaos.  JoJo ran past in a pirate costume- Lorel only recognized her because she wore the same glittery, purple boots- and a leopard cub wearing a miniature cowboy hat nipped at her heels.  Several other children, some of whom were on four paws, frolicked in a giant leaf pile at the other end of the clearing.

In the center there was a las-fire.  Most of the adults either stood in groups or sat at tables off to one side.  At one edge, far from the kids and the tables, the rest were playing a game of football.  Full contact, of course.

All in all, it was a far cry from the church gatherings her grandparents had dragged her to.  And yet, if not for the fact that they were strangers, both sides of her nature felt a curious sense of rightness, like she was home.  She shut that in a box and locked it tight before she could analyze that.

Lorel managed to follow tree-man and tall, dark, and deadly over to the tables to deposit the treats.

“Welcome to the madhouse.  Beer?”

She had to do a double take.  The man who had come up on her left with a couple of longnecks was probably the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, with deep aquamarine eyes that contrasted against flawless, brown skin.  It was the fine angles of his face combined with the lithe musculature of his body that gave him the unreal perfection of a model. Although she preferred people who were more rugged, she could still appreciate a pretty face.

Then she had to mentally slap herself.   Don’t fall for the bait .

“Um, no thanks,” she blinked, still attempting to process the pandemonium.

“Cider?”

“I don’t drink.  Look, I think I’d better go.”  Lorel took a step backward and ran into a wall.  A tall, warm wall.

“Runnin’, catin?” the wall rumbled in that lyrical accent.  Hairs along her arms and the nape of her neck stood at attention and she had to repress a shudder.

“Hardly.”  She turned to Remi with an arched brow.  “I would hate to trespass. I know that ruffles your fur the wrong way.”  She wanted to clap a hand over her mouth before any other snarky comments spilled out of her.

To her surprise, he merely chuckled.  Her ocelot cocked its head in confusion, having been hunkered down in a defensive crouch.

Before she could marshal her scrambled brains into some form of order, a little boy of maybe four or five clambered up Remi and clung to his back.  Without looking, the alpha put a hand back to steady the climber.

“Hey peeshwank.”  Ok, wow, that smile was dazzling enough to make even the model seem drab in comparison.

In response, the boy roared at the top of his lungs and bit Remi’s shoulder.  Since he was in human form, his mouth didn’t even fit around the hard curve of muscle, let alone do any damage.  If anything, Lorel was more worried about the child than the adult. Reaching back, Remi grabbed the kid’s ankle and hauled him around to scowl at his upside-down face.

“I’m a dinosaur!” the child giggled, his stick-straight hair hanging down in a short blonde curtain.  His free leg kicked idly so he swung slightly in his alpha’s firm, yet gentle, grip. The blue t-shirt he wore had “When I grow up, I want to be a dinosaur” blazoned across the front.

“Dinosaurs don’t bite people,” Remi scolded, a gleam dancing in his eyes that couldn’t be hidden by his glare.

“Is it ‘cuz they’re dead?”  The boy feigned innocence, widening baby blues that probably had gotten him out of trouble before, but it was his huge grin that gave him away.  Every adult in the vicinity did their best not to laugh, some succeeding more than others.

“Yep, ‘cuz I ate dem.”  With a growl, Remi lunged forward as if he was going to bite the soft belly that was exposed because the boy's shirt had bunched up around his ribcage.  The kid let out a shriek that quickly dissolved into giggles at the raspberries Remi blew above his belly button.

Just when the child looked like he might pass out from lack of air and the blood rushing to his head, Remi gently tossed him to the giant who’d escorted Lorel.  He caught the living projectile easily, his arms moving with the trajectory to cushion the landing. The kid shrieked with laughter and begged to be thrown in the pile of leaves.  His wish was granted, albeit from a low height, once his playmates got out of the way. Soon, the man was bombarded with similar demands from the other children.

She felt as if someone had clubbed her between the eyes with a two-by-four.  Of all the things she’d been led to believe when it came to changeling packs, none of what she had seen so far fit with that understanding.  While the two men laughed and indulged the kids, she cast about for a way to slip away without being noticed and accidentally made eye contact with Tien.

The other woman took that as an invitation to come over.

“Lorel, the cake looks great!” she beamed.  “Has anyone shown you around?”

“Um, no.”  Lorel wished she could teleport herself out of there like a telekinetic; as it was, she had no idea how to extricate herself without offending nearly a hundred predatory changelings.

“You’ve already met Angel.”  Tien pointed out the model-gorgeous man who’d offered her a drink.  He was sharing it with the woman who’d met her out front. “That’s Lark with him, her cousin Theo’s the one swamped with cubs.  And you remember Jojo.”

She gestured towards her daughter, who had joined the others frolicking in the leaves.  She disappeared in a shimmer, shifting to her leopard form, and leapt into the leaf pile.  Lorel blinked and glanced around at the adults, who carried on as if the little girl hadn’t just sprouted claws and fangs and jumped into a maelstrom of leaves and kids, some of which were human.

“You let the children run around…?” she broke off, searching for the right words.

“In leopard form?  Of course.” Tien looked at her as if anything else was unimaginable.  “She knows better by now. At least she has a spare Halloween costume,” she said with a fond sigh and rueful shake of her head.

“You’re not upset about the clothes?”  When a changeling shifted, their clothing disintegrated around them.

“Normally she gets a reminder, but I’ll let it go this time,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that had Lorel feeling like an invisible band had tightened around her chest.  “Got to pick your battles, you know? Did your poor grandparents ever have to rescue a naked cub from a tree?”

“Um, no.”

“Rescue” wasn’t the word for it.  Did everyone here know her history?  Was that why they were so keen on getting her to join?  The thought of any of these strangers pitying her had claws pressing at the tips of her fingers

#my writing #psy changeling #fan fic #nalini singh #halloween #leopard #sci fi #ocelot #psy changeling trinity #remi denier #original female character #shapeshifter #paranormal romance #werecat #shape shifter #cake #cupcakes #halloween party #eventual smut #hate to love #shifterromance #psy #changeling #plus-sized character #fat character #autumn #fanfic #scifi #sci-fi #fan-fiction

[takerfoxx]

Blood Island Fanfic (Pt. 2)

magic5ball submitted:

Funny how the day you post a new chapter, I finish writing this fanfic. Strange how life works out. Anyway, please let me know what you think!

                                                    .   .   .

From that day forward, she lived by her own terms. When she was hungry, she devoured whatever she fancied until she was fit to burst. When she was tired, she could sleep an entire week. And when she felt like exploring, well…

She could easily circle her island home twice in a day, exploring the hidden bays, reefs, lagoons that dotted the place, or just swimming with whatever school of strange sea creatures happened to be nearby. The shelled squids in particular were a favorite, if only because they made good snacks. True, there was the occasional scrape, usually against sharks who saw her as a potential morsel, but it was nothing her teeth or tail couldn’t handle.

Sometimes, she’d even try to drag herself on land, though she never went far, having seen some very fearsome, scaly monsters ashore, and was none too eager to face them where a powerful tail would not be nearly as useful.

Meanwhile, she’d started organizing the bones and shells in her grotto based on type, or just setting them as decorations at the entrance. There were so many different kinds, and she quietly wondered how so such a variety of species could all exist in one tiny slice of ocean.

As for the whale-eels, she still saw them from time to time. Now and again, she’d see one leave just as it had lain some juicy morsel at the entrance of her grotto, or she’d be hunting a school of fish and one would help her ambush prey. But they never bothered or attacked her.

Over time, she felt herself changes in herself, too.

Some were positive. Her ribs, for instance, were no longer visible through her skin, which now had a sleek, healthy appearance she quite liked. And with more frequent meals came more energy; strength: schools of fish she would have once struggled to keep up with could now be outrun a dozen times over before they escaped, and that wasn’t even going into how high she could leap into the air!

Others, were less favorable: her nails became sharp and pointed; her skin darkening to a deep cobalt blue. And her tail! Since she had arrived at this strange island, the sinuous ribbon had only become longer, fleshy fins blossoming out from it like tumors. Deep, ugly scars marked it as well, a permanent reminder of her daily run in with prey and predator alike. Even when she slept, she could feel the muscles inside pulsing, expanding, growing. She tried not to think about it. Made it hard to sleep.

You’re a monster.

Well, so what if she was?! There were so many fearsome creatures around this island that probably couldn’t care less what she looked like. For all she knew, she looked pretty good next to them! And why should she care, anyway? She was powerful! She could eat whatever she fancied! Go wherever she pleased! Sleep wherever she wanted! She liked those things, darn it, so why should she give it up because her sister who wasn’t there wanted to make her feel bad?! She was happy for once!

But still…

She had to admit there were some things she craved. That weren’t cephalopods, anyway.

As much as she adored her lavish lifestyle, there were times when she reminisced, almost got nostalgic for others of her kind. Even with all the strange creatures she shared her home with, the sea somehow seemed so vast and…empty, without someone to share it with. The whale-eels would always be there, sure, but as much as they revered her, their relationship felt professional more than anything. Just working towards a common goal sometimes. It didn’t help they never really appreciated their home, only seeing things and harmful or not harmful; predator or prey.

Fortunately for her, the island had a few more surprises in store. 

.   .   .

It started in the evening, about five years after she had first arrived. She was combing near the shore for the flat oval crabs- this was the molting season, and they always tested their best after a new molt: a succulent middle surrounded by a tender shell with just the right amount of crunch- when she noticed an ominous pair of red lights on the beach. Her gut reaction was, of course, to flee back to the depths, but she had never seen a creature quite like this before, and curiosity, combined with confidence, goaded her on. Carefully, she slid closer and closer to the shore, until sand scraped across her belly. For a moment wondered if the source of the lights could see her, and then-

With a rustle the creature emerged from the jungle, carrying a strange object in its’ arm. It walked on two legs, but the upper half! The upper half was just like hers: two arms, a face, long black hair.

A human.

Her breath caught in her throat as she marveled at the beast before her. It seemed absurd, as if she was in a dream. Yet there the human was, in the flesh. Slowly coming toward her. Curious, maybe? She had to get closer…

.   .   .

The creature the mermaid called a human felt her heart beating a million miles a second. Company on this godforsaken rock! AT LAST! She would have to be careful, of course. No telling when a moment like this would come again. So, holding out one of the large, colorful fruits that grew in abundance across the island, she let loose a long, slow whistle.

Much to her relief, the mysterious girl from the sea responded, lugging herself onto the shore with what was obviously great effort. And no wonder! From head to the tip of her serpentine tail, the mermaid must have been ten feet long! Said tail was a lovely dark blue, lacking a prominent fluke but covered in rows of large, fleshy appendages, between which the skin was marked with scars and sometimes, even teeth still stuck in the flesh. But what really impressed her were the stranger’s rather, er, generous chest and hips, whose proportions made her more than a little envious…

.   .   .

The Mermaid was baffled as to why the human’s face had suddenly flushed a deep crimson. Had she done something wrong? Did human face usually do things like that? Such weird creatures…

.   .   .

The pale not-a-human marveled as the beautiful specimen before her plucked the fruit from her hand, and after a few seconds of sniffing, tore a great chunk out of its’ flesh. She sweated profusely as the mermaid chewed patiently for few minutes, then swallowed.

Tense minutes passed…

.   .   .

She had never tasted anything like this before: soft, juicy, with an odd flavor she could not describe in any terms other than she wanted more of it. Now!

It took all of her self-control not to inhale the rest of the fruit, taking a few moments to savor the moist flesh sliding down her throat. But just like that, it was gone. Well, except for the sticky juice still coating her fingers…

.   .   .

All the girl could do was try not to faint as the pretty mermaid in front of her licked fruit juice from her fingers in a fashion she could only describe as arousing. Fortunately, as excited as she was, she was able to get her mouth to open…

.   .   .

The mermaid listened, still casually licking the delectable juice from her fingers, noting how well it blended with the seawater, when it occurred the odd noises were the human trying to talk to her. Well, that wasn’t going to work! So she did what she did with the whale-eels, and using her index finger, drew in the sand.

It took awhile, but eventually they were able to communicate on a basic level. For her part, she told the human her story, maybe exaggerating a few parts in her favor, and for her part the human was completely enraptured. Before either knew it, the sun was rising. Just before she headed back to the sea, though, they (crudely) set a schedule to meet again the next evening. Same spot.

.   .   .

Things started simple, at first. Both rendezvous at their little slice of surf, bringing whatever food they thought the other would like: fruit from the ‘human’, whatever seafood looked good that day from her. She could easily outeat her friend five times over, but the ‘human’ never seemed to mind, so she wasn’t bothered either. They would draw in the sand, telling each other about the day’s adventures as best they could. She would also try to help the human with her art, something she clearly struggled with. Most of all, though, they just basked in each other’s company, happy to have someone to talk to. One day, the mermaid realized she had started styling her hair for the first time since she left her pod all those years ago. Strange, but nothing to be alarmed about. What was concerning was how she found herself staring at her friends’ body, her friend’s lean, muscular body that made her feel so self-conscious in her own. Likewise, the human admired her in such a way, so at least the feeling was mutual. Then came the hugs, and following those, quiet nights falling asleep in each other’s arms in the surf. Even on the balmiest nights, her friend was cold to the touch, so she liked cuddling up to her. It was a pretty good deal for all involved.

But something was bugging her…

She’s been on the island for years, right? Just like you. And yet, she didn’t show herself until now. WHY?

She frowned. Sister whispered to her again for the first time in ages.

Maybe she’s afraid of something. Or someone.

But why her in particular? There were plenty of terrifying beasts on the island already.

Or maybe she’s just using you to get food. Why else would she risk being around someone as ugly as-

She slammed her fist into the wall of her grotto, the sting on her knuckles knocking her back to her senses. Thin wisps of blood seeped out. Breathing heavy, she went back to organizing skulls she had recently collected, picking out one her new friend would find interesting. That night, she dreamt the ‘human’ could breathe underwater, and she could finally show off her humble abode.

.   .   .

That evening had started as it always had, with the two of them chatting over a wonderful meal, her friend imitating the shrieking calls of the island’s birds. But the whole time, her sister’s thoughts stuck to the back of her mind like the beach’s sand stuck to her tail. It couldn’t all be fake, could it? Regardless, she slept lightly that night, next to her friend.

Little did she know, it was the best decision she could have made.

Because that night, she sensed the soft touch of fingers on her tail, and groggily waking, she saw her dear friend holding her tail still, mouth wide  open, fangs glinting in moonlight.

Seconds later, a quick flick of her tail ended it, sending the ‘human’ flying into the palm trees. A few more kicks later, she was speeding away back to her grotto.

.   .   .

An hour later, and her heart still threatened to beat out of her chest.

The human had fangs. She had attacked her! But how? Why?! Humans weren’t supposed to have fangs like that!

Were they?

How was she supposed to know?! She’d only heard about humans in stories! Unless…

Maybe she wasn’t quite ‘human’ after all. You’re not the only monster on this stupid island, you know…

But it couldn’t be, could it? All those nights together, showing off, drawing. All that juicy, succulent fruit…All the times her friend had gazed oh so fondly at her…

Mama did mention monsters can guise themselves as prettier things. Quite clever, they are. And it was pretty stupid of you to think yourself top predator…

Was that all it was? The thing, guised as a human, luring her in with treats, stuffing her until she was good enough to eat? It would explain why the not-a-human had always been so eager to feed her, and glared at her so longingly.

As she curled up in the corner of her grotto with only the pale-eyed fish for company, she dreamt of going ashore for an explanation.

Everything was deathly still and dark, so she went further inland, closer than she knew was safe. Just when she was almost at the trees, a million pairs of red eyes lit up. Realizing her mistake, she helplessly flopped back to a shore that had suddenly become a thousand miles away. She could only scream as a million forms lunged from the jungle, sinking sharp fangs into her tail.

For the first time in years, she missed Mama.

.   .   .

Meanwhile, on land, a pale figure curled into a ball rocked back and forth on the beach.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

.   .   .

A year later, thunder cracked, winds howled and a storm rocked the island. Rain beat the ocean’s surface in a thousand little notes. The mermaid loved nights like this, the rhythmic tune of the drops mixing with the whistle of rain to gently lull her to sleep. At least, until a large object in the distance caught her eye. Something was thrashing around in the darkness, gradually sinking, leaving a flurry of air bubbles in its’ wake.

Flotsam?

She swam over to investigate.

What she found instead, unmoving, had four limbs and blonde hair.

A human. Or was it?

For a moment she considered letting the thing drown, only to stare at its’ gorgeous face and realize she didn’t have the heart. Carefully she opened the human’s mouth to see several flat, blocky molars. So she was the real deal.

Taking the body in her arms, she swam islandward, the waves tossing her to the point where she nearly lost the girl many a time, yet still she pressed on until at last, her charge was safely on the sand.

She retreated back to her grotto after that, gently drifting off to sleep, or trying to. Thoughts of the human, alone in the storm, nagged at her conscious, until she could bear it no more and went to check on the thing. Sure enough, the human was fine. It shrieked and fled into the jungle at the sight of her.

Figured.

That, of course, was a real problem. The human would be at the mercy of her former friend, that devious not-a-human. How would she tempt this new visitor, she wondered? Fatten her up with treats, as she had tried to do with her, or something more insidious? The new human may have been an idiot, but idiocy didn’t justify being eaten. Sinking beneath the surface, she once more retreated back to her grotto, this time to plan. The not-a-human was no doubt plotting something sinister, and she was dam*ed if she was going to let it come to fruition.

Some more good stuff! I had an idea that there was some kind of relationship between the vampire and the mermaid, but I hadn’t considered making them have a falling out prior to the start of the story. It is definitely something to think about, as well as possibly explain why the vampire is so hesitant to show herself. I can’t promise that it’ll get 100% adapted, but there are some really good ideas here. I mainly had the mermaid penciled in as a minor supporting character, but honestly she could be a more active force.

Insofar as suggestions are concerned, I would say slow down when it comes to interactions and action scenes. You’re really good at fleshing out your characters with descriptions of their inner feelings, daily rituals, personality quirks, etc., but when it comes time to have the characters do things, such as being attacked by an antagonist or having a critical interaction, it can feel a little rushed.

So basically what I’m saying is to put the same amount of care and attention to detail to the payoffs as you do the buildup. 

#blood island #submission

[youllallriseintheink]

Early Ink Hell, chapter 4: the birth of a religion

I know I told some of you that a butcher gang chapter was going to be next. Sorry, but I’ve realized that there’s just no elegant way to slip that in, pacing-wise. As a result, I’m going to upload the last “main series” chapter next, and give you the butcher gang chapter after that. Anyhow, enjoy.

---Sammy Lawrence---

Days passed, forcing me to realize that my pleads to Bendy were not being answered. The boredom was also driving me mad. One trip, I decided. To head down to the ink machine and try to go to find my lord and speak to him in person. Anything was better than this useless routine.

Getting down to the giant ink machine proved more difficult than I expected. Before the sealing of the studio, it would have been easy to get to the elevator and take it down to the very basement, where I'd use the key Joey had given me to unlock the massive machine. Now, the building’s new configuration had me going in circles a dozen times before I finally found the elevator. The buttons were very different than I remembered them, but I nonetheless pushed the button for the bottom floor. The place it let me out looked nothing like the giant ink machine. I cursed the shifting studio under my breath. How many more complications was this studio going to throw at me for such a simple task?

As it turned out, many. The studio (lord, I speak as though it were alive) seemed intent on proving as much. My journey started off simply enough, although he had to smack my way through a set of butcher gang members just to clear the first hallway. After that, it was one emotionally draining scene after another. First, Grant Cohen’s office, whose walls had been coated with money-related gibberish messages that the man had left the day before his disappearance. Playing the tape of his, Lacie's, and Shawn's gruesome murder- one I'd participated in- brought a wave of guilt upon me. But, at least they'd been strangers. Next, I ran into an audio log left by Susie Campbell detailing her feelings of anger and betrayal by Joey Drew. That had been the mindset she was in when she’d agreed to become Alice Angel. Both audio logs I left behind. Best to put it out of my mind, although the studio was beginning to feel like a museum of all the twisted things that had happened here. Yet I couldn’t find a staircase down to the cause of so many of them.

Finally, I wandered into Bendyland and came upon a horrid sight: the giant, severed head of Bertrum Piedmont, resting in an octopus ride. It was cocked to its side, unwilling to do more than stare at me listlessly. I hadn’t known Bertrum at all, but with the resignation written all over his face and the immobile state of his body, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

I was about to tell him the good news about my lord when I heard the familiar cackling of the Butcher Gang. In sheer instinct, I ran and hid under a bench. Even curled up and facing away as I was, I could hear the carnage as the chatter turned to angry grunts. At the same time, ominous theme park music began to play.

“Enough! Get away!” A booming British voice yelled through the speakers. I peeked out.

The piper was striking at Bertrum’s face, leaving cuts that resembled ink smears. Bertrum swung at them, hitting his own side and smushing the fisher. Meanwhile, the striker attempted to hit his mouth, only to have his front leg bitten off with a sickening snap.

I fought the urge to vomit, and prayed to the forces that be that Bendy would let me out of here. Bertrum smacked down his arm and narrowly missed the fleeing piper and striker, crushing my axe instead. For whatever reason, that was the final straw. I laid back down behind the bench and stayed down, even as the carnival music stopped and the chatter of the two butcher gang members faded.

Then came the booming British voice again. "Lacie?"

Sammy peeked out. The fisher said something indiscernible.

"Oh. I'm sorry. You three come here. I'll never hurt you again."

The butcher gang closed in on the man's face.

"YOU! Behind the table!" the voice yelled. "Did you hurt Lacie and her family while they were in this state? Shame on you. Go to the human village where you belong!"

I tried to say something, but was cut off after the first syllable.

"NOW!"

"...Where?"

Bertrum seemed genuinely surprised. "Oh, you don't know. Right this way."

With that, a metal door clanged open, and I stepped through it. inside was a hole in the floor with a metal platform hanging just above it, held up by rope attached to a pulley system. Hanging on the bottom of it was a bell. I stepped on, and the bell rang. The platform began to lower. Downwards, I saw a man I didn't recognize and a familiar woman in black and white.

---Susie Campbell---

The platform stopped a good five feet or so above my head- high enough that he'd think twice about jumping.

"Recognize this one, miss Campbell? Do we keep him?" Gary asked. The village has appointed me as an expert on the ink creatures, which, considering how little they know about them, is appropriate.

I narrowed my eyes. Sammy obviously recognized me, because he was shrinking into himself. "Absolutely not. He worked with Joey Drew. Don't even bring him down here so we can throw him into the ink river! Put him back!" I could hear my voice growing demonic. I didn't care.

Gary looked over to me. "He worked with Joey Drew, you say?" he said. Then, he turned to Sammy. "Do you know anything about what's going on right now?"

Sammy eased up. "Yes! I know how we can escape! Please- is Jack Fain here? He'll back me up, I promise it."

"Alright. Alice, hold the rope. I'll go get Jack."

I did as I was told, and glared up at Sammy. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelled to him, "You told me you didn't know anything. Which is it?"

"I have... developed certain theories," he replied calmly. But I knew that he was just making that up so that we'd let him down.

That's when Jack arrived. "Sammy! Yes, let him down. He told me all about how if we can summon the ink demon and get him to do what we want, he'll set us free."

"Well, go on, Alice-" Gary started.

"Susie!" I snapped.

"Right. Susie. Let him down."

Grumbling, I obeyed.

---Sammy Lawrence---

Jack and the other man, who introduced himself as Gary, proceeded to show me around the village. It wasn’t much, at the time, but it was still evident that the people here had come together and were making the best of things. The area was bordered on two sides by walls, by an ink river on another, and the final side was blocked off by a massive wooden fence that they must have built themselves, providing full protection, as Jack explained it, from ink creatures. Bad ink creatures that was- they did have Susie and a pair of Boris clones living within their walls. A man in a GENT uniform was building a structure of some sort over an area where a large number of cots had been gathered. Other supplies had been gathered, too, such as bacon soup, rope, and even a few axes. The area even contained a bathroom, which would allow for any members of the area to quickly wash off the corruptive ink. That must have been why the members of this community were so undamaged. There were many amputees- Jack among them- but in terms of ink poisoning, the group was surprisingly healthy.

After their little tour, my guides asked me for my story. I told them everything.

To my relief and disbelief, they believed every word of it, and were happy to hear that someone, anyone, had a clue about the supernatural forces at play and how to escape them. That night, I was given a platform to tell the whole village about my faith. The next day, a group of scouts were sent out alongside me to find the giant ink machine. Every axe was in the arms of a strong man, and we went all throughout the studio in search of my lord. After hours of searching, we finally came upon him, holding down a Boris, who was squirming and yelping in his grasp. I fell to me knees, waiting for him to finish so that I could make my plea. Once the Boris disintegrated, Bendy turned his head towards us, and the words, “I can free you,” appeared on a wall, written in ink.

The group of men had come down to this place thinking of the ink demon as a concrete solution to their problems. They came up as Bendy’s disciples, thinking him a God. And I, their resident expert on the occult, was their advisor on how to please him. Having seen Bendy devour ink creatures on more than one occaision, my best guess on the matter was to gather as many ink creatures as possible.

Over the next number of days, small groups were sent out with axes to bring back ink creatures and cages in which to keep them. Susie made several pleas to me to stop. I loathe her selfishness- everyone in this town was putting themselves in danger for this-three people had become infected and required amputation while on their quests. One had been mauled to death by a Barley and had become an ink creature, like me. Yes, the ink demon might devour her, but he was just as likely to devour me. She even began locking herself in one of the cages to sleep at night, which was actively working against our goals. I was appalled, and one day I lost it and began shouting at her for it. It was quite out of the pastorly character I'd set for myself, but it had to be done. Although, I think I only succeeded in turning her further against me.

Eventually, we had mapped out the entire studio. Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of ink creatures that could be captured. Most were very good at defending themselves. And that is when I proposed sacrifice- to turn more of us into ink creatures. The amputees were the first to volunteer, hoping that they'd get their limbs back, at least. I proposed that we make a sacrifice every three days, spacing them out so that we would not do more than necessary.

Finally, after two weeks and four sacrifices, the demon came.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #sammy lawrence #alice angel #bertrum piedmont #Early Ink Hell

[sonicasura]

Sonic May Cry

Today is Groundhog Day and the entire internet is going into a huge 'Into the ___Verse!' shtick. Basically an Into the Spiderverse based trope where alternate universes cross into one another specifically the characters. This story came from a recent What If situation involving Sonic the Hedgehog that was stewing in my brain yesterday.

And taking alternate universes thing, I delved in deeper with an another alternate universe involving the original Devil May Cry. Mix them both together and I got this.

Time is a very fragile thing and the wrong move can break it. Or: Classic Sonic/Kid Sonic gets blasted into the Devil May Cry universe and causes some big changes.

"Sonic! Run! The rift is closing! If you don't get out of there, you'll be lost in time and space forever! No! Don't do it! Don't leave me! Please! Sonic!!!"

Time was a very precious thing to have. It should never be taken for granted and should never be toyed with. The mechanized menace called the Time Eater had done more damage than either Robotniks could've estimated. The rifts were closing even faster than they should. Someone was going to be left behind with no choice. His best friend Tails wasn't going to be that person if he could help it. His best buddy would be fine without him. For this was his end not Tails. The end of Sonic The Hedgehog. And he welcomed it with open arms.

Great sacrifice comes with a greater reward. Fix their broken hearts, brave little warrior. Heal the wounded hearts of the Sons of Sparda, Sonic the Hedgehog. Right now, they need you the most.

Mitis Forest on the outskirts of Fortuna, a light shone brightly in an open flowerbed. The soft daffodils, petunias and dandelions were greeted by the weight of a small light blue furred hedgehog. The little beast barely reaching 2 ft in height with both face and stomach round with baby fat showing he was quite young. White gloves and red running shoes were the only clothing worn. His muzzle was light peach along with the center of his stomach.

Quills slightly long just like the ones on his back and stubby little tail. Black pupil like eyes slowly opened to be greeted with a vast starry night sky. 'Huh?' Thought Sonic the Hedgehog as he took in his surroundings. He was alive yet… 'What happened? I should be dead.' Sonic thought for a moment. 'This isn't my world that's for sure. And why does my back feel stiff?' The hedgehog then he picked himself off the ground and looked at what he was previously lying on.

Shock became evident as eyes widened when they laid on 7 gray lifeless stones amongst the grass. They looked to be cut into perfect diamond shapes but to Sonic these gemstones were far more precious. 'The Chaos Emeralds?! Why are the Chaos Emeralds here? No better question, why do they look so dead?' He thought picking up one of the lifeless emeralds. It felt really cold to the touch but the hedgehog could feel a tiny bit of energy in the stone.

'Could the emeralds have saved me? No… It did something else. Before I blacked out I thought I heard something. I also feel different too. I feel the same but I can't shake the nagging feeling that something about my body had changed.' He thought before looking at the lights coming from up ahead. He picked up the stones before hiding them in his quills. It was sorta weird on how the Emeralds could hide themselves in his fur like they weren't there but he never bothered about the details.

Sonic walked a bit closer up the hill to see the lights were coming from a large city. What struck him as odd were the large demon statues scattered about the whole place. 'Ain't getting any answers standing here. That city looks like a good place to find out where I am.' With a goal set in mind, he disappeared into a streak of blue as he ran over to the city at supersonic speed.

This city was very odd and quite creepy to the blue blur. Everyone was wearing hoods over their heads, there were armed soldiers about and the place seemed...tense almost ominous. It was the kind of feeling he got running into Robotnik's base or places like Chemical Plant Zone. That something nasty was brewing on the surface. A feeling that no town or city should have.

Speeding past everyone had earned a very unexpected cry of sorts. "Demon! There's a demon!" Demons? This was even stranger to him than meeting his older counterpart that could TALK. His voice box was stunted so he couldn't actually talk but the problem would resolve himself once he turned 10 years old. A few years didn't look so bad though it'll suck if no one can read his charades well.

A tiny hand grabbed his nose surprising the little hedgehog that he nearly crashed into a dumpster when he skidded to a halt. Plucking the nose grabber wasn't as shocking as finding out who had done the deed. A little human baby with white hair and blue eyes had managed to hitch a ride on him. A baby boy in a blue onesie had hitchhiked a ride on the FASTEST thing alive.

'#$#!@ How the heck did you get on me?! You must have insane reflexes to grab me in mid-run!' Sonic thought looking at the baby. His brain halted upon spotting what was really odd about the infant. His right arm was blue with little red scales and had tiny blue claws! It was even glowing light blue through the cracks of each scale! 'Nevermind. You ain't no normal baby because human babies don't have an arm like that.' He thought with a deadpanned expression.

The baby merely babbling as he tried to grab Sonic's nose again though Sonic pulling the baby away from his prize. The child was giggling and all happy before he immediately began to cry strangely. The hedgehog easily catching onto the sound of what he could guess were soldiers behind him yet they were talking about a 'project Nero'. Sonic immediately looking at the baby or Nero in his hands and couldn't help the rage bubbling inside him. He pushed it down before cradling the child in his arms and breaking into a sprint.

'No way those jerks are getting ya little buddy! They're insane to think babies are some kind of science fair project! Time to ditch this crazy island!' Sonic thought as he began to steadily speed up. He needed enough speed to run across ocean surface and he didn't want to accelerate too quickly or he would end up hurting Nero. It was a good thing to know that city was an actual island so he had many places to go from there.

The hedgehog glimpsing a map about a port town that was the closest to Fortuna or the island he was on. A smile grew on his face as he saw what looked like a pier leading straight towards the wide open blue. Without hesitation, Sonic sped up further before using the pier as a ramp. Both hedgehog and baby flying high into the air as a blue streak of light amongst the starry sky.

Nero giggling happily at the sight before him and the rush of wind going by his form. 'Glad you like the wind as much as I do. Have zero clue on caring for a baby but I could find some way to take care of ya.' He thought with a smile before looking down to see they were getting closer to the water. Being quick he immediately began to run after touching the top gliding across the dark blue surface.

Finding land once more was a good feeling considering he had been running for quite a bit. Truth was that the hedgehog wasn't fully recovered after waking up in this new world. The effects were beginning to show as fatigue was starting to slowly wash over him. He rather not drown with a baby in his arms. Sonic sped up a bit more so he can at least reach the beach.

He could rest there with Nero for the night before picking up his search for answers tomorrow. The hedgehog quickly slowed down as he skidded off the water and into the soft beach sand though not without tumbling up a bit at the end. Seaweed had gotten tangled around his legs leading the blue blur to take a header though taking the brunt of the impact so Nero wouldn't.

Something hard hitting his head was the last thing he felt before falling to his side and vision going black. Yet for a short second, he felt saw something red and blue coming closer to him. Everything was whispers leading to silence.

"Are you sure that woman wasn't hallucinating on what she saw? Humans tend to easily be mislead." A cold male voice said with irritation. Two twin males with snow white hair and pale skin walked across the beach shores sand. One whose hair was slicked back, eyes verdant, dressed in black shirt, long blue coat embroidered in gold and blue katana being the only difference to his twin.

The other had his hair down, bright blue eyes and wore no shirt but a black shirt, red coat, and had a giant black broadsword on his back yet walked easily as if the blade weighed nothing. "Lady swore on her own mother about what she saw Verge. Something was travelling across the ocean. A blue blur faster than even you! She said it was heading towards this very beach." The male in red fired back.

"My name is Vergil. You know that so use it foolish brother. I don't know why you took her words or judgment to account so quickly Dante." Vergil growled back at his twin. "Says the guy who raised a giant tower in the middle of the city." Vergil was ready to stab his twin when a streak of blue grabbed their attention. It was coming from over the distance as it glided upon the watery surface.

It slowed down enough for both twins to see what it actually was: a small blue hedgehog in red running shoes. They didn't question the absurdity upon noticing the little guy tripping before rolling into a rock head first knocking the fella unconscious. The brothers running to inspect the injured animal who was nearly balled up into a perfect sphere.

"A demon nestling? No, the little guy doesn't feel like it yet he does have some odd energy. Yet there's something demonic on him." Dante spoke loosening the hedgehog's balled up form to uncover a sleeping Nero cuddled into the hedgehog's fur and stomach. Vergil's eyes widened upon the baby's demonic arm and the energy flowing from it. 

Dante quickly catching onto who the baby actually was. An amused yet heartfelt grin growing on his face at the very conclusion he came to on Nero's identity. "Holy shit. The little fuzzball must have took all the impact so this little fella wouldn't. Never suspected ya to be the first to get laid without protection." Dante quipped only to earn a snarl from his brother.

Verdant eyes soften upon the sight of the infant before looking at the hedgehog that shielded his child from harm. 'The little furball is a mere nestling in age yet it's unfathomable for him to have that type of speed. If trained properly, this young creature will be a powerful force to be reckoned with. A worthy comrade and general." Vergil's devil hissed within the depths of his mind. Neither of them weren't blind to the massive potential the little hedgehog had.

"Vergil! Earth to Vergil!" Had snapped the young man out of his thoughts. He realized that he was cradling both his child AND the hedgehog in his arms. "Looks like someone's demonic maternal instincts decided to kick in. You snatched both the tykes and growled at me." Dante joked with a mischievous grin on his face. Vergil secured the two children into his left arm before pulling out his sword, the Yamato.

He brought the blade slicing a rift in the center of time and space revealing the interior of a shabby shop. He sheathed his sword while a blue spectral one stabbed into his laughing brother's chest. Dante recoiled from the sudden weight yet was still laughing as he followed his brother into the rift. He'll clean up the blood later. Teasing 'Mama Vergil' was more important.

After all, it isn't everyday that a little hedgehog who can run at supersonic speed across the ocean before crashing onto the beach with your older twin brother's baby with him. Or said brother instantly going into papa devil mode and growling at you for even trying to help take care of the unconscious tykes.

It was hilarious on how quick Vergil's personality just swapped because of his primal maternal instincts. The little hedgehog had a nasty bruise and cut on his head from hitting stone at how fast he was going earlier. Vergil threatening to stab his brother if Dante didn't get any bandages to wrap around the injury or any baby products for his son Nero which was the name on the tyke's onesie.

Yet, when Dante came back to seven lifeless stones on the counter of his desk as Vergil sat on the couch with a sleeping Nero nestled into a long silver black tail fast asleep coming from said brother's spine. The little hedgehog was on Vergil's lap while the older brother applied some ointment to the little guy's injury. The hedgehog wincing from the sting but not fighting back or even screaming in pain. "Looks like Sonic is quite the trooper. Despite being conked out, he ain't even letting out a whimper." Vergil gave his brother an odd look.

"Sonic?" The oldest asked in pure confusion. "Got to call him something until he wakes up. Since he was running across the ocean at Mach 1 speed, I thought the name Sonic suited the little guy. He must have some insane pain tolerance though. A bump to the head with your crappy homemade medicine would have me howling." Dante quipped as he handed the medical tape and bandages to his now growling brother.

"By the way, why are there a hunk of rocks on my desk?" The younger male pointed out casually picking up one of the stones. His eyes widened a bit upon detecting the small bit of peculiar energy hidden deep inside the stone. "It was on 'Sonic'. Hidden amongst his fur and quills when I went to inspect for any other injuries despite the absurdity. There is or was some intense power within all 7 of the stones. Something must have drained them dry except for a miniscule amount." Vergil explained giving his brother a serious look.

"Another mystery added about our fuzzy little guest until he wakes up. Glad you still follow the rules that I've set up after the 'recent' incident. 'No hoarding or using any items of potential magic or otherworldly power without Dante's knowledge.'" Dante joked before getting stabbed with another spectral sword in the stomach. The youngest twin had locked the jewels into a lockbox before stuffing them away. After treating both children, Vergil retired to his room upstairs.

Laid both Nero and Sonic down onto his bed before curling his warm body around them followed by his blanket. His demonic nature giving him the incentive to have both in his 'nest' and to keep watch of his 'young'. The thought had him let out an amused snort. Vergil rested his eyes and arms holding both kids near his chest before drifting off to sleep. It was the first night in years that his dreams weren't plagued by gruesome nightmares.

That's it! Kid Sonic basically babynapped Nero from Fortuna, ran across the ocean all the way over to the beach in Capulet before accidentally knocking himself out.

Sonic is like 5 years at the time during the events of Generations. This takes place after the events of Devil May Cry 3 but Dante didn't let Vergil fall into hell. Vergil is under 'Dante' arrest hence that rule until he can be trusted.

He isn't as distant since the events in later games didn't happen so expect this Vergil be a bit softer.

Plus neither of the brothers are blind to the potential our blue blur has and Vergil is going to take the initiative quicker than Dante. This Sonic is going to be OP as hell.

Until next time folks! Jambuhbye!

#sonicasura #crossover #devil may cry #sonic the hedgehog #sonic generations #devil may cry 3 #classic sonic #kid sonic #vergil #dante #vergil sparda #dante sparda #nero #nero angelo #nero sparda #baby nero #dmc #au #sons of sparda adopted sonic

[visionofnoxus]

❀

❀ - to grab my muse by the jaw and force them to meet your muse’s gaze

// There we have it. I hope it pleases you and provokes thougths. Please do comment and give feedback.

"With me, Ra’Horak!” Leona ordered, raising her blade above her head, the blessed blade shining light into the dark passage way. “We will enter this shrine and end this conflict once and for all today” She declared. With a determined step, her bodyguard following close behind, the Avatar strode down the tunnel that was carved into the mountainside. Steps had been dug to the stone, the pathway snaking forward, descending and ascending as it traveled inside the mountain. Finally, torchlight ahead marked the end of their path, Leona bracing herself for the encounter with the arch heretic. It was time they’d put an end to this. With this thought in mind, she stormed up the final steps, entering the open cave that was the entrance into the Lunari shrine, lips already starting to form Diana’s name for challenge.

Her amber colored eyes went wide with surprise as she witnessed their opposition however. Instead of Diana and a handful of her cultists, the Chosen of Sun and her warriors were met with a cohort of Trifarian Legionnaires. Their great weapons gleamed ominously in the torchlight, the closed helmets and blood colored tabbards making the Noxians look like a wall of dark gargoyles, barring the Solaris’ access deeper into the cave complex and to their foe. Gritting her teeth, Leona eyed her opposition, taking in the new situation. She did not know how the Noxians could be here, nor why. Ra’Horak behind her were waiting, thirsting for a fight. Such was the effect of zeal on most men, and the Solari were not immune to this. It granted them ferocity and resolve, but there was a worrisome feeling radiating off the noxian warriors. They were calm. Ready to fight and alert, but at ease. And Leona had seen enough wars and fighting to know how most skirmishes between heavily armored knights and more lightly equipped warriors ended. Her followers were good, more than good. They were excellent. But something about these Noxians gave her a vibe they were veterans of many battlefields. And Noxus had plenty of wars on which to bloody their troops. If the Solari wanted a swift victory, and one that’d not rob them of strength to complete their true goal, Leona would need an angle. A trump card.

Her eyes shot up to look at the iconography depicted on the walls. This was a Lunari shrine built into the mountainside. There was a very real possibility her power was greatly diminished. Additionally, while scanning the cave’s edges and carved pillars, she noticed the tiniest glimmer of something. Swallowing a curse, the woman fixed her gaze back on the Noxians. Not only the warriors. There were several assassins hiding in the shadows, no doubt ready to pounce at the first chance. Which led the valkyrie into the next logical question: Why had they not sprung the trap?

“Leona, the Chosen of the Sun. The descriptions do not do you justice, my lady” A smooth voice called from behind the line of noxian steel, two of the large warriors stepping aside, making way for an older man clad in long arms coat, the feather shaped polets on his shoulderguards clicking with each step. Long silver hair reached to his shoulders and a dark iron breastplate underneath the coat gave out that this man too was a soldier. “And you are the raven general” Leona asserted with a tense voice, her eyes narrowing. “The tyrant of Noxus”. She’d heard of the new leader of the empire. Seeing the man approach so boldly, Leona chose to match him, stepping forth, motioning for her warriors to remain still. The two stood head to head, the valkyrie easily match and more in physicality to the general.

“I am not a tyrant but one of three” the noxian corrected her, but the Solari wasn’t having any of it. “One tyrant or three, that is Noxus’ business. But you lowlanders have no business in Mount Targon’s territory” She asserted glaring at the man. “And this matter is strictly ours to deal with”. Now it was the old raven that spoke, his voice turning cold and strict as opposed to the earlier levity. “These mountain ranges do not hold Targonian settlements and are at the very best on the very outskirts of your realm” The man spoke in lecturing note, as if talking to a brazen child. “Do not take me for a fool. We have been invited to this temple and that is a courtesy I assure you our host does not extend to the Solari” He finished, ever so slightly nodding at the crescent moon icon above. Leona was taken back by the insolent speech, drawing breath for an angry retort when the man rose his hand as if asking her to quiet. “My lady, I ask that you consider the lives of your subordinates before trying to insult my intelligence in the future. As long as the situation remains as it is, your subjects’ lives are in my hand”. 

There was a surge of anger in the ranks of Ra’Horak, but Leona understood painfully well the wisdom of the man’s words. Additionally, the Noxian had something unsettling, unnatural about him that hid just below the surface. The Avatar sensed it, but was unable to pinpoint the exact source right now. Swallowing her pride for the sake of her followers and the quest they’d taken up, Leona spat out her reply: “What do you want, Noxian?”. 

The general offered her a minuscule nod of approval in recognition of her choice. The man stepped closer and Leona cursed the underground location they were in, for she’d liked nothing else than to scorch this outsider. “I ask the Solari to leave and return no sooner than tomorrow. And I demand a glimpse into you” the Grand General explained cryptically, his left hand reaching up and seizing her jawline. In that very moment, Leona made her choice. She’d smite down this man right now for the insolence of laying a hand on her, and consequences be damned. But that thought was wiped away the very second it formed, the surprising strength of the man’s grip forcing her to stare into the Noxian’s eyes. 

And at that moment, the blood escaped her face. The crimson colored irises of the general stared into her eyes, and she felt something vile and unnatural connect them. The gloved hand touching her face and those inhumane eyes, they pulled at something within her, the divine essence of her goddess rising to shield her as the Noxian peered into her soul. It was few seconds that this contact lasted, such was the ward of her god, but for Leona it felt much longer. She saw memories of herself and of what must have been him. There were the slopes of Targon, then tall towers built of stone and decorated with iron. Her childhood home, then rows and rows of faceless warriors clad in red and black, marching to war. The steps leading into the temple dedicated to her Goddess, and suddenly just a field of carnage, ravens feasting on the fallen in some faraway land. Flashes back and forth, Leona’s mind barely had time to understand each picture. And then the offending hand was gone from her skin, the man’s eyes just a shade of bronze. 

Leona took a step back, shaken. The Solari had fought men and monsters, stared down creatures most people had not heard of. But this thing she’d just met was something dark and primordial. And she had no idea what it could be. “Thank you for your cooperation. Now, a single night is what I asked. Please leave” The general spoke in polite and respectful tone, but his eyes were as cool as and harsh as the coldest night on Targon’s highest slopes.

#papa burd storytimes #ask-leona #diana might be interested in this as well #a bit different take once again no?

[edmund-valks]

Prelude Night (Ilandreline)

Winter's Veil was confusing.  Greatfather Winter?  Ugly sweaters and brightly wrapped gifts?  The traditions were not hers, not did she understand how they had originated.  Not that it really mattered -- her friends were into it, so she would do her best to participate.

For herself, though, Ilandreline stuck to little bits of the family rites.  She'd purchased her candle long ago.  Two, actually, to test the seller's claim that it would yield both non-toxic smoke and dark purple light.  It could only be better if there was one that made things darker, but that audience was likely too limited for any shop to worry about them.

Despite recent events, she left the safety of the Respite.  Not unarmed, of course; there was no requirement to be weaponless for these things.  In fact, it was extremely ill-advised to do so.  Between excitable relatives and unspeakable horrors from beyond, the odds of dying on Prelude Night were actually significantly higher than on almost any other.  Her satchel carried the usual implements: a heavy wrench, a small sledge, her trusty bonesaw, and an array of grenades.  Also the candle and a handheld firestarter, because flint and steel were a pain in the ass.

A wiser person would have used the lookout camp.  That would have been a great idea, far enough removed to be mostly private, still close enough to avoid being truly alone on the most ominous night of the year.  Ila didn’t think much of great ideas, though, or being a wiser person.  She did just fine as she was; no need to change.  As such, she left the protective barrier of the Warding Tree, headed for a little spot she’d found nearby.

It wasn’t too far a walk, though the distance was enough to make her glad she’d worn her heaviest coat.  It was her warmest as well as the most protective -- an excellent dual-purpose item considering the number of mindless dead who would very much enjoy a warm-blooded meal on a cold night.  By the time she reached the cave, the hood’s fur trim was beginning to frost over, her breath having frozen amidst the soft hairs.

Just inside the jagged opening, Ilandreline turned around to scratch several crude symbols into the ground.  Two more followed in an ink that was only easily viewed with peripheral vision, one on either side, and then a final overhead.  She said the prayers, such as they were, the words echoing in her mind.  It was her voice that spoke, she knew, but all she could hear was the thousandfold reverberation of whispers from within.  The truest darkness was never empty, after all, especially when daylight was at its weakest.

A barrier flickered between the sigils, visible for only the briefest moment.  If she’d done it right -- and the weird thrumming inside her indicated she had -- it would disguise the opening entirely from passersby.  It would also turn aside the senses of the ghouls who roamed Silverpine, preventing them from taking her unaware.  At least in theory.

Faith, a voice whispered in her mind, keep always the faith.  You will be rewarded at the end.  It sounded like her mother this time.  An interesting choice, considering the two had never been particularly close.  But Mom had been the better of her parents at explaining the family’s peculiar religion, so maybe it made the most sense.

The cave was empty, its dirt floor hard packed and almost smooth from her work over the last ten days.  She placed a bowl in what passed for the center of the space, gently mashing the candle’s base into it.  Just so.  Now it would stand properly.  She pushed back her hood, forcing the sudden cold from her mind.  After several slow, shivering breaths, her goggles came off as well.  Her eyes were closed, of course, but not for much longer.  If she was going to do this, she’d have to open them.

Ilandreline relaxed, sort of.  There was a way to force the body to act relaxed, even when it wasn’t, and she’d had to learn it many, many years ago.  They all had, or else they hadn’t survived very long.  She went through her body mentally, muscle by muscle, unwinding those that hadn’t obeyed her initial command.  When the last finally uncoiled, she knew it was time.  Her eyes opened to the blinding dark.

Decades, perhaps centuries, before she was born, her family had abandoned the Sunwell.  The arcane was, they’d decided, not for them.  Maybe it was because the magisters were irritating; maybe it was the insistence that laws were supposed to be followed.  The details were never made particularly clear to her and they were rather moot at this point anyway.  No explanation would change the simple reality: her ancestors had sworn the family to that which lurked between the stars, the infinite blackness and mind-shattering horrors.  That was why they’d been exiled, of course; the quel’dorei authorities didn’t want anyone to know there was an alternative to the Sunwell.  Not needing the Sunwell meant not being subject to the magisters’ authority, and who among them could countenance such a thing?

A side effect of their unique independence was the peculiar vision she was using now.  If one took normal sight and replaced every colour with its opposite, that would almost explain what she saw.  There was more to it, though.  Like the way certain areas of emptiness could be seen from the corner of the eye, except they weren’t really emptiness at all.  They were quite full instead, though that fullness was composed of nothingness.  Those were the spots you had to ignore.  She refused to engage with them, even when images of lidless eyes or lamprey-like mouths flickered there, taunting.

Ilandreline pulled her firestarter from the bag, ignited the candle.  “A single light, flickering weakly,” she intoned in the other language she’d been raised with, the one far older than Thalassian.  “The last remnant of a dying sun, full of terrible promise and beguiling lies.  A tyranny of ill-advised order, never meant to withstand the endless dark.”

A prick of a finger then; a drop of blood on the burning wick.  Instead of smothering the flame, this fed it, the candle emitting a burst of light not unlike pouring fuel onto a bonfire.  “Our gift to you, this living blood, and a reminder of our bonds.  Our sacrifice is your gain, your whispers our knowledge.  All in service to the last fading of the light.”

Another drop.  “I’ve done little to bring the final darkening this year.  I don’t think anyone expected me to do differently.”  She was speaking Thalassian now.  Her vocabulary was too limited in the ritual tongue to do this part.  “I’m not like the rest of my family, you know.  They’re big into all this stuff, they’ve got goals.  Me, I’m just trying to do the things I’m good at, stand on my own.  I figure it’s not too big a deal that I’m not super involved anymore.  Sure, you don’t get a lot of blood sacrifice from me, but I also never use your power, so I figure we’re pretty even.”

The third drop.  “Under the circumstances, I’m not asking for anything, not even that you keep watch over these friends I’ve found.  They may not thank me for that kind of attention, for one, and I haven’t any offerings to seal such a pact.  The Long Night will come, I know, but I’ll leave that to my family to worry about.  We both know they’re always working toward it, and by not sticking around and having to kill more of them off, I’ve probably helped you more by leaving.”  She smiled at the thought.

Blood drop number four; the most important.  She watched it fall, looking for that special sign -- ah, there it was.  The redness hung suspended over the violet flame for an eyeblink, quivering, full of potentiality.  Then the fire consumed it, as, of course, it must.  Once again the rite spilled from Ila’s lips.  “Four for four, given by one.  Less than five, but greater by far.  After life, beyond death, the Long Night comes.  We kill to serve.  We bleed to live.  Through our sacrifice, the light shall die at last.”

She extinguished the candle as she spoke the final sentence, pinching out the flickering light.  As always, it hurt more than any other burn she’d ever experienced.  As always, it left no visible trace, simply the throbbing, bone-deep ache.  Rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness that had settled during her obeisance, Ilandreline slowly got back to her feet.  The leather strap attached to her tinted lenses remained unbuckled for the moment, lying atop the contents of her pack.  Stretching out a hand, she traced her last rune for the night on the notional plane created by the sigil-conjured barrier.  There was no proper translation for the word represented by this symbol, though “consume” came close.  The barrier vanished, the patterns that had created it burning away as if they’d never been.

Stepping into the freezing dark, she pulled up her hood.  Another year gone, she mused, though this one suggested potential for the next.  Hope, even, something she hadn’t realized was missing.  Smiling, Ila turned her black eyes skyward.

It took a moment to realize there were no stars in her vision at all.  An omen, her mother’s voice whispered again, flitting through her mind like a bat in flight.  And what a glorious one it is, to look on the Eternal Dark before it has come!  There was a certain extra spring in her step as she returned to the Respite, goggles forgotten in her satchel.

#warcraft rp #fence macabre #wow rp

[oceteva]

The Forbidden Fruit | Riverdale ~ Burgers & Onion Rings

[Slow burn!Hiram Lodge x OC] Word count; 7,147

Info | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Lauren parked her black BMW in the parking lot right underneath her and Jughead's usual booth in the far corner once she arrived at Pop's diner after she had left her father's office. The Lanzetta teenager took out the keys from the ignition and stored them inside of her black leather purse before she exited out of her vehicle. Lauren then glanced around the empty parking lot for only a few seconds before she spotted her fellow detective partners.

The Lanzetta teenager gave the couple a small wave along with a small smile before she strutted across the parking lot in her heeled boots and met her best friends at the door of Pop's diner. "Hey, guys," Lauren greeted the beanie-wearing teenager and the blonde before she inquired with her brows slightly furrowed in worry, "how's Fred and Archie doing?" 

The Cooper girl anxiously crossed her arms over her bubblegum pink sweater before she answered Lauren's question, "Fred's still in surgery. They're trying to repair the hole in his stomach." Betty took a deep breath as she was riddled with worry before she continued as she explained how their friend was doing, "and Veronica took Archie home to, hopefully, get him to relax for a little bit."

Lauren slowly nodded her head as she bit down on her painted red lip before she mumbled, "that's good." The Lanzetta girl could only imagine how Archie was doing right now. She was glad that Veronica was taking care of him, though. Lauren would have liked to be there for Archie but she was happy that someone was looking after him. Lauren just prayed that the doctors would do everything in their power in keeping Fred Andrews alive.

The parking lot right outside of Pop's diner grew silent for a few tense moments as each of the three teenagers thought about the Andrews duo before Jughead finally cleared his throat and spoke up. "Well, let's get in there," the Jones teenager mumbled before he pulled open the front door of the diner and allowed Betty and Lauren to enter first before he followed quickly after.

The three teenagers glanced around the empty Pop's diner for only a moment or so before their presence was felt by the owner of the establishment. "Sorry, kids," Pop Tate apologized to his loyal customers before he murmured with a mop clutched tightly in his left hand, "we're closed today. There was, uh -"

However, before Pop could explain what happened at the diner, the Cooper girl quickly interrupted as she stated, "Pop, we heard about what happened." Betty pointed her thumb back towards the front door of the diner as she told the older man the reason for why they were here, "we just got back from the hospital to look for Mr. Andrews' wallet. It's missing."

The older man quickly moved closer to the three teenagers at the mention of the Andrews man with worry shining throughout his brown irises. "Is he -" Pop Tate anxiously began to question but he couldn't even get the words fully out of his mouth.

However, the three teenagers all knew what Pop was asking, so Lauren quickly assured the older man with a soft smile, "he's in surgery but it's looking good." The Lanzetta girl knew that they didn't know that for certain, that Fred would be okay, but she knew during times like these, everyone just wants to know everything was going to be okay. 

Pop took a deep breath of relief that he seemingly been holding in since late last night before he softly whispered, "all right." The older man moved around his diner while he told the three teenagers as he pointed to where Fred and Archie had been seated at during the attack, "the police have already looked. But if you wanna double-check, he was in that booth, there."

Lauren gave the older man a thankful smile before she, Betty, and Jughead carefully stepped over the large pile of dark red blood. While the two teenage girls moved to the Andrews' booth, Jughead focused his attention back onto Pop. "So, uh, what happened, Pop?" The Jones teenager questioned, "from your point of view?"

Pop released a heavy sigh as he mumbled, "ah, I wish I knew." The older man briefly closed his eyes as he felt ashamed of what happened here last night before he told the three teenagers from his memory, "as soon as that gun turned off me, I... God help me, I dove." Pop busied himself by trying to clean up all of the blood before he continued, "I don't even remember calling the police, but I guess I did."

Lauren, who had been examining the booth that the Andrews duo had been sitting in last with Betty, moved towards Jughead and the older man when she couldn't find Fred's wallet nor any calling card from the shooter. "Hey, Pop," the Lanzetta girl called out before she curiously inquired, "have you had the chance to see how much money was stolen from the register?"

Pop Tate furrowed his brows as he stared at the brunette girl before he finally shook his head. "Not a penny," the older man mumbled after his mind recalled the memories of what happened last night.

While Betty quickly moved towards Pop along with her boyfriend and best friend in shock, Jughead and Lauren immediately looked at each other with a knowing look. "See, I knew it," the Jones teenager exclaimed as he snapped his thumb and middle finger together. "What kind of thief shoots up a joint and then doesn't take a single dollar bill?" Jughead questioned as he shook his head.

"He wasn't a thief," Lauren answered the beanie-wearing teenager's question with what she had thought all along. It was what both she and Jughead had thought since it didn't really add up when Archie had told the police about what happened - that it could have been a setup. It just didn't make sense for it to be a robbery. 

"Over the years, this place has been robbed many times," Pop Tate told the three teenagers, "bricks through the windows, even, during the riots." The older man shook his head as he stated, "I've looked plenty of thugs in the eye, but this man, his goal was something else. Darker." Pop looked each of the teenagers in the eye as he muttered ominously, "it was like the Angel of Death had come to Riverdale."

"Jeez, Pop," the Jones teenager mumbled with a slight smile on his face before he told the older man, "lighten up." Jughead released a small but equally awkward chuckle before he commented, "you sound like the cranky old guy in the Friday the 13th movies."

Lauren immediately slapped her beanie-wearing best friend's denim jacket as she exclaimed, "hey!" The Lanzetta teenager amusingly shook her head at Jughead before she jokingly scolded him, "don't go hating on the classics."

"What?" The Jones teenager wondered with a small chuckle. Jughead shrugged his denim clad shoulders before he told his best friend in a serious voice, "hey, I'm all for the Friday the 13th movies but this isn't a movie, Lala."

"Guys," the Cooper teenager mumbled as she interrupted the conversation between her boyfriend and best friend. Betty let out a low sigh before she told them as she shook her head, "the wallet's not here."

The three teenagers all immediately released disappointed sighs at the fact that they couldn't find Fred's wallet like they had planned. It wasn't even just the fact that they couldn't find the collection of money, photos, and cards. It was the disappointment that they couldn't do this one thing for Archie, who was barely hanging on by a thread. Lauren, Betty, and Jughead were always about helping their friends in a difficult time, so it sucked that they couldn't do more for Archie and Fred Andrews.

The investigating trio knew there was no point in staying at the diner any longer since their quest in finding Fred's wallet was unsuccessful. However, before any of the teenagers could say goodbye to Pop, the Lanzetta girl was interrupted when her cell phone began to ring inside of her burgundy coat. Lauren gave everyone in the room an apologetic smile before she pulled out her device. 

VEE 👠👗💕 CAN YOU BRING BURGERS BACK FROM THE DINER? I CAN'T EAT ANOTHER MEAL FROM THE HOSPITAL CAFETERIA 🤢🙏🏼

The Lanzetta girl couldn't help but to chuckle quietly to herself as she read her best friend's text message, while she ignored the puzzled looks for Jughead and Betty, since she knew Veronica had only eaten ONE meal from Riverdale General's cafeteria. However, Lauren could understand, though, since hospital food usually sucks, so the brunette girl shot Veronica a text back with the promise of food before she placed her cell phone back into her coat. 

"Hey, Pop," the Lanzetta teenager called out to the older man before she curiously wondered, "is the kitchen open?" Lauren wasn't totally sure that it would be since the diner was not open with Pop just cleaning up the mess from the shooting of Fred Andrews. 

Pop Tate looked up from the blood that had covered every inch of the wooden mop and over to the brunette teenager before he slowly shook his head. "It's not," the older man stated, much to Lauren's dismay, before the caring man questioned, "does it need to be?"

"Well, its just everyone's hungry at the hospital. You know, all the people that are there supporting Archie and his dad," the Lanzetta teenager explained to the owner of the diner with a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face as she hoped that Pop would be willing to open up his kitchen after she had already promised Veronica. The brunette girl knew there was always the other diner in Riverdale, Shelly's Shack, but nothing beats Pop's burgers. 

The older man hummed to himself as he stared at Lauren and took in her words before he finally nodded his head. "I'll do anything for the Andrews family after what happened last night," Pop stated as he still felt so bad for not helping Fred before he got shot. Pop knew it wasn't his fault but he still felt guilty for not doing more to prevent it. "Give me about fifteen minutes and I'll have some burgers ready to go," Pop Tate told the Lanzetta girl as he went to turn around to start up the kitchen.

However, though, before the older man could get too far, Lauren quickly added with a sheepish smile, "uh, actually, Pop, it's more than just the usual group. You'll be feeding a group of River Vixens and Bulldogs, as well." The Lanzetta teenager knew Pop would need a whole crew to knock out all those orders, so the brunette offered a helping hand as she told Pop, "and if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to help."

"Yeah," the Cooper girl quickly spoke up with her sweet and innocent smile adoring her face. Betty bumped her shoulder into her boyfriend's jean-clad one before she told Pop Tate, "we would love to help, too."

The owner of the diner immediately grinned at the three teenagers with a grateful expression displayed across his face before he murmured, "that would be great, kids." Pop Tate waved his hand after he placed the bloody mop against a booth before he stated as he lead the trio into the back of the diner, "well, come on."

Once Pop Tate and the trio of detective teenagers were inside of the kitchen of the diner, the older man immediately walked up to the flattop and turned up the heat. Pop then busied himself for a few minutes as he got out the right ingredients for the burgers like the beef, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and Pop's Secret Sauce. The older man placed everything on the assembly line before he looked back at the three teenagers.

"Alright," Pop began as he stared solely at Betty and Lauren before he instructed, "you girls can get started on the burgers." The older man glanced over to the beef as he explained, "they are already formed, so all you gotta do now is throw them on the flattop for a few minutes." Pop then pointed over to the things that goes on the burger before he continued, "once they are finished, you can load them up." The older man looked around him for a moment before he mumbled as he glanced around his kitchen, "and the wrapping paper should be lying around here somewhere." 

"I know where it's at, Pop," the Lanzetta teenager quickly assured the older man with a small smile shining across her painted red lips. Lauren was quite familiar with everything in the diner since she had paid her dues last year when she used to work at the diner before she found out about the Lanzetta family business and got involved. 

Pop Tate stared across at the brunette girl for a moment as he made sure that Betty and Lauren could handle the burgers before he murmured, "very well." The older man then turned his gaze onto the beanie-wearing teenager once he knew the burgers were in good hands before he told Jughead as he slowly began to walk away from the flattop, "let's go get you set up on the onion rings."

Once Pop and Jughead walked over to the fryer, the Lanzetta and the Cooper girls got ready as they fixed their hairs into ponytails at the base of their necks and placed clear gloves over their painted fingers before they got started on cooking the hamburgers with Betty handing Lauren the patties and the experienced cook placing the patties onto the sizzling flattop. This process continued for awhile in a comfortable silence as they cooked about thirty patties to feed their army of River Vixens and Bulldogs. 

The calm silence between the two best friends soon came to an end, though, after Lauren had made sure that the burgers were cooked perfectly and she had them laid out of the assembly line to be put together just like Pop does them. "Hey, I forgot to ask," Betty began as she placed the first hamburger bun onto the red and white wrapping paper before she glanced over to Lauren and inquired, "did your dad end up finding anything useful about what happened with Archie's dad?"

The Lanzetta teenager released a small sigh as she shook her head. "Nope," Lauren mumbled in disappointment before she told Betty about what she had found out from her father, "daddy barely even heard about what happened but he did say he was going to meet up with the Serpents later today to see what they know." The brunette girl shot her best friend a small smile before she lightly lied, "daddy also said he was going to talk to a few guys who know the gossip on the streets, so hopefully he'll find something that can help us."

Lauren couldn't exactly tell the Cooper girl that her father was putting a few men from the Lanzetta mob out onto the streets to go digging for information. The only person that actually knew about what her family really did was Jughead. However, he only knew because her father did a lot of business on the Southside like one of the strip clubs along with a medical clinic and also working very closely with the Serpents. 

The Cooper girl released her own sigh at Lauren's answer as that was not what she was hoping for. Betty had thought that the Lanzetta man would have found something but she was relieved that it was being looked into. "I hope so, too," the blonde teenager told Lauren as she shot the brunette girl a sad smile as she prayed that they could find something to help Fred Andrews. 

The blonde and brunette best friends shared similar looks of wanting to figure out this guy-in-the-hood problem before they focused back onto their tasks since they would have to wait until they could investigate more. However, Lauren and Betty did spend the next fifteen minutes talking about their theories of who could have hurt the Andrews man as they wrapped the hamburgers. They continued to do this for another ten minutes before Lauren cheered after she wrapped the last burger, "there! We're all done!"

Betty shook her head as she stared down at thirty or so wrapped hamburgers with a look of disbelief. "I don't know how you used to do this," the Cooper girl commented as she rang her hands through the air as she tried to get rid of the soreness that she felt from placing the vegetables in the burgers and wrapping them up. 

Lauren released a small chuckle before she shot the blonde girl a wide grin. "It was easy," the Lanzetta teenager commented with a small shrug of her burgundy coat as she remembered her days as a cook for the diner before Lauren added, "but then again, I never was feeding an army like we are doing now."

The Cooper girl let out a small giggle as she uttered, "fair point." The two teenagers shared a moment of laughter together before Betty called out through the kitchen, "hey, Juggy!" The blonde girl then turned around when she didn't get a response as she was curious to know if Jughead had finished making the onion rings but quickly gasped when she saw Jughead was right in front of her. "Oh!" Betty exclaimed before she placed her hands onto Jughead's chest and mumbled with a blush to her pale cheeks, "you scared me."

The Jones teenager released a small chuckle before he joked, "I gotta keep you on your toes." Jughead placed a quick kiss onto his girlfriend's plump lips since he wasn't really one for public affection before he tossed his arm over Betty's shoulders and looked over to his best friend. "All finished here?" Jughead wondered as he glanced towards all of the burgers. 

"Yep," the Lanzetta teenager responded as she nodded her head. Lauren leaned back against the counter before she pointed her blue irises towards the direction that Jughead had came from as she questioned, "what about you?"

Jughead nodded his head as well before he explained, "Pop's loading them into some boxes."

Lauren's body straightened up at her best friend's answer before she commented, "we should do that, too." The Lanzetta teenager walked around the large kitchen and towards the back room where she knew all the supplies were located before she grabbed three big boxes. Lauren then silently handed them out before she, Betty, and Jughead started to load the burgers into the boxes to take to the hospital.

The three teenagers continued to load up the food for a few silent minutes before Pop Tate made his presence known with his heavy footsteps. Pop placed the white box of onion rings down onto the counter next to the boxes of burgers before he told the trio with an aged smile shining across his face, "you're all set, kids."

Lauren shot the older man a wide grin before she showed her praise for letting them use his kitchen, "thank you, Pop, for doing this." The Lanzetta teenager then moved and grabbed her black leather purse from the counter beside her before she asked as she dug around for her wallet, "how much will this all cost?"

Pop Tate immediately shook his head as he waved his hands through the air. "That won't be necessary," the older man quickly told the brunette girl before he stated as it was the least he could do for the Andrews family, "it's on the house."

Lauren pouted at the older man as she didn't want anything free - especially from Pop when he had helped her so many times when she was growing up and because he is such an important person for Riverdale. "Alright," the Lanzetta teenager agreed before she mumbled, "but only this time." 

Pop Tate grinned at the brunette girl before he looked at the three teenagers. "Enjoy the burgers, kids," the older man mumbled before he told them, "be careful."

"We will," the Cooper girl uttered with a bright smile shining across her face. "Have a nice day, Pop," Betty told the older man before she, Lauren, and Jughead each grabbed a box of food with Jughead also grabbing the one that held the onion rings.

The three teenagers took their exit out of the kitchen before they walked back into the main part of the diner. While Betty and Jughead made their way to the front door, Lauren made a quick stop at the counter. Lauren placed the box of burgers onto the counter before she quickly placed three one hundred dollar bills inside of the tip jar. "Thank you, Pop," the brunette girl whispered with a wide grin on her face before she quickly grabbed her box and headed out the front door.

Lauren, Betty, and Jughead walked towards the Lanzetta girl's black BMW since the Jones teenager only had his motorcycle and there was no way he could store the burgers and onion rings. However, though, before they could even get half way across the parking lot, they were soon interrupted when a familiar voice called out Lauren's name from beside the diner. 

The Lanzetta teenager glanced over her burgundy clad shoulder before a wide grin immediately pulled onto her face when she had been right when she saw a certain Serpent. Lauren focused back onto Betty and Jughead as she told them, "give me a minute." She then placed her box of burgers on top of Betty's and pulled out her car keys before she handed them over to Jughead so they didn't have to wait on her. 

Lauren waited until the couple of Jughead and Betty continued to walk towards her car before she swiftly turned around and sped walk up to the Serpent, who was also walking towards her. The Lanzetta teenager didn't even get the chance to say anything once they were only inches apart as the tattooed Serpent, who happened to be her boyfriend, pulled her into a fierce and passionate kiss. 

Lauren didn't mind her boyfriend's actions, though. She actually loved it. Lauren loved the excitement, danger, and desire that surrounded their one year relationship. The Lanzetta girl finally pulled away from the passionate embrace when she felt like she couldn't breathe before she shot Daniel a happy grin from the sight of him. "What are you doing here?" Lauren curiously wondered as she wrapped her hands around Daniel's neck and played with the labels of his leather Serpent jacket. 

"What?" The Southside Serpent questioned with a smirk playing on his plump lips as he wrapped his arms protectively around Lauren's waist, "can't I check up on my girl?"

The Lanzetta teenager playfully rolled her blue irises at her boyfriend before she muttered, "oh, I'm sure that's why you're here." 

Daniel released a deep chuckle from the pit of his chest that shook both him and Lauren since she was practically pressed against his front. "So, what's up?" The Sen biker questioned once he had stopped laughing and Lauren had slapped his chest before he continued, "what's with the radio silence?"

Lauren immediately furrowed her brows as she stared up at her boyfriend. "What are you talking about?" The Lanzetta teenager wondered as she had no clue what the Serpent was going on about since she hadn't heard from him since last night. 

Daniel rolled his brown eyes before he placed his right hand into Lauren's burgundy coat pocket and silently pulled out her cell phone. The Serpent quickly took a step back when Lauren yelled out, "hey," as she tried to get her device back. Daniel released an amused chuckle at her complaining as he unlocked Lauren's phone that had a photo of them plastered on the lockscreen. The Sen biker pulled up the iMessages app before he showed Lauren her phone that held ten text messages all from him.

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : Good morning, gorgeousss 😘

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : Do you wanna ride to school? 🏍😉

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : Shit. You have practice today, don't you?

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : Shoot me a txt when ur on break so I know you actually made it to school.💖

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : IDK why u get up so early to go to school 🙄

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : L A U R E N  H E L L L L L L L O !!

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : B A B Y !!

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : I'm worried. Call me as soon as you can

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : I'm coming to find you

DANNY BOY 🥰💖 : I love you

"Oh, fuck," the Lanzetta teenager swore as she grabbed her cell phone and, sure enough, saw the text messages that she hadn't seen from her boyfriend. "I am so sorry, babe," Lauren apologized as she tightened her hands around Daniel's leather jacket before she placed a quick kiss onto his lips. "Everything's been shit since practice," the brunette girl stated before she explained for her radio silence, "Archie's dad, Fred, was shot last night and I've been running around town trying to help out to find who did it."

The Sen biker rubbed the pad of his thumb against Lauren's right cheek as he softly murmured, "I'm sorry to hear about that, bǎobèi."

The Lanzetta teenager couldn't help but roll her blue eyes at her boyfriend. "I'm sure you are," Lauren mumbled as she knew how her red headed best friend wasn't Daniel's biggest fan. It mostly had to deal with Sweet Pea's influence and his hate for the Northsiders. 

"Hey, come on, now," Daniel began as he gripped onto the Lanzetta girl's chin and softly stared down into her blue irises with his brown ones before he stated, "I'm not completely heartless." The Sen biker lightly shrugged his leather clad shoulders as he added, "besides, I know how much Fred means to you."

A deep frown instantly pulled onto the Lanzetta teenager's face at the mention of Fred's name. Lauren still felt so heartbroken from what happened to the man, who was like her second father. It made it even worse that she couldn't do anything to help Fred at the moment. Lauren couldn't help but to feel this wave of sadness as she thought about the red headed man, so she gently placed her head onto Daniel's warm chest before she mumbled, "he means a lot to me."

The Sen biker placed a soft kiss onto the crown of Lauren's brunette hair and stayed there for a moment before he quietly asked against the Lanzetta girl's head, "you gonna be okay?"

Lauren couldn't help but to roll her blue eyes at the question before she pushed herself out of her boyfriend's chest. "Yeah, I'll be fine," the Lanzetta teenager told Daniel as if it was obvious before she added with a small smile, "I always am."

Daniel pushed a portion of the Lanzetta girl's brunette hair behind her ear before he cradled the right side of Lauren's face. "I know you are but you it doesn't mean that you have to be all the time," the Southside Serpent softly murmured as he tried to comfort his girlfriend when he knew she was struggling. 

The River Vixen's heart instantly melted at the sight of her usually angry biker boyfriend's gentle words. Lauren always loved when Daniel would go out of his hard exterior and be that big softy for her. However, Lauren was one to not show her fears and to always be strong like her father taught her to do, so the Lanzetta girl joked to hide her true emotions, "it's in my blood."

"You know," Daniel had began to comfort his girlfriend about how she didn't need to hide herself from him and how she can vent to him but before he could say anything more, Daniel was soon interrupted when the Prince of the Southside started to honk the horn in the Lanzetta teenager's black BMW. 

Lauren released an amused chuckle at her impatient friend, she was surprised Jughead lasted this long, and her very annoyed boyfriend. The brunette girl loved the relationship between her boyfriend and best friend. It was funny watching them go back and forth with one another with their hate - even though she knew they didn't actually hate each other. Lauren shot her annoyed boyfriend a small smile before she murmured, "duty calls."

The Sen Serpent puffed out a heavy sigh before he silently nodded his head in understanding as he knew Lauren had food to deliver from what he had seen with the boxes that the trio had been carrying. "Do you want me to come with?" Daniel wondered as he wanted to be there for Lauren. He knew how much stress the brunette girl always placed on her shoulders, so he wanted to at least ease it by being close by to assure her that everything would be alright.

The Lanzetta teenager shook her head with a tiny grin playing on her lips, "Nah," Lauren uttered before she explained why it wasn't best for Daniel to come with her, "I don't want to bore you to death. I'm just going to be in the waiting room while we wait for news about Fred." The brunette girl appreciated the thought, though. It meant a lot to Lauren that her boyfriend was willing to be around the Northsiders for her. 

Daniel nodded his head once more in understanding - even though he'd rather be there for his girlfriend. "Well, give me a call if need anything, alright?" The Sen biker instructed as he stared down into Lauren's blue irises before he softly murmured, "I'll drop everything for you."

Lauren shot her boyfriend a soft smile as she loved hearing his sweet words before she promised him, "I will." The Lanzetta teenager then pulled Daniel into a kiss filled with passion and love. However, though, when Lauren began to feel as Daniel slid his hands down her waist and squeezed her ass while ruining the sweet moment, the brunette girl pulled away. Lauren shook her head with a soft chuckle before she told him with a smirk plastered across her painted red lips, "I gotta go."

The tattooed Sen biker pouted down at his girlfriend like a innocent puppy before he mumbled, "fine." Daniel leaned down and placed another kiss onto Lauren's lips before he placed a soft peck onto her forehead. "I'll see you later," Daniel promised before he finally released the brunette girl from his grasp and let Lauren walk away from his embrace. 

The Lanzetta teenager blew her boyfriend a kiss as she started to walk backwards and yelled out, "love you," before she quickly jogged to her car and jumped into the driver's seat. The first thing that Lauren noticed once she entered her black BMW was the grinning Cooper girl and the extremely annoyed Jughead Jones. The brunette girl released a small chuckle before she teasingly asked as she pulled out of the parking lot, "what crawled up your ass?"

Jughead crossed his arms over his denim clad chest before he complained to his best friend with a heavy eye roll as he looked out his window and looked at the Serpent on his motorcycle, the current bane to his hungry stomach, "the burgers are getting cold all because you couldn't say no to tattoos over there."

Lauren rolled her blue eyes right back at her best friend before she exclaimed, "oh, shut up!" The Lanzetta girl glanced back to Jughead in the backseat before she asked him, "do you know how many times I've kept my mouth shut when you and B made out?" Lauren didn't wait for a response before she stated, "a lot." The brunette girl shrugged her shoulders as she continued to drive through Riverdale before she told Jughead, "besides, no one said you couldn't take a burger right now."

There was the loud giggle from Betty Cooper that immediately escaped her mouth as she watched the conversation play out between her boyfriend and her best friend. "Oh, he already did," the blonde teenager told Lauren as she glanced back to Jughead with a wide grin shinned across her pink lips. 

"What the hell, Juggy!" The Lanzetta teenager practically screeched when she learned that new piece of information from the Cooper girl. "You ass," Lauren loudly exclaimed before she mumbled under her breath, even though everyone in the black BMW could obviously hear her, "complaining for nothing."

The Jones teenager pouted from his spot in the backseat before he mumbled out an excuse so it didn't seem like he was complaining for nothing like Lauren had commented on, "well... I didn't have any onion rings yet."

The Lanzetta teenager couldn't help but immediately burst out into a heavy laughter - along with Betty - at the pouting Jughead Jones. It was something Lauren was used to but always found hilarious - something that Jughead only showed around her, Betty, and Archie. The brunette girl shook her head at her best friend before she uttered with nothing but love in her voice for the beanie-wearing teenager, "you are so annoying, Juggy."

The detective trio of the Lanzetta, Cooper, and Jones teenagers continued to joke back and forth with one another like they always do - despite what was going on - as Lauren drove through the busy town of Riverdale before the brunette girl finally pulled, thankfully, into a front row spot at Riverdale General. The three teenagers then all grabbed their boxes of burgers and onion rings before they headed straight to the waiting room.

"Who's hungry?" Jughead loudly asked the room that was filled to the brim with concerned parents, River Vixens, and Bulldogs alike before the Jones teenagers stated as he, Betty, and Lauren placed the group of white boxes down onto the glass table in front of the seating area, "we've got burgers and onions rings!"

The supposedly silent waiting area of Riverdale General was immediately overcome by loud whoops, hollers, and cheers at the mention of food and the familiar sight of the white and red wrapping paper from Pop's diner before Reggie Mantle, resident Bulldog, exclaimed over the loud sounds of excitement, "hell yeah!"

The group of teenagers practically rushed to reach the boxes of food while Veronica Lodge walked up to the Lanzetta teenager with a wide grin proudly displayed across her lips. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," the brown eyed girl chanted out her praise as if she was getting a mind blowing orgasm. 

The Lanzetta teenager let out an amused chuckle before she told Veronica with a grin of her own, "you are very welcome." Lauren playfully bumped her hip into the Lodge girl's black dress covered one before she sarcastically uttered as she teased Veronica about her text message, "I knew you were just dying for some real food."

Veronica playfully bumped her hip right back into the Lanzetta girl's burgundy coat covered one before she mumbled with a slight embarrassed blush to her tan cheeks, "shut it."

The two teenage girls couldn't help but to burst into a giggling mess as they clung onto each other to help stand upright. Lauren and Veronica had always been the closest out of their group of friends ever since Veronica arrived in Riverdale. Lauren figured it had something to do with how they were both raised - in a rich and business-like family. It also probably had to deal with the fact that they've made out on several occasions for fun before Veronica got with Archie and Lauren got with Daniel but that wasn't important anymore. 

"Come on," the Lanzetta teenager told her dark haired best friend as she linked her arm through Veronica's. "Let's go get some food before Jughead eats it all," Lauren joked as she pulled Veronica into the fray of noisy teenagers to grab their own meal of a burger and onion rings.

It took awhile before Lauren and Veronica had finally made it to the table but when they did, they grabbed five sets of burgers and five packages of onion rings before the two teenagers called Betty, Jughead, and Archie with them to eat somewhere quieter than the noisy waiting room - where an older woman was currently yelling at all of the teenagers to be quiet. 

The group of friends ended up going to the spot where Sheriff Keller had held his interview with Archie earlier that day. The five teenagers sat there in comfortable silence as they ate their food and had small conversations with each other before Betty turned her attention onto Archie with a soft smile plastered across pink lips. "Your dad would be so proud of you, Arch," the Cooper girl told the red headed teenager.

"Yeah," Jughead muttered in agreement as he slowly nodded his head while he chewed up his second burger. "You've really been a rock-star God through all of this," the Jones teenager continued once he swallowed up his food with a slight awkward chuckle escaping through his lips a moment after.

The Lanzetta teenager shot Archie a small but comforting smile before she also added to Jughead and Betty's reassuring words with a small joke, "Clark Kent, who? I only know Archie Andrews." It was something that Lauren was very known for. Lauren, even though she did joke to cover up her own emotions, liked to use jokes to make her friends feel better or to even crack a tiny smile.

However, Lauren didn't get that smile from Archie like she was used to getting from her joking ways. The Lodge girl was the second one to take notice of the crestfallen expression on the Andrews teenager's face after the Lanzetta girl. "Archie, what is it?" Veronica worriedly asked her boyfriend before she softly told him as she glanced over to the other three teenagers at the small table, "talk to us. Maybe we can help."

The Andrews teenager sat there for a few tense minutes after Veronica's helping words before he finally shook his head and confessed with heavy emotions clouding his voice, "guys, there's something I haven't told you, 'cause I'm so... I'm so ashamed." Archie was immediately pulled back into the memory of last night with a slight flinch of his body before he recalled the events to his friends and girlfriend, "after the guy fired, I should've rushed to my dad straight away or I should've tackled the guy, but I was paralyzed."

Archie brought both of his hands to cover his eyes as he could feel tears building up behind them before he slowly continued with his story with a slight stutter to his words, "I-I didn't move, not even when the guy walked up to me and he held his gun to my head. And I just closed my eyes. I don't know how long." The Andrews teenager lightly shrugged his shoulders as he thought about what he was saying before he commented, "long enough for the guy to have taken my dad's wallet, I guess."

Archie took a deep breath as he slowly brought his teary eyes up to look at each face around the small table before he concluded with his tale of the events from Pop's diner with sadness and heartbreak flowing throughout his voice, "but I didn't open them until I heard the bell. Pop's bell. Which meant he was gone."

"Arch," the Lanzetta girl softly called out to her best friend to gain his attention before she murmured, "you can't blame yourself." Lauren gently shook her head as she tried to help Archie with his emotions and his guilt for what happened, "you made the right choice or you would have also be in the hospital as well. You couldn't have done anything else differently to save Freddy."

The Andrews teenager instantly began to shake his head in disagreement before he exclaimed, "that's not true, Lala. I could've done anything to comfort my dad. To get the gun away from that guy." Archie, once again, squeezed his brown irises closed before he mumbled, "I was a coward. And now, me and my dad were witnesses - Pop Tate, too. This guy may have my dad's wallet and all of his information." The Andrews teenagers slowly opened his eyes after a tense moment before he glanced at each face around the table and asked with fear shining throughout his voice, "what if he comes back?" 

The table in Riverdale General was only silent for barely half a second before Veronica quietly mumbled after her boyfriend's story, "oh, Archie." The Lodge girl immediately pulled her boyfriend into her chest and rubbed her fingers along Archie's red hair as he cried into her shoulder while she tried to comfort him as best as she could. 

The Lanzetta teenager felt her heart completely break at the sight of her usually smiley and happy best friend become this mess of sadness and tears. Lauren hated that she couldn't do anything to help Archie, either. She wished that she could do more for the Andrews family but she sadly couldn't.

However, the Lanzetta girl hoped that the guys who her father had contacted would be able to find something out on the streets about who could have done this. Lauren knew the members of the Lanzetta mob were very good at their jobs so she knew they would find out something - even if it was something small. Lauren knew between her, Jughead, and Betty that they could figure this out with whatever information that her family could find. 

Lauren didn't like the idea of this guy in the hood walking around the small town of Riverdale. Yeah, she knew there was bad guys always around like the drug dealers and gangs on the Southside and the corrupt politicians and lawyers on the Northside but this guy rubbed Lauren the wrong way. It might be because the guy in the hood went after someone that Lauren thought as family but she swore as she stared at the heartbroken Andrews teenager that she was going everything in her power to find the person who did this to Fred Andrews and make them wish that they had never been born.  

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