#and didn't keep trying to fiddle with this to keep it consistent

[burnthatbridge]

illicit affairs

buddie | E | chapter 1 of 8(ish) | 3k | just a boy helping his boy bestie figure out gay sex, with a side of infidelity This is how it starts: Buck goes on a date with Tommy. How it goes from there, Eddie can't even begin to explain.

Chapter 1: born from just one single glance

It’s in the aftermath, when Bobby and Athena are safe and being checked over and the 118 plus family and friends is piled in the waiting room as usual — they all have their preferred chairs with how often they’re here — that Eddie’s unfocused mild interest in this new guy who his friends trust, turns to sharp notice. 

Eddie has to step away to call Carla, to let her know they got Athena and Bobby, to assure her that he’s fine, Buck’s fine, they’re all fine. And then he spares an extra moment to text Marisol because he knows she’ll see the news soon, if she hasn’t already, and will worry.

After, when he returns to the waiting room, Tommy’s in his seat. Eddie doesn’t really have a specific one he favors so much as he always takes one next to Buck. So, it follows that, Tommy is now sitting beside Buck. 

When Eddie left, Buck’d been pale-faced, and shaky in a way he wasn’t when Bobby was missing and he had a goal to focus on. Eddie hadn’t wanted to leave him, but it was Buck who’d said didn’t he need to call Carla? Let Chris know they’re okay?

Eddie pauses across the room and regards the scene before him. Tommy is leaned in, chatting to Buck, making wide, expressive gestures with his hands as he does. Buck’s still more grey than pink in the cheeks and one hand is clutching the arm of his chair, but he’s stopped picking at the patch of peeling paint he’s about tripled in size over their past handful of waiting room residences and there’s a hint of a smile curling the side of his mouth, which had been a grim line before, waiting for the doctor to report back on Bobby and Athena, waiting to be allowed to see them. 

“He’s in good hands.”

Eddie starts at Hen’s words. She appears from behind him carrying two paper cups of what Eddie understands from experience is the worst coffee known to man. He used to force it down because caffeine is caffeine, but he can’t anymore. It reminds him too much of the three minutes and seventeen seconds that were some of the worst of his life.

read on ao3

[artslovergirl]

Stanford!art as a secret admirer pleaaaaase

hiii! sorry this took me literally a month to finish i am still not very good at keeping a drabble a drabble and this one really got away from me but i promise in the future that hopefully wont be the case....anywhoo! enjoy! (ty for being my first request ever!) also shoutout to diya for helping me a bit with characterizing art having a crush on someone! mwah!

admittedly, art felt like a creep. not enough to stop sneaking glances at you across the lecture hall but definitely enough to feel hot shame crawl up his neck whenever you would accidentally meet his eye contact.

he quickly glanced away and stared back at the blackboard, trying to pretend that's what he had been looking at all along.

he began fiddling with his pen, pushing the plastic end of it nervously against his lips. he could feel your eyes on him for a few moments longer before turning back around to face the professor.

great. now you probably actually thought he was a creep. which is not exactly how he planned your first form of contact to go.

...alright, to be fair, he never had an exact plan in the first place? but "make awkward eye contact" wouldn't have been a part of it. that's for sure.

he was a little out of his element here. stanford was a hell of a lot bigger than mark rebellato was.

back there, most of the girls knew him, sometimes even liked him already or he had patrick as his wingman. (or when it came to tashi, competition.) but here? he felt so unsure all of a sudden. it felt like all of the experience he had with dating seemed completely useless.

when he first saw you, he was still pretty infatuated with tashi. but that doesnt mean he didnt notice how hot you were. as more time passed the more he realized that tashi and patrick were apprently locked in (go figure the dude finally learns commitment just in time. read bitterness.) and the more he saw you, the more he heard you talk in class, the more he saw you laugh with your friends, the more you wouldnt leave his mind. not to mention how fucking smart you were. well, are.

the lecture ended and as always you were one of the first people out the door. you were always in a rush. or maybe you just had another class all the way on the other side of campus?

he wondered what your major was. he wondered if you knew he played tennis. he wondered if it would even impress you if you found out. he hoped it would.

---

art was sitting in the cafeteria stabbing his fork into his salad that consisted of like 70% veggies and 30% eggs.

he had to say, he was definitely getting sick of eggs at this point. he took a small sip of his gatorade.

usually, he drank blue, but he decided to try red today. maybe because it was patrick's favorite flavor or maybe because he needed at least a little change in routine.

unfortunately, as he went to place the bottle back down on the table, he almost knocked it over as soon as he suddenly noticed you standing by the vending machine. and then turning around. and.. walking towards him? holy shit.

at first, he thought you would just walk past him, but you stopped at his table. he didn't know if he believed in god, but at that moment, he certainly felt like a favorite.

"hey," you smiled politely, "sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have a quarter? that thing doesn't seem to take nickles." you nodded your head towards the vending machine at the entrance of the cafeteria.

"uh." his brain tried to play catch up. "um, yeah, let me check." he let out a small chuckle so he wouldn't sound so nervous, but it sounded more like he was wheezing. he pulled out his wallet, ripped apart the velcro, and checked. he silently celebrated when he noticed he did, in fact, have a few quarters. "yeah, how many do you need?" he looked up at you. his cheeks felt hot.

"oh, just one is fine." he nods, and suddenly, in front of your presence, it seems a lot harder to properly grab the quarter from his wallet. he does manage, though, and as he hands it to you, he feels your fingers brush against his palm.

as if transferred from your fingertips to his palm it felt like a surge went through his body, traveling through his arteries and sparking at the tips of his fingers and toes. you hand him your nickels in exchange. before you could turn to leave, he quickly interjected, "we're in the same class, right? english literature?"

he didnt know where he was going with this, he just wanted to keep talking to you.

your eyes flashed with recognition.

"oh, yeah! art, right? you sit behind me?" you knew his name. "yeah, yeah, that's right." he nodded, his fingers drummed against the table. there was a short lull in the conversation as he desperately tried to grasp for anything to talk about that wouldn't seem like he was hitting on you (even though he kind of was.)

"so, uh, this is actually good timing because i've been sorta meaning to talk to you anyway?" his lips pulled into a familiar charming lopsided smile.

"oh, really?" you tilted your head. "yeah." he nodded, his hand going to fidget with curls on the back of his neck that stuck out of his backwards cap.

"i, uh, need some help with some of the material, and, you know, you're so good-"

"oh, i'm not that-"

"nah, c'mon no need to be modest," there's that grin again, "i don't think i've ever seen you get a question wrong."

you huff, feeling embarrassed at the unexpected praise, "well, it's literature, so it's all interpretation, it's hard to be outright wrong."

"see, that answer just confirms it." he says.

you chuckle, finally giving in and accepting the compliment. "so..you want my help then?" he nods. he really prayed you would say yes because this was really his only plan on how to get to know you.

you mulled over it for a few seconds. then you nodded. "yeah, okay, let me give you my number and we can figure out the details later. i got another class in like-" you glanced back at the clock, "shit, 3 minutes."

you hastily ripped a piece of paper out of your notebook scribbled a number on it and left it on the table. "oh, and thanks for the quarter!" you yelled back (even though you didn't even get to use it) before booking it out of the cafeteria. guess he was right about you always being in a rush.

---

4:58 pm. 2 more minutes till you'd knock at his door. art did another once over of his room. now he wasn't exactly a messy guy but he had to admit his dorm had never been this clean before. actually maybe it was too clean...would you think that was weird? like would you think he was a neatfreak? girls probably weren't into that.

he began messing up his bedsheets just a little so it wouldnt look like he had just spent the past three hours obsessively cleaning every inch of his dorm. even though thats exactly what he did.

it was a pretty small room but you'd be surprised how long it can take to clean if you're doing a real deep clean. not to mention the pain in the ass that doing laundry in college was.

he did all of this because, keeping true to your word, you did make plans with him to help him out with some of the reading.

you : does 5pm on saturday work 4 u?? :-)

art : Yeah, I'm totally free!!

(in hindsight the two exclamation points were probably a bit much.)

just as he was about to check out his hair for the 5th time today, there was a knock on the door. he glanced at the little digital watch on his wrist. 5pm sharp. wow, you were punctual. was it weird that he found that hot?

art quickly brushes a few unruly curls that were sticking out of his backwards cap away with his fingers before moving to open the door.

---

"so, what's the exact stuff you're having trouble with?" you peered at him from his bed, which you were sitting on, which he was being very cool about.

you had asked him if it was okay to sit there after you had exchanged a few pleasantries and then chatted for about 10 minutes.

it was mostly about class at first, then turned into more personal topics. you asked him if he was on the tennis team, because of all the..well..tennis gear in his room.

he nodded and told you about his tennis scholarship. you chuckled and said you had never really watched any matches at stanford so far, but you'd like to see him play.

he really tried to not seem overly enthusiastic about that but he did tell you the exact time and date of his next match.

apparently, you thought the sport seemed "really impressive". ( i.e. you were impressed. i.e. you were impressed by him playing tennis. or that's at least how he heard it.)

then, after he found out you were an english major, which wasn't a surprise, you finally brought up the topic of studying.

he spun in his desk chair, to face you.

"just some of this..interpretive stuff...i feel like i never know what the professor wants to hear from me." he tapped the end of his pen against the book he was holding. "well.." you shifted into a cross-legged postion, you were wearing shorts and he was trying really hard not to stare at your legs.

"you probably shouldnt be thinking about that in the first place, you know, what the professor wants to hear? you should think about what you actually got from the book." he knew this was pretty standard advice but when you said it, it sounded like the most intelligent, world-changing thing he'd ever heard.

"riiight...what if i didnt get anything from it?" he smiled sheepishly, leaning his head on his hand. you scrunched up your nose and playfully rolled your eyes, "oh, come on, how can you read classic literature and not get anything from it? i don't believe that."

you scooted forward a little. a little closer to him. a nervous chuckle left his lips, his gaze swept back and forth between you and the book before settling on you.

truth be told, he was doing fine, at least grade-wise, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't like he was striving to become an english professor, he mostly decided to take this class on a whim. but the part about struggling with interpretations was true, it just maybe wasn't necessarily a dire enough situation to require your help...

"well, maybe youre not asking yourself the right questions before you read." you hummed, gently tapping your finger against your leg. "can i see your notes?"

art panicked a bit at that. he wasn't sure why, but suddenly someone looking at his notes felt oddly intimate. you would be able to read the bits and parts of the book he regarded as important enough to jot down. what he liked. what he didn't like. perhaps it was a little intimate.

he tried to play it casual, though, and nodded as he handed you his english lit folder. his nerves only got worse the longer you took to read through them.

then suddenly, you smiled and nodded a little bit before looking up at him again. he prayed that you couldn't see the way his heart was trying to escape his ribcage right now.

"you know, you couldve just asked me out."

before his brain could even process that sentence, his mouth seemed to go into immediate action to splutter out some kind of denial in order to salvage this, "what? i- no, no, that's not- i mean, seriously why would-"

"i mean, i wouldn't have said no. like you didn't have to pretend to need my help. you clearly don't need it-" you gently tossed his folder back onto the desk. "-plus you're cute."

he didn't move for a good few seconds until he finally caught up to what had just happened.

now, this would've been the moment where he would've liked to be really cool and smooth in his response, but instead what happened was: "um..so then are we..like are you.."

in his defense you kind of caught him off guard. like completely. he had had a plan. how the study sessions would transition into friendship, and then maybe, hopefully at some point would transition into dating. he was a patient guy, really, and you had just skipped like...everything.

"are you free tomorrow?" you asked, as you stood up to grab your bag. wow, you were really taking the wheel at this point. and he discovered that he had shockingly little problem with that.

"uh, yeah, yeah i'm free..like all day." he did have training in the morning but he truly would skip it just this once if it came down to it.

"2pm?"

"sure."

"i'll text you?"

"okay."

"so..it's a date?"

you had stood up from the bed and were suddenly already on your way out. probably because you could tell he needed a minute.

"yeah, a date." he nodded with a (almost lovestruck) smile he hadn't even noticed had snuck its way unto his lips. you reciprocated with an equally excited grin, "cool."

before he knew it, the door had clicked shut, and he was alone again. he felt warm.

"cool."

[blue--ingenue]

thomas grant and adam wadsworth scorbus moments that make me go feral

(all of these moments take place in toward the end after Scorpius asks Rose to be his friend on the staircase)

EDIT: i'm currently writing a fic about this scene. lemme know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for when it gets posted :)

Scorpius excitedly leaning into Albus' personal space (these boys faces were 3 inches apart) and Albus shyly laughing and fiddling with his hands every time Scorpius leans down

(we also know how averse Albus is to loud noises and invasions of personal space, so the complete trust and affection with which he allows Scorpius near him is so so sweet)

adding to the point above: Albus consistently flinches at loud, sudden noises and movements (flinching when James sneaks up on him, recoiling when James pretends that his arm is a snake about to strike in the opening scene, shying away to tuck into his parents' side when random fans of Harry, Ron, and Hermione try to wave to him at the station in the first scene)

Rose watching them gradually inch toward each other on the staircase and getting more excited the closer they get

(after Scorpius declares that his progress with Rose is something upon which to build his "Palace of Harmony") Albus panics and grabs his shoulders, stuttering as he asks "And that's who you'd want? In your palace of harmony?"

poor boy is afraid his best friend will fall in love with his cousin (sweetie, your cousin is literally rooting for you 5 feet away)

Albus panicking when Rose reappears, quickly standing up to avoid suspicion. even panicked, he can't bear not being in contact with Scorpius and keeps his hands on his shoulders

Albus' hands sliding from Scorpius' shoulders when he realizes that Rose knows

THE FACT THAT SCORPIUS IS COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS

Rose (possibly the biggest Scorbus shipper in the entire family) gently telling Albus "You know, this is only going to be weird if you two let it be weird :)"

Albus' little voice crack when Rose asks if he's okay

Albus: "What's this? I thought we didn't hug?"

Scorpius: "I wasn't sure whether we should...in this new version of us."

(I originally thought "this new version of us" just referred to them being older/wiser, but now I think the "new version" refers to their budding romantic relationship

[b-does-yellowjackets]

Yellowjackets at practice

based on pretty much nothing, just fun hcs!

my varsity and jv teams in high school practiced together so just pretend that's how whs did it too lol

Shauna: Focused, but a little spacey. Easily distracted by Jackie talking to her or by her annoyance at herself over a mistake. She has specific drills that she gets super into, but it depends on the day. During scrimmages, though, she's laser-focused. Not afraid to get physical, even though it's only practice. Big proponent of the "practice like you play" motto.

Tai: Locked in the entire time. No, she does not want to hear about Randy Walsh slipping in the hallway. The first person on the line for warmups and the first to react to instructions. She won't hush anyone for chatting during drills, but she will glare if she's in a mood. Excellent at shooting drills. PK champion and it makes Jackie the tiniest bit annoyed.

Van: Goofing off the entire time and somehow still making amazing plays. Tai will scold her for it gently and the coaches used to call her out on it, but after a while, they only say something if she's really distracting someone else because she manages to outperform herself every time. She'll go from choking on her water because Nat made a dumb joke to making a brutal dive to save a ball that Jackie booted from just outside the eighteen. Takes a lot of unnecessary hits and had to be told to tone it down a little so she wouldn't hurt herself before games.

Natalie: She's there, but she's not making any particular kind of effort. Sort of phones it in on warmups and individual drills, but the second she's paired with someone she respects, she's ready to play. Her and Jackie make a surprisingly great team for offensive drills and she'll always put in a little extra effort if she's playing up from Lottie.

Jackie: Kind of a selfish player, but not intentionally. She's better about it at games, but can get very focused on outdoing herself at practice and sometimes forgets the point of the team drills. Usually the first to strip down to her sports bra when it gets too warm and will dump water over her head whenever it's even remotely appropriate.

Mari: Gets hyped over others' good plays. She's not always the star, but she's the first to let out a cheer when Jackie strikes the top corner of the net perfectly or Tai makes a clean tackle and repossess the ball easily. Can get frustrated with herself if she messes up and a few mistakes will often lead to a rough practice for her.

Lottie: Hair-braider. Often late to the line for warmups because she was pinning Van's hair back for her or fiddling with Natalie's bangs. The coaches stopped trying to berate her for it when she didn't help anyone with their hair before a practice and they had no less than six on-field collisions because people couldn't see. Always has a few extra water bottles and is always down to break for a snack.

Gen: The absolute best person to be paired with for partner drills. She's so reliable with the amount of effort she puts in, which is a healthy 85%. Almost never criticized by the coaches, but also can be overlooked for her strengths because of her quiet consistency.

Melissa: Excellent player, but can be timid about it. When she's not nervous, she makes incredible plays and has great field vision, but is usually intimidated by Tai and Shauna's aggression. When they're more chilled out or when she's feeling particularly into it, she often gets an excited whoop from the coaches.

Misty: 110% every single day. Cheering and watching attentively for injuries, even though she usually gets shrugged off. Keeps a water cooler full, despite most of the team opting to use their own personal bottles and sometimes shows up with snacks. They're always odd, though, like sliced limes instead of oranges and everyone's like "??" but try to be appreciative enough when they get a pointed look from Jackie.

[madamdeathbees]

No one will see this and that's okay

But I see a lot of commentary on various social media regarding Marazhai and why one would ever recruit him, considering what he's done not only to the Rogue Trader, but also to their retinue. And while I'm admittedly biased, here are my thoughts. Under the cut!

Firstly, there's nothing saying you can't. It is among the greatest privileges of the Warrant of Trade that you are freely able to associate with xenos, as long as you do not side with xenos over humanity. It is so incredibly easy for von Valancius to simply say "I wanted to" in regards to basically any question ever asked to them, up to and including keeping a Drukhar in their retinue.

Second, due to his circumstances aboard von Valancius's ship, he automatically becomes one of the most loyal members of the retinue. He literally cannot afford to betray the Rogue Trader or plot against them because it means his certain death. As much as I, personally, love to joke that Marazhai is an idiot, he isn't. He's incredibly smart and incredibly aware of where he stands. On the bridge, RT can comment that he seems to enjoy submitting, or at least playing second fiddle, after learning that he was (mostly) content as Dracon and even sought out the Black Heart's patronage when trying to unseat Yremeryss, and he responds that he doesn't revel in submission, but simply accepts things as they are. His loyalty aboard the von Valancius vessel is just that, him accepting his circumstances. (This is taken a step further in the sub route of his romance, but that's a whole other post that no one will read)

Additionally, it was brought up that in Act 4, during the Warp jump, he goes on a "murder spree". Not to sound like I'm woobifying him (though I've been known to) but he literally does not mean to do that. It's impossible to say what he might've done, had he known what was going to happen, but he didn't. He's never traveled through the Warp on a human vessel, so he wouldn't know. And subsequent to this, when you give him whatever you give him, whether its his own hunting grounds, free reign of the lower decks, or locking him up for Warp jumps, he does it. Without fail. He listens to you and obeys. He never, after arrangements are made for him, kills someone that the Rogue Trader does not explicitly give him permission to kill.

And that's saying a lot because he has plenty of reason to kill...basically anyone in the retinue because they all want him dead. Hell, in Commorragh, when he's attacked by Heinrix, Argenta, or Ulfar (or any combination of the three) he doesn't try to kill any of them. If he had actually tried, he would have succeeded in killing at least one of them.

Thirdly, and this is mostly from a meta perspective, but he's an incredibly lethal party member, especially when given Yremeryss's djinn blade. Before the advent of Kibellah (and Blade Dancers in general, holy shit) Marazhai has consistently been the greatest damage dealer in all 5 playthroughs that I've completed.

All this to say, yeah, I get it if you don't want to recruit the pain vampire space elf, but you're missing out on quite a lot if you decide to kill him outright or whatever other merciless fate you can imagine for him. I'm not saying he deserves it, but dig deep into your Iconoclast heart and maybe you'll find that you can give him a second (or third or tenth) chance. He won't disappoint!

[warriorofthought]

Litte Recruit

Summary:  Sergeant Bucky Barnes teaches recruits and maybe he has a favorite one.

Word count:  4438

Warnings: mention of gun’s

Sergeant Bucky x Recruit Reader

Tonight, you and other recruits gathered around Sergeant Bucky Barnes in the armory as he demonstrated how to properly inspect a firearm. “You must always ensure that your gun is in functioning order.”  Bucky said as he pushed two fingers in and out of the empty mag of the marksman rifle, his fingertips making a languid rolling motion within the aperture to check for any defects. “Rack the bolt several times.” As  Bucky’s large and manly hands expertly handled the weapon, your thoughts were in the gutter.

You shake your head to organize your thoughts but it's almost impossible.

Bucky's deep, baritone voice interrupted your daydreaming when he said, "You never know when you'll be caught with your pants down in the field," as he turned away and started moving down the line towards you. You gulped as Bucky's hands rested on your shoulder, a faint blush dusting your face as you tried to maintain composure and focus on the firearm demonstration.

Your focus is abruptly torn away when  Bucky moves his hand to the hammer. As his fingertips gripped the hammer, you had to fight the instinct to squirm with how  Bucky's touch made your body tingle.  Bucky noticed this and decided it necessary to make a remark as he pushed down the hammer to demonstrate. "The hammer, when properly cocked, should not shake or jiggle,"

"Not shake or jiggle" you whisper and nod.

"Indeed,"  Bucky continued, pointing at the trigger, "Your trigger pull should be slow, consistent, and smooth." As he lifted his hand away,  Bucky took note of the way your gaze followed each movement of his strong, masculine hands.

You try to focus on Bucky's speech.

Bucky's hands moved towards the top handguard, turning the rifle sideways to allow inspection from the muzzle end. "Your weapon must also be clean."  Bucky pulled a cleaning rod from his drop-leg holster and poked it down the barrel to inspect the bore.

Bucky's hands ran through his hair as he continued to lecture, his fingers playing with his locks. Your gaze is drawn away from the lecture when  Bucky's hands start to fiddle with the straps of your vest, his thumb pushing into the Velcro, "And always keep your gear in good working order."  Bucky looked at you pointedly as he adjusted the strap over your left shoulder.

You nod a little bit embarrassed that you didn't put it properly on.

Though you tried to remain focused, every movement of the big Shield Soldier was simply mesmerizing to you. You felt your cheeks heat up again when  Bucky put a firm hand on your shoulder. "Are you still with me, recruit?" He asked, his voice full of authoritative confidence and power.

“Yes, sir.” Your voice firm.

Bucky nodded, his hand sliding down your arm. Your body tensed, your pulse racing as  Bucky's hand gilded downwards. The Soldier didn't seem to notice as he leaned in to look at your ear piece. "And finally, you must always maintain situational awareness."  Bucky adjusted your earpiece and whispered something in your ear.

"You've been listening well tonight."  Bucky's warm, raspy voice sent a shiver down your spine when he said this directly into your ear. He pulled away quickly and put his hands in his pockets, a faint smirk forming on his lips as he looked down the line to the next recruit.

As you look around. You can see that no one has seen the little interactions between you and the  Bucky.

No one seemed to have noticed, and the Sergeant looked unphased by the intimate moment. The recruits were still entranced by his demonstrations, their attention fixed on his skillful handling of the firearm. After a moment of silence,  Bucky barked, "Alright, that's all for tonight! Dismissed!"

You quickly pack up your items in preparation to be dismissed. As you were about to leave, Bucky called out for you to stay behind.

On his call. You stand still and wait for the others recruits to leave the room. 

The other recruits leave the room after being dismissed by the Sergeant, leaving you alone with the big Shield soldier in the empty armory. "Come here,"  Bucky said, calling over to you.

You walk up to Bucky, feeling a little nervous at the way he was looking at you. The Shield Soldier leaned on the work table, his broad, muscular body nearly filling the narrow space. Bucky's gaze remained fixated on you, his blue eyes burning into yours.

You stare back at Bucky, the close proximity between you and the big Soldier making your heart pound in your chest. The faint scent of gun oil and cigarette smoke filled your senses as  Bucky's blue eyes looked through you.

"Is something wrong? " you ask hesitant.

"I have something to tell you", Bucky said in a low, sensual voice, "And it's important that no one else hears." As Bucky looked down at you expectantly, your breath hitched in your throat.

"Okay" you nod.

Bucky leaned in closer, a faint blush spreading across his weathered face as his lips brushed your ear, "I want you." He whispered, "All of you." Though his words were direct, the tone of his voice made your heart skip a beat.

"uhh…." You say speechless.

Bucky continued to look down at you as he waited for a response, his intense blue eyes taking in every detail of your face. The big soldier's gaze was unrelenting as he continued to study you.

"Why?"

Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly at your question. The big soldier remained quiet for a moment before he answered, "Because you're mine."  Bucky's words landed with a heavy weight in your stomach as he took a step towards you. His imposing presence made you shiver slightly.

You take a step back and your eyes lock with him.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed you as you took a step back. The big soldier took a step forward, pinning you between him and the table.  Bucky brought his hands to your arms and held you close, his hot breath caressing your neck. All you could do was swallow and nod.

"Maybe..... " You swallow and try to sort your thoughts " what about the other recruits?"

"I like you best,"  Bucky said, his hoarse voice filling your ears, "You're special to me." His hands shifted downwards towards your hips and his fingertips grazed your waist, "I want you to be mine."  Bucky pressed his lips to your neck as he said this, his big hands caressing your hips possessively.

"what when i don't want that?" you question confused.

"Don't think for a second that you don't love it."  Bucky pushed you against the worktable, your back pressed against its metallic surface as he leaned in. His lips kissed your ear and he whispered, "You want me. You need me." The big soldier's lips caressed your earlobe, his breath making your body tingle.

You breath quicken and your eyes flatter close. 

The big Shield Soldier stood back and looked into your eyes, his blue eyes smoldering with desire as he took in your flushed expressions. With a firm grip,  Bucky lifted you onto the worktable, his face move closer to yours.

"Sergeant " you whisper.

"Bucky," the soldier corrected, his lips never leaving yours, "Call me Bucky." As he brought his strong arms around your waist, "Only I get this from you."  Bucky brought you closer, his masculine body pushing you down on the worktable as his hands ran up and down your thighs.

Bucky used your vulnerable position on the worktable to keep you as close as possible as he brought his hands higher up your thighs. He squeezed and rubbed your soft skin, his raspy voice a mere whisper as he said, "You're so soft."

"You... You are so big " you stutter and nervously lick your lips.

Bucky chuckled as his lips left your ear and kissed your neck briefly. "That's why you love me," the big Shield soldier murmured, his grip tightening on your thighs. 

Then you heard footsteps and you froze 

Bucky stopped what he is doing and looked down at you.  When he heard the sound of footsteps, Bucky's body tensed and he moved quickly to cover you. "Shhh," he whispered, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to locate the source of the footsteps. As he tried to figure out who was approaching, his hands remained around your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You're mine, remember that."

You nod slowly.

Bucky kept you close as he tried to listen past the heavy pounding of the blood inside his ears. His raspy breath was warm against your neck, as he kept his body flush against yours. Though your mind was running wild with possible scenarios,  Bucky was hyper-focused on the approaching footsteps, his blue eyes shifting between the various doorways entering the armory.

As he continued to listen to the approaching footsteps,  Bucky looked back down at you and whispered, "Stay calm."  Bucky kept his body over yours and his hand over your mouth. He remained tense as he listened intently to the footsteps, his mind racing with thoughts of who may be approaching. His head was slightly tilted, his neck muscles tightening as he waited to see who might walk through the doors.

Your instincts took over and you quickly pushed Bucky away. As  Bucky stumbled back, your eyes went wide when a pair of footsteps entered the room. "Hello, Sergeant," the woman spoke softly as her eyes swept the room, "What are you doing in here so late?" As the woman looked around the room, she did not notice you hiding under the worktable.

You close your eyes for a moment and relax. Then you follow the action again.

You opened your eyes shortly after the woman entered, your eyes darting between the two as the woman's voice tried to allure the big Shield soldier.

"Hello, Bucky," the woman said in a sultry voice as she moved closer to him, "I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing in here all by yourself? You were so busy with the recent recruit training, I didn't want to interrupt you." The woman moved closer to  Bucky, her hand touching his broad shoulder and her lips moving ever closer to his ear.

Your eyes widen slightly. 

Bucky's eyes fluttered with surprise as he stepped back from the woman's touch. As his mind tried to process what was happening, the woman pressed her body against his and whispered into his ear, "Let's go somewhere more... private." She pulled him close and nuzzled his neck, her voice a lustful purr as she said, "Do you like what you see?"  Bucky was unable to respond, his voice catching in his throat as the woman continued to seduce him.

Your heart becomes heavy. You try to look away and hope that Bucky meant it seriously with you and does not respond to the woman.

Bucky took a step back and cleared his throat but the woman followed him, her voice becoming more desperate as she spoke, "You've caught me looking at you,  Bucky. You must have known I'd be attracted to a man like you?"  Bucky could feel the woman's warm breath on his neck as she looked up into his eyes and tried to kiss him. "Do you find me appealing?" She asked.

In Bucky's mind, you appear a scenario is playing out. How hurt you are by what he did.  In his mind he sees you ignoring him not looking at him anymore. When he lets other people touch him. 

The thought that you don't want him anymore, if he cheats on you now, hurts him. 

Bucky looked at the woman with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. As the woman continued to try and seduce him,  Bucky closed his eyes and pictured you ignoring him. The image hurt him as it drove home the reality of what was happening. Bucky's brain was filled with scenarios of you ignoring, avoiding, and moving on from him. The thought of him cheating on you hurt him deeply and made him realize the gravity of what he was doing.

In his mind,  Bucky began to see you more clearly as he pictured what you looked like when you were upset and distraught.

The thought of hurting you was not something Bucky could bear again, and his eyes widened with panic in his mind. He imagined seeing you sad, cold, and distant, and the image made him feel physically ill.  Bucky looked at the woman in front of him, his brain filled with thoughts of you as she slowly traced a line down his jaw, "Do I appeal to you? Do I make you feel good, Bucky?" The woman's voice was soft and soothing as she tried to seduce  Bucky, her warm touch on his skin making him shudder involuntarily.

The woman's touch feel disgusting for  Bucky. 

"Please stop,"  Bucky whispered, his eyes filled with discomfort, as he tried to move away from the woman. The big Shield soldier tried to push her away but she persisted, her grip on him tight as she leaned in closer, "I want more."  Bucky tried to get away from the woman but she held on even tighter, her hands running up and down his body as she spoke, "Don't you want this? Is my body not attractive enough for you?" Her words were a stark contrast to the feelings  Bucky was experiencing in his mind.

You can see the panic and discomfort in  Bucky's eyes. So you decide to help him. Unnoticed by the woman, you go to the door and then open it, pretending to enter the room. 

The relief was palpable in  Bucky's expression as his eyes locked with you when you opened the door. His face turned to annoyance and disgust as the woman continued to try and seduce him. He tried to push her away once more but the woman held onto him, running her hands down his broad physique and leaning in closer to speak in his ear.  Bucky was clearly uncomfortable and not comfortable with what the woman was doing.

"Sergeant, that's a training room. Such a thing should not be done here " you question as a recruit.

The woman turned to look at you with surprise, her lustful expression transforming into one of shock and horror. "But, Sergeant," the woman said, "Surely you're a man of action. Why not enjoy yourself? Why not take a pretty woman to your bed and enjoy something new?" As the woman's voice became more demanding, and her grip on  Bucky became tighter,  Bucky gave you a pleading look from the corner of his eye. "For God's sake,"  Bucky whispered, his tone quiet and tense, "help me."

"Even though I'm just a recruit, I see that, you, Miss. Cross the border of the Sergeant. Or should I get help. I'm sure you won't like it"  you say firmly. 

The woman's expression went from shocked to angry, "Help from who? What is a little recruit going to do about anything??" Her voice was stern as she looked down at you and moved closer to  Bucky. "I have everything under control," the woman hissed, her tone a stark contrast to your calm, polite demeanor.  Bucky looked over at you with a desperate look in his eyes and gave a slight nod.

"I can go to the general, I'm sure he will help with this." You prompt.

"And what will you tell him, little recruit? That Sergeant  Bucky was trying to enjoy the company of a beautiful, younger woman?" The woman leaned in closer and tried to whisper in  Bucky's ear, as her tone became more seductive and inviting, "Or will you keep your mouth shut and let us have our fun?" The woman began to inch towards  Bucky's lips, her breath warm on his skin.

"I won't go. He is uncomfortable with you."

"Oh he does enjoy me," the woman purred seductively, as her hands began to wander and explore  Bucky's body. Her expression turned to amusement as she continued to try and seduce the uncomfortable big Shield soldier. "He's just playing hard to get," she whispered, her voice an inviting purr as she leaned in closer to  Bucky's ear. "Don't you enjoy this?" The woman's warm breath was on his neck and her hand began to caress the bulge of  Bucky's muscular biceps. Annoyed you stand between the two. "Woman, you're breaking the rules."

The woman looked confused as you stood between the two but her seductive expression changed to a cruel frown as she responded, "Who are you to question me? A lowly recruit?" The woman looked back at  Bucky and continued to try and seduce him, her voice becoming more demanding and aggressive, "I thought soldiers enjoyed a good time with a woman. I'm trying to provide Sergeant  Bucky with some stress relief."

"He don't need a whore like you that don't know when's enough "

The woman's expression turned dark as she looked back at you, her face filled with a mixture of hurt and annoyance. "Excuse me?" She spoke sharply as she looked back at  Bucky, "Are you implying that I'm a whore?" The big Shield soldier looked back and forth between the two of you as the woman continued to attack you with her words, her expression full of anger. "A recruit... calling a woman a whore... do you know your place?" The woman took a step towards you and spoke sternly as she looked down at you.

"I know my place but clearly you don't " you say calmly.

"Well then, since you know so much," the woman said with a snide grin, "how about you tell me, little recruit, where is my place?" The woman looked at you as if she was daring you to respond, her tone sarcastic and mocking. Your calm manner, however, seemed to only exacerbate her annoyance as she waited for you to respond.

"Your place is outside this room" gently and reassuringly your hand points to the door.

The woman looked at you in shock as she processed what you said and took a step back, clearly offended. She looked back at  Bucky, her face filled with anger as she saw him looking at her with a stern expression. Her eyes suddenly widened as she looked back at you, her voice taking on a threatening tone, "And who is going to make me leave? You, little recruit?"

"When the Sergeant wants that, yes." your eyes stay firmly on her's.

Bucky's face remained stern as he looked at the woman. The big Shield soldier seemed to be contemplating your words a moment before he spoke up and said, "The recruit's right, I would like you to leave." The woman looked surprised as  Bucky spoke up, her expression turning into one of anger and annoyance. "And if I refuse to do so?" The woman's words were a stark contrast to  Bucky's, as she stood defiant in front of the big soldier.

"I'll help you out then" you say strongly. 

Bucky looked surprised when you stepped up for him, as the big Shield soldier was not expecting support from a recruit.  Bucky looked at you with a grateful smile, as he didn't want to have to cause a scene with the woman. As  Bucky's expression turned to a smile, the woman's expression transformed into one of anger and disbelief. The woman looked at you angrily and spoke sharply to you, "Little recruit, who do you think you are?"

"I'm a recruit, nothing else" you say calmly,  " you should go now." 

Bucky looked at you with gratitude and respect as he saw how you remained calm in front of the woman.  Bucky's eyes darted between you and the woman as he remained alert in case the situation escalated. The woman looked at you in annoyance and frustration, "A recruit is telling me to leave? Do you know who I am?" The woman shook her head and continued to look at you with anger as she spoke, "I'm not going anywhere."

" I don't know who you are, but I have treated you with respect. And I think it's time for you to go"  you say strict but calm

The woman looked surprised at your tone but remained defiant, "I don't think it's time for me to leave. I believe I'm making Sergeant Bucky very happy, and if he wants me to stay for the evening, then I will stay." The woman looked at  Bucky and spoke seductively to him, "Don't you want me to stay, sweetheart? Don't you find me desirable?" As the woman continued to try and seduce Bucky, Bucky looked over at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

You nod and gently grab the woman's arm and lead her out. The woman looked down at your hand on her arm with surprise, as she had not seen you move towards her. As she turned to look at you, she spoke sharply, "Don't touch me, little recruit." But your grip remained firm as you pulled her out of the training room and into the hall. Despite her protests, the woman couldn't stop you and had no choice but to follow your lead.

The woman looked frustrated as she was pulled out of the room but Bucky's eyes lit up with relief when he saw the door closed.  Bucky looked at you with appreciation as he spoke, "Thank you, little recruit."  Bucky's face was serious as he looked at you and spoke, "You did not have to step up for me."  Bucky's tone was firm when he continued, "I am a big boy, I could've handled her myself."

"I'm sorry if I've crossed a line" 

Bucky's eyes softened when he looked at you and he shook his head, "It's alright, little recruit. I appreciate your help."  Bucky's voice was calm as he spoke, the big soldier seeming like a different man entirely after the event with the woman.  Bucky looked at you with a grateful smile and continued speaking calmly, "You handled the situation well, I could tell she was trying to goad you into conflict."

"thank you, then i go now, good night Sergeant" 

Bucky's face suddenly brightened when you spoke, "Good night, little recruit."  Bucky gave you a warm smile, his voice soft and gentle, as if the previous events did not even happen. As you turned to leave,  Bucky spoke up to you, his voice slightly firmer with a hint of irritation, "And do not tell anyone about this."  Bucky's tone was still soft but there was a warning in his voice, his voice becoming more serious as he spoke, "Do you understand?"

"I understand, nothing has happened here," you nod. 

Bucky looked relieved when you responded to his order, his expression becoming more relaxed and calm. His voice returned to the soft tone he was speaking in before, "Good, thank you. Now go on, I should go back to my room before I run into more trouble."  Bucky spoke with a smile, seeming to have completely forgotten about the woman who had just tried to seduce him. But before he turned away,  Bucky spoke once more, "Thank you, little recruit."

As you walked away, Bucky watched you go, feeling a rush of emotions he wasn’t used to.. relief, gratitude and a strange warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew he should just let you go and call it a night, but something about the way you had stood up for him lingered in his mind.

Sighing, Bucky found himself wandering the halls until he eventually stumbled upon you again, sitting alone on a bench outside, gazing up at the stars. You looked peaceful, your face relaxed as the cool night air played with your hair. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your own thoughts, but when he approached, you glanced up, startled but quickly relaxed when you saw who it was.

“Sergeant,” you greeted softly, a gentle smile on your lips. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Bucky shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Not really. Just... thinking.” He paused, then added “About tonight.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. “It’s okay, Sergeant. You don’t have to explain. I’m glad I could help.”

Bucky smiled, a rare and genuine smile that reached his eyes. “You’re a tough one, little recruit” he said, his voice soft with a hint of admiration. “Not many would’ve stepped in like that. You didn’t even hesitate.”

You shrugged lightly, feeling a bit bashful under his gaze. “You looked like you needed help. Sometimes, a little push from someone is all it takes.”

Bucky chuckled at your words, finding comfort in them. “You’re right. I guess I’m not used to people looking out for me.” He looked at you with an appreciative smile. “But you… you’re something else.”

He sat down beside you, the bench creaking slightly under his weight. You both stared up at the stars, the silence between you feeling natural, not awkward. It was quiet, but it wasn’t empty.. there was an unspoken understanding that made the moment feel right.

“Y’know, little recruit,” Bucky started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’ve seen a lot of things in my time. Been through a lot. But someone standing up for me, like you did? That’s... rare.”

You glanced at him, noticing the sincerity in his eyes. “You deserve it, Sergeant. Even soldiers need someone in their corner.”

Bucky nodded slowly, mulling over your words. He reached over, almost instinctively, and ruffled your hair lightly, a playful gesture, one that spoke of a newfound fondness. “You’re alright, little recruit,” he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “I think I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you.”

You laughed softly, feeling a flutter of pride. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just enjoying the quiet night and each other’s company. Bucky’s hand brushed against yours on the bench, and instead of pulling away, he let it rest there, finding comfort in the small but significant touch.

“Thanks again,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Sergeant,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’ve got your back.”

And with that simple promise, Bucky knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d seek out the “little recruit” who had unexpectedly become his quiet source of strength. Tonight, sitting under the stars with you by his side, everything felt a little bit lighter, a little bit more hopeful.

[beezz-are-buzzing]

A Helping Hand

Pairing- Nate doe x fem!reader

Summary- Nate loses his virginity

Warnings- subby!Nate kinda, just smut really. 1.3k words

This is based off of @hysteria-things and the anon on her blog. I hope y’all like it.

“What secret are you keeping from your brothers?”

A helping hand

“What secret are you keeping from your brothers?”

“Hmm, oh, I know when I was 12, I accidentally broke Nick's vinyl and blamed it on Chris” I answer with a small giggle, remembering the memory.

“Okay my turn, what is your favorite sexual experience” I ask, watching as Nate’s face immediately turns red, and he starts to fiddle with his hands.

“I'm a virgin” he replied shyly.

“You can't be serious. You, Nathan Doe, are a virgin. You’re lying” I scoff with a laugh.

“Stop laughing” Nate whispers, trying to hide his red-tinted cheeks. Sliding closer to Nate on the couch, I gently lay my hand on his knee. Placing my other hand under Nate's chin, I force him to look into my eyes.

“So you're telling me that you, Nathan Doe, have never had sex. Has anyone ever given you a handjob or wrapped their lips around your pretty cock huh?” Nate gulps as he quickly shakes his head no.

“You know I can help you out with that. Is that something you would like baby” I ask. I'm keeping my eyes on his own. Holding in my laugh as Nate starts to eagerly nod his head.

“No baby, I need your verbal consent”

“Yes please help me please” Nate whines. A quiet whimper escapes his throat as I gingerly slide my hand up his thigh to rest on the tent forming in his sweatpants.

“Tell me, Nate, what exactly do you want from me?” I question slowly, starting to rub him through his pants.

“I don't know” he forces out in a breathless whisper. His eyes squeeze shut as he focuses on the pleasure of my hand.

“Come on, baby. You know what you want, tell me or I’ll stop” I demand bringing my hand to a stop.

“No no no I’ll tell you, I want you to suck me off please” Nate pleads.

“There you go, baby. I knew you could do it” I praise as I give him a small kiss to test the waters. Pulling away Nate chases my lips. Finding his nerve Nate uses his hand to bring me back into a feverish kiss. Breaking apart, I lean back to quickly pull off my tank top. My nipples immediately pebble from the slight breeze flowing in from the window of Nate’s Treehouse. Nate’s eyes immediately fall to my breasts as his jaw drops open a little bit.

“Do you like what you see baby” I tease before reconnecting our lips. Distracted by the feel of Nate's lips, I almost didn't notice the way Nate brought his hand up to gently cup my breast, causing me to moan softly into his mouth. Breaking the kiss, I slide off the couch to settle on my knees between Nate’s parted thighs. Sliding my fingers tips into his waistband. I look into Nate’s eyes loving the way I can see the silent plea in his eyes begging me to continue without making a sound.

“Are you sure you wanna do this baby?” I ask softly. A smile spreads across my face as he immediately starts nodding his head with yes and pleases spilling from his lips.

“Lift your hips baby” I softly order pulling his sweats and boxers down his pink cock springing up to slap against his clothed stomach.

“Fuck Nate I was right you do have a pretty cock” I whisper as I spit on my hand before starting to stroke his hard cock. I watch as Nate throws his head back and lets soft moans and low groans escape his throat. Leaning in to kitten lick to the tip. The whimper that came out of Nate’s mouth had me squeezing my thighs together. That whimper gave me the right amount of encouragement to wrap my lips around the pink head. Slowly sliding his cock further into my mouth slightly gagging when the tip hits the back of my throat.

I start to bob my head up and down, using my hand to stroke what I can't fit in my mouth.

“Fuck go faster please” Nate begs causing me to move faster. The slight shake of Nate’s thighs and the consistent begs of Please tell me that Nate is close. Pulling away from his cock leaving a small kiss on the tip. I see a silent tear run down his face. Frustrated from his ruined orgasm.

“Oh, it's okay baby don't cry. You get to cum I promise” I tell him as I stand to my feet. Placing a sweet, gentle kiss on his lips. I wipe the tears from his cheek. I stand back to slip my leggings and panties off my legs.

Straddling Nate’s lap, I begin to slowly grind my hips down. Coating his cock in my juices. Trailing kisses down his neck, I bring my hands to the hem of his t-shirt.

“Let's take this off” I whisper as I lean back to take his shirt off.

“You know you can touch me right” I say as he guides his hands to my hips. The confirmation was all Nate needed to grip my hips, forcing me to grind down harder and faster. He leans forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, causing me to throw my head back in a moan.

“That's it, baby, you got this” I gasped out through the pleasure. Pushing Nate back by his shoulders, I crash my lips into his with desperation. Reaching to grab his cock beginning to rub the head through my wet folds. Lining him up with my entrance, I get ready to sink down.

“Wait what about a condom?” Nate breathes out.

“ I'm on the pill. Is that okay?” I ask, looking into his eyes. With a nod of his head, I start to slowly sink down. As I reach the bottom, my head falls forward onto Nate's shoulder.

“Fuck Nate you feel so good” I moan out as I begin to rock my hips up and down. Nate’s grip on my hip tightens as he throws his head back, a soft moan slipping from his mouth.

“Nate fuck, tell me how it feels. Does it feel good” I demand, trying to hold back my moans as I speed up the movement of my hip.

“Yes fuck it feels so good faster please” he begs using his hands to try and get my hips to move faster. I can feel his thighs start to shake under me.

“Are you close baby hmm” I tease him.

“Here touch me right here,” I tell him as I guide one of his hands down. Showing him how to use his thumb to rub circles onto my clit.

“God Nate, you're doing so good. Keep going. I'm close please” I plead as the movements of my hips become uneven and slower. leaning my forehead back down on Nate's shoulder, a surprised gasp leaves my mouth as Nate suddenly stops his assault on my clit to grab both of my hips to begin thrusting up into me.

“Nate” I moan as the sudden movement causes me to tip over the edge. My orgasm triggers Nate’s as he spills his warm seed into me, holding my hips tight against his as he moans into my neck.

keeping my head on Nate’s shoulder, I sit still for a moment as I catch my breath.

“Let's get cleaned up okay” I breathe out before slowly standing up and grabbing Nate’s shirt to wipe down both of our thighs. Nate pulls his boxers and sweats up as I start to get dressed.

“How was that for your first time” I jokingly ask sitting down next to him covering us both up with a blanket.

“It was good thank you” he whispers pulling me into a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe you just lost your virginity in your tree house” I giggled, causing Nate to laugh out loud.

Well here is my first fic on this blog so I hope you enjoy my writing but if you don’t my asks are open for feedback.

[genovianxprince]

OK I think I understand some of why some people in the fandom choose to make Mystra some kind of a terrible, grooming abuser to Gale. It's because every one of the companions has like a specific person you can point to and say, that is the abuser. That right there is the person who has caused the companion grievous harm. Gale and Mystra are a little more complex than that.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel technically have a whole cult/culture backing up the abuse, but you can still pretty directly point to Viconia and Shar for Shadowheart, and ultimately Vlaakith for Lae'zel as well as just... every Githyanki she ever met, except for Kith'rak Voss.

Wyll has Mizora, Karlach had Zariel and Gortash, Astarion has Cazador, all very obvious and self explanatory in the game. They were innocent, kidnapped, coerced, sold, played like a damn fiddle. But Gale?

Gale has Mystra, a goddess he loves, who also loves him, and the things they did to each other were both fucked up, and a lot of the fault totally lies with Gale! The other companions all had external forces affecting them. Gale's was mostly internal. He refused to believe he was good enough. "As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and I still wasn't satisfied." A literal goddess, the one he favored, the one he was in love with, who favored and loved him back, consistently told him he was perfect as he was and he straight up did not believe her. He placed himself on a higher and higher pedestal he could never reach the top of because if he wasn't constantly climbing to some nebulous goal of perfection, then could he be good enough for Mystra?

Y'know, instead of just believing the woman he was in love with. And I get it! Insecurities suck! Especially when you've been the gifted child your entire life, perfectly talented at something that all the adults in your life go nuts over. But also, it is extremely arrogant to assume you know better than your literal goddess and be like "yo, there's a missing piece of the Weave and I can go get it" like... Mystra is the Weave, she would have known and probably sent someone on a quest if it were actually Her Weave and not Karsus' Weave.

Gale is INCREDIBLY hubristic and he keeps falling for that trap. He's overconfident. Hell, even after his year in isolation where he comes out humbled, a small group of people believing in him for a short amount of time gets him to go "omg, crown of karsus = godhood, I can totally do that and tell the gods they SUCK and overthrow Ao's rules!"

Like, babyboy, no.

Of course, Mystra is not without some fault. After Gale's initial... Folly-up, she just ignores him for a year. Damn, girl, what the hell! Well. You see. The Netherese orb is a fragment of the magic that Karsus used to try to ascend and steal her throne with. The magic that she realized was going to kill everything if she didn't sacrifice herself. For a moment, all magic ceased to exist, including Mystryl herself, and Karsus died. Then Mystra came into being. Gale tells you a short version of this story himself! So it kind of makes sense that Mystra would see this shard of magic and just... kinda have a trauma reaction! And to gods, time flows differently. It wouldn't shock me to learn she didn't realize it had been a year by the time Gale left his Tower due to mind flayer shenanigans. Naturally, she does not want to discuss the thing she's so terrified of, and just tries to have it destroyed without her having to touch it—the plan to have Gale blow himself up on the Absolute itself, and she would save his soul. And even after he disobeys her instruction, she still allows the orb to feed on the true Weave! She still lets him live without fear of blowing up randomly, even though it greatly distresses her to let this magic that killed her once feed on her own life force.

Then he reaches the city, and reads The Annals of Karsus, and realizes she's going to have to explain, despite not wanting to. And she summons him. Tells him exactly what's in his chest. Asks him to turn over the Crown and she will destroy the orb and face her own trauma, because Gale... doesn't want to die. She understands that. And she still loves him and his big beautiful brain despite how stupid he's been, and she wants to have him as her Chosen again.

Things will never be the same, of course. They both fucked up. Gave each other a bad time. But in the end, they forgive each other and move past it. Not as a couple, because things broke too much for that. But they can have a healthy relationship as Goddess and Chosen once more.

And that is what sets Gale and his trauma apart from the companions. He doesn't have a direct abuser or live in a horrific abusive society. He almost killed the goddess of all magic a second time and she had an understandably harsh reaction to that, even if it was still too harsh. I just don't believe it's only Mystra who fucked up here. Not by a long shot. Much of it lies squarely with Gale.

And, as for the grooming allegations [as far as people trying to say it is canon], literally just no. She's a True Neutral goddess. Gale literally tells you that you are not his first mortal lover, he had a few before he ever fell into Mystra's bed, and you're just the first since the breakup about a year ago. The game doesn't shy away from sex and sexual abuse in the least. Why on Earth would this be something hidden behind several layers of nonexistent subtext? It's definitely fun for AU's, but by Ahghairon's lost nose, no, it's not canon!

[wasyago]

unsure if you’ve been asked this before but what is your character designing process?

i have already answered in this post (you can go read it if you want), though it's more jrwi based, so i feel like i can answer again! i doubt I'll end up saying something new but hwhatever who cares dhhdhd

obviously this isn't math, so there's no specific scheme i follow every time, and each design is different and it all varies heavily.

in general, when i start working on a design i already have *some* sort of idea in mind. normally not for the entirety of it, but some bits and pieces here and there that help me characterize the design in my head! i try to get those on the canvas first. they're like key points, and i most likely wont change them.

(and if i don't have an idea, i don't start drawing. and instead scroll through my gallery or pinterest in search of inspiration)

let's take my Gem's recent design as an example! i knew i wanted her to be a squirrel, and i already had squirrel scar and cub designs to base it off. so the key points were big pointy ears, curvy tail, claws. i also knew i wanted her clothing to look regal and floral, and reflect her main base. this is an idea that i haven't fully visualized, but i kept it in mind and knew in which direction i had to move.

after that comes the point where i start making stuff up 👍👍 i enjoy thinking my designs through and making them make sense in my head and be practical. so the process consists of me asking myself questions and then answering them in a design. with occasional "oh wouldn't that be cool" thrown into it.

continuing with gem. she needed to have her clothes be suited for a tail, so her underskirt splits in three parts to make it easier. i still wanted the design to be recognizable as gem and have it resemble her skin; so i kept the white sleeves, the green skirt, the corset. i wanted to make her and scar's designs match, so i changed the corset to green with this long piece of cloth but decided to change the patterns on it. because the brown from the corset was gone, i removed it from her shoes as well and made them black instead, so brown wasn't part of the color pallett anymore. i will introduce pink into the design later, so getting rid of one of the colors wasn't that big of a deal. plus, brown makes her look more down to earth, whereas i want her to look elegant and rich, so its a win/win. i wanted to keep her antlers, but obviously she's not a deer anymore, so i turned them into a crown and made it black to match the shoes. etc etc. i can ramble for three more hours about this hdgshsh.

well, that's how the well thought designs work.

sometimes it's just "im gonna draw all the things i think are fun and cute until i can't think of any" and there's no rhyme or reason to it. that's why things like "doc as a unicorn", one-off series designs, random concepts, aus exist!

sometimes its a "i have no idea what to do with it, so im gonna merge all the layers together and just keep fiddling with it until i figure it out", and that's exactly what happens. if i feel stuck with a design, merging it together and working with both line and color helps a ton, because it helps me to see the design as a whole and i dont have to divide my process and think of which parts im gonna do in color and which in line! recent example is hypno's design. here it is when i didn't know how to make it interesting and the final version:

(funnily enough i still like the first concept, the fact that all the clothes is the same color is quite tasty. but i know that if i needed to draw this design in the future, i would struggle with keeping the clothing layers separated and shading and all that stuff.)

visually i don't think there's much difference between how i design things (?), but the process varies and in my head they're all on like, different tiers.

hopefully this was somewhat helpful! if not it at least let me ramble about my design process which is great hdhsjsh

[ryuzakemo128]

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Blind! Albino! Female Reader

Content Warnings: Female Reader is disabled & Albino. Roman related slurs against disabled folks, and harsh treatment towards them, suicide mentioned. Open Ending. Angst without comfort.

Word Count: 739

Summary: You had to hide your disability from everyone. Including your sister’s husband, a powerful man in Rome, who didn't take kindly to any form of weakness.

You didn't know what to expect when you took over as head of the family after your parents died and your older sister was married off. You certainly didn't account for the fact that you'd face more prejudice and cruelty as a blind albino woman. Gods forbid they ever manage to hear the fact you are unmarried still. Not by choice, you just never got any suitors. Unlike your older sister who had many before marrying her current husband.

You had to hide your disability from everyone. Including your sister’s husband, a powerful man in Rome, who didn't take kindly to any form of weakness. “I am sure your visit is to your liking.” you remarked, feigning politeness, you continued to speak in feigned interest, “If you have any complaints about anything. Send them my way and I will deal with the issue in a timely manner.”

You were certain he was trying to find something to get even with you from some reason. Men like him were numerous and cold-hearted to their bitter ends. You expected him to protest like he had last time. You were sure that he would have some kind of snide comment to make, like he always did.

“I will have a servant guide you to your chambers, I am sure you are tired from your journey.” You remarked, fiddling with the jade stones in the gold-plated dish with moonstone imbedded into the edges beside you to keep your mind from idling completely.

Your sister’s husband looked at the dish, the jade stones were round, a sheen reflected from the surrounding candles. They were there to keep you calm, centred and homed in on the person talking to you. Mastered the art of masking how you really felt about others. About the words thrown your way consistently.

You waited for the insult because they were far too common for those with disabilities like yourself. He arrived unannounced, far too suspicious for your own liking. You loathed it when people arrive without writing to you first. You always considered it to be both rather rude and intrusive.

He was only here to get something out of it. You were certain of it. Only ever there to serve his own meagre and pathetic form of interest. You don’t have the time for men like him. Not with all your own duties keeping from caring about his existence to begin with.

‘What could he possibly want?’ you question as you bathed in moonlight in goat’s milk and lavender. You were certain he had something cruel planned for you, he always seemed to derive cruel sadistic joy from your misery.

You ignored him while stayed in the estate, you were sure to keep him out of important matters relating to the household and to make sure he was the one kept in the dark for once. You felt a sick and twisted joy with him floundering around. Something inside you felt at peace with all his flourishing. As the servants would serve him, with a façade, with so much joy that it was almost painful. It was a small victory, but it was something that kept you going.

As the days progressed. You were certain he would be gone by now. You lived in the countryside, and you have nothing of value or his notion of value in your estate. Thus, you decided it would be for the best. To give him the silent treatment he felt like he deserved. You were milk this kind of enjoyment for as long as you could.

Until he took the hint and finally leave.

The moon grew fuller each night he remained in your estate, in the guest chambers. If he injured one of the serving girls? You simply said, “You will pay for the medical services she needs. You will apologise and you will mean it.”

He complied, though not without a snarl that made you wonder if his teeth were as yellow as his soul. You felt his eyes on you often, a heavy weight that made you feel uncomfortable. You hoped that it was just your paranoia, but you knew it was more than that.

As you then continued to give him the long-awaited silent treatment. As you were weaving a linen cloth with the loom inside your atrium, you were thinking about killing yourself in front of him to show that he had no power over you.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

Masterlist

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell 2

A/N: second chapter! no spicey here just yet. sorry!~ im not that good at writing yet. xP Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Warnings/Promises: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show, Vox, Attempted Manipulation, successful Manipulation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

"so, tell me, what useful information could you, someone this new to hell, possibly have?"

Vox sits down and leans back in his chair, watching you with a bored expression on his screen. urgh. right. he probably watched you spawning (arriving?) in hell. this is gonna be a hard one to explain. fiddling with your fingers anxiously, you look everywhere but at his screen.

you already regret coming here first, and not getting yourself a fidget toy first or something. or some pills to help keep your anxiety down. shit, you probably look scared out of your mind right now. he's gonna think you're really weird and rude if you speak up like this. or straight up lying. but for fucks sake - you can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

instead - you take in your surroundings. Vox's office. you only know it's impressive size from the Screenshots of the show, and literally sitting in it now is even more impressive. it consists of a gigantic room, an equally gigantic shark tank below, and a big round platform in the middle, which is connected to the door with a long passway. no idea how this could possibly fit into the tower without having it collapse from the sheer weight of the water alone - the only logical answer would be it being underground.

your eyes wander back to the platform, which is decorated with Vox's emblem. illuminated by a bright array of screens behind it, a round control pult sits at the back end of the platform. infront of it in a spinny chair with it's tips pointing upwards, is a rather impatient looking Vox seated.

oops.

you better get to answering his question.

you clear your throat and swallow, unsure how to even start. thankfully, you get your own chair - manifested with a wave of Vox's hand - to sit into. hoping you aren't sweating too visibly right now, you collect your thoughts. if you know one thing, it's not to sell yourself short.

"well, you see, that's hard to explain. and, you, as the head of.. technology.., surely understand that information is a valuable resource. I can't just.. give it away for free."

taking a deep breath, you lean back a little, trying to at least look more relaxed than you actually are. nervousness isn't even close anymore, like, are you panicking already?? well, at least you can mask it pretty well, you think.

"but I can say this much: I have so much information on Alastor," you think you hear a slight glitch coming from Vox at the mention of the name, "and the others in the Hotel, it's not even funny. Just.. I have a few small questions for you first."

a short glance up into the TV Demon's face tells you he raised an eyebrow. is he interested?? you hope he is. with all you got.

"go on, ask your questions."

wait. isn't he usually more talkative than that? nono, you can't spend a thought on that right now. you need to focus.

"When did the last extermination happen?"

"about a week ago."

"okay.. any interesting or unexpected turns of events? I just have to know what happened and what didn't. I-I know this sounds cryptic, and maybe even crazy, but I need to know at what time I got here."

silence fills the room for a moment. you dare to glance at the Overlord again, and he musters you with an expression you can't quite place.

did you mess up?

But Vox interrupts your thought before you can continue it. "... the hotel members fought back against the Angels, and won. that's all." relieved, you let out breath you didn't realize you were holding. okay. that's good to know. so the extermination already happened. it makes a good bunch of your information useless, but still. you can work with that. now you just need to-

"I think I provided enough information to you now," the Overlord begins, interrupting your thoughts again. his voice is oddly sweet. "its time you return the favor, my dear." - of course, he's trying to get the info out of you without paying for it.

how greedy.

you adjust your position on the chair, crossing one leg over the other, before looking directly at him. he's wearing his signature smile, his digital eyes looking  almost affectionately at you, but you know better than to trust the façade he put on.

"I told you, I'm not going to just give it away for free. And don't even try to fob me off with stuff like any of your products, pins, an autograph or similar worthless knick-knacks. That won't work on me. Trust me."

you glance at him again to gauge his reaction, and he seems surprised to hear you use his own slogan against him, but he quickly regains his composure. good. now just don't get any hypnotizing ideas, Vox...

"No, what I want is... actually quite simple. I want to be able to come and go to the entirety of this tower how and when I please. and.." you can't help a small smile at the thought of the Moth Man, "I want to see Valentino. preferably after our conversation."

and again, silence fills the room. you watch him tap the armrest of his chair with his fingers, thinking about your demands. you can't tell if he's going to give in to them or just declare you as crazy and throw you out, but you hope dearly it's not the latter.

just as the silence begins to get uncomfortable, the TV Demon clicks his tongue and stands up. your eyes dart up, and you automatically stand up too. what's happening? is he gonna throw you out now? - "alright. I accept. you may come and go freely, I'll get you your meeting with Val, and in turn, I get all the information you got on the Hotel and it's residents. Deal?"

Staring down at the hand he holds out, your mind whirls for a moment, overwhelmed with the action. you never thought he'd also make deals like Alastor - another detail they're matching each other in. you always thought he'd just somehow get peoples souls with sneaky contracts being signed when buying a Voxtek product or something.

as soon as you take his cold hand, he gives yours a firm shake, his smile widening to a grin as his face glitches momentarily. bright blue electrical currents and sparks begin to flow around the two of you for a moment, together with an intense blue light and a metallic screech. but as soon as it came, it's gone, and before you can waste a thought on it, Vox lets go of your hand, instead placing his around your shoulders as he guides you towards the door. "fantastic. now that that's done, how about we go check if Val's got some free time for you, hmm?"

you're confused.

doesn't he want your informations now?

on second thought - you don't mind too much. this way you have more of a reason to stick around and return.

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist

─❲♡❳▷Main List

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 19

Find the series masterlist

I am so sorry this is late, life has been lifing me real good recently. I'm hoping things calm down a bit now and I can get back on a more consistent schedule again. Especially this close to the end of the story.

You and Gray have a little talk. This is not going to end well for you.

Warnings: Gray is Unhinged (and not in a fun way), sadistic character, sadism, lowkey psychological torment, spy shit, swearing, hopelessness.

Word count: 1.4k

All the air had left the world. Your eyes started to burn as you stared at Gray, brain working incredibly slowly. You breathed in, everything snapping into hyperfocus.

Gray. Gray was here. He’d found you. He’d found you alone.

You were dead. 

“Ace, now, is it?” he asked, conversational, as if you were old friends. He stepped up next to you, motioning you to walk a certain direction. He didn’t have a weapon in his hands, but you knew him too well.

He either had a gun on him, or he had someone watching from a discreet distance, ready to shoot you. 

You were so fucked. 

He paused when you failed to move, raising one eyebrow at you. Slowly. Letting you feel the weight of his judgment. 

"Are you really going to push me to use force?" He kept his voice low, still falsely pleasant. 

You eyed him. You had no idea how serious he was. You couldn't read him, fear clogging your brain, tinting your vision. So you took a step, a little slow, a little shaky. But you moved. 

And he smiled. 

"You gave me quite the hard time," he continued, matching your pace. "Finding you was more difficult than I had guessed." 

You swallowed hard, hand sliding into your pocket. Thank fuck your phone was on the opposite side from Gray. It took a moment of cautious fiddling, but you got it recording. Just in case. 

"I am impressed you have managed this long," he continued, still cool as anything. "I would have expected you to get yourself killed much sooner than this. But then, you did have help." 

You swallowed again. No. He wanted to make you scared, make you suffer. You needed to take some control back. Even if only a sliver. 

"What do you want?" You managed to keep your voice almost entirely even, only a slight waver at the end giving you away. But Gray already knew what kind of terror he instilled in you. 

He chuckled, turning the two of you down a different street. "Well, you've made yourself a bit of an obstacle again. You've done good work, I've heard all about you from a… mutual friend." He glanced at you, smirking, just to see that barb land. "But unfortunately, you also tried to get me locked away for life. I can't just let something so personal slide, you understand?" 

Oh you understood. You understood all too well. He had held a grudge all these years, and spotted the perfect opportunity to take you out and decided to take it. But if he was going after you…

"You've wanted me dead for longer than that," you managed, eyeing him. He still looked too pleased, too confident. It made you want to knock him down a peg or twenty. 

"Oh, that?" He chuckled, as if it were silly. As if trying to kill you as a child had been nothing. "Well, that was business, wasn't it? I was after your father's business, you were incidental." He paused, watching with barely concealed glee as you struggled to hold down your rage. "Until Laswell took you in." 

Horror washed cold down your spine, smothering your anger in an instant. Laswell. If he held a grudge against you, he certainly held one against Laswell. And she was here, she didn't know he was here. 

If only you had a way to tell her, to warn her. To keep her safe, the way she'd kept you safe years ago. 

Almost as quickly as the horror, a kernel of relief settled in your heart. She was surrounded by the 141, and the others. She was safe.

Much safer than you, at any rate. 

"Oh don't worry," Gray soothed mockingly, cruel glee lighting his eyes when you glanced at him. "I haven't forgotten about her! In fact, I have something special planned for her as well." 

You swallowed. He sounded too gleeful about that. You had always remembered him as being cruel and cold, but this? This was a level of cruelty you hadn't seen before. He was unhinged, deranged. Enjoying your fear. Enjoying taunting you. This was somehow worse than you had imagined. This wasn't just killing you, this was torturing you first and enjoying every moment of it.

You didn't remember this from your childhood memories. 

"So, where are we going?" You knew you wouldn't get a proper answer, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind that wasn't panic or protective screaming for him to leave Kate alone. Your fingers twitched against your phone. Oh, Kate. 

He smiled, amused and condescending, and stopped next to a car. A plain black sedan. You could have snorted at it, in other circumstances. For now, you just stopped a couple steps away. A bodyguard stepped out of the driver's seat, walking slowly around the car. Giving you a good look at the glint of a gun under his jacket. 

You could have laughed, if you weren't so scared. This felt like old time mob shit. Your life had turned into a movie. 

"You'll find out, soon enough," Gray said as the guard opened the door. He slid into the car, sinuous and easy, those cold eyes locked on you with glee.

You had no real choice here. If you tried to run, you'd be shot. If you got in the car, you were just as dead. It would just take longer. 

Gray knew it too. He was enjoying this, enjoying watching you struggle. 

But if you got in the car, there was a chance. A very slim chance, but still a chance. 

"You know they'll find me, right?" You asked, voice deceptively mild as you shifted your weight. Biding your time. Trying to draw out any further information for the recording. 

"Who, your new friends? Task Force 141?" Gray laughed, soft and cruel. Your heart jolted at the realization that he knew exactly who he was dealing with. The guard shifted, taking a half step forward, though he did not reach for you. "Oh yes. I know all about your new friends. SAS. You got your fingers into some very interesting pies." Gray smiled, cruel, dark. You could all but see the blood in his teeth from tearing people apart. 

You shivered. Just once. But that was enough - he latched on to that moment of weakness. 

"There are only the four of them," Gray continued, almost gently mocking. "What are four men to me? Four more lives? Bah. Nothing." He leaned forward, closer to you, lowering his voice to a menacing murmur. "Their lives are worth nothing to me, except the suffering their deaths may bring you." He paused a moment, purely for effect. "If you live that long." 

Rage and horror warred in your veins, running cold, keeping you rooted to your spot. You needed to keep him away from John. Away from Kate. Away from the others. 

"So. They can try," Gray finished, showing far too many teeth in his smile. "They can try."

You swallowed. He was very confident in all of this. Of course he was, he'd had years to plan out his revenge. Nobody even knew you were missing. They would have no real clues to go off of, no way to find you. 

And he knew too much. About the 141. About Kate. 

About you. 

You were going to die. 

Shivering now, you ended the recording and finally stepped towards the car. The guard moved away from the door, apparently content to let you get in and close the door yourself. 

Which worked well for you. As soon as he was around the car, you got in. And dropped your phone in the grass next to the car. 

The door shut between you and the outside world, muffling the noises of the city. Muffling everything. The air was thick in the car, tense. 

The engine turned on, rumbling quietly. You looked out the window as the car started to move and risked one last look at your phone, sitting in the grass. 

They wouldn't find you. They probably wouldn't even find your phone. 

You were alone. 

Maybe it was better this way, if you could keep Gray away from them. 

Swallowing hard, you set your trembling hands in your lap and looked out the window, silence thick as a blanket settling over the car. 

You should have told John how you felt about him. 

You wouldn't have the chance, now.

[italianhomosexuality]

rant to me (i like the sound, i like your voice) on ao3

“Nico! You're finally here!”

The ever too-chipper voice took Nico out of his thoughts. He had plans that consisted of brooding and staring, but it seems like Will Solace didn't think that behavior is appropriate for a party.

If whatever it is that's happening can even be considered a party; the Apollo cabin and some other campers decided to get together near the lake, with some soda cans, Doritos bags, and sour gummy worms. There's some music playing and chatter going around, but Nico's foam earplugs do a great job at keeping the volume low enough so that it's not overwhelming. He plays with his fingers, practicing the alphabet in sign language. Tatiana, a daughter of Nemesis, was hard of hearing. Nico became close to her since both of them would usually sit in the shadows, a few feet away from the crowds. It was easy to be around her, and he was making an effort to learn sign.

Will's voice was a little muffled by the earplugs, but taking them out would be much worse. Nico just gestured towards him, pointing in a general direction that is a little further from the noise and confusion. Will understood, because of course he did. They walked a few steps in silence, and Nico didn't bother correcting Will that he'd been here for a few good minutes now, he just didn't want to interrupt Will's conversation with Connor.

He wasn't wearing his usual orange shirt; the blue fabric suits his eyes and looks nice under the moonlight. Nico knew he's clad in cargo shorts and flip-flops without even having to look down—that's what he wears all the time, even when Nico thinks about him before going to sleep, when he thinks of the two of them under the soft orange of a sunset, sharing McDonald's fries, maybe making jokes, hands just one or two millimeters away from each other, itching to touch, aching to be intertwined…

He couldn't afford to think about that right now.

As they reached a tree, Nico offered Will a sweet smile. They were far from the crowd, watching from a distance so that they could hold a conversation even with the earplugs. It's the little things Will does; the accommodations, the giving, the gifting, the understanding, the treating him as an equal that makes Nico have some thoughts that he'd rather keep to himself.

(“Nico, I've noticed you wince and flinch when it gets too loud. What do you think of trying some earplugs? They might help. I wear them sometimes.”)

(“Nico, can you come body double me? I need to clean the infirmary and I can't do it if I'm just there by myself.”)

(“Nico, I have bad days too.”)

(“Nico, would you mind hanging around for just a little longer? I had to treat a head injury today. I don't think I'll ever get over it.”)

“Have you been having fun?” Nico asked, feeling the deep rumble of his voice in his chest. He only now noticed how Will's eyelids and cheekbones seemed to sparkle and glimmer under the moonlight. Lou Ellen must have been experimenting with makeup again.

“Yes! It's been good.” Will raised his voice just enough so Nico could still hear him through the earplugs. It's the little things, Nico's brain supplied.

“How was your day?”

After a lot of practicing with other campers, Nico realized that he enjoyed asking questions. They were an easy way of navigating a conversation and he had a premade list of questions to use in any social setting. For the most part, he asked and listened, keeping only a few bits of information, glancing at the other person's forehead and nose bridge occasionally to mimic eye contact. With Will, however, he didn't have to overthink. He'd ask, but because he actually wanted to know. He'd look at the ground while paying the most attention he's ever paid. He'd fidget and fiddle with his necklace, humming and nodding, while storing every single bit of Will's stories, stitching guides, camp rules, and so much more.

“It wasn't that great, if I'm being honest,” Will said, picking at his fingernails, “but I've been managing. It was just… hard. At the infirmary. Being by myself.”

“You could have asked me for help,” Nico said, swinging back and forth on his ankles. “I didn't do much today. I could have at least been around. Make you feel less lonely.”

Ever since Will started opening up about his mental health and struggles with himself, Nico found it easier to do so, too. Some campers thought of the Head Counselor of the Apollo cabin as this perfect, do-no-wrong, ever-happy, feel-good Care Bear. Will played the part really well, having fooled Nico at the start, but then he understood. He saw the insecurities, the blood—Will's own—pooling and drying around his fingernails, the teeth marks on the bottom lip, the nervous ticks that would come out after an especially long day. Sometimes, though their wounds were far from equal, Nico felt as if he was looking into a mirror. Maybe not a mirror, but a murky reflection on a lake. A resemblance, something similar enough to his own, but with different shapes and jagged edges.

So, as Will listed his fears and how he wished so, so badly he could be someone else, Nico felt comfortable enough, for the first time in his life, to revisit his self-hatred and coax it out for a walk. Will took it and acknowledged it, but didn't yell at it or scare it away. It was almost as if he said, “Hey, I have that, too,” and Nico finally understood the many meanings of the word gratitude.

Nico never thought he'd be able to help someone feel less lonely. He'd also never thought he'd withstand a party—a get-together—just to catch a glimpse of blonde, defined curls and butterfly-blue eyes.

It's the little things.

“I know what you will say, but…” Will caught himself, stopping mid-sentence. “I didn't want to be a bother. A hypocrite, I know, but this happens sometimes. I'll try to not let it happen again.”

“Good.” Nico smiled, feeling the warmth from inside.

It was warm enough that he'd ditched the aviator jacket, but he still kept the jeans. The breeze coming from the lake was a nice touch to the night. He looked down, finding a spot dry enough for both of them to sit, and reached out to tug at Will's hand.

He couldn't pinpoint when he had gotten so… used to physical contact. When he had started to initiate it, even. But then again, he couldn't pinpoint when Will had become Will.

Will took the hint and sat down right beside Nico, scooting closer to him so that the skin on his calf touched the black denim. It was a common position to them. Comfortable. Nico's back didn't hurt as much and he didn't feel pressured to maintain eye contact. Will got to relax his posture and relax his legs from standing all day.

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” Nico initiated, fingers tapping on his knee. “About what made you not have such a great day.”

No one had ever ranted to Nico. They were always afraid he wouldn't care or that they would be putting too much on him, as if he were a thin, fragile table, built to break at any point. Will didn't.

So Will said, “Yeah, I think that will help,” and started.

Nico listened.

He made sure to store every tidbit of information in his Will Solace-shaped mental drawer. He would remember, in the future, that the infirmary had a shortage of darker-colored band-aids, and he would point it out next time he and Will went supply shopping. He would remember, in the future, that Kayla had offered Will coffee with hazelnut creamer and he drank it all so as to not dismiss her, but he actually hated that flavor.

(Nico already knew that. If he wasn't having his coffee black, french vanilla was the go-to.)

He would remember how Will's fingers flexed as he told Nico how he had to patch up this new camper, almost as if he was going through the motions again. He would remember how Cecil's comment about his off-tune singing while washing his hands post-procedure made Will's heart sting, though he was used to the mockery, but it just hadn't been a good day. He would remember that Will hadn't slept well that day because the sheets had been recently washed and someone had used fabric softener on them, causing the texture to be plastic-like and that it made Will's skin itch. He would remember, and he would fight against every part of his brain that forced him to forget.

Once Will deemed his rant finished, Nico finally looked at him. He looked… pretty. The golden hue that came from the sun was perfect for Will's features, but the silver complimented him. It was the missing part. It hit his skin and bounced right back, catching on the glitter on his eyelids, cheekbones, and cupid's bow, making the chapstick on his lips shine a little more, exposing the chipped pink nail polish on his fingernails.

Nico didn't think boys were supposed to be considered pretty, but most common rules made no sense to him, anyway. Will was pretty. Accepting that fact had been complicated enough. He would not put up a fight against his thoughts.

“I like hearing you talk,” Nico confessed, straightforward as always. “The sound of your voice is very calming, like a stream of water. Constant.”

“That was a very sweet compliment, Nico,” Will replied, smiling wide. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

In the background, the party was still happening. Nico could hear laughter, cans being opened, fire crackling, stomping, soft tones and chords. But Will was next to him, seemingly not wanting to go back to the crowd, so he just settled into his makeshift seat a little more.

Maybe, in the future, Nico could ask Will if he liked him back. For now, he'd rather keep making a list of the little things. Little by little, he could have Will. He just needed some time to build up courage. Maybe, in the future, Will would slip out his ideal love confession or first date.

Nico would remember.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Uncanny Valley: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Therapy isn't something you're taking too well, but if you want to keep your job, you'll continue to go. you're forced to confront thoughts and memories of your own family when you come across the father of the unsub.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

If drugs are being used, then a doctor might know something about it that the team won't. Rossi calls in a doctor who is around all different types of drugs to get a professional opinion on the case.

"So, doctor, if a diabetic were given this battery of drugs to keep her paralyzed, what would the reaction be?"

"Diabetics metabolize everything they consume differently which includes drugs. It all gets broken down to blood sugar at varying rates. Most likely, this patient seized up minutes after she was medicated."

"You're saying she's already dead?"

"Probably. Although, there is another possibility. Bethany's condition could break down the drugs faster than the other victims. She might regain control of her body. Every hour that she doesn't turn up is a reason for hope."

"We're still running out of time. If the drugs don't kill Bethany, she's not gonna last long without insulin."

You and Spencer take it upon yourself to talk to a collector to try and get into the mindset of someone like the unsub. There is a store in town that is owned by a collector who likes to sell some of his things and give them to other people who are collecting the same things he is. Spencer breaks down the situation you're in without giving too much information away. He's still a civilian who doesn't need to know police business.

"Look, collectors are good, honest people. Just because you enjoy dolls doesn't make you a freak or a pedophile."

"We appreciate that sir, but the woman that we're looking for has lost her ability to control her obsession. She's killed three women trying to recreate a type of doll she had a child."

"Describe the line to me."

"There's a pattern to the victims. They're all in their twenties and petite."

"Most doll lines revolve around infants. Is she dressing them like babies?"

"No, she's not." Spencer looks at you to see you studying the things he has in his store. You're not touching anything but you are fiddling with your fingers as you look. "Their wardrobe consists of chiffon dresses worn by one blond woman, a redhead, and a black woman."

"Is she sewing the dresses herself?"

"How did you know that?"

The store owner goes around the counter and takes out a big book of dolls. He flips through the pages to the ones he thinks are the ones the unsub is trying to recreate.

"It's the Valois line. They were a local company back in the late eighties. They promoted feminism and multiculturalism. Strong, independent girls from different backgrounds who could still be friends."

"Y/N, check this out." You walk over to Spencer and study the contents of the book. "Each doll has a birth certificate to fill out, a form to describe their lives, and a kit to sew your own clothes."

"JJ said she's been at this for a while. She's probably been sewing since she was a little kid."

"Wait a minute. Sir, what's this contest that they held?" Spencer asks when he sees an ad in the book.

"That was to see who could come up with the most imaginative doll. Sew a dress and write an essay to describe her. If you won the contest, you'd have your doll featured in next year's line."

"That didn't end well, did it?"

"No."

"It's a classic tool child psychologists use. Tell me a story with these dolls sort of way."

"When the company got essays with thinly veiled references to physical or sexual abuse, they turned the entry forms and the dolls over to the police. The publicity killed the line."

"You said the company was local, right? They might still have the clothes in evidence."

The detective was able to get the dolls that were in evidence once you asked him to. By the time you got back to the station, Derek was reading some of the essays while JJ and Emily were inspecting the dolls. You used to have a doll like that when you were a child. Your dad gave you one to dress up with doll clothes. You didn't have the skill to sew and it's not like your parents were gonna do that for you.

You grab one of the dolls and think back to your childhood. You got a lot of dolls, in fact.

"How are the essays going?" Spencer asks Derek.

"It makes for some pretty depressing reading. Prentiss is having a good time."

"Hey, these dolls are like little time capsules only eighties fashion wasn't so kind to them. I'm surprised how many little girls knew how to make shoulder pads. How's it going on your end, JJ?"

"I got a list of vendors the victims went to--tailors and seamstresses, that sort of thing."

"JJ, you said something about a handkerchief hem, right?" Emily asks.

Emily shows her the hem on some of the clothes on the dolls.

"That's exactly like what she sews for her victims."

"What's the name on the entry?"

"Samantha Malcolm."

"She's on my list," JJ says.

"Wait a minute, guys. I have her essay around here somewhere." He looks for it. "Right here. 'Sally doesn't like the room with the lightning.' That can't be good."

You take out your phone and call Penelope to get information on Samatha.

"Okay guys, I just got Samantha's medical records. Oh, my god, she was doomed. Like Emily Bronte doomed, like Shakespeare doomed."

"What happened to her?" Hotch asks.

"Right. For the first ten years, nothing. Then, she starts a battery of electroshock treatments."

"At ten? Who subjects a child to ECT?" Spencer wonders.

"That would be her father, Dr. Arthur Malcolm. He runs an inpatient mental health facility for troubled young people called New Lives. At first, the essay that Samantha wrote raised some flags, but her father explained that the therapy was to deal with the recent death of her mother. After that, he started her on a serious regimen of anti-psychotic drugs which he weaned her off of a few years ago."

"It explains her familiarity with medication. Where is she now?"

"Her father declared her incompetent so he's still the legal guardian. Everything is in his name, and all of her records list New Lives as her residence."

"She can't keep victims in an inpatient facility. She needs privacy. Garcia, what about real estate holdings in her father's name?"

"Just his own, but New Lives has a bunch of outpatient and halfway houses all over town."

"JJ, where does she work?"

She checks her list. "I have her placed at three different shops around town."

"Alright, let's split up and cover the shops and the facility."

"I want to go to New Lives," Spencer says. "Whether or not she's there, I want to talk to the father. There are literally hundreds of therapies to help kids through loss. Electroshock is not one of them."

"Take Rossi and Y/N," Hotch says.

Rossi drives both of you to Arthur's facility that's right smack dab in the middle of town. You step out of the car and feel the sense that someone is watching you. You look around and know Samantha is out there. She's close whether on purpose or just passing through.

"What is it?" Spencer asks.

"She's here. I feel her. I can't find her, though."

There are too many people walking around that her energy mixes with everyone else's. Rossi takes you two inside and gets approval to talk to Dr. Malcolm. The second you see the doctor, you freeze in your steps. He becomes blurry through your tears but neither Rossi nor Spencer notice you. Rossi begins explaining the situation briefly but you can't hear the words coming out of his mouth.

"I am very confused, gentlemen. What does this have to do with Samantha?"

"We need to talk to her. Is she here?"

"No, she's at work."

"Does she live here or did you move her into one of your halfway houses?"

"As a matter of fact, she is in one of my houses."

"We'll need the address."

"I need to know what this is about."

"She might be tied to a series of abductions."

"That's not possible. It's not my daughter," Dr. Malcolm shakes his head.

"Is Samantha on her own at this house? There are no other patients, right?"

"She thought that was best and I agreed."

Rossi looks back at Spencer and notices the painful look on your face.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

Spencer turns to look at you and grabs your hand to which you squeeze. The feeling and energy you're getting from Dr. Malcolm is the same one you got from your rapist. It's similar to the same feeling you've been getting with your dad recently, but you're not going to open that door.

"I know a child molester when I see one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You subjected Samantha to electroshock therapy when she was ten. The effects of that would be permanent, especially at that age but you knew that, didn't you?"

"My wife died when Samantha was ten and she never recovered. I tried everything. Child psychiatry and pet therapy. Nothing helped. She was cutting herself. She was in pain. But I want to go back to the part where you're accusing me of being a child molester."

"Really? Okay. I noticed you have toys in your office. Why are they here?"

"I use them in my therapy."

"I understand that, but why are they on the top shelf away from where any kids can reach them?"

"They're reminders of patients that I've helped."

"Okay." You grab one of the toys from the shelf. "What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?"

"Jenny Larson."

You grab another one. "This one? What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?"

"Abigail Moore."

"How about this one?"

"Linda Krauss."

"I'm assuming these girls are nine or twelve, right?"

"My PhDs are on the effect of trauma on prepubescent girls. I do not appreciate what you're implying," he glares.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm making an inference. An inference is an educated guess, and based on that, I form a hypothesis. For instance, my hypothesis here is that after you raped your daughter, you submitted her to electroshock treatment to make sure she stayed quiet."

"This is outrageous!"

"Then, out of guilt, you bought her toys. More specifically, you bought her a line of dolls. Because that's what serial molesters do. They give gifts. So, you continued the pattern with your other patients and once they left your care, you added their toys to your collection."

You pause to think about your own situation. Your father gave you a bunch of toys to keep you happy. Maybe there is no correlation and you're reading into but you'd rather not think of your own father in that light.

"I'm sorry, you can't back up your story, Agent."

"This is why I love my job, doctor," you laugh. "The jury is your peers and the witnesses will be Jenny, Abagail, and Linda. The DA will put them on the stand and I'm going to personally bring these dolls in. We'll watch how they react." You start to raise your voice and slam your hand on his desk which scares him. "Not to mention your goddamn energy painting a not-so-pretty picture of you fucking these girls!"

Spencer pulls you back to help calm you down and Rossi steps in to take over.

"Or you could tell us where your daughter is, and we'll tell the DA you cooperated. Once we walk out this door, that deal comes off the table."

You turn to leave the room and Dr. Malcolm says something right before Spencer can leave.

"2529 Adams Street. You'll tell them, right? That I cooperated?"

"Where are the other toys? The collection isn't complete," you glare.

Dr. Malcolm has no choice but to give them up. He gives you the dolls he took from his daughter, the ones that made her start kidnapping in the first place. Rossi informs the rest of the team where to go, but Spencer thinks it's best if he goes in first. Samantha is mentally unstable so she needs to be approached delicately and carefully.

Spencer goes in knowing he can talk her down while you go in so you can help the girls she's taken.

"Samantha?" She is in the middle of taking care of her victims and she gasps when she hears Spencer's voice. As he is talking to her, you have your gun out and trained on her. "My name is Spencer and this is Y/N. We're with the FBI. I know what your father did to you, and I want you to know that he can never, ever hurt you again."

"He never touched me," she shakes her head. "He's a good father. He loves me."

You say the same thing about your father.

"I know that he probably forced you to say those things. He'd punish you if you got it wrong and send you to the room with the lightning."

"Yeah," she nods.

"The dolls that your father gave you after he hurt you, what would happen to them?"

"He kept them in his office with the other toys, but when I moved out, I had to take my friends with me. I couldn't leave them behind."

As he keeps her talking, you slowly move to the right to get closer to the girls who are begging you with their eyes.

"Of course. When you went to get them, what did you find? He gave them to another girl, didn't he?" She nods emotionally. "Do you want them back?"

"He said I couldn't. He said they were gone for good."

"He lied. He's been lying to you for a long time. Do you want to see them?"

"Can I?"

"Yeah." Spencer reveals he has the box of dolls and she immediately goes over to him. This is when you put your gun away and tend to the girls. "Do you want to play with them?

"Don't worry, you girls are safe," you say.

You take out each IV tube from each of the girl's arms. If they could cry, they would. Bethany is the one with diabetes so she is able to move a lot more. The drugs Samantha gave her wore of quickly.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"It's clear. We need medical in here," Spencer says into his earpiece. When the team comes into the house, Samantha panics that she isn't going to see her dolls again. "Hey, Samantha? You need to go with these men but your friends can go with you, okay?"

"They won't take them away?"

"I promise no one will ever take them away again."

She is taken away but she is happy because of her dolls.

"Well done, Agent Reid."

"Thanks."

Rossi goes over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

"Are you okay?"

"No," you whisper painfully.

Another job well done. Another successful case. It doesn't feel that way. It feels like the world is caving in on you and you can't get to safety. You dread going to sleep but you know you have to at least try. Maybe this time you won't have another nightmare. That's the hope, right?

You're back here again. You're back in the same nightmare. The same car is on the side of the road where you're walking. Someone grabs you from behind. Who is it? It doesn't matter. You scream out for help. You kick and fight to get away. It's no use. Whoever grabbed you has a tight hold on you.

Help! Someone help! Anyone! No one is coming to help you. You're all alone. Spencer stands on the other side of the street just watching. Help! Spencer, please! He doesn't do anything but stands there watching you get dragged into the car.

Spencer!

"Y/N, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

You gasp awake and look around the room to make sure you're not actually inside that car. You're covered in sweat and tears.

"Spencer?"

"I'm right here. You're okay."

"No, I'm not," you sob. You turn over in his arms and cry into his chest. "Please make this stop."

Spencer is heartbroken for you. He doesn't know how to help and it's killing him.

"In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate." - Isaac Asimov

x

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[theskeletonprior]

Write Time: Day Sixteen

This month, my goal is a cool 30 000 words written. I’ll be carrying on with more RAVENOT. If you’re curious, you can take a look at my WIP intro right here. And if you’re really keen, you can read the first chapter (sort of a pilot as I toil) right here! Now onto the daily ramble.

I'm still a bit cloudy-headed today, and I'm far behind my count after the last couple of days. Weekends are the hardest for me because I have so much travelling to do to get to my job. Things are going well at work, and I think there's a lot of opportunity for things to get even better, but it's slow going and that makes it hard to resist the fear that I've made a mistake, sometimes. My mind pulls in a lot of different directions, and it can be hard to find focus, and hard to prioritize. It's harder, too, when a lot of the things I'm doing aren't going to have an immediate yield. The dead-end jobs I've been working did have that going for them--the hours weren't predictable, but the money was consistent. DMing, some of the money is consistent, but it's taking time to build the network I'll need to be really successful. It gets in my head sometimes that I may think I can do this thing, but I'm wrong, and I'm actually just wasting time and money. And writing? Forget about it. The sheer amount of unpaid labour writing a book requires can be an overwhelming thing to think about. But I am going to write these books, and I am going to keep working on my DMing, and hopefully for once in my life being stubborn and working hard will actually pay off. And I must admit, despite the pressure that I feel, I do like it more. There's just a lot at stake, and that's sometimes intimidating. I never feel like I'm doing enough, and I'm not sure how to stop carrying that feeling around. Anyway, I'll keep after it. And now, this. Sometimes cute things happen in my stories.

“Once we’ve had our look at the wall, I can go to Yarrowling for you. I ought to tell her about the woods and look in on Tanabel while I’m at it.” Hadan fiddled with the strap on his quiver.  "That’s good of you, Hadan.” Dia smiled again, and that made him feel a little lighter. “I’ll have to owe you one.” Suddenly he was on the wall again, looking at the dark silhouette of the Unmade, thinking this might be the terrifying end of his short life. And hadn't he had so much to live for? Hadn't he known right down to the soles of his boots that he was going to fight to get back to those things? "A dance," Hadan said, quickly, as if his tongue might try to stop him if he didn't get it out fast enough. "I'd like a dance, sometime." He could feel the heat rising all the way into his ears when he saw that open, beautiful surprise on Dia's face. "You-don't-have-to-say-yes!" Hadan buried his face in his hands, spinning on his heel to turn his back, wondering all the while who had made him this way. What kind of joker had written this into the fabric of the universe? What cackling trickster had brought him to this terrible moment of mistimed bravery? "Oh, forget I said that," he groaned, muffled behind his hands. "You sure?" Dia's voice was sparkling with mirth. "Was going to say yes." Hadan whipped around to look at her, his heart thudding in his ears so loudly it felt like he'd have trouble hearing himself when he opened his mouth to speak. "Really?" His voice got wretchedly squeaky in moments of stress, and this was no exception. "It's just a dance," Dia said with a grin. "I think I can handle it, though I'm starting to get a little worried about you, honestly. Just have to hope your heart can take it."

Until next time!

Taglist: @alexanderflowerbird @void-botanist @carmillasboywife @ceph-the-ghost-writer @wintherlywords

As always, let me know if you’d like to join or leave the taglist, and I’ll act accordingly. You can reply right on this post, if you’d like. Divider by @/strangergraphics, from this set: here. Thank you!

[digi-dest-stories]

In Honor

In honor of the finale, and the character that did not see it to the end with his friends but still remains in some of the Vandom's minds.

~~~~

E.R. stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room. He was dressed surprisingly well, in a black suit, white dress shirt, and black shoes. The only thing he needed to finish the look was a tie, which he was currently struggling with. He huffed and gave up, letting the cloth hang loose around his neck. "Damnit-"

"Have you been struggling with that thing the whole time?"

He blinked, his head snapping back. "...Riot?"

Riot grinned, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Compared to him, his friend was wearing his normal and informal clothing, consisting of his blue jean jacket, Metallica shirt, and spiked boots. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"I... No. No, I wasn't." He turned to face him, a smile crossing his face. "It's... What are you doing here?"

Riot shrugged, pushing off of the wall and walked closer. "Just wanted to check on you. I saw everyone else waiting out there but didn't see you."

He sighed. "I don't mean to keep them waiting. This thing is just... stupid."

"Ties usually are," Riot agreed. "Want me to take a crack at it?"

E.R. squinted at him, causing him to cackle. "C'mon! At least let me try before you give up on me."

"I'm not giving up on you," he responded, almost automatically. Riot didn't seem to question the it, smiling in response. "Well. That's good to know."

He stepped closer and E.R. let him, standing still as he watched Riot fiddle with the cloth. He was silent, almost holding his breath as he watched his friend frown in concentration, before suddenly speaking up.

"I miss you. We all do."

Riot paused, blinking. "Really?"

"Of course. You were my friend. You were our friend. It was... hard, for a time, when you were gone."

There was silence, just the sound of his words echoing, before Riot smiled in response. "Thanks, E.R. That... means a lot. But, I'm still around, even if you or the others can't always see me. So try not to miss me too much, alright?"

He nodded, as Riot squinted at the cloth and let it go with a sigh. "Yeah, no, that thing is stupid. Sorry bud."

E.R. laughed, his body relaxing without him knowing. "Told you so. But, thanks for trying."

There was a knock on the door. Both of them turned, Riot stepping away. "E.R.? You almost done in there?"

"Might need some help," he answered, sheepish. Riot snickered, ignoring the glare thrown his way as the door was pushed open. Gary entered, dressed in a sharp black vest with a white undershirt underneath, similar to his Magician attire. He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "Tie problems?"

"Yeah..."

"That's why Reiner and I didn't bother with them. Here, let me help."

Gary stepped closer and tied the tie in a quick and practiced manner. It looked a lot better than E.R. and Riot's attempts. "There. Now you look good to go."

Riot hummed. "Guess it makes sense to leave it to the professionals. Nice job, Gary."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now let's go, the others are waiting."

The two of them left, Riot trailing behind them, and entered another room where the others were waiting. Sammi turned to them, hands on her hips. She was wearing a black dress and black shoes, hair pulled back.

"There you guys are. What took you so long?" She sounded impatient, but there was a playful smile on her face. Riot grinned at her. "Have some patience, forehead brat."

The nickname was said in a teasing, playful nature, though she did not acknowledge it. E.R. gave him a disapproving look, though he did seem somewhat amused, as Gary answered her.

"Just had to fix a wardrobe malfunction. Are we ready?"

They looked at one another.

Reiner tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, looking mildly uncomfortable in the clothing. But he seemed to steel his nerves and nod in response, as Sammi nodded her head as well.

Grayson's clothes were more casual in comparison, but also black in color like the others. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at the double doors behind him, but gave a nod too.

Diogo stood awkwardly, messing with the bowtie around his neck. He seemed uncertain about it all, but met all their gazes. He gave a small smile and nodded his head.

Gary and E.R. glanced at one another. E.R. seemed uncertain, at the doors. Gary gave him a smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He smiled and then nodded his head, where Gary nodded back.

"Let's go."

They all began to walk to the doors.

"Guys, wait."

E.R. paused, and the others did too. They all turned, where Riot stood. He gave them all a smile, something sad but fond.

"I... It was nice, to see your guys' adventure. I know I wasn't there through it all and I'm sorry for that. But, I'm glad that I at least got to know you all, and watch you grow for as long as I did. You all were... the best part of my life and I couldn't be more grateful for it all. So... thank you."

They were silent for a few moments, glancing at one another, before small smiles broke out on all of their faces and their eyes seemed to grow shiny. They couldn't hear everything - Hell, most of them couldn't see him - but they seemed to get the general gist of it.

"Thank you, too."

"You helped us out a lot. We couldn't have done a lot without you."

"I know we didn't know each other very well, but I am glad we met."

"I didn't get to meet you, but it was nice to hear stories about you."

"We'll miss you."

"You don't have to miss me," he laughed. "We'll just... see each other later. Alright?"

"...Alright," E.R. said softly. Riot grinned. "Now, get in there. You guys have people waiting."

They all wiped their tears, if any had fallen, trying to make sure they were still presentable. E.R. waited for a moment, still facing Riot. The two shared a look, then a smile, then a nod, before E.R. finally turned.

Together, they pushed open the door.

...

“Hey there, everyone. You probably all know us as the 'kids who went missing for a few days'. Well, we're here to talk about one more kid, a friend who... deserves to be remembered to. His name was Ryan Scarlett..."

~~~~

Thank you to the Schmucks, past and present, for being an amazing cast and giving such a fun adventure to listen to. I'm not gonna stop writing just because this is a piece for the finale (There actually some old stories I still need to get to lol) but I just wanted to get this out in honor of the finale and the characters who brought me back to my childhood.

We'll get back to your normal scheduled Digimon and Digi-Destiny content now.