#she is a rectangle and i would die for this rectangle

[casper-ghostly]

I don't go here but anyone who draws Falin as anything but being broad and wide shouldered is a coward

This is an official Broad Bitch Protection Squad post

[hyunsuloves]

can u write myung gi x reader ?? shy reader who rlly doesnt like confrontation & talking to ppl but thanos keeps following them around maybe ?? or u can do (idk if u write for him) but daeho x reader ?? maybe during the mingle game, theres too many ppl in the group so reader leaves & finds other ppl (despite daeho telling them not to) daeho doesnt know if theyre alive until they get back to the main room ??

even if u dont write these i hope u have an amazing day!! i saw ur myung gi x reader n thought it was so cute >.<

i don’t know which way to go.

synopsis … you make a sacrifice in the midst of the mingle that leaves you without knowing if your boyfriend is alive.

pairing … kang dae-ho x gn!reader ༝༚༝༚ featuring in-ho who’s friends with the reader!

warnings … the way this is written is a little unclear, sorry 😓

lovely notes … i hope you like it ml !! & i changed the plot a little bit

꩜ [ 1.2k words ]

you, jun-hee, and dae-ho stood on the leisurely rotating platform. gi-hun and jung-bae stood not too far away, looking around the room in the same wary manner. you were in the early parts of a game called mingle. 

it was described as a game where players had to group up and enter rooms following a predetermined number. if the players didn’t make it into the rooms in time, or if the room had fewer or more players than necessary, they’d be eliminated.

the most childish music ever played as you stood, hand gripping dae-ho’s arm in a way that would’ve been painful if not for the adrenaline running through both your veins. 

the platform stopped abruptly, and the lights turned off for a brief moment before they started flashing purple and pink. 

the first number that was called out was ten. you were in a group of six, and the entirety of them looked around frantically, needing to find the four people to complete your group. 

“how many are you?” gi-hun asked a woman, hyun-ju you believed her name was.

“four,” she responded quickly. 

“that makes us ten.” jung-bae added. 

you all darted toward room 44, the green door. you made it in with one second left, mere moments before the latch would’ve clicked and left all of you to die. 

you stood in a corner, gripping dae-ho’s once again with such intensity. you saw gi-hun peek out the rectangle-shaped slit in the door before the sounds of gunfire filled the room. you made the safe assumption that anyone who didn’t make it into the room in time was eliminated, which was being shot to death.

“hey.” dae-ho whispered in your ear. 

you glanced up to see your boyfriend looking down at you with an affectionate look in his eyes. something as small as basic eye contact with him calmed your entire body. you felt the tension leave your shoulders as you allowed yourself to take a deep breath.

it felt odd to find yourself relaxed in such a strenuous environment as the one you are in now, but maybe it was just the effect that your boyfriend had on you. 

“just stick with me, okay? i got you.”

“okay. thank you, dae-ho.”

each person stood in the room, taking a moment to catch their breath before going out to the death game you all knew you couldn’t avoid. it would be another number called, and you’d have to scramble to find a certain number of people once again.

the door unlocked with a click, and you found yourself standing next to dae-ho on the rotating platform once again. 

as the first round, the platform stopped, the lights turned off for a fleeting moment, and then they began flashing obnoxiously.

the next number that was called out was four, and you were in a group of six. you couldn’t risk any of your friends dying, so you quickly made a move to leave the group.

“i’ll go.” young-il spoke. 

“i’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. you wanted dae-ho and jun-hee to survive more than anything, even if it meant putting your own life on the line. 

you made a move to leave before dae-ho gripped your forearm. “no, you can’t go. i can’t risk losing you.”

your eyes watered, causing your vision to blur, and you felt the burn in your nose. you didn’t want to lose your boyfriend either, but what else could you do? all you had to do was find two other people and you and young-il would be safe for another round. 

“i love you dae-ho, so, so much. but i have to go, and i have to go quick.” you gave him a fleeting kiss before grabbing young-il and running to the nearest participants you could find. 

you heard his screams of protest, but you had no choice but to leave. there was only twenty seconds on the clock, and you’d be damned if you let yourself die on the second round of this godforsaken game. 

you quickly found two people who stood and dragged them into the nearest room, with young-il close behind. 

you made it into the room with only two seconds left on the clock, and the latch clicked, as it did the first round. 

you stood in the constricted room for a drawn-out moment before the latch clicked again, and you all filed out of the room and onto the platform once again. 

the rest of the rounds felt like a blur. with screaming, rapidly moving bodies, and the near-blinding flashing lights, you were unable to locate dae-ho.

you deeply regretted leaving your group, and most importantly, your boyfriend. but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if any one of your friends died because you tried to be so selfless.

you tried not to panic as your heart beat rapidly and your hands sweated tremendously. you felt a sudden, intense wave of fear as you stood on the platform with young-il for the last round. 

“have you seen dae-ho?” you looked up at the man beside you, a buoyant tone in your voice.

“i’m afraid i haven’t. but i’m sure he’s alright.” he comforted you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. 

you inhaled slowly through your nose, knowing that young-il was most likely right. your ex-marine of a boyfriend could survive grouping up and going into rooms, right?

the platform clunked, the lights turned off, and they flashed as before. the number was two, and it couldn’t be more perfect for you and young-il. he grabbed your arm, and the both of you ran to the first space you laid eyes on.

for the last time, the lock was unlatched and you were allowed to leave. you finished the third game, and you’d made it out alive.

you walked out among the crimson blood and lifeless bodies littered on the ground. you shuddered as you navigated your way through the room, and your body was wracked with tremors.

you walked next to young-il, making pace in getting back into the main room. your eyes scanned the room rapidly, looking for the man you left in the middle of the game.

suddenly, you felt warm arms tightening around your waist. your boyfriend found you before you could find him.

“i found you,” he whispered in your ear, voice husky. 

you instantly turned around, your hands finding purchase around his neck. you had been so worried about losing him, and it felt surreal to have him standing right in front of you. 

you felt like you would never see him again, like he’d die just because you decided to leave the group to avoid causing chaos between them. 

“hi. i was so scared i was gonna lose you.” his mouth was right next to yours, yet the proximity didn’t feel like nearly enough,

“never. i’m here. please don’t ever leave me like that again.”

“okay, dae-ho. i’ll stay with you. i promise.” you intended to keep your promise; you intended to never leave him again. 

you had finally found your boyfriend again, amid the death games. you were wrapped in your lover's embrace, and you never wanted to leave again.

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM canon fun fact for no reason: Zaraki Kenpachi 100% fully believes in, and practices, tarot reading.

The deck he's using is, of course, completely sideways of a conventional tarot. There are no suits, not properly faces, as the deck is entirely comprised of Cards* that he picked up at some point and felt a connect with.

The Garbage Tarot is accurate to the point of violence, will happily tell people about the present or past but gets huffy and sarcastic if you try to prognosticate too much or too specifically. It will never tell anyone how they will die but will practically spell the name and address of who they're going to marry. Or murder. Sometimes both. You get to figure that part out, asshole.

It also seems to work only for Zaraki- even touching the deck can lead to disaster, at least according to Renji who tried to use it once and immediately had the worst run of luck of his life for a week that culminated in a monkey attack and having to get the rabies shots.

Despite its accuracy and the fact it shares Zaraki's peculiar sense of humor, he doesn't use it often. "I ask it when it's an emergency or it tells me it's got news. Otherwise, it's resting. What would happen if you kick in my door in the middle of the night to ask me about your love life? I'd fuckin' castrate you, that's what. Leave it."

* "Cards" here meaning "approximately 3x5 inch flat rectangle-ish objects with two different sides that can be shuffled. This includes, but is not limited to: beer mats he scribbled important names and addresses on, Smutty polaroids he found in the back of a desk drawer, a Christmas card, a compact mirror, laminated natural objects like flowers and snakeskin, swathes of fabric, tile, the checkout cards from Library copies of famous literature, postcards, business cards, academic flash cards, the very small menu of a seafood restaurant, and a handful or normal playing and tarot cards just to be funny.

It makes a horrible noise when shuffled.

Mayuri despises it, calling it superstitious bullshit and refusing Zaraki's offer to do a reading before an important project. Mayuri flounced from the building in disgust, and as soon as he set a toe outside, he was strick by lightning.

Unohana was disappointed that he'd believe in cartomancy at first but she's kept careful notes on the results of the draws and how things turn out and there's always an element of confirmation bias but she's slightly alarmed that it may actually work. To be fair, that would only be the fourth or fifth most improbable thing about Zaraki.

[delzinrowe]

Love Letter - TAKUMA INO

WORD COUNT: ~5.1K WARNINGS: None. F!Reader SUMMARY: Y/N receives a love letter, sadly the sender wasn't very specific when he signed it. A/N: Silly little brainrot I had months ago. Took me ages to actually finish this. Feedback is always appreciated!! Let me know if you wanna be tagged. TAGGING @just-jordie-things CAUSE I GOT BACK INTO WRITING BECAUSE OF HER, SHE'S AMAZING ♡♡♡

Another day filled with lessons of an unusual kind passed by. Gojo-Sensei was a good and devoted teacher, but everyone agreed that his teaching methods sometimes were a little… unorthodox, for lack of a better word. He tends to throw students into dangerous situations to fend for themselves instead of preparing them for it beforehand.

Y/N was just happy that she had her student days behind her. Now she was a semi-grade 1 sorcerer. After graduating from Jujutsu High she slowly but surely worked her way up the ranks and earned the respect of her fellow sorcerers, one of which was Ino Takuma, who seemed to be just as impressed by her as he was by his mentor Nanami Kento.

Whenever she wasn’t on a mission Y/N used the time to train, either by herself, with Takuma or with some of the younger students. Which was exactly what happened right now. For the past hours she had exchanged blows with each of them, successfully winning every fight. Until Maki decided to challenge her. Without any ounce of cursed energy she was supposed to be an easy target, but exactly this made her all the more dangerous in close range.

She stood opposite of Maki, wearing a smile on her lips and chuckling a little. Even after losing their training fight there was not an ounce of bitterness within her. Maki was an astonishing fighter, she was more skilled and talented in hand-to-hand combat than any of the other students.

Due to her lack of cursed energy she focused entirely on close range combat, allowing her to win the fight swiftly. No doubt that Yuji would still smoke her in terms of raw strength, but Maki was no way inferior to any of them.

“You’re gonna raise hell some day, Maki.” Y/N never made a secret out of her adoration and pride for the young ostracized Zenin. If it had been anyone else Maki would have rolled her eyes and shrugged off the praising compliment, but Y/N was one of the few people she held in high regards, therefore her words meant a lot to the second year student.

Knowing that someone as strong as Y/N acknowledged her strength and even believed in her so strongly meant a lot to her, even if she would rather die a gruesome death than ever admit this to anyone.

“I’m working on it.”

Maki’s witty comeback earned another chuckle from Y/N. Truth be told, she was immensely proud of the young student. When she herself enrolled into Jujutsu High she was surrounded by all these amazing young sorcerers and even her teachers were fascinatingly strong. It often caused her to feel left out, as if she was merely a candle in the wind with everyone around her being raging wildfires, rapidly increasing with each passing day.

Back then Takuma was the only person who showed her acknowledgement, who openly told her that he believed she’d be destined for amazing and great things. Thinking back on it now, it might have been this exact moment her crush developed. She wanted to prove him right, that she was capable of whatever life as sorcerer threw at her.

Ultimately, she knew the pain of being left out, of not being believed in, of feeling far too weak. She wouldn’t allow anyone to feel like that, especially not someone like Maki, who was so willing and determined to prove herself.

Y/N only responded with a nod and a smile before turning around to gather her things. All too suddenly she halted her movements, her eyes squinting at the piece of white paper she spotted on the dark piece of clothing.

Right there, at the edge of the training grounds, in her lazily discarded jacket, stuck a letter, folded into a tiny rectangle. It certainly wasn’t there before. She would have remembered anyone messing with her clothes during the training. Whoever it was must have used the chance to leave the paper when she had her back turned. Or maybe when Maki successfully threw her onto her back…

However, that didn’t matter now, what mattered most to Y/N in this instant was the tiny rectangle. 

Curiously, and with careful touches, she reached for the paper and slowly unfolded it. Her eyes scanned over the lines written on it. The first thing she noticed was the handwriting itself. It wasn’t neat, but it was far from messy. It seemed almost as if someone tried to conceal their handwriting. Something else she noticed was that it was a blank paper, no lines or squares, yet the short sentences made it seem as if there had been invisible lines.

Whoever wrote this note went through the trouble of using an undersheet to keep the perfect lines intact. The level of detail for one simple note was astonishing. 

It took Y/N a few good moments of skimping over the words before she even realized what the letter said.

It was… a love letter.

Never in her life did Y/N think she’d receive one of those, let alone an anonymous one, only signed with initials, but there’s got to be a first time for everything, right?

Her gaze was fixated on the paper, as if it put a spell on her. The few lines were filled with sweet adoration, even bringing a smile to her lips until her eyes found the initials T.I..

Y/N still stood in the middle of the training grounds but she suddenly didn’t notice anything around her anymore. Her thoughts were now fully engulfed by the two letters that sent her mind into a haze. Who the hell was T.I.?

Bombs and missiles could have detonated right in front of her, nonetheless, nothing would have managed to tear her attention away from her thoughts going on a rampage.

Seconds passed, turning into minutes as Y/N kept on thinking about the initials but she couldn’t come up with anything. Even if she turned the letters around no one came to her mind. No one seemed to fit, until a certain image popped up in her thoughts. And suddenly the need for a written letter made much more sense to her.

<--With a suspicion now in mind, she set out to find her best friend, hoping to get a different perspective on the entire matter. Maybe he’d even have some advice ready for her to handle this entire situation. It surely would help her to at least get a male opinion on this. That is… if her best friend Takuma would even have an opinion on it at all. -->

“Do you have any idea who T.I. could be?” 

Immediately after finding Takuma she spilled everything about the letter she received. It took him a good few minutes to get her to slow down but once he realized what she was on about his lips curled into a little smile, not too big to get caught but just enough to seem like his usual self. Even if he was a nervous bundle of anxiety inside.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it, ‘Kuma?” This was it. The moment he was waiting for.

He was the one who left the letter in her jacket during training. She’d confront him and after hearing his cheesy confession she’d admit to always having had a crush on him as well, and the two would kiss and be the dream couple everyone would envy.

…At least that’s how he pictured it in his head.

“It must be Toge Inumaki. I can’t think of anyone else, to be honest.” Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest, the letter still clutched in between her thumb and her fingers, as she gave an expectant look towards her friend, not knowing that his heart secretly deflated at her words.

Takuma tried his hardest not to show his thoughts all too clearly on his face. Usually, he was the personification of bubbly, open and unfiltered, blurting out the first things on his mind without really thinking of his words first. But this time he had to bite his own tongue to stop himself from speaking too quickly. 

Why did she not realize that it was him who wrote that note? Then again, why did he have to sign it with his initials only? Was he really that stupid? Of course, there were other people with the same initials as him, he should have thought of this beforehand.

Or perhaps the fact that she instantly assumed it to be someone else meant that maybe she wanted it to be someone else? Did she believe Toge wrote the note because she wished that it was from him? Had her heart already been snatched by someone?

The possibility of it felt like a gut punch to Takuma. A few minutes ago he felt happy, expecting this moment to turn into the sweetest one of his life. However, by now his chest felt tightened, as if someone had reached down his throat and crushed his heart with bare hands, while simultaneously smacking the air out of his lungs.

This had got to be one of the worst moments of his life. He got rejected, indirectly at least, and in one of the worst ways too.

“If you think it’s him, then ask him about it.” The words were followed by a shrug of his shoulders, he tried so desperately to seem indifferent enough towards this. Of course, he didn’t want her to think that this entire topic didn’t matter to him, it did. More than she even knew. But she was smart and if he acted out of character now then she’d be onto him instantly. 

Y/N let out a deep sigh, uncrossing her arms and letting them drop to her sides. As calm as she seemed, her mind was a mess. Why did she have to receive a letter like this? Anonymous with only initials to make her guess.

“Yeah sure, and what do I even say to him?” She asked with a hint of hopelessness, shrugging her shoulders lightly.

“That depends on whether you like him or not.” Takuma kept his posture, speaking in a tone that was usual for him. Or wasn’t it? He tried way too hard to appear like his normal self that he started to overthink his actions, words and even the tone he used. Did he talk like this any other day?

“I guess so.” Her response, paired with the deep sigh she let out and her sinking shoulders were a clear sign of defeat. She didn’t seem suspicious of him. Good, he had played his role well. Now he just needed to keep it up a little longer.

Eventually Y/N’s chat with her best friend offered no real help or conclusion, besides the obvious ‘talk to him directly. It was a piece of advice she didn’t need, considering it was apparent inside her own mind ever since she successfully deciphered the sender of the note.

She dreaded the encounter with Toge. She didn’t want to break the young student’s heart. Why did it have to be so uncomfortable and painful when friends caught feelings? How she wished for the ground to simply swallow her whole right at this moment.

Alas, there was no way around it. No matter how much Y/N tried to think of a different solution, she had to be direct and honest with Toge. He deserved that much.

Seconds passed and neither Takuma nor Y/N said anything. For Takuma the heavy tension in the air seemed almost unbearable. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, wanting so desperately to confess to being the real author of the note. But he figuratively bit his own tongue to stay silent. It felt obvious enough to him that she wasn’t reciprocating his feelings.

On the other hand, Y/N felt a thick tension for different reasons. She dreaded the encounter with Toge, no matter how much she knew that it was necessary to clear the air. A feeling of unease and anxiety spread through her stomach and she took a few deep breaths, releasing the last one as a deep sigh.

“I should talk to him right now.” For a moment she glanced at Takuma before her gaze shifted towards the letter she still held tightly. There was nothing else to say or do, anything she’d come up with now would only prolong the much needed conversation.

“Good luck.” Takuma’s short nod was met with a grimace from Y/N, followed by quiet short noise that could only be described as a whine.

Just for a fraction of a moment he forgot the aching pain in his chest. Goddamn, why did she look so cute right now? It took all his willpower to keep his mouth shut when inside him everything was screaming at him to just be honest.

“Thanks.”

Without any further ado she turned on her heel. Even if she didn’t know where to find Toge, she was sure that eventually she’d run into him. Maybe she could think of the right things to say until then.

Takuma’s gaze followed her until she was out of sight. The second grace sorcerer wasn’t a coward or shy by any means, he was brave and courageous. So why couldn’t he just walk up to her and confess, like he had thought about so many times? Why did he settle to write a letter and leave it in her jacket like some clumsy lovesick teenager?

In an instant he froze in place, his eyes wide in shock as the realization hit him like a jolt of electricity. As soon as Y/N confronted Toge she’d find out that the letter wasn’t actually  from him. His heart had started pounding and he felt paralyzed when he realized the extensive consequences of her finding out. Their entire friendship would shift and become awkward. In the worst case it might even end he’d lose his best friend.

He had to follow Y/N and ‘accidentally’ interrupt her encounter with Toge before the blonde student could expose his secret crush on his best friend.

For an experienced high grade sorcerer Y/N was far too immersed in her thoughts to realize that for the past half hour she had been followed by Takuma. He didn’t even have to use any cursed energy to be as stealthy as possible. She was too occupied with her search for the blonde student to notice him either way.

Well, she didn’t actively search for Toge, no. She dreaded this upcoming conversation more than anything else. Instead, she simply wandered around the school grounds as casually as she could. Eventually she’d find him, wouldn’t she?

She had already given up on thinking of what to say, nothing seemed good or fitting. With a nervous feeling in her gut she decided to just wing it and come up with anything she’d say on the spot.

Just when Y/N was about to call it quits and chicken out of this entire situation she saw Toge walking a little bit further away from her current position. After suppressing another unmotivated whine she took deep breaths to calm her nerves before approaching him.

“Hey, Toge!” She tried not to sound too loud with her yell as she ran up to the blonde student, who turned around towards her and greeted her with a hand sign, as per usual paired with a quiet: “Kelp.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Y/N’s head was tilted a little and a somewhat awkward smile appeared on her face. Damnit. She tried so hard to act normal but she had only ever been in this situation two or three times before. Rejecting someone was hard on its own, but even worse when it was a good friend. How would she even start?

Instead of saying any of his safe words Toge opted to not say anything as he only raised his eyebrows. A silent sign that she had his attention and a gesture for her to keep talking.

“The letter you sent me… it was really nice, but…” As much as Y/N tried to find the right words, it resulted in her sounding uncertain. Hopefully this wouldn’t cause their friendship to get awkward.

The more she tried to construct a coherent sentence, the less she was actually able to speak properly. The nervousness that surged through her body felt almost paralyzing, even more so than the uncomfortable silence that hung between them. But she had to say something. She couldn’t give Toge any false hope. He didn’t deserve that.

“I don’t like you like that, I’m sorry.”

If Y/N had the courage to look up right now she would have seen the confused expression on Toge’s face as he tried desperately to make sense of this whole situation. However, her gaze was just about anywhere else, focusing on invisible dots, as to not look at him directly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but with the limited vocabulary available to him he decided to simply agree with it and call it a day. Whatever this was about would surely resolve on its own. For him there was no need to stress about something he didn’t fully grasp either way.

“Salmon.” With that Toge nodded his head, conveying his understanding, even if it was merely an act.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, and I hope we can stay friends.” Even though Y/N harbored no romantic feelings for the short blonde student, rejecting a friend was always a gut-wrenching experience. It was something she hated, even if it had thankfully only happened very few times. The anguish of having to turn down someone she was close with always hung above the friendship, similar to the damning dropping chandelier in Phantom of the Opera. At one point it might crash and reduce the remaining friendship to rubble and dust.

Although this didn’t seem to be the case with Toge, he took the rejection like a champ. If Y/N hadn’t been too overwhelmed by this situation she might have realized that Toge even seemed a little too chill about getting rejected. But her mind was elsewhere, involuntarily drifting to the young sorcerer who was now hiding behind a wall, listening in on their conversation.

Toge hadn’t exposed him, he took the rejection and went with it. Yet, for some reason it caused Takuma to feel twisted. Y/N didn’t even think of him when she received the letter, and now she had officially rejected ‘T.I.’, which made it practically impossible to send her another note. He should have just gathered his courage and confessed when he had the chance.

“Salmon Roe.” Two words was enough to pull Y/N and Takuma out of their thoughts and bring them back to the present. She only nodded in an effort to ease the awkward tension between them, even if she was the only one that felt it.

Toge pointed towards his dorm rooms, not even attempting to say anything else before lifting his hand in the air to wave goodbye as he left Y/N on her own. Her thoughts were racing and her heart pounded in her chest. The conversation had gone smooth (more or less) and Toge took the rejection well. Hopefully this wouldn’t have any awkward consequences in their friendship. 

Meanwhile Takuma leaned against the wall he was hiding behind, nervousness filling his stomach. He should get out of here, leave before she noticed that he had followed her.

His palms were sweaty, his heart beating so fast and hard that it threatened to burst out of his chest. His head leaned against the surface of the concrete as his eyes were closed. If he already felt like this when he was just hiding behind a wall then how was he ever gonna face her and confess? He, the usually cool, calm and collected auspicious beasts’ user, was undoubtedly a coward. 

“‘Kuma?” Y/N’s voice rang in his ears, instantly his eyes widened. Instantly he cursed himself for not disappearing sooner. Now it was too late for that, if he attempted to leave now she’d just follow and question him.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was, understandably, laced with confusion. Had he listened to the entire conversation she had with Toge? Why would he even care about it?

“Hey.” It was the most awkward and stupidest he had ever sounded as he dragged out the one word greeting. He wanted to disappear right now, vanish into thin air never to be seen again.

When he didn’t say anything she lifted her head forward just a bit and raised her eyebrows expectantly, urging him to continue with her sharp gaze. Oh, how he scolded himself internally at this very moment.

“I’m just here for emotional support…” The way the words came out of his mouth seemed more like a question instead of an answer to her initial inquiry.  If there was ever an award for the worst lie, Takuma would receive it without any close competition. Even without this dead giveaway Y/N would have known that something was foul.

“Would you just spit it out?” Gone was the nervousness she felt just moments ago during her conversation with Toge. Now she was aggravated and irritated at his unusual behavior. It must have been connected to the love note, but she couldn’t come up with any reason why.

As Y/N was still waiting for his response, Takuma felt the sinking realization that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without coming clean about the love letter. The weight on his chest grew heavier, his heart pounded louder, the beating rang in his ears. He wiped his hands on his pants, rather pathetically as they kept on sweating. Had he ever been this fucking nervous prior to this moment? He couldn’t remember.

Even after facing curse users, as well as encountering and successfully exorcizing countless curses, and finding himself in the most dangerous situations, he couldn’t remember ever feeling this uneasy in his entire life.

The silence between them remained for what felt like an eternity, but actually had only been about two minutes. Y/N knew that he heard her question loud and clear, there was no need to repeat it. Especially considering how nervous he appeared. Something was definitely wrong, but no matter how irritated or aggravated she was with him, she’d never pressure him. That simply wasn’t how their friendship worked.

Seconds felt like hours for Takuma but he knew he had to say something, and eventually, after taking multiple deep breaths, he finally overcame his uneasiness and forced himself to speak up.

“I’m T.I.”, as little as his words seemed, it had taken him immense courage to say them out loud.

“The letter… it’s from me.”

Y/N simply stared at him as he dropped this bomb of information on her. The thought of “T.I.” actually standing for Takuma Ino had never seriously crossed her mind. Even if for a split second she might have hoped for it, she had immediately dismissed it.

For as long as she had been friends with him he was never the type to write letters, especially love letters. She had known him long enough to learn his character inside out. He was blunt, but not brutal, open and unfiltered but never hostile. In short; he wasn’t someone who would hide behind an anonymous letter.

Or so she thought at least, which caused her thoughts to go into overdrive.

“You wrote that? Why? Did you think it’d be a funny joke? Is that why you didn’t say anything before and just let me make a fool out of myself in front of Toge?” Y/N asked suddenly, completely overwhelmed with this situation and clearly overthinking it.

Takuma knew that tone all too well, he was the one to calm her down more than just a few times, and while he was still nervous about this whole ordeal, he couldn’t watch how she doubted herself so much that she didn’t take his love letter seriously.

“No, it wasn’t a joke. Listen…”, for a moment he paused, his might searching for words as she took a step forward to her. He let out a deep sigh before he spoke up once more.

“I like you. Like… a whole lot. I’ve pretty much had a crush on you since forever. I don’t know what made me write a damn letter. I guess I was too much of a coward to tell you face to face.” Even though he had taken a step forward, he couldn’t look into her eyes. His averted gaze focused on an invisible point a few feet away.

“It’s not a joke, alright? I’m serious.” His heart hammered against his ribcage. This was the moment he didn’t want to experience.

Y/N was far too shocked to construct a proper sentence, the confession had taken her by full surprise. Neither of them dared to say anything but as the moments passed her lips curled into a smile that she tried to suppress. It was slowly setting in that this wasn’t a joke or a prank. Takuma seemed to be genuinely nervous, even anxious. Something she wasn’t used to seeing.

Furthermore, she had known him for quite some time and while he was a bit of a goof who liked to pull pranks, he never would have gone for something that could end up emotionally scarring someone.

Her heart went from racing twice as fast to skipping a beat all the way to pounding heavily inside her chest. It felt as if a fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her, the realization that the boy she had a crush on liked her back.

“And you’re really really serious?” She questioned quietly, her voice now lacking the previous panicky tone.

“More than anything.”

When he finally lifted his head again Takuma saw the smile on her lips. It was like a drug to him, instantly he returned it with a smile on his own, the uneasiness fading away and being replaced by a warm feeling that spread through his limbs.

“Good, cause I like you too.”

“You really do?” His mind struggled to believe that it was real, but the way she smiled shyly with this faint blush on her cheeks was all the proof he needed. And suddenly he’s floating from happiness.

Suddenly the anxiety he felt died down, and all the uneasiness disappeared from his body.

Y/N had no time to brace herself when all of a sudden his arms wrapped tightly around her frame, pulling her right into his warm chest. The closeness, paired with his familiar scent, felt like a dream to her.

Takuma didn’t need to say it, it was obvious that he was happier than ever about this development, but so was Y/N.

The two of them didn’t know how much time passed, could have been an hour, could have been an eternity. In reality it was closer to a few minutes, when he eventually loosened his hold and leaned back just enough to look at her. 

Y/N could have sworn she just fell much deeper for him when she saw his unusually flushed face. A sign so beautiful and handsome that she never wanted to look away. It was a sight she didn’t expect, and certainly something she never knew she needed to see until now.

“So… Can I kiss you?” Takuma asked, and Y/N swore he was still nervous, which caused her chest to feel even warmer. It was unlike him to not ooze confidence with every fiber of his being, however, knowing that she had this effect on him, even after both of them confessing, filled her with pride.

“I don’t know if you can, but you should.” She responded with a smirk, albeit with her cheeks so heated that she felt like a radiator. The chuckle that followed her words was cut short when his lips captured her own. Her giggle died down when she practically melted into the kiss.

It was a little messy and chaotic, but eventually they fell into a rhythm that felt just right in every way.

Her hands, which were still wrapped around his torso from their hug, grabbed his sweater tightly. Meanwhile her thoughts dissipated, leaving nothing else but the blissful happiness, and the fluttering butterflies in her stomach.

Everything was drowned out until a few seconds later when Takuma pulled away. As if she was magnetized by him she tried to follow his lips, leaning further into him just a few inches before regaining her composure. She opened her eyes but didn’t look at him right away. It was such a silly thing that she felt embarrassed for not wanting the kiss to end but at the same time she knew that from now on she could have kisses anytime she asked.

Her hands slowly let go of his sweater. A wave of uncertainty hit her but it was gone as quick as it arrived once she felt him reach for her wrist.

His hand found hers, and their fingers interlaced. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how natural and easy everything felt with him. Her heart might have raced like a sports car and rang in her ears like church bells but being with Takuma like this felt more natural and comfortable than she had ever imagined.

For a while it was quiet as the two of them simply started strolling around aimlessly on the school grounds. But there was one thing Y/N still wanted to address…

“You couldn’t come up with a better way to sign it then T.I.?”

“To be fair I didn’t think your first thought would be Riceball Guy.” He mumbled back and rolled his eyes, listening as her giggles turned into a short but warm laugh.

His eyes were glued to her, the corners of his lips subconsciously curling into the happiest grin he could possibly create.

They had no label yet but she was his girl, there was no doubt in his mind about it. She was hers even before he had even known it. And there was no way in hell that he’d ever let go of her.

[lagomoz]

Everyone so far seems to be theorizing Amane’s victim as her dad, her mom, or an unnamed child also in the cult. I’ve got my own theory - it was Gozake.

That’s Gozake, from Magic. The blue guy. He’s one of the four main figureheads of the cult, and possibly a music teacher of some kind to Amane, conducting her to sing in Magic. The very first shot of The Purge March is Amane playing the drums.

The mindscape Amane’s wield flags representing the four cult leaders (teachers? elders? propaganda peddlers? high up members? whatever, important cult people), but Gozake’s flag in particular is given special attention. 

Same color scheme, same three dots over a narrow rectangle like design, same ear thingy to the side, same orb-like design features - that’s Gozake. Before we see it flying though, we see it crumpled up on the floor by Amane’s feet, something not true for any other flag.

We then see an Amane messing up her flag routine, dropping Gozake’s flag in particular and falling over. The other Amane looms over her, preparing to punish her for a failure related to Gozake. Once the punishment starts, rain pours down.

Then, the punished Amane begins to drown. You can even see the flag while she’s sinking.

She drowns further, and we get another shot of just the flag, lying on the ground, and then the drowning Amane reaching up towards it. She’s reaching toward Gozake, the one responsible for drowning her.

And he is the one drowning her. We see it directly in Magic.

It cuts to the real world, with Amane actually being drowned, and her placed below the one drowning her like she is placed below the flag. 

Take note of the framing, with one hand stretching from out of frame.

I can’t find a better picture for her undercover card, but her location shows a bathroom. Undercover also has a shot of a victim lying on a blue tiled floor (we can’t see the floor, but the shower in Purge March has blue and green wall tiles) with water coming down. Blue and water are representations of Gozake (Amane’s character color is aqua), and it’s framed as a single hand stretching out while the rest is (mostly) obscured, and takes place in the bathroom (or at least a bathroom) that Amane was drowned by Gozake in.

Throughout the MV, there’s a lot of blue, too. Amane’s school uniform is blue, the cloth she heals the cat with is blue (the cloth later becomes bloody, another thing representing Gozake being damaged), the sky and general background and lighting is blue. Symbols of Gozake are present everywhere in the MV.

The suit man with the briefcase could be Gozake, I’m not sure. Gozake would fit the profile - a cult member, adult male, disapproving of medicine, willing to put Amane in harm’s way - but I don’t have further evidence.

Before Amane goes all in on the cult’s doctrine, she has an umbrella, but it’s unopened. The baton she uses to kill and to represent her as fully converted and the opening umbrella are overlayed. 

The lyrics show her motivation for the murder, as both a means of protection and revenge. She’s been horrifically abused for years, and has taken on the role of the punisher to avoid being the punished.

“It’s my turn to tear you apart / So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me /  It’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry” /  You’re sorry? I don’t care! / Please, go ahead and die already / Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

Beyond showing a lot of resentment and disdain for the one she’s speaking to - her victim - the phrasing clearly shows that she’s not just punishing a sinner, she’s turning the tables. She’s returning the favor to someone who’s been violent to her in the past.

The umbrella is symbolically her murder weapon and what she uses to punish others, but also literally and obviously a tool to protect from the rain. What she uses to kill is what protects her from Gozake. She can’t take the abuse anymore and tries to become the cult sanctioned violent avenger that’s hurt her so many times. She can’t be the victim if she’s the perpetrator.

The final shot has her over the corpse, having tracked in water from the rain. The puddles lead right to it and the framing is the same as both the Undercover victim and the one drowning her - a single hand, reaching from out of frame.

Amane killed Gozake.

[kisses4kaia]

i’ve been seeing ppl do sej x coryo x reader and all the time i see dom sej, switch coryo, and sub reader and it gave me this idea.

i think it would be interesting to see dom coryo, switch sej, and sub reader. yes ik this is very much ooc BUT IDGAF 😵

the plot could be that coryo and sej find the reader’s diary that she kept hidden in a shoebox. in the diary she’s saying things like “oh i want coryo or sej so bad omg”(obviously not like that LMAO). i feel like you could put romance into this plot too by having them see that she also would write about these cute scenarios abt them both. TEETH ROTTING THINGS EVEN.

i’m not sure if coryo would be more gentle with sej bc in my mind he(coryo) would be the one to actually consider the things in the diary. sej is up for the idea, but he’s nervous abt doing this with coryo bc duh it’s his best friend.

anyways, i hope this is interesting enough to do bc i liked how you wrote sub sej!

(this was long asf i’m so sorry 😭😭 also, this doesn’t have to be a long ass fic! if you think this would be better as a longer fic or shorter fic, GO AHEAD‼️‼️)

YES I LOVE ! plz don’t apologize i loved hearing ur thoughts . oh and i changed some minor things about this but i still hope u enjoy💞

your blood ran cold as corio stood at the foot of the bed, your fuzzy pink diary in hand as sejanus stood next to him, arms crossed and a smug look on his face, as if he was trying to contain laughter. “god, i would die happy if i could sit on coriolanus’ face and have sejanus stuff his cock down my throat,” corio quoted your journal, an devilish, amused, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “such dirty words for such a shy girl. don’t you agree, sejanus?”

he meets the blond boys eyes and nods, in modest agreement. “i don’t know, corio, i’m not all that surprised. i mean, she practically begged to join our group for the project,” he cocked his head slightly as he reasoned, all too casual about the situation.

he hadn’t lied, when professor click assigned a project for groups of three, you immediately got to batting your eyelashes and flattery with the two boys. at first, your intentions were pure, only wanting to ensure a good grade for the assignment, and it made the most sense to try to get with sejanus and coriolanus, for they had the highest marks in the entirety of the class. you had wanted nothing but an ‘a’, until you began noticing how beautiful corio’s eyes were in the sunlight, and how full and plump sej’s lips were when he pushed a pencil through them in concentration, and you hadn’t even realized you’d begun spiraling. you entrusted your diary with all the details of your infatuation for the boys, and as you wrote on late, dark nights, you’d never expected to have the subjects of your logs read it. you were utterly mortified, and your paled expression did not conceal it well. “oh, come on now, darling. don’t be ashamed, we aren’t judging you,” coriolanus cooed at your rigid posture at the head of the bed.

today was supposed to be the last day. the last day you were working on the project, and you’d let them into your empty home, into your bedroom, and onto your bed. you had let them linger in your room while you grabbed your school bag from the living room, facilitating them just the right amount of time to snoop if they so pleased, and you should have known that they did. in their defense, how could sejanus even be blamed for reaching for the blush book sitting in such plain sight on your nightstand? how could coriolanus be at fault for reading more when the first page had ‘corio ♡’ and ‘sej ♡’ written about 30 times all over the lined paper? when you’d returned, completely oblivious to their snooping, corio had hidden it behind his back and obscured it from your view. it was only when you turned to grab a pen off of your nightstand, the nightstand in which you retired your diary to every night, that you noticed the pink rectangle missing. slowly, you turned to face the boys who were standing, your innermost thoughts and secrets in corio’s hands. “i-it’s not what it looks like, i promise. i just…” you’re stumbling over your words nervously and you can feel sweat forming on your brow.

corio just laughs before sejanus takes the book from him, thumbing to another page. “all i want is for sej to hold me in his strong arms while corio eats me out. i need him to call me a good girl, i need it, i need it, i need it,” as he reads, his voice is monotonous, but his face reads touched, pleased. he looks over to corio, and upon viewing the expression on his face, knowing exactly which gears are turning in that head of his, he shakes his head. “i don’t know, corio. is that really a good idea?” sej is hesitant, but the blond boy just keeps staring at you with hungry eyes, the brunette boys apprehension not deterring him from his goal one bit. “sejanus, she obviously wants it if she wrote a whole fucking novel on how bad she needs to get her holes filled by me and you,” he reasons, speaking as though you are not in the room, which sent shivers rampant all over your skin. “but together?” sejanus squeaks and corio’s expression of amusement shifts from you to him. “what, you don’t want to? because i’ll be here? c’mon, sejanus, let’s not pretend i can’t see you’re hard at the mere idea of seeing me cum inside of her,” sejanus just rolls his eyes and redirects his attention back to you. “you want this?” he’s walking slowly, closer and closer to you, you who’s sat pretty at the head of the queen-sized bed, like an unsuspecting doe while the wolves prey on you hungrily. coriolanus walks around the other side, and your senses are on fire, watching your two classmates stalk towards you with primal lust swirling in their deep eyes.

you can only nod weakly, afraid that if you were to make a sound, your own voice would betray you. “words, sweetheart,” corio says in a singsong voice, his hand reaching out to your chin, jerking it to force your eyes to meet his. “please,” you squeak, lower lip almost quivering. the blond boy pouts at you, before using his free hand to fall between your thighs, flipping your skirt up before petting your cunt over your embarrassingly damp panties. corio’s digits move skillfully as the pads of his fingers press through the fabric and onto your clit, pulling desperate whimpers out of you. you haven’t forgotten about sejanus in the slightest, hyper aware of his looming presence, but you were much too afraid to break eye contact with corio, so you simply whisper faintly under your breath “sejanus,”

corio lets up on his grip of your jaw and allows your eyes to land on sejanus, who’s palming his bulge through his trousers. his eyes read your needy ones before grabbing your hand and replacing his own. you gasp at the how large he feels even through the layers of fabric, and have to bite your lip to the point of breaking skin so as to contain a moan. corio’s ministrations feel good, so good, but it’s not enough. “more, please. need you, need you both” your eyes begin pricking with tears as you look back at the snow boy, face rendering as a plead as your hips buck weakly into his hand. “i know, baby, i know,” corio leans down and for the first time, presses a kiss to your lips, before pulling your panties to the side and sliding his middle digit into you with ease. you moan against the sweet lips on yours, and turn to face sejanus, eyes begging for permission as you toy with the button on his trousers. “go ahead, pretty,” sejanus breathes out, pleasure building up within him. as well as you can manage while under the influence of gratification corio is invoking upon you, you undo the button and the zipper of sejanus’ pants and pull them down along with his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free. you were mesmerized at first glance, he was beautiful; girthy, but still quite lengthy. prominent veins ran up and down him and his tip was a dark shade of vermillion, weeping with pre. you swear you thought drool was coming out of your mouth, because sejanus just smiles knowingly, guiding your hand back onto his cock.

at the same time, corio adds another finger to your tight cunt. his other hand comes in to use the pad of his thumb to draw calculated, deliciously meticulous, circles on your sensitive bud. you can tell sejanus is close from the way his eyes flutter shut as pleasure overtakes him, from how you can feel him twitch in your hand, and you know your release is coming soon, too. and when it does, pleasure courses through your veins, you had never felt anything like the orgasm corio talked you through. “fuck, yeah baby. cum all on my fingers, hm? poor, pretty, baby. so wound up f’me,”

not long after, you feel sejanus’ seed spill onto your hand, a string of explicits falling smoothly from his plump lips, along with moans of your name and praises for how good you make him feel. when his eyes reopen, you suddenly feel bolder than you did 20 minutes ago, and stare him down like he’s the prey, while licking his sperm off of your pretty, delicate, manicured, fingers. sejanus thinks—no, he knows—that could’ve made him cum again on the spot if corio hadn’t interjected, his tone a starved and vicious growl.

“on your knees, now.”

[02korchagine]

Are they scared?

On the Romanov Princesses taking pictures of their servants.

There are thousands of photographs taken by Tsar Nicholas II and his family, especially his daughters. Like children do, they photographed at random, in an awkward and personal way. Most of it came out smudged, crooked.

Against my will I am forced to think about the labor-intensive process of developing film, of storing it, transporting the archives with you wherever you go. Who was doing all of this? Who was paying for it? These pictures are not ‘professional’, they are smudged, the horizon is crooked. A lot of them seem accidental, like showing part of an empty doorway. I remember running around with a camera my parents gave me when I was a child. The pictures I took then were similar. These photos probably serve no purpose other than entertaining the whims of a child. Unlike most of their subjects, the Romanovs had the money and the time for such an expensive hobby.*

All of these photos were originaly uploaded to imgur by a user named Andrei Goncharik. Thank you Andrei.

According to the imgur uploader, these photos were taken between 1908 and 1917. The Empire was sending its half-literate populace to die in a war, tearing itself apart internally with hunger and political violence. But these images do not feel entirely peaceful either. They are somehow stuck, purgatory like, a sort of oblivion. Maybe it’s the blindingly white sky, or the endless plain, perfectly even as far as the eye can see. Everyone is always impeccably dressed, in white skirts and sailor’s caps, so white they sometimes dissolve in the sky above them.

The world is overblown and soft. It feels like a hot summer day on a plain, coveted by warm winds. Winds throwing white dust into the air. A day when you don’t have to do anything, a day that feels like it will never end.

The camera angles feel personal. We get up close, we look from below, we twist and turn between adult bodies trying to get a better look. We are a royal child — one aristocrats don’t have to notice and servants have to tolerate.

What do we see? An endless repetition of military parades and banquets. The aristocracy, the servants and the soldiers.

Most aristocrats look so bored. They lean on walls; they hide their faces from the sun. They stand, with nothing to put their hands to. The faces of the entourage are indistinguishable from one another, while the soldiers are a row of black rectangles with white dots for their heads, lining the horizon. Officers on horseback, in full regalia, ride on past them into nothing, with absent looks on their faces. ‘We are all very used to doing this’, they say.

Some people pose for the photos. The aristocrats look annoyed, knowing a child probably won’t take a good picture. Or they grimace, happily playing along. But the soldiers and the maids look startled. It all feels awkward, like when you take a picture of someone without asking them first. Are they scared? Unable to say no?

Positioned on the sidelines of the frame, in passing, the servants look directly into the camera. In the movies of Alexey German, certain side characters, mostly the children and the ‘feeble minded’, notice the camera moving among them, and follow it with a look, but never an action. They are the ones not (yet) firmly rooted in reality, in living itself, and so they observe reality from afar, with a certain detachment, and notice ‘history’ moving among them.

Boy looks directly into the camera in Alexey German's 'My friend Ivan Lapshin'

I think the servants are confused as to why they are being photographed. What for? Who would ever look at thousands of these pictures? Did the Grand Duchess imagine herself revisiting them after getting married off to some faraway country, flipping through them to remember her childhood? Did she think about this at all? I know I didn’t, when I ran around with a camera in my grandmother’s backyard.

It all — all of this, has the air of an extensive apparatus, a many-armed, many-legged machine of servants, maids-of-honor, officers, horses, cooks, all moving in stellar formations from place to place, from one mansion to another, under a blinding sun, doing nothing, or nothing but their duty, dying of a sweet kind of boredom and looking very good.

The living, the painful colliding of the masses, knotted stomachs and outstretched tongues, mingling together trying to create something new, tearing at each other in different directions, all of that is happening somewhere else entirely, if happening at all.

And when they finally break in, as a record of time passing, their clothes dripping with snow, and sticky, viscous dirt of a reddish color, they will look around and see all of it, and then — who can blame them?

Here's a link to one of these photos.

*I want to note that I'm not entirely sure if all of these were taken by children, but certainly a large number of them were. The uploader grouped them based on whose album the pictures were found in. Sometimes the same picture appears in two different albums, one belonging to the child and the other belonging to some adult companion of the Romanovs.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 18

Hello there, my Lovely Readers! Here is the new chapter, enjoy :)

ui: and again, thanks for the likes and reblogs, you're awesome!

There is nothing more sacred than the Archives. Even temples can be rebuilt, but books cannot be rewritten.

—Colonel Daxton’s Guide to Excelling in the Scribe Quadrant

The wooden library cart squeaks as I push it over the bridge that connects the Riders Quadrant to the Healer, and then past the clinic doors into the heart of Basgiath.

After Threshing I was assigned to Archives duty. It seems that our library’s maintenance is a “less desirable” chore, and one of the unbonded took our place. So here I am. But at least I was paired up with Violet.

Mage lights illuminate our way down the tunnels as we take a path so familiar that I could walk it with my eyes shut. I’ve been here with Violet countless times.

I nod to the first-year scribe at the entrance to the Archives and he jumps out of his seat, hurrying to open the vault-like door.

“Good morning, Cadet Sorrengail, Cadet Melgren” he says, holding the entrance open so we can pass.

„Good morning, Cadet Pierson.” I nod as I push the cart through.

The Archives smell like parchment, book-binding glue, and ink.

Rows of twenty-foot-high shelves run the length of the cavernous structure, and we wait by the table nearest the entrance. Only scribes may pass any farther, and I am a rider.

The thought brings a smile to my lips as a woman approaches in a cream tunic and hood, a single rectangle of gold woven onto her shoulder. A first-year. When she pulls the fabric from her head, baring long brown hair, and brings her gaze to meet mine, I full-on grin. I sign, “Jesinia!”

“Cadet Sorrengail, Cadet Melgren.” she signs back. Her bright eyes sparkle, but she smothers her smile.

For just this second, I abhor the rituals and customs of the scribes. There would be nothing wrong with her smiling at us, but she’d be chastised for a loss of composure. After all, how could we know how earnest the scribes are about their work, how dedicated they remain, if they were to crack a smile?

“It’s really good to see you,” I sign and can’t quit grinning. “I knew you’d pass the test.”

“Only because I studied with Violet for the past year,” she signs back, pressing her lips together so they don’t curve upward. Then her face falls. “I was horrified to hear about you being forced into the Riders Quadrant.” She turns to Violet. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assures her. “I’m bonded and…I’m happy.”

Her eyes widen. “Aren’t you constantly worried you’re going to—” She glances left and right, but there’s no one near enough to see us. “You know…die?”

“Sure.” She nods. “But oddly enough, you kind of get used to that.”

“Something like that.” I laugh quietly.

“If you say so.” She looks skeptical. “Let’s get you taken care of. Are these all returns?”

I nod and reach into the pocket of my pants for a small scroll of parchment and hand it to her before signing, “And a few requests from Professor Devera.” The unbonded in charge of our small library sends a list of requests and the returns every night, and we fetch them before breakfast, which is probably why my stomach is growling.

Burning all the extra calories from a combination of flight, sparring lessons and studying with Liam late into the night means I have an all-new capacity for food.

“Anything else?” she asks after putting the scroll in a hidden pocket in her robes.

I shake my head.

“Any chance you guys have a copy of The Fables of the Barren?” Violet signs.

Jesinia’s brow furrows. “I’m not familiar with that text.”

I blink. It’s strange. Jesinia is a scribe and she has been preparing for this her whole life.

“It’s not for academics or anything, just a collection of folklore my dad shared with us. A little on the dark side, honestly, but I love it.” Violet shrugs. “Wyvern, venin, magic, the battles of good and evil—you know, the good stuff.” She grins. If anyone understands her love of books, it’s Jesinia.

“I’ve never heard of that one, but I’ll look for it while I pull these.”

“Thank you. I’d really appreciate it.”

I know what she means. Now that we’re going to be the one wielding magic, we could use a few good folktales of what happens when humans defile the power channeled to them. No doubt they were written as a parable to warn us of the dangers of bonding dragons, but in Navarre’s six-hundred-year history of unification, I’ve never read of a single rider losing their soul to their powers. The dragons keep us from that.

Jesinia nods and pushes the cart, disappearing into the shelves.

It usually takes about fifteen minutes to gather the requests that come in from both professors and cadets in our quadrant, but I’m more than content to wait. Scribes come and go, some in groups as they train to become our kingdom’s historians.

“Violet?”

I turn to the left and see Professor Markham leading a squad of first-year scribes.

“Hello, Professor.” She smiles at him.

I keep my face emotionless around him. It is easier because I know he’ll expect it. After all I’m a Melgren.

“Professor.” I greet him.

“Cadet Melgren.” He nods and looks toward Violet. “I didn’t realize you had library chore duty.” He glances toward the spot in the shelves where Jesinia disappeared. “Are you being helped?”

“Jesinia—” she cringe. “I mean, Cadet Neilwart is most helpful.”

“You know,” he says to the squad of five as they arc around us, “Cadet Sorrengail here was my prized student until the Riders Quadrant stole her away.” His gaze meets her under his hood. “I had hopes she would return, but alas, she has bonded to not one but two dragons.”

A girl to his right gasps, then covers her mouth and mutters an apology.

“Don’t worry, all of us felt the same way,” I tell her.

“Perhaps you can explain something to Cadet Nasya over here, who was just griping that there’s not nearly enough fresh air in here.” Professor Markham turns his focus to a boy on his left. “This group is just starting their rotation in the Archives.”

Nasya turns beet red under his cream hood.

“It’s part of the fire mitigation system,” Violet tells him. “Less air, less risk of our history burning to the ground.”

“And the stuffy hoods?” Nasya lifts a brow at her.

“Makes it harder for you to stand out against the tomes,” she explains. “A symbol that no one and nothing is more important than the documents and books in this very room.”

“Exactly.” Professor Markham levels a glare at Nasya. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Cadet Sorrengail, we have work to attend. I’ll see you tomorrow in Battle Brief. Cadet Melgren you too.”

“Yes, sir.” I step back, giving the squad room to pass.

“Are you sad?” I ask Vi. She has a strange look on her face.

“It’s just… we’re here. We’re visiting the Archives. It’s hard, but no need to worry,” she tells me.

“It’s hard to love a second home as much as the first.” I smile sadly at her.

“It’s easy when the second home is the right one.” She smiles back.

And I know what she means. Home. That is what the Riders Quadrant has become to me—the right home. There is nothing that can match the adrenaline rush of flight.

Jesinia reappears with the cart, laden down with the requested books and bits of mail for the professors of our quadrant.

She signs, “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t find that book. I even searched the catalog for wyvern—I think that’s what you said—but there’s nothing.”

I stare for a second. Our Archives have either a copy or the original of almost every book in Navarre. Only ultrarare or forbidden tomes are excluded. When did folklore become either of those? Though, come to think of it, I never came across anything like The Fables of the Barren on the shelves while I was here with Violet. Chimera? Yes. Kraken? Sure. But wyvern or the venin that create them? None. Bizarre.

“That’s all right. Thank you for looking,” she signs back.

“You look different,” she signs to Violet, then hands the cart over. “Not bad different, just…different. Your face is leaner, and even your posture…” She shakes her head.

“I’ve been training.” She pauses “It’s hard, but great, too. I’m getting quicker on the mat.”

“How about you? Is it everything you wanted?” I ask Jesinia.

“It’s everything and more. So much more. The responsibility we have not only to record history but to speed information from the front lines is more than I ever could have imagined, and it’s so fulfilling.” She presses her lips together again.

„Good. I’m happy for you.” And I mean it.

“But I worry for you. Both of you.” She sucks in a breath. “The uptick in attacks along the border…” Concern etches lines into her forehead.

“I know. We hear about them in Battle Brief.” It’s always the same, striking at faltering wards, ransacking villages high in the mountains, and more dead riders.

“And Dain?” she asks Violet as we head for the door. “Have you seen him?”

Her smile falters. “That’s a story for another day.”

She sighs. “I’ll try and be here around this time so I can see you.”

“Sounds wonderful.” I sign as walk through the door she opens.

By the time we return the cart to the library and make it through the lunch line, our time is almost up, which means I’m busy shoveling food in my mouth as fast as I can while the members of my new squad chat around me. But it’s only Violet’s friends and Liam with Ethan. The others…They’ve refused to sit with anyone with a rebellion relic.

So, fuck them.

„It was the coolest thing ever,” Ridoc continues. “One second he was sparring against that third-year with the wicked broadsword skills, and then Sawyer—”

“You could let him tell the story,” Rhiannon chides, rolling her eyes.

“No thank you,” Sawyer counters, shaking his head, staring at his fork with a hefty dose of fear.

Ridoc grins, in all his glory telling the story. “And then the sword just twists in Sawyer’s hand, curving toward the third-year even though Sawyer was way off the mark.” He grimaces in Sawyer’s direction. “Sorry, man, but you were. If your sword hadn’t decided to warp and go straight for that guy’s arm—”

“You’re a metallurgist?” Liam’s eyebrows rise. “Really?”

Holy crap, Sawyer can manipulate metals. I force down a little more turkey and openly stare at him. As far as I know, he’s the first of us to display any form of power, let alone a signet.

Sawyer nods. “That’s what Carr says. Aetos dragged me straight to the professor when he saw it happen.”

“I’m so jealous!” Ridoc grabs his chest. “I want my signet power to manifest!”

“You wouldn’t be so excited if it meant you weren’t sure if your fork would stab into the roof of your mouth because you can’t control it yet.” Sawyer shoves his tray away.

“Good point.” Ridoc looks at his own tray.

“You’ll manifest when your dragon is ready to trust you with all that power,” Quinn says, then finishes off her water. “Just hope your dragons trust you before about six months and—” She makes a sound like an explosion and mimics it with her hands.

“Stop scaring the children,” Imogen says. “That hasn’t happened in”—she pauses to think—“decades.” When we all stare at her, she rolls her eyes. “Look, the relic your dragons transferred onto you at Threshing is the conduit to let all that magic into your body. If you don’t manifest a signet and let it out, then after a bunch of months, bad things happen.”

We all gawk.

“The magic consumes you,” Quinn adds, making the explosion sound again.

“Relax, it’s not like a hard deadline or something. It’s just an average.” Imogen shrugs.

“Fuck me, it’s always something around here,” Ridoc mutters.

“Feeling a little luckier now,” Sawyer says, staring at his fork.

“We’ll get you some wooden utensils,” I tell Sawyer. “And you should probably avoid the armory or sparring with… anything.” I grin at him.

Sawyer scoffs. “That’s the truth. At least I’ll be safe during flight this afternoon.”

Adding flight classes to our schedule has been essential since Threshing. The wings rotate for access to the flight field, and today is one of our lucky days of the week.

I feel a tingle in my scalp and know if I turn, I’ll find Xaden watching us. But I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking. He hasn’t said so much as a word to me since Threshing. And I don’t know what it means. I thought that we had a moment… or something.

But I realised that he ordered others to watch over Vi.

There’s always an upperclassman somewhere near when we’re walking the halls or headed to the gym at night.

And they all have rebellion relics.

It must be because of the bond.

“I like it better when we have it in the morning,” Rhiannon says, her face souring. “It’s way worse after we’ve eaten breakfast and lunch.”

“Agreed,” I manage between mouthfuls.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Imogen says to Violet as she and Quinn clear their trays, taking them back to the window for scullery.

“Is she any nicer when she’s training you?” Rhiannon asks.

“No. But she’s efficient.” She finishes the turkey as the room begins to clear, and we all make our way toward the scullery window.

„What’s Professor Carr like?” I ask Sawyer, then tuck my tray onto the stack. The wielding professor is one of the only ones I haven’t met, since I haven’t manifested a signet.

“Fucking terrifying,” Sawyer answers. “I can’t wait for the entire year to start wielding lessons so everyone can enjoy his particular brand of instruction.”

We head out through commons and the rotunda and into the courtyard, all buttoning up our coats. November has hit hard with gusty winds and frosted grass in the morning, and the first snow isn’t far behind.

“I knew it would work!” Jack Barlowe says ahead of us, dragging someone under his arm and thumping her head affectionately.

“Isn’t that Caroline Ashton?” Rhiannon asks, her mouth hanging open as Caroline heads toward the academic wing with Jack.

“Yeah.” Liam tenses. “She bonded Gleann this morning.”

“Wasn’t he already bonded?” Ethan watches them until they disappear into the wing.

“His rider died on our first flight lesson.” I focus on the gate ahead that leads to the flight field.

“So I guess the unbonded still have that shot they’re looking for,” Rhiannon mutters.

„Yeah.” Liam nods, his features tense. “They do.”

…

“You’re improving. You’ll be a good rider after all.” Aon remarks as we land on the flight field.

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.” I take deep breaths and try to calm my racing heart.

“Take it as you wish.”

I mentally roll my eyes and scoot out of the seat and I jump to the ground. The move has become so practiced that I barely even think about it anymore. “Besides, you could make it easier, you know.”

„Oh, I know.”

“I’m not the one putting us into spirals with steep banks while Kaori is teaching plain dives.” My feet hit the ground of the field, and I arch an eyebrow at Aon.

“I’m training you for battle. He’s teaching you parlor tricks.” He blinks a golden eye at me and looks away.

“I know you hide something from me. Don’t you want to tell me why we are preparing for battle?” I do all the checks Kaori has taught us, looking for any debris that could have lodged between the long, taloned toes of Aon’s claws or between the rock-hard scales of his underbelly.

“I’m not foolish enough to not know that I have something stuck in my flesh. And I already told you, that you need to learn first. If I were to tell you everything it would only draw unwanted attention. You’re smart. Use your brain, little one.”

“Fine.” I sigh. “And eventually you could call me Aelin, you know.” I take the time to examine every row of his scales. One of the biggest dangers to dragons are the smallest things they can’t remove that penetrate between the scales, causing infection.

“I know,” he replies. “And I could call you Sunshine like the wingleader.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I narrow my eyes as I move forward, checking where his chest begins to rise. “And you know how much that ass annoys me.”

“Annoys you?” Aon chuckles above me, the sound like a chuffing cat. “Is that what you call it when your heart rate—”

“Don’t even start with me.”

A growl rumbles through Aon’s chest above me and vibrates my very bones.

I turn around to see what made Aon annoyed.

It’s Dain. He approaches Violet.

Oh shit. I know that they haven’t spoken to each other since Threshing.

“You should watch over your friend. He seems angry.”

“Thanks mother hen, I can see it. But I won’t interfere, they need to talk it out.” I say as I watch them.

“Fine. But if he touches you, I will scorch him.” Aon grumbles.

“What? Why would he touch me?” I ask him.

„I’m hungry. I think I’ll partake in a flock of sheep.” He launches with great beats of his wings.

Hm. Interesting.

I see as Violet motions at Rhiannon to go on without her, and she walks ahead with the others, leaving Dain and her to bring up the rear.

I fall back at the edge of the field. I won’t leave her alone with him after Aon’s comment.

I act like someone who is looking for something in the grass. No one has accused me of creativity yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can’t keep your fucking seat?” I hear Dain shouts at her, grabbing her elbow.

What the fuck?

“I’m sorry?!” Violet yanks her arm out of his hold.

“All this time, I’ve been letting Kaori teach you, thinking he must have everything under control. After all, if the rider of the strongest dragon in the quadrant couldn’t keep her seat, then surely we’d all know.” He rips his hand over his hair. “Surely I would know if my best friend fell every fucking day that she flew!”

“It’s not a secret!” She shouts back. “Everyone in our wing knows! I’m sorry if you haven’t been keeping tabs on your squad, but trust me, Dain. Everyone knows. And I’m not going to stand here while you lecture me like I’m a child.” Violet turns around to follow our wing.

“You didn’t tell me,” he says, anger in his voice giving way to hurt as he catches up with her as I walk slowly after them.

“There’s not a problem.” She shakes her head. “Tairn can keep me buckled in magically if he needs to. I’m the one asking him to loosen the restraints. And I’d think twice before you question him. He’s more of the char-first-ask-questions-later type.”

“It’s a huge problem, because he can’t channel—

Oh shit, Dain. You’re digging your own grave.

„His full powers?” She asks as we make it out of the field, heading toward the steps that descend next to the Gauntlet. “I know that. Why do you think I’m up there asking him to loosen up?”

“You’ve been flying for a month, and you’re still falling.” I hear his voice as he follows Violet down the staircase.

“So is half the wing, Dain!”

“Not a dozen times, they aren’t,” he shoots back. He’s on her heels as she picks up her pace toward the path that will lead back to the citadel. “I just want to help you, Vi. How can I help?”

I halt at the mouth of the tunnel to give them some place. I’ve never seen Violet so angry before.

But I’m proud of her.

I slowly walk after them. I hope they’re done with the arguing.

„This place cuts away the bullshit and the niceties, revealing whoever you are at your core.” I hear Violet’s voice. “Isn’t that what you said to me? Is this who you really are at your core? Someone so enamored with rules that he doesn’t know when to bend or break them for someone he cares about? Someone so focused on the least I’m capable of doing, he can’t believe I can do so much more?”

Come on Vi, tell him!

“Let’s get one thing straight, Dain.” She takes a step closer. “The reason we’ll never be anything more than friends isn’t because of your rules. It’s because you have no faith in me. Even now, when I’ve survived against all odds and bonded not just one dragon but two, you still think I won’t make it. So forgive me, but you’re about to be some of the bullshit that this place cuts away from me.”

Sunlight overpowers me for a second as I walk into the courtyard after Vi. Classes are out for the afternoon, and I see Xaden and Garrick leaned up against the wall of the academic building like gods surveying their domain.

Xaden arches a dark eyebrow as she passes by.

She flips him the middle finger.

Oh wow, she is really pissed off.

“Everything all right?” I ask as I catch up to her.

“Dain is an ass—”

“Make it stop!” someone screams, rushing down the steps of the rotunda and holding his head. It’s a first-year in Third Wing who sits two rows beneath me in Battle Brief and perpetually drops his quill. “For gods’ sake, make it stop!” he shrieks, stumbling into the courtyard.

My hands hover over my blades.

A shadow moves to my left, and a glance tells me Xaden has moved, casually putting himself just ahead of Violet.

My heart clenches.

The crowd hollows, forming a circle around the first-year as he screams, clutching his head.

“Jeremiah!” someone shouts, coming forward.

“You!” Jeremiah spins, pointing his finger at the third-year. “You think I’ve lost it!” His head tilts, and his eyes flare. “How does he know? He shouldn’t know!” His tone shifts, like the words aren’t his own.

Chills race down my spine, dragging my stomach to the ground. Oh fuck.

“And you!” He spins again, pointing at a second-year in First Wing. “What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he screaming?” He turns again, focused on Dain. “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see that I just want to keep her alive? How is he…? He’s reading my thoughts!”

Jeremiah’s signet power is manifesting. He can read minds—an inntinnsic. His power is a death sentence.

Violet stumbles backward on my left—gently shoved back—and I don’t need to look to know whose muscled arm now brushes my shoulder as Violet stands behind us. The scent of mint somehow steadies my heartbeat. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Liam as he stands on my right.

Jeremiah unsheathes his shortsword. “Make it stop! Can’t any of you see? The thoughts won’t stop!” His panic is palpable, clogging my own throat.

“Do something,” Violet begs Xaden, glancing up at him.

His unwavering, lethal focus is on Jeremiah, but his body tenses at her plea.

 “Start mentally reciting whatever book you can think of.” I turn to Violet.

“I’m sorry?” She asks, looking at me with wide eyes.

„If you value your secrets, clear your thoughts. Now,” I order her. “He’s an inntinnsic and you really don’t want him to read your mind.”

“And you!” Jeremiah turns, his gaze locking on Garrick. “Damn it all to hell. He’ll know about—” The shadows around Jeremiah’s feet snake up his legs in a heartbeat, winding around his chest until they cover his mouth in bands of black.

I swallow the boulder in my throat.

Damn. I don’t want to know what Garrick was thinking.

A professor pushes through the crowd, his shock of white hair bouncing with every step of his large frame.

“He’s an inntinnsic!” someone shouts, and that seems to be all that’s necessary.

The professor grips Jeremiah’s head with both hands, and a crack echoes off the walls of the silent courtyard. Xaden’s shadows melt away and Jeremiah falls to the ground, his head at an unnatural, macabre angle. His neck is broken.

The professor bends down and lifts Jeremiah’s body with surprising strength, carrying him into the rotunda.

Xaden inhales sharply beside me, then walks away with Garrick, headed toward the academic wing. Nice to see you, too.

“Maybe I don’t want a signet power after all,” Ridoc murmurs.

“That death is merciful compared to what will happen if you don’t manifest one,” Dain says, and I swear I start to feel my relic burn across my back even though my dragon hasn’t started channeling.

“And that,” Sawyer says from Rhiannon’s side, “was Professor Carr.”

…

“What did you learn today?” I hear a voice and see The General in front of me.

“What?” I ask slightly disoriented.

Where am I? And how did I get here?

“Don’t you even understand simple questions? You’re useless!” He steps closer with a dagger in his hand. “What did that marked boy thought when the inntinnsic read his mind?”

“I… I don’t know.” I stutter as I tried to step back, but my legs don’t move. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Don’t lie to me!” He shouts and steps closer. “Your only value is the information you bring. Now tell me!”

“I didn’t hear anything! I swear.” I whisper in a broken voice. I can’t betray them.

“Would you die for them?” He growls inches from me.

“Please.” I beg and I see as he raises his dagger, ready to use it.

I shut my eyes and I can feel tears running down on my face.

„WAKE.” A familiar, consuming voice rumbles through my dreams. A voice that doesn’t belong here.

“You’re useless. I should have let you die.”

„Wake up!” The walls around me tremble, and my heart jolts. “Now!”

My eyes fly open, and I gasp as the dream disintegrates. I’m not there. I’m in my room in the Riders Quadrant.

It was a nightmare. Only a nightmare.

“Move!” Aon bellows. “Your friend is in danger!”

What?

I quickly get up and grab my daggers as I wipe off my tears.

“Violet? Is she in danger?” I ask Aon as I run out of my room.

I wear the armor which Mira gave me, and a short. It’s not the best for a fight but it will do.

“Yes.”

I quickly made my way toward Violet’s room and my blood freezes at scene what I see after I open her door.

One of the unbonded is gripping Vi’s throat as he holds her against the wall.

“Now you’re fucking dead!” I growl at them as I feel the rage inside me.

“Shit. It’s Melgren!” One of them shouts as they turn toward me.

I move my blade and fend off one attack from the left, slicing down a woman’s forearm, and then another to the right, stabbing into a man’s thigh. I quickly bring up my dagger and slice it across his throat.

I can feel his blood on my face, but I don’t have time to wipe it off.

I kick out with my heel and catch another in the gut as he attacks, sending him careening back onto Violet’s bed, his sword tumbling after him.

“Stop, or I will kill her!” I hear the man says who holds Violet.

I freeze and look at them. He holds his dagger against Violet’s throat.

Shit. I try to come up with a plan to save us, but they have the advantage.

Think Aelin! Think!

“Drop your daggers!” He orders. “Now!”

I open my hands and I hear my daggers rattle on the floor.

The woman whose arm was cut quickly collects them.

“Now you’re not that confident aren’t you?” The other man who is with them asks as he punches me in the face.

Damn. It hurts.

I can feel the blood in my mouth. My lips been split.

“Cat got your tounge, Melgren?” He teases.

“You hit like a girl.” I say as I spit the blood in his face.

“Bitch.” He growls and lands a punch in my ribs.

I bend forward trying to catch my breath, and he kicks my legs out from under me.

“Do you have anything else to say?” He asks as he grabs my hair and pulls my head back.

„He’s almost there!” Aon promises, panic lacing his tone.

He who? I can’t breathe.

“Oh, a lot.” I smile at him mockingly. I try to distract them until ‘he’ arrives.

I hear a crack and pain radiates from my nose along with my blood.

He fucking broke my nose.

“Finish her!” one of them yells toward Violet’s captor. “He’ll only respect us if we finish her!”

Shit. They’re after Tairn.

Air rushes into my lungs as I watch as cold metal caresses her throat, the oxygen flooding my blood and clearing my head enough to realize this is it. We’re going to die. From one heartbeat to what will probably be my last, an overwhelming sorrow seizes my chest, and I can’t help but wonder if I would have made it. Would I have been strong enough to graduate? Would I have become worthy of Aon?

The bedroom door flies open, the wood splintering as it slams against the stone wall, but I don’t have a chance to turn to see who is standing there before I can feel something strange.

I lock eyes with Vi and it’s as if everyone in this room is frozen in place…except us.

[chocodilereplies]

Shelter (Part 2)

(Read Part 1 here!)

The snow was falling fast and thick as the four travelers made their way through the ruins. The town was old, a mixture of simple brick structures constructed soon after the fall of the Old Kingdoms interspersed with newer, larger buildings toward the center. Many of the older buildings’ roofs, weakened by moisture and neglect, had collapsed, leaving little more than rectangles of rubble half-buried in the snow. Other buildings were eerily intact--so much so that from certain angles they might almost look lived in, if not for the thick sheets of ice that had frozen them in time.

The snow was deep and the ground beneath was rough and uneven, making movement difficult. Alex, light on her feet, scouted ahead. She darted around, pausing at each building to peer through broken windows and blow-out doorways, her large ears twitching as she searched.

Ridge followed, only marginally encumbered by the heavy backpack slung over his broad, well-muscled shoulders. Behind him came Theo, trotting gingerly along the thick path the Shark's tail carved through the fresh snow. Trailing furthest back was Hyden, slow and uncertain, his walking cane nearly useless in the difficult terrain. Theo frequently darted back to guide him down a slope or hold his hand through an especially uneven patch of trail.

"I do not… hahhh… enjoy… being so far…. from civilization." the Rabbit panted as Theo helped him over a piece of rubble.

“This place used to be Stonebrook.” Ridge called from up ahead. “Old timber town. Built up after the Fall. Much of the wood for the Great Rail Line came from here.”

“Ya can still see it on old rail maps. But ‘round, oh, thirty years ago, the cold got to it. One by one, people started to leave. Buildings closed up, boarded up. Brook froze up. You couldn’t farm. Couldn’t use the roads.”

“For a few years, loggers came out here in the summer. Place ran seasonally. But even that stopped after a while. Don’t think anyone’s lived here for oh, 10 years? Judgin’ by the state of things.”

Ridge paused, glancing back at the stragglers with a grin. “Funny how that works. Destroy the world and they stop maintain’ the roads.”

Suddenly, Alex stopped. Whatever mysterious criteria she was measuring had been met. “Here.” she said, gesturing towards the large double doorway of what appeared to be a hotel. One by one, the group made their way into the boarded-up husk.

Inside, the foyer was very much intact. Icicles hung from cloudy, dirty light fixtures like some sort of crystalline fungus, and a few leaky holes in the roof had transformed into great pillars of ice in the years since that the building had been abandoned.

But other than that, the room appeared much the same as it would have a decade ago. Stools and tables were piled densely in the corner, thick with debris and sprinkled with a sugar-dusting of frost that glittered in the lantern light. A curved front desk dominated a corner of the room, its polished wood soft and bloated in places, its drawers empty. Faded wallpaper peeled from the moisture-rotted walls like dead flesh, revealing cracked plaster and lathe bones beneath. Though shabby and dilapidated, it was no trouble at all to imagine people living here.

"Once upon a time, this here was some kinda highfalutin hotel with warm, cozy beds. Bet there'd be a big fireplace where you could rest 'n' put your feet up. Maybe even have a bar with some fine-looking barmaids… oh, if only things were different, eh?" Ridge nudged Hyden, shooting him a sharp-toothed grin. The sour look on the Rabbit's face confirmed his jabs had successfully found their target.

"Oh, not all this again!" Hyden snapped. "’Destroy the world,’ ‘If only…’ Gods! Let the topic die, Belov. Your meandering ill-faith accusations exhaust me, and I am exhausted enough at present.” He cast a scathing look Ridge’s way. But the fire seemed to leave him quickly, flickering out into smoke, replaced with a deep weariness. “Now, I shall excuse myself. I must find someplace to sit before my knees give out.” Cane in hand, he hobbled stiffly toward the desk.

"Well then. What, pray tell, is so special about this location?" asked Theo, eager to pick up the snippy disagreeable mood Hyden had left behind. "It was quite the arduous trek. We passed a number of intact structures along the way."

"Hotel means guests. Guests mean hot water.” Alex was wandering the perimeter of the room, peering down the dark hallways. “Several boilers in the basement, I’d bet. Best chance we have of finding a spare part for the Prowler." She cocked her head, ears angled toward the spiraling black. “Basement door’s this way.”

From the other side of the room came Hyden’s voice. "What is a 'boiler'?"

Alex and Ridge ignored Hyden's question and began unpacking their camp. (Theo, of course, set about explaining it when it became clear nobody else would.)

(Read Part 3 here!)

[firstservepercentage]

USO kit tier list based on my bias

(just the players I normally watch)

WTA:

Tier A+

coco - NB's design and colour choice always makes so much sense. the back side design and the width of the skirt's folds are supre cute 🥺 they actually use their brain when designing kits!

naomi - without the jacket its maybe just so so, but an absolute banger with the jacket on. should be remembered as a historically significant kit for tennis fashion. and the headphones ohmygawd 🥺🥺🥺 who ever think this kit is not cute can fight me

Tier A

maria - whenever she gets a tank top kit she serves hard. nice colour choice and skirt design by addidas (cant believe im saying that) so sad it only existed for 1 set 😭

marta - wilson just going with the 1 dress design that worked well in every slam and its still working well. the skirt's texure looked so nice in the wind

Tier B

dasha & karo - a bit boring but suits their vibes well

qinwen - same. would like some brighter colours but was fine

katie & bibi - the actual best nike WTA kit. lilac looks cute especially under sunlight, but the design is a bit too boring for me

Tier C

elena - colour is cute, she looks like a barbie in pink, but 0 design and 0 sense in the patterning choice. looks like some swim suit my mom would buy me when I was 10

aryna (nigh match version)- how dare they call that a custom kit i can do the same design in 10 mins

Iga - bisexual flag colour but a low saturation version. also points taken off for their kits starting to look like wet tissue 20 mins into a match

Tier D

Mirra & Paula - hate the colour hate the design. nike how dare you put that ugly ass kit on them die and rot in hell

jasmine - (a) its the same north american hard court swing kit asics making 0 effort as usual (b) i do not understand that colour choice like why dull reddish purple with bright orange. what made you think of that

ATP:

Tier A+

daniil- nice colours, nice jacket, nice little design around the chest part, nice shoes. wth lacoste you can actually design???????

Tier A

Adidas people - contrary to their RG series the purple-ish blue the used this time works very well with black & white and minimalist design

Carlos - black sleeveless will never not look nice on him but its still a bit boring. would love to have a bit more special texture, with that it will def be A+

Francis - the only person that got the good nike kit (i.e. the lilac kit) in ATP if im not mistaken

Tier B

lorenzo (musetti) i like guys who wear barbie pink and look proud wearing it

matteo - not super interesting design but colour is cute. also he looks nice in polo shirts

Grigor - standard lacoste design with reasonable colour choice

Tier B-

Jannik- the kit was okay and looked a bit better than i expected. im just still a angry about his 1st set

casper - its actually okay but he kind of looked exactly the same as his opponent so i really had a hard time watching 😭

Tier C

novak - i dont understand the design why so many squares and rectangles sir can you explain. it just makes him look more like a tennis robot with implanted AI

holger (the purple kit) - should have just taken the barbie pink one

ben - same with iga. seriously i would like to know how much ON has paid them to wear those wet tissue kits

Taylor - it looks fine but 0 design, just went for the safest choice

Tier D

Jack - (a) i do not understand the back side design (b) nike how did you make the T shirt look oversized for a 193cm tall and rather muscular athlete wtf

Alex - is that pattern choice meant to make his opponent dizzy by looking at him or something

[preciouslandmermaid]

of songbirds, swords, and spice (6)

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tw/cw: violence/blood/mentions of slavery/threats of violence against children/mentions/implications of past abuse note: haven't written them in forever so it all feels ooc but i literally wrote this nonstop for 2 hours so...im sorry if its delirious xoxo

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

(masterpost)

<- (previous chapter)

Your heart swelled as Nightingale port came into view and your grip tightened around the warm, wooden railing. Nothing tasted sweeter than the fresh, briny air of home. Home, you smiled to yourself, I never thought I’d have one of those after being on the run for nine years. Your settlement in Nightingale was almost at its fifth anniversary, and with Estella’s treasure in your hands, you allowed yourself the tentative hope you’d reach the tenth anniversary someday.

Luffy fell into place beside you and said, “I can’t wait to see what Sanji cooks to celebrate.”

Your lips twitched upward and the memory of the night before lingered like warm rice wine in your veins. Sanji, asking for your favorite dish, promising to find a way to make it, and asking if you’d ever dream of staying aboard the Going Merry. Could you? More importantly, did you want to? Nami’s thoughtful, empathetic expression in the pale moonlight, her hair pastel, her eyes glimmering. Zoro smirking and calling you out for your selfless actions within the cavern. Luffy’s bright and magnetic presence. Usopp, laughing and playing with the children.

Wait. What were you thinking? You couldn’t leave Estella. You promised yourself that you’d remain by her side. She needed you. You forced your cramping fingers to relax on the railing.

“Luffy?” You swallowed.

Luffy stood with his hands interlaced behind his neck. “Uh, yeah?”

“What if you don’t become King of the Pirates? What will you do?”

You glanced at him. His dark brows furrowed as sunlight dappled through the straw hat’s weave, creating a myriad of light-born freckles on his forehead.

“Keep trying,” he finally answered with a loose shrug.

The pragmatic in you couldn’t help it – you said, “What if you die?”

Would he seriously spend his entire life trying to become King of the Pirates? Would he die for his dream? His expression softened.

“That’s kind of a morbid thought, don’t you think? He smiled. “Anyway.” He gestured to the island. “We have a delivery to make!”

“I’m home!” You called, gently dropping Mimi onto the shiny floors, and watching her prance away toward one of the side rooms. At the continued silence, you glanced back at the Straw Hats in the entryway and yelled louder, “Grandma! We’re back!”

“Uh—” Usopp peered his head around the doorframe. “Maybe she stepped out?”

“Something’s off,” you said, a trickle of sweat slid down your spine. You heard the telltale creak of Zoro gripping the handle of his blade and Sanji fell into step behind you. The harsh, white daylight poured into the main foyer in a stark rectangle silhouetted by your shadows.

BAM! The front door slammed shut. Usopp released a quick, startled scream.

Estella’s wheelchair emerged from around the corner. Your eyes jerked from her tear-stained face to the man pushing her and your lungs threatened to capsize.

“No,” you said thickly.

A tall, late middle-aged man wore a thin, drooping mustache, and his narrow lips twisted into a smarmy, self-absorbed smirk. A golden wasp brooch was pinned to the lapel of his shiny, velvety plum suit. Your mouth thickened with saliva. No, no, no. Not you.

“Nine years,” he drawled. He narrowed an eye at you, as his other eye was covered by an eye patch.

The nearby shadows moved and his men, his enforcers – his goons – slowly encircled your group, glaring, their clubs and swords brandished. Your fingers twitched. Could you use your kusarigama in time? Could you reach Estella? You needed to save her.

Clover’s distraught voice came from the top of the stairs, “Big sister!” The unknown man who held Clover in his arms pressed a knife too close to her small throat.

A flare of protectiveness ignited in your heart. “Don’t you dare touch her,” you snarled. You knew this cretin – this piece of shit, scum at the bottom of the ocean – because he was the source of your torment as a child. He was your jailer and your cage. And you knew that he wasn’t above hurting children. Clover, little Aiden, Utakuro, Ann, and Badger were all in danger.

He was Victor Wasp – an entrepreneur of great renown in specific, vile circles.

Luffy raised his fists. “Let them go!”

“Picking on elderly women and children,” Sanji said and ‘tsked’ under his breath.

Zoro chimed in, “Pathetic.”

“Nine years,” Victor continued as if none of the Straw Hats had spoken. “I’ve spent searching for you. It’s time to come home, sweet plum.” His smile was cruel.

Fuck. What were you doing?! You weren’t powerless. You weren’t a scared little kid anymore. Your skull filled with Clover’s hiccuped cries from the staircase landing. You opened your mouth. You would scream. You would sing. You would do whatever was necessary to save them.

The barrel of a gun pressed into Estella’s temple.

“Mouth shut!” Victor snapped and your teeth clicked together.

Estella cried your name. “Run,” she pleaded, “go, please!”

“I’m not leaving you.” Your throat prickled.

“Let’s not make this so dramatic,” said Victor, “it’s time for you to come home. Come home and come quietly and I’ll let everyone in the town live.”

The floor swayed beneath your feet. The town? You had to have misheard him. You opened your mouth to ask, but Zoro beat you to it.

“What the hell are you yammering about?” he asked, his tone contemptuous.

“What?” Victor laughed. “Did you think I wasn’t planning this for weeks in advance?” He clicked his tongue twice and one of his enforcers, wearing an all-black suit like the rest, wiggled a stick of dynamite in his hand. You should’ve expected that Victor Wasp would have multiple backup plans. He’d watch the whole town burn before losing his merchandise. But he had lost you, you reminded yourself, nine years you’ve been free of him. You exhaled shakily through your nostrils. That freedom had been an illusion, though. Those moments of joy, of friendship and…You thought of Sanji helping you cook, his lithe body moving through the fragrant haze of steam,...and connection, they had all been temporary. A balm to delay the inevitable.

You swallowed with difficulty. He found me. He’ll take me back.

“She’s not coming with you,” Luffy shouted, “and we’re not going to let you blow the town up!”

The Straw Hats tensed around you – preparing themselves for an all-out battle. No. No. You weren’t going to let them get hurt or killed on account of your past mistakes. Nothing else mattered but the seven-year-old girl upstairs crying for her ‘big sister’ to save her.

You placed your hand on Luffy’s wrist. “Luffy, it’s my choice, right?”

“Huh?”

“If you make me stay,” you said, “if you make me fight alongside you, then you’re taking away my choice, and you’re no better than him.”

His dark brown eyes squinted in confusion, then were cleared by a sudden understanding. Your breath caught. His capability for quick empathy was honestly disconcerting.

“You sure? We could take him on just like we took out that spider-lady,” he said with an encouraging grin.

“What are you doing?” hissed Nami.

Usopp whispered, “She’s taking the diplomatic route!”

You nodded. “If it’s my life over theirs, then I’m choosing them. There’s no question.”

Luffy lowered his fists and the rest of his crew followed his lead, but they didn’t look happy. Except for Usopp, he looked relieved.

“Make it a clean break,” said Victor, “you know how I hate a mess and my boys can handle it.”

Between the lines, you understood what Victor was asking. He wanted you to use your devil fruit power to knock everyone out so that he, his team, and you could leave without any risk of interference. A foggy cloud of suspicion and confusion fell over the Straw Hats and they looked to you for guidance. You blinked back your tears. After this, whatever budding trust existed between you would be reduced to ash.

“Don’t fight him, Luffy,” you reminded him.

“How about me?” Zoro asked, one hand on the hilt of his sword, “Can I fight him?”

“No!” You removed Pandora's box from your bag. “I’m not letting anyone die for me.” You passed the box to Luffy, who still looked incredibly confused and concerned. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, for Estella, for Nightingale.”

Your melodic voice spilled from your lungs. An old song. It was a lullaby you used to sing during thunderstorms to help little Aiden fall asleep. Zoro clamped his hands over his ears, glaring at you, as the rest of the Straw Hats – except for Luffy being immune – collapsed to the floorboards like a sack of turnips. As you expected, Victor’s bodyguards remained standing, and you guessed they were prepared with earplugs like the staff at the ‘golden cupid’.

Zoro held your gaze. He didn’t know fuck-all about what was happening, but he knew trouble when he saw it, and that prick in the purple suit? That asshole was trouble. And worse of all, you were choosing to go with him. Didn’t you trust them? Didn’t you trust Luffy? What about him? He saved your life, didn’t he? Zoro’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth. Your song ended once you stood beside Estella, your eyes shone bright with unshed tears. Dammit!

“Make sure they stay put,” the asshole said with a lackadaisical wave of his hand.

Someone grabbed Zoro’s arms and tried to pin them to his sides. He shouted his indignation and bodily shouldered the assailant away.

He shouted your name, running forward, because like hell he was going to let you just run off like that. He remembered what happened when Nami ‘ran off’. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. You might not be part of the crew, but you didn’t let go of Luffy’s hand, and that counted for something. He didn’t know what it counted for, he just knew it counted, and dammit—where the hell was he!? He spun in a half-circle. He thought he was following you.

“Zoro,” Luffy called to his back and Zoro skidded to a stop. His heart drummed inside his chest and pounded through his fingertips.

“Let her go,” he said.

“Are you serious?”

He nodded. “We can’t risk the whole town. She wouldn’t want that.” He gestured behind him to where Estella was asleep in her chair. “Estella wouldn’t want that.”

“An asshole like him was probably lying,” Zoro bit out.

He patted Zoro’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll track him down and bring her back.”

Zoro grumbled.

Sanji awoke with his face pressed into the carpet. He mumbled incoherently and dragged a hand through his hair. It was a restful, but confusing little nap. Hadn’t they all been moments away from a fight? The world blinked into focus as soft, whimpering cries surrounded him.

Crying for me? He wondered before lucidity grasped him and the memories rapidly filtered through. No, they’re crying for their songbird.

Estella wept, clutching the Pandora's box in her wrinkly, weathered hands. “I’ve gained one treasure and lost another,” she said.

Sanji slowly rose to his knees. Clover sat on the floor by Estella’s chair in Nami’s lap, with her long ebony hair neatly braided, though her face was red and sticky with snot and tears. Zoro leaned against the wall, arms crossed, scowling straight ahead. He recalled his haze at the golden cupid after the beautiful voice swept all his worries away and carried him off into a sweet, honey-dipped melody. There was something different about you. Something strange. You sang and...everyone disappeared? Everyone, except for Zoro and Luffy, looked dazed and bleary-eyed.

“Madam Estella,” Sanji's voice was hoarse, “what happened?”

“Her voice is her greatest weapon,” she said, then looked at Luffy. “It doesn’t work on other devil fruit eaters.”

“She puts people to sleep with her voice,” Zoro guessed.

“Among other things,” Estella said, her voice high and wobbly with grief.

Nami asked, “Who was that guy with the wasp brooch?”

Unfortunately, Sanji could guess – perhaps not the man’s name, but his occupation. He spoke to you like you were his property and Sanji hated him instantly. A low-life scum who threatened women and children? Sanji wished he could’ve had the chance to kick his teeth in.

The older woman shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “He was our employer,” her tone was stiff, “never got paid for a single honest day’s work.”

“You were slaves.”

“Quick girl, aren’t you?” Estella glanced meaningfully at Nami’s tattoo. She sighed, smoothing her knobby fingers over the ivory box, and said, “We were slaves until she ate the fruit and we escaped together. I should have known Victor wouldn’t give up. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let us settle here…”

Luffy said, “It’s not your fault.”

“I will tell you our tale and you can be the judge of that, young pirate,” replied Estella.

“Victor was a man with a mean tongue and a meaner hand. He often complained of headaches, so all of his staff was commanded to be as silent as possible. You either memorized creaky floorboards or you were locked out of the house and kept in the doghouse for three nights.”

You stared up at the flags of Victor’s ship. It was a tacky design, of course, with his big hornet motif. One of his goons shoved you in the middle of your shoulder blades. You tossed a glare over your shoulder and bit into the damp gag in your mouth.

“I caught her in the study. Her face was covered in juice, and I knew at once what she had done.”

The floorboards creaked as you mounted the plank and you flinched with every groan of the great ship pulling against the ropes. The day started with hope and it would end in terror.

“She buried the box in the yard but came back to check to see if she missed anything. I yelled at her to get cleaned up before Mr. Wasp came home.”

Another one of Victor’s goons approached you, carrying a wooden pail, and you braced as the cold, sharp saltwater was dumped over your head. You blinked your eyes and glared at Victor through the blur of salty, barbed tears.

“And came home he did. The staff was questioned. He was meticulous about his things, you see. He kept a catalog of every pen, every bullet casing, and every spare berry. There was no escaping his scrutiny. He lined us all up.”

Your breath shuddered unevenly. Another bucket of water sluiced down your face and saturated your clothes. It was overkill, but it proved how nervous Victor was, and how he both despised and desired the power of your voice in equal measure.

“I lied for her. I said Victor’s son, Teddy, stole things from the study all the time to pay off his gambling debts. But, Victor didn’t believe me. He began to...to beat me in front of everyone. And my baby songbird, she opened her mouth, and screamed, and everything – everything shattered.”

Your legs kicked uselessly as they lifted you from beneath your armpits and carried you into the brig. You whipped your head back, intent on keeping Victor in your sights, and shouted muffled curses and profanities against the gag.

“Glass everywhere. Everyone screaming and clutching their ears. I couldn’t hear the words he said to her, but I saw the fear on her face, and I saw the hunger in his eyes and I knew – I knew that if I did nothing – I knew that – that – that he’d hurt her.”

BAM! Your shoulder and forehead sang with pain as they connected sharply with the wood. A flurry of stars danced in front of your vision. Your wet cheek pressed into the floor as you turned your head and peered through the iron bars at Victor’s feet. He crouched to meet your eyes.

“He is missing an eye because I took the nearest piece of glass – or pottery – or something else, I don’t know – and I struck him with it.”

Victor wordlessly lifted his eye patch to show you the scattered, mosaic scars that sealed his eyelid closed. A swell of bile surged in your throat at the memory of Estella’s bloody, slick fingers clinging to yours. He lowered the patch and stood upright, smiling.

Estella dabbed her eyes. “I took her hand and we’ve spent five years on the run, looking over our shoulders, until we found Nightingale. It was stupid for us to stay. I see that now. And now she’ll be punished for my folly.”

Sanji said quickly, “We have to save her.” He could read between the lines of Estella’s story. Victor wanted a return on his investment and wanted revenge for your actions nine years ago. There was no telling what he might do.

Zoro glared at him. “Calm down, cook. She’s not some damsel in distress waiting for a knight in shining armor.”

He glared back. “You’re not the knight in this scenario. Obviously.”

“We are going to save her,” Luffy said, stopping their argument before it began earnestly. “Tell us where they’re going and we’ll catch up to them.”

“Why?” Estella blinked.

“Because we’re pirates,” he replied simply. Her wrinkled face crumpled, deepening the lines around her mouth and eyes, before a fresh onslaught of sobs racked her frame. Sanji grabbed her soft, weathered hand.

He said, “Madam Estella, tell us everything you remember about Victor.” He gave her palm a gentle squeeze. “It’ll hopefully give us an advantage in the fight ahead.”

“We don’t need any advantages,” Zoro said, “if I stab him, he’ll bleed.”

“We haven’t seen him bleed yet,” said Usopp quietly.

[imaginary-regret-608]

[SwilTaett] - The Forbidden Fruit Effect (Grimpula's Backstory)

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

“the fashion break was a little long”

“but thats just how it is sometimes”

“anyways”

“Later.”

After the visuals had been changed back to the seemingly empty and lifeless ‘PLS STAY TUNED’ screen, alongside the audio recording being cut simultaneously, it was clear to everyone and everything that the stream was over with everyone free to leave. Now she was able to return to her usual quality of life, which, after a brief moment of consideration… wasn't all that different. 

However, something was clearly spotted after looking through the analytics of today's apparition adventure. Viewer engagement was at an all-time low point, nearly matching what was being seen when first starting streaming, however long ago that really was. It might not have been clear to anybody who might've been watching, but this was a cause for concern, feeling as though she was “literally” going to die at any coming moment.

Ridden to be sick, and stuck to the screen, she decided to escape to wherever her phone and its algorithms would decide to take her today. Doomed to suffer and scroll as her every existence and history to be searched for was fading like a dying battery.

Click, click, tap, tap...

...Okay, that was definitely overdramatic, even for you.

Yet this fact was pretty much disregarded by her through continuing to act as normal, and for a reason as to which none know why. This corner of the Puzzle Palace was a free-range minute of heaven or hell. What could be discovered when in the break room could range from ‘Did you know? VA opportunities are always open!’ and ‘GO TO pressf1.4helpress.complainer@gmail.com - DO IT’, to ‘sexy vampire band boys want to meet you!’ all whilst being periodically pestered by the reminders of curfew enforced by Excell V. IyAy.

Click, click, tap, tap...

The few words heard and read before the next swipe began to blur together. But something came. Something new, in the form of an overly eccentric notification. 

“chex it out!!!1! tailblayzer590775 reblogged joor latest post!!”

Despite her community usually being filled with oddball relatives, this was a new name, and by extension a new viewer and number to join the regularly scheduled occult streams. Even though he had only just appeared on her feed, there was already a vibe to him in the flaunting of his excessive and strange love of sports in the way he'd worded his response. 

“nice Face rectangle”

“but you.should Probably charge yoursrlf.”

Her face was quick to have a wincing-like reflex to what she just read. He's somehow already been able to demonstrate himself as being a total idiot. Believing that the JPEG battery image seen in the upper right hand corner of the photo was her actual social battery, even if the differences between the both of them don’t leave much to the imagination. As the growing urge to mess with this ‘tailblayzer’ became harder to ignore, she eventually went onto his profile seeking his most recent post. After finding it though, there was only one thing on her mind...

Damn. 

That actually is a cool aesthetic, especially with how well the darker tones and simplistic shape of the rounded figure contrast with the pointed tips of the sunglasses and the white shine seen as a reflection of an unknown light-

...Yeah. 

And after being temporarily subdued by the surprisingly effective design choices of this guy’s most recent profile picture, as if hypnotized, she'd remembered what she originally visited for. After an observation much closer to face value than her first attempt ever could’ve been, she had built the perfect expression of both her thoughts and feelings towards this likely accidental stroke of genius color theory presentation...

“cool shades”

The mechanical hands of the room’s wall-mounted clock turned to 7:04 PM as this response was sent, and she didn't even notice the question of ‘Dont i look Cool’ attached to the image, meaning that she somehow managed to give the exact answer that was being looked for. It turns out that accidental luck was all she needed to want to keep the troll going, waiting and watching with anticipation. So she waited...

And waited...

And waited even further, slowly beginning to convince herself that there won’t be another response, and that this would be how her last moments were spent. Laying on a dirty mattress, unevenly set out on the floor despite having some of the best real estate when living in the Puzzle Palace, staring at a still screen for a reply that never seems to come. Slowly being forgotten as the streamer of the month, ending as she started, with no name in this digital world to call her own. Wait, what do you mean it’s been an hour...?

That’s when it happened. The ‘tailblazer’ that feels like he’s taken forever and a half to form a basic response, like that length of time was ever even possible to begin with, has finally written the most simplistic and repeated rewording of your previous comment that could’ve possibly been conceived. There begins to feel like there’s a growing feeling of him attempting to retaliate by giving back a taste of her own backhanded medicine: 

“Thanks about the Shades”.

Being able to sense the almost snarky nature, she was quick to think of a comeback. However, her quick fingers were no match for the intuition of this slithering sports sucker, as for some reason...

“your Welcome”

“its Okay i Know that im Cool”

Is he... responding to his own reblogs, like, like a total narcissistic and oblivious idiot????? She supposes that it would be a fitting thing to happen considering how he chose to first introduce himself. However, this felt like it was beyond a new level for somebody whose username was clearly based on the word ‘trailblazer’.

“you sent the youre welcome

what are you talking about?

do you know who i am?”

Beginning to look a lot like a pointless back-and-forth, she began to grow tired and irritable with every new reply that she was waiting for from all of this. It was better than having to wear that low, flowy dress for each time Excell decided to do a “wellness check” on his guest rooms and , but not as fun as seeing Helpress get yelled at for dragging suspicious attachments into the palace from all the unethically-sourced parts he uses to make whatever gadget or gizmo his square-shaped, debatably-existent brain comes up with at 2 A.M. before going directly back to bed.

“no ?

i do Not know who You are”

This lack of recognition was almost enough to make her sarcastically cough up a hairball out of sheer disappointment - but by maintaining her typical demeanor, she was able to cement herself in the place where she was meant to be, breaking free from this trance of time-wasting... escaping from her own relapse of reblogs, saving her sane in the process. She turns off the screen, and takes an unexpectedly long catnap. 

But whilst in the grasp of sleep, even her dreams were occupied with what could come from that conversation, however, it was all blanketed in spirals, slithering and static. Bathed in a blue screen which never ends with words which blur together faster than her fleeting memory. Letting out a piercing hiss as she shoots upward, awaking from her deep swept slumber, yet just as quickly returning to her usually monotone state. Now back to the norm, the masked sense of dread and debilitating headache was soon to follow... how devastating.

This would be the routine for the next few days, with the theoretical and personalised doomsday clock looming over, ticking down by the second. Day, after day, after day, after day after day...

But as soon it happens as it started, with something different manifesting in the form of an eccentric notification from D.Daess. This time it’s instead about... tailblazer590775... directly following your account??? And even re-liking some of the reblogs you sent, for some reason? Well. This is a surprisingly and seemingly soft reaction after being left on read for six days straight. For seeing him perform an act that was either somehow through a sudden sense of kindness, or complete and utter obliviousness, you decide to return to the post that started it all, and write the most complimentary thing that you could muster at the time:

“you know what

i like you and your vibe

You’re mine now.”

Nevermind, that sounds like you're taking charge again, and being catty about it all while you're at it. However, the questionably-unintended side effects of sounding like a badass are definitely welcome in your book... 

“does That mean like a Pet

Because i am bag sized”

Wait… he wants that? Well, despite the shift in tone that this conversation so suddenly took, the idea of having a small and portable mascot was becoming more entertaining every time you thought about it.

“sure

prepare to be carried around like a chihuahua”

“Does that Mean that i get a Cool training montage ?”

“no

thats too cliche if youre working with me

We’ll be doing this my way.”

Being lucky enough to end the conversation on such a powerful note was the result that you both needed at a time like this, with all that had been left for you to do was evaluate your most recent stream summaries, and hopefully notice a pattern of steady decline so that you can change whatever was causing such issues back in order to improve your ratings once again...

Nah, that’s too much effort for today. You decide to sleep it off until tomorrow.

Venturing into your own catnaps again entails what you’d usually expect and accept to be your own desires, which is unsurprisingly isolation and darkness. However, being left with yourself instead seemed to manifest as a sea of glass, which splits and spirals below you.

Until it starts to crack.

Soon only one heart-shaped formation sticks out from the rest, as it’s the one that you stand in the centre of. You still decide to look down into the glass, where you see... that you really needed to cut your whiskers again, like, it’s getting really bad.

But that shouldn’t be your focus at the moment, as the individual damages in the glass grow better connected by the second, leaving less ground to stand on as the rest falls into the bubbly black water. Looking in led to seeing a reflection unlike your own. It was thin and dark, having an abnormal yet angular eye formation, with a defining shape to set its head from all others.

Eventually though, like whatever cliché trope that this sounds like, the reflection grows into its own person. Reaching out, it begins to groom you using the available water from the now-glazed over glacier.

It’s actually quite therapeutic when your sister isn’t going on random tangents about her next absurdly-placed tattoo based around whatever idol she has now, instead of just drowning you in a rather effective cleaning routine, she’d rather always drown you in literal trash talk.

But this was different.

Very different, as the only words that you could hear were backwards in the way that they were spoken, and sounded like they were coming from two or three places at once. Another thing was that it was only ever willing to use one hand. The other was held to the side of its body, which was quite hard to see as you were balanced on the right leg of the figure. The clasping still seemed very rough, and in an almost relieved release, revealed a smaller-scale replica of the exact heart shape that you both sat upon...

Waking up, the oddly-shaped shard was still in your hand. It was like a hand mirror that gave you a quick and easy-access look at yourself. Good at preventing anything else that happened in that dream. Like, how would you have ever let your whiskers get that long?

After this encounter, it was time to visit the location of your part-time job, being at Trendsetter STUDIOs in particular. Knowing the streets there wasn’t hard to do, with the area being split in two between Excell and your own boss, even having ‘COOP-ER8’ displayed on the nearest building from when you first enter the city. Well, that and all the surveillance.

Great. 

Now you’re thinking about D.Daess again. 

She definitely has her good moments, as well as being the sole reason that you even have a job instead of continuing as the alley cat you were before, sleeping in whatever “Cat-Fort” you were able to make from the few good quality boxes that hadn’t already soaked up the dumpster sludge they were surrounded by.  

It’s just that she can just be so... annoying sometimes. Especially when work was starting back in 2005, where she would shove a camera in your face for whatever trending thing she wanted to have you recreate. Purposefully failing to make a jump and land on a soft off-screen mat, playing pianos, having packages land on your head, being accessorized with flowers for tea parties, dancing lessons... 

In fact, it’s part of why you react in the way that you do towards cucumbers today.

Upon entering the building itself from the alley’s exit door, you’re greeted with a barrage of peck-kisses. And ruined fur. 

“hiiiiiiiiii, kittzzy cat!!!1! ^o^”

“yur lookin so... SOFT!!! imma hopin datz miey smoochies arr gud as eva 2 yu!! :D”

Merrie had clearly been waiting at the door for this. She always does, but it’s a good return to form from whatever else happened recently. Merrie continues to follow behind you until you both sit down at the same refectory table, with arts and crafts already in use from whatever she had been making with tape, a nearly-empty pie tin and egg cartons. Luckily, you remembered to bring your headphones to drown out the blabbering noises that she made while working.

Trying...

Breathing...

Passing.

You eventually look up to see Merrie still by your side. But she must’ve had a show today, as her blacks and whites are all that’s left as her now-silent self sits in the same spot while snacking. Even when in a state that’s much more relatable, she’s still a messy eater...

Finally, the working day is over, and it's finally time to see this face-to-face. However, an apple moving along the floor in a grid-like manner. Your first instinct was to ignore it, but it’s better than whatever other nothing you’d planned for the rest of today. This was strange even in the ridiculousness that was present in her usual routine, namely Merrie.

The tiled floor beneath it turns to a pure, blinding red, as the apple disappears into the ground.

“Great."

"its a puzzle”

But red isn’t the only change to keep note of, as each tile changes color faster than you can keep track of. Any attempt of progressing is met with a verbal announcement of whatever color it was at the time. But by the end, regardless of what you could see, the words that you heard as their pitch decreased dramatically once the glitches fully revealed themselves.

“Red!”, “Green!”, “Red!”, “Green!”, “Red-!”, “Red!”, “Red!”

As you feel a long, drawn-out prick stabbing you in the neck. Your usual hyperbole is comparing any level of negativity to a near-death experience, but this was the first time you felt like you were actually going to die.

Collapsing...

Heaving...

Help...?

And as help arrives, it takes the form of a twisted serpent that twists around you. He looks like an oversaturated cucumber, but that might just be the result of your sudden drowsiness...

“i didnt mean For that to go So deep”

It’s the same guy. 

That idiot who couldn’t even tell his own messages from yours. And now you’re going to die to that idiot, as his unwavering multicolored smile stares down at you. He is drowning out the broken puzzle’s noise, though, with anything but his voice and your own sounding like a growing ringing in your ears. Until...

“but i can Help

you Needed something Fresh and Cool

thats me

I am fresh and Cool”

Unfortunately, with how it’s also an indication of the pain, you subconsciously begin to purr in response to his words and previous actions. You hate that you’re doing it. But, still...

He doesn’t care. 

Or he cares too much, taking it as a sign of willingness and contentment. 

Beginning to wrap around your neck, but ultimately ending at your stomach, your body now mixed with his in an encoded jumble. Seized, and bound together what now feels like the same thousands of years looping amongst themselves. 

How...?

How...

“Depressing.”

“and Radical”

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If you're seeing this, thank you for taking the time to read through another longer-form backstory surrounding the SwilTaett Cast! If you haven't read through Doenor's Backstory, I'd reccomend reading through that as well to have a better understanding of what defines a Secret Boss (although it is roughly half the length of Grimpula's).

. To better show what Merrie's cameo appearance would look like in the context of the story, here's an example of Concept Art from Tuesdsay, 3rd December, 2024 that depicts it!

The earliest version of this backstory was first thought of by @nintenguy203 on Wednesday, 26th July, 2023 where he gave a detailed plan for where many of the final product's story elements would go.

This eventually led to the creation of @tailblayzer590775 and @nekowomancer12666 , being the In-Universe Accounts of Jockington's half and Catti's half respectively, as well as the source of all of the dialogue from the group chat segment of the story!

Word Count: 2,799

Started On: Wednesday, 2nd October, 2024

Finished On: Wednesday, 5th Febuary, 2025

[edupiii]

Murder Drones Oc just Dropped ✨

Meet Ecko!(Echo)

It’s a Worker Drone who unfortunately got stuck underground at Cabin Fever labs while she was helping repair something with her human teacher. Surviving on its own hasn’t been easy but it’s tooooottallly fine! She definitely doesn’t have any long lasting effects of the shit it’s seen and the things she’s done to survive. It’s the pinnacle of health and happiness for suurrreee

wanted to do something with the sentinels since I think they’re designs are SO COOL, but not sure how practical this would really be (eh, they’re robots, they make up their own rules. Also tried to give her a bit of a steampunk or rusty look to her

more pics + backstory info below if you wanna check her out!

Backstory (tw: robot gore)

- an enthusiastic Worker Drone who was programmed to follow and assist a human mechanic who would teach it how to repair faulty tech or busted machinery (so that the drone would do all the work later on and the human wouldn’t have to work anymore) (not very good for the work force and keeping employment rates up but you know-)

- during Copper9’s core meltdown, Ecko was underground in the CF labs to fix up a torture chamber (the usual unfortunate). She was on her own for this trip since it’s human teacher was stationed at a separate facility to repair some human stuff (idk it’s not important cause they die lol)

- once on its own after the meltdown, Ecko realized something was up and decided to try looking around for assistance, from human or drone

- after a while of searching for an other beings, she heard the sound of something scuttling around and came across the sentinels, whom were eating some screaming Worker Drones

- with this realization, Ecko retreated back and began its journey of survival on her own -years pass by and the drone begins to lose it a little as the isolation and fear of the unknown consumed her. Nevertheless, it tried to make the best of her infinite amount of time by going on salvage trips to find anything she could fix or snag for itself. With all her free time by herself, Ecko brought up the hobby of tinkering

- through this tinkering, it was able to create the head/eat piece it uses to listen to music

- on one of her salvage trips for parts, Ecko went to an area it hadn’t explored much since it felt brave enough that day. Unbeknownst to her, a few sentinels had created a nest in said area

- hearing the drone killers calls, Ecko hid itself within her hood in an attempt to escape the flash bangs. However in her attempt to hide, it hadn’t noticed the quiet sentinel making its way up behind her, to which it snagged her by the torso and tossed the drone into the ground

- trying to keep her hood over its optics the worker struggled to crawl away from the approaching dino since she could, from what she felt, only use her arms. Her legs seemed to have disconnected. While crawling backwards from the sentinel, Eckos hand slipped on a small rectangle

- on instinct she grabbed it and whipped it towards the sentinel, trying to hit it or scare it off. While waving the black object around, Ecko soon noticed the small electric symbol on the side; it was a taser. Reading its charge, Ecko aimed the weapon at the sentinel but it didn’t seem to be afraid as it quickly snapped at the drones hand, causing her to drop the taser and the dino ripping off her right arm

- with the sentinel distracted from chowing down on Eckos lost limb, the worker swiped at the charged taser and jut it straight into its attackers lowered neck, causing it to shut down and fall to the ground

- now able to look over itself without fear of being blinded, Ecko gapped at the horror of her lower half being completely separated from the rest of its body, only holding on by a few wires. Frantic to find a way to save itself, it looked over to the fallen sentinel and a new idea popped into her head

- after a LOT of effort, she was finally able to get the head off of the creature and begin wiring itself to the rest of the creatures body. She believed she would succeed due to the sentinels and workers both being created by JCJenson, assuming they used similar parts for different brand models (and then it did work, hooray!)

- getting used to its new body wasn’t easy and since the sentinel fell onto one of its arms, Ecko had to remove it as it was too damaged from the blow, instead adding it’s lucky taser to the appendage

- she finds problems from time to time but for some reason, it doesn’t bother it as much as she had originally thought (the reason is cause Eckos software is now super fucked, it needs therapy)

[bestworstcase]

ok.

the girls are all clustered close to ozma, standing in the rectangle of light falling through the door. pink is within about a foot of the door frame. ok?

clearly visible in this bust shot. (the camera is angled slightly down here to catch them)

there’s a cut away to salem’s reaction, then:

…where did they go?

WHERE DID THEY GO?

what happened to your daughters, ozma?

the story jinn tells is not objective fact; it is what ozpin was hiding from team rwby. one presumes that the girls did not literally vanish* and that four entire character models were not accidentally deleted from this narratively critical scene without anyone noticing somehow. no, these are ozpin’s secrets—ozma’s memories—and the girls disappear at the moment ozma lost track of them.

(*although this is a possibility i will not rule out because i am in CONSTANT AGONY)

who killed the girls? how? when? did the girls really die that night, as ozma assumes they must have? he doesn’t know. he’s never known. he wasn’t thinking about them. the instant this fight began, ozma was one hundred percent about hurting salem.

he begins the motion of drawing his staff up and back before salem moves to attack him—it’s subtle, but that is the focus of this shot:

and then it cuts to a close-up on salem’s face as she startles at his motion and reacts. during the fight itself he is in no way fighting defensively (also the girls are still nowhere to be seen):

and it’s pretty fucking heavily implied that ozma is the one who blew the castle up because he, you know, incinerates her:

like this was absolutely not a one-sided fight where ozma was desperately and futilely trying to shield the girls from salem. the man does not have a clue what happened to those girls because he was too busy trying to murder his wife to keep track of where his daughters were.

if the intention was for ozma to go down fighting to protect their girls, the girls would not fucking disappear from the scene the instant the fight began. (a fight rendered as a series of tableaux, no less—it’s not like adding one or two static poses of the girls cowering behind ozma wasn’t feasible)

but no.

symmetry.

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline Pt 5

Bucky x Reader

Series

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 2,832

Warnings: Descriptions of bombs, Descriptions of guns, Descriptions of injuries

A/N: I haven't had chance to edit but I loved writing this and couldn't wait so I hope you enjoy it!

<-Previous Part Next Part->

Masterlist of Masterlists

You look down at the phone in your hands. You stare at the words until your screen goes black and you need to open it again. You read the words Bucky had text you a couple hours ago for what feels like the hundredth time, ‘on way back to the tower. Meet me there in a few hours, we need to talk.’ 

You keep repeating the last four words of the text in your head over and over. Nothing good ever came from those words. You know you’re the reason he’s doing this. It's obvious that he’s going to end it. But you know it's you that’s pushed him away when you asked for the space. When you couldn’t promise his family that you would stay.  

You know it's for the best. You know this is how it has to be. You know this is the right thing to do. But why does it feel almost impossible to walk into that building like your chest isn’t caving in?  

You look down at your phone again. Your eyes travel to the time and the time Bucky said they should be arriving back. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and this will all be over, and you’ll be back to a life on the run again.  

You step into the building, glancing around like you always do, clocking faces and exits. You catch the eye of the receptionist that you saw last time. She smiles and gestures to the elevator as she sifts through the mail she must have gotten that morning.  

You give a small smile back and a nod of acknowledgement, making small steps towards the elevators. The last time you were doing this, you felt just as nervous, but you were happy. Now? You feel like you could throw up.  

You push the button and wait, your muscles twitching with the need to run in the opposite direction. You haven’t had that twitch in a long time. It has you glancing around again. Stepping into the elevator but not taking your eyes from the crowd.  

They come back to the receptionist. Her expression making you hold the doors on the elevator. Long gone is the happy and confident smile of a woman who seems to have it all together. Instead, you see her eyes wide in shock, her lips parted in horror and her hands shake around something in her hands. And yet, no one notices. Everyone is rushing in and out with purpose, too distracted to notice.  

It pulls you in. Her expression. It pulls you towards her. Your feet stepping off the elevator and heading straight for the woman who seems almost frozen in time. You keep your eyes on her face, even as you reach the desk, they never stray from her face, except for when they briefly flick to her name tag.  

“Mandy, are you okay?” you ask cautiously.  

She doesn’t move. It's like she didn’t hear a word you just said to her. You try again and again. You only manage for her to shake her head over and over, her eyes never looking up.  

When you finally decide to look down your whole world shrinks to that one point. Your whole world is now in Mandy’s hands.  

She holds a rectangle of plastic and metal, small wires running in between all the plastic and a timer steadily counting down. A bomb. She’s holding a bomb.  

Mandy’s hands are getting shakier and shakier and if you can’t talk her down then everyone here could die today.  

“Mandy, you have to keep your hands still, okay?” You say gently.  

No response. 

“Mandy?” 

Nothing.  

“Mandy!” 

Her frightened brown eyes finally find yours. You manage to take a small breath, “you have to keep your hands still, okay?”  

She shakes her head so violently it has you wincing, “I can’t- I can’t- I can’t do this.” 

“Mandy, this is all going to be okay. You just have to be still while I go grab someone-”  

“No! No, you can’t go. I can’t do this. I’m not qualified for this.” Her eyes are flitting around the room.  

“Mandy, look at me.”  

She looks down at the bomb.  

“Hey, Mandy, look at me.”  

She looks to the door.  

“We can get through this, just look at me.”  

Her gaze finds yours, “I’m sorry.”  

She drops the device, bolting towards the door with tears streaming down her face. Which is probably what you should have done, but your instincts kick in and you catch the device before it can smash into the desk below.  

You squeeze your eyes shut waiting for your world to finally stop now that Mandy had let go but eventually the world starts to filter back in. The buzz of chatter and thunder of shoes as people go about their day like they aren’t in mortal danger.  

You stare down at the device in your hands. It almost feels like it has its own pulse. It feels like it is its own living, breathing thing and it gets to decide when it stops beating.  

Your heart? All its doing is beating. It’s beating so hard and fast its like it knows it only has so long to do it. The time for your heart to beat is running out and it wants to get as many in as it can.  

You glance to the red countdown. 12.43, 12.42, 12.41, 12.40, 12.39... 

When you can physically see your life counting down it has the same feeling as when your chest is caving in on itself. When your heart is breaking in two. It turns you into someone else. Or maybe it turns you into the person you were always meant to be.  

You turn to face the open room. You hate drawing attention to yourself. Your whole life has been about you trying to be small. Perfecting the act of invisibility. But if you don’t do this now, you won’t be the only one dying today.  

You whistle as loud as you can, grabbing the attention of most people in the room, “evacuate the building! I have a bomb!”  

You shout the words, trying not to tremble so hard as the room descends into chaos. It’s weird being so still while everyone screams and runs in panic. You feel frozen.  

11.06, 11.05, 11.04, 11.03, 11.02... 

You can’t stop looking at the device in your hands. You can’t tear your gaze away from the place your world has shrunk to. You keep thinking about Bucky. He’s all you can think about as you watch your hands slowly get worse with tremors.  

“Hey!” 

The voice bounces around in the now empty space. It’s loud enough to pull your eyes up. They land on a man you’ve never seen before, dressed in head to toe in what you guess is bomb squad uniform.  

You try to swallow but only manage to irritate your throat.  

He keeps his distance, “I’m sure you have a very good reason for doing this, but I need you to tell me how to disarm that thing.”  

It takes a second for words to penetrate the fog in your brain, “I don’t know how to disarm it?”, you say in confusion.  

“You must know how to disarm it. If you do that, then we can all go home today.”  

Your brow screws up in confusion, “I don’t know how.”  

“Don’t you want to go home today? Don’t you want to walk out those doors in one piece. Just neutralise the device.”  

“I don’t know how-”  

The man loses some of his patience, “you must know how because you built it!” 

You almost start laughing. The giggle bubbling up from your wrecked chest and sliding up your throat. Almost. And then you glance down, your eyes catching on the red dot sitting silently on your chest and it all dries up.  

You close your eyes, “I didn’t do this. You have to contact Bucky, uh, James Barnes. Sergeant Barnes. You have to get him here. I need to see him.”  

“Is that why you did this?” 

Adrenaline gives a fresh kick to your shaking, and you step forward involuntarily, as if your body is trying to expel the movement anywhere else but your hands, “you’re not listening to me! I didn’t do this. Please just get Bucky here. I can’t, I can’t do this without him.”  

Another step forward.  

“Stop! Stop right there! Do not move any closer or we’ll be forced-”  

“Forced to what?! Shoot me?! You’re going to shoot me while I still have a bomb in my hands? Just get Bucky, he knows me. He needs to know.”  

Another step. 10.01, 10.00, 9.59, 9.58, 9.57... 

“Sniper, do you have a visual?”  

You look down to see the unwavering red dot. He definitely has a visual.  

“Stop, please, just listen to me. He has to know. Bucky has to know.”  

You watch as the man gives a small nod off to the side and that laughter from earlier simmers in your throat once again. You thought the bomb was going to be the thing to kill you today, who saw the sniper coming?  

You screw your eyes shut and brace for the impact. But it never comes. In the quiet of the moment, with blood roaring in your ears, you swear you feel the bullet whizz past your face as it sinks into the ball behind you seconds before the door smashes open.  

“Stand down! Stand down now!”  

You keep your eyes shut because you’re not sure if you can face what is in your hands anymore. You can’t face this without him here. Or maybe you just don’t want to.  

“Open your eyes for me, sweetheart. I need you to open your eyes and look at me.” You hear the words, and you know the voice, but you know you won’t be able to take it if he isn’t really standing there in front of you. You’ll crumble and the bomb will go with you.  

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m with you. Just open your beautiful eyes and look at me.”  

But if you’re going to die today, why not go out brave?  

You do as he says. Opening your eyes to see Bucky standing in front of you in his tactical gear, blood drying on his face and a bruise slowly coming to bloom on his cheek.  

A sob rips from your chest in relief, your knees shaking along with your hands.  

His soft rumble greets your ears again, “I know. I know, sweetheart. But I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?” 

You nod.  

He smiles, “in time with me.”  

And you watch the rise and fall of his broad chest until the lump recedes from your throat and you can finally lock your knees into submission.  

Bucky nods, “that’s great, that’s really good. Now, I’m going to come closer so I can get a look at that thing in your hands, okay?” 

You shake your head and Bucky halts his progress, “you have to stay still for me. I need to have a look, so I know what we’re dealing with.”  

You glance down, 7.37, 7.36, 7.35, 7.34, 7.33... 

You shake your head again, “You need to get out of here, Bucky. You need to be as far away as possible.”  

Bucky steps up to you and the bomb, but he’s staring only at you, “I’m right where I need to be. Now stay absolutely still while I take a look around.”  

Bucky leans over you, he goes side to side, he even crouches down to look underneath not saying a word. And with every passing second it gets harder and harder to hold the bomb still.  

“Bucky”, you whisper, “if you can’t disarm this then I just need you to know-” 

He cuts you off, “we’re not doing that. Nothing is going to happen to you.”  

“But, in case it does, I need to tell you-” 

“No. You can’t do this. You have to concentrate. You have to hold on just a little longer as I figure this out.” 

6.10, 6.09, 6.08, 6.07, 6.06... 

“Just let me-”  

“Stop!” Bucky shouts.  

You manage to contain your outburst, “why? Why won’t you just let me tell you?”  

“Because...Because I need to know that you really mean it. I need to know that it has nothing to do with the bomb in your hands. And because I need you to have something to fight for right now. So, concentrate on keeping still and if you still feel like telling me, you can tell me when we’re not staring down oblivion.”  

You study his eyes for a few precious seconds, you look past the determination, past the worry and the concern and see fear. You see a man that wants to be chosen and loved on his normal days, his mundane days, his worst days. Not on the day he may save your life or lose you forever.  

You give him a nod of understanding and he goes back to tracing the wires with his finger ever so gently.  

He mumbles, “I leave you alone for a few days...”  

A small chuckle bursts past your lips, “I guess I’ve been jealous of all the people you’ve been saving lately.”  

His resulting laugh helps to soothe some of your wrecked nerves, “next time just wait until I’m in the same country as you and then I’ll save you any time.”  

“Deal.”  

Bucky goes back to concentrating and you watch the time slip away like sand in an hourglass and you get this rush seeping into your bones. This need to want to somehow live your whole life in just the few minutes you have left.  

“Bucky.” 

He doesn’t answer.  

“Bucky.”  

“Mhm?” 

“How does it look?”  

The silence has never felt so violent. 3.12, 3.11, 3.10, 3.09, 3.08... 

“Bucky.”  

“It’s complex. The wires are tiny and a lot of it is hidden in the plastic that has been melted so I can’t open it in time to get the full picture.”  

You chuckle again, “you could have just said ‘not good’” 

Bucky straightens up in front of you, “I think I know which wire to cut.” 

“You think? Are you insane? I can’t let you do this on a hunch. I can’t watch you kill yourself for me.” 

Bucky retrieves snips from one of his pockets, “good thing I wasn’t asking.” He flashes you a smile.  

He starts to trace the wires again, double checking his work before bringing the snips closer.  

“Wait!” 

Bucky pauses, looking to you.  

“I know I’m not allowed to tell you anything right now. I know why you don’t want to hear it right now, but this could be our last minutes on Earth so can I just ask you one thing?” 

Bucky nods, “you know I’ll give you anything you want if you ask.”  

“Kiss me.” It spills out on a whisper, but you know he heard you.  

Now it’s Bucky that finds himself studying you before he cups the side of your face, leaning over the bomb, and captures your mouth with his.  

It’s soft, but hard. Urgent but relaxed. You forget about everything for a few moments, everything except the way Bucky holds your face tightly and the way his lips mould perfectly to yours and the way his tongue runs lightly along the seam of your lips.  

It all melts away as you feel the whole life you want to live dance in between the heat and tension of all the things you’re not saying. With your lips desperately trying to memorise his, you live a lifetime. 

When Bucky pulls away, your shaking stops. You both glance down at the timer. 0.59, 0.58, 0.57, 0.56, 0.55... 

Bucky says, “it’s now or never.”  

You swallow. Watching his finger trace the tiny wire that will decide if you and Bucky will get to live more lifetimes together.  

Bucky positions the snips over the wire, his eyes finding yours, “I’ve got you.”  

You hold each other’s gaze as he presses the snips. It cuts through the wire, and both look to the clock to find it frozen on 0.14.  

You both smile, relief swimming in the air. The laugh from earlier making its way to the surface to revel in the pure joy of still being here. Still being here with Bucky.  

*Click* 

You look down to find the numbers counting down faster. Ironically, everything seems to slow down for you. Those seconds stretching to contain as much living as possible.  

Bucky grabs the device from your aching hands and tosses it to the back of the building, grabbing you and pulling you with such force you can feel the fear seeping into your skin.  

You don’t make it to the door in time before the ground shakes, the boom thunders, and the heat rolls across the room. You feel Bucky getting ripped from you just as the darkness swallows you whole.

Tag List: @ordelixx @cjand10 @identity2212 @sukaibg @bellabarnes1378 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @vicmc624 @scott-loki-barnes

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 12: [SHORT] The Polygons

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"For the l-last time, man, you'll l-lose," said the little rectangle, standing at the edge of the ring, knees buckled, voice quaking. "Do you see h-how big t-th-that guy is? He'll have you for lunch, Ed!"

"⬟●●⬧㉤...❖!" responded Ed, which meant, 'I shall live by my code of honor or die in a blaze of glory while attempting to defend it, you cowardly quadrilateral!' The towering theropod at the other end of the ring, whose head almost touched the ceiling, blinked one massive eye and made half the crowd cower.

"I don't wanna lose you."

"▲◐▣◐." That meant, 'then join me and we shall live or die by one another's sides.'

The rectangle sniffed back a tear and then darted off into the crowd to stand alongside a waiting pentagon, one who shared, to its relief, in the gloomy atmosphere.

"Tell me how to convince him," said the rectangle.

"I remember when honor used to mean something to you."

"Don't give me that!"

As the commentator returned from his break, the rectangle reassured itself that there would be plenty of shapes left even without Ed.

-

The salesguy 250 or so years back had claimed it was 'fermented suffering'. The method of extracting and liquefying suffering was beyond Bill, and he secretly suspected that description was phony- suffering would have more of a crystal-ish texture if made solid- but, either way, he didn't want to hinder his enjoyment by finding out what the stuff really was, especially with the chance that it was really something much less appetizing. He only ever busted the bottle out on special occasions seeing as the salesguy had fallen into a dimensional acid cloud and disintegrated shortly after handing it over.

Just as he poured out a shot, the door above him, which he had forgotten was there due to lack of use, swung open, and his hand tremored just enough to send the liquid pouring out of the bottle and up (screwed-up Escherian gravity had its downsides) directly into the center of his eye.

"▛◢◐▞▟☠☠☠!!! "

Pyronica (though he couldn't see her with his current predicament) poked her head out of the door. Her facial expression was 10% 'sorry' and 90% 'that was hilarious'.

"What's that mean?" she asked.

"Ha," he said in the furthest tone from an actual laugh. "Uh, don't you worry about it."