#still. makes sense why he burnt out so easily on that end. and made a robot to fixate on challengers in such a way too

[kalosian-woods]

Clemont is just really funny in general i think. he's just like that, realistically theres so much to unpack about him;

he made an entire invention where he spoke to the mayor and was spread out across the town of the uni he was in which he got in at the age of maybe like 8.

he's a gym leader. he lost his gym to his invention,

there was the slightest chance he could've been mind controlled.

his bag is a bag of holding

he can't run

his entire mental state is the way it is because of a single mistake that wasn't even his fault

There's so much to unpack about him and the creators were like; "yeah anyways!"

okay but seriously, i think we as a fandom neglect the fact that if it wasn't for Clemont's anxious(???) paranoid(???) quick thinking(???) overly prepared(???) he probably he would've gotten mind controlled. like what was up with that.

-⚡(you can call me clem anon! its also just really funny and the fact that i've so far only exclusively talked about him makes it even funnier. electric anon is okay too !)

Clemont is his own bag of holding lol, there really is SO MUCH with him and I'm shaking you on the shoulders rn clem nonnie. Please. How is it possible that there is so much to him as it is. I need to study him under a microscope.

With the first point, that always made me laugh in a way lol. Him at the age of possibly eight created a power source slash Electric Pokemon recharger for a whole town/city. The mayor has noticed his efforts. This is before he is a Gym Leader, and this is the place where he made the promise to Shinx (a promise that he broke, not by any fault of his own, but by the very thing that brought them together in the first place).

The way he actually just straight up lived in Prism Tower, or at least that's how it felt, along with Bonnie. Their father is in the same city with a house but they won't bother with that and he doesn't bother them until they are MIA for at the very least a few weeks if not months. His reasoning for being a Gym Leader is to wield Electric Types from every region and become an Electric-Type Trainer that the world has never seen. The fact that he can be this ambitious with battling gets me (and also his learning from school carrying over c':)

His bag is also a mechanical marvel (not Volcanion, sorry). His Aipom Arm has only malfunctioned once (1 time), and he's easily able to lift Bonnie into the air with it. Also we never see this beyond the first ep but it has an inflatable airbag??? That is actually safe and comfortable to land on even with the everything in his bag as it is.

Even after the whole series and after everything they've ever went through, he still cannot run. Only one time he has ever sprinted ahead (in this realm/dimension) and that was to get to a festival about Zapdos of all Pokemon (and maybe that inventing fair as well??). No one comments on it beyond that one moment. He's also tried to make shoes to help him go up hills quicker but he never tried that one again lol (he forgot he even had it until Serena mentions the monorail, in which also, wow. this gang i swear).

That's actually one of the saddest parts (and something I can totally relate with). The way that we see him so happy and open with Shinx beforehand, ready to learn and be hands on and playing outside even with all the work that he had. And then we hear about how he lost his Gym, how his Pokemon disregard his words and his invention doesn't see him as worthy or strong enough, and it really is him just living out a nightmare of his own making in a way. His fear from back then keeps haunting him with the mistakes that he makes now, and even after meeting with Luxio again you can see the way he just... accepts that he's no longer wanted or forgiven. He's fine with it. He rather everyone have a better life than he does. Just,, he needs a hug. Lots of them.

HELP PLS you've said exactly what I've been thinking off this whole time!! Geez, I thought I was alone in thinking that we brush off whatever happened to Clemont in 'The Needs of Many!' like I get that we lose Greninja, but hello? He got straight-up kidnapped right in front of our eyes! He was going to be made into a superhuman (which has some very very worrying connotations beyond what is already happening). He too was blasted by the Mega Evo Energy, and even if he did resist the mind control, there's got to be other effects as well. If his friends weren't OP and reckless as they were he would've actually been carted away to who knows where and it would've been a matter of time until his preventive measures were found out. And the way he already had a counter against it, against the beam specifically (and for it to be able to work without any issues) is also so sad and worrying in a way?? It's definitely paranoia to me, it was very specific (more than usual, anyways), small enough to hide and easy enough for him to grab. Poor boy :(( I need to just sit down and think every time I remember this is an ep that exists because they just went ham with it, didn't they??

[alicentsgf]

love this this kinda amusing ongoing theme where some characters are so unable to accept that passive violence is STILL violence. i mean its exactly what tai's entire crisis was about. because yes arguing that someone should die does feel very different to shooting them point blank but you're still just as complict. you're still the reason they're dead. shauna is somehow arguably one of the most sane characters simply because she seems to have fully accepted their reality. she doesnt use the wilderness as an excuse for her actions or just hope that someone else will do what "needs to be done". she just does it. its not like she even seems to enjoy committing the act itself. its just a job, a necessity like butchering an animal for food. i think even asking for coach to be burnt was much more about the facade shes putting on for the others. like she wouldnt say no to it, but i dont think she ever actually believed the others would agree to burning him alive. its more that shauna figured out a while ago its much better to have people look at you with fear than with pity, especially in a setting like this. so she might as well turn her pain into rage and let it run wild. fear holds more power.

and thats why the knife is so symbolic of shauna, especially this season, because shes always been the one who has to get in close, feel the blood on her hands. when coach yelled at them that they couldnt even look him in the eye he was wrong. shauna was looking. shes the only one whose not afraid to and honestly that just makes sense. when javi died she pulled her headband over her eyes to make that first cut but ultimately it probably made no difference. at some point she would have had to look and when she did it was still him, he was still dead, she still let him die, and worst of all she still had to seperate his flesh from his bones. it was all still true whether she looked or not. reality must have hit shauna like a fucking train in that moment, seeing the cuts she'd blindly made on his body. how could she see javi like that and still try to delude herself that shes a good person, or that this world would reward her for kindness and empathy when it didnt reward javi. so she just accepts that this is her role. and now we have melissa making a sheath for the knife, which is also very symbolic because melissa is the sheath. she supports shauna, makes it easier for her to carry it all, for her to keep that brutal side close and easily acessible. (wouldnt be surprised if melissa ended up branded with an S too tbh)

so yeah shaunas fucking terrifying right now but ultimately thats because shes the reality of everything thats happened to them made manifest. shes the non believer who bloodies her hands to feed them whilst they avert their eyes and thank the wilderness. she creates the unrecognisible chunks of meat so they dont have to face the truth. and if shes representative of reality then shes exactly what almost everyone else is so scared of confronting. that this experience has changed them forever, that they're all killers to some degree. its probably a big reason shauna became so isolated. because the others just couldnt bear to try and understand her experiences or even truly look at her. and tbh when they're all just kids and the situations so dire you cant even really blame them for that. shauna doesnt just represent how bad things got, but also how much worse it could become. the possibility that one day they wont be able to explain away their actions via the wilderness, fate, or even necessity, and when that happens it really is over. they can never go home.

[himbodruid]

Desperation in Yearning

Taking a break from Sylus fics to give yall some Zayne!

Zayne x Reader

Intended for 18+ readers. MINORS DNI.

Desperate -:- clothed sex -:- angst -:- possessive Zayne (kinda) -:- Zayne loses control (but not of his evol)

Fic Master List

.𖥔˖⋆ ˚❆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ⋆⁺₊❅. .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆. ݁₊ ⊹ ݁

There was a certain excitement that came with danger, an addictive rush of adrenaline. Maybe that was why you kept throwing yourself into missions that could end in your death. Or maybe it was some sort of misguided sense of survivor’s guilt, seeing as you’d been quite literally throwing yourself into your work for the last 14 years. Since the explosion. Since your world came raining down in a rain of ash and embers.

Your bags were almost packed, even though the shuttle wasn’t leaving for another several days. Captain Jenna had given you and the rest of the deployment team a few days off in order to prepare for the arduous journey, but you felt unsettled. You needed to move. To do something other than hurry up and wait.

Cooking was a nice way to distract yourself, even if you weren’t very good at it. What you made was edible at least, if not very creative.

A hurried knock on your door returned you to reality on that first night, and you looked up with brows drawn down. You weren’t expecting any visitors, and the stirfry you’d been disassociating over was almost done (note: probably burnt actually). Shaking your head, you removed the pan from the heat and killed the stove so you wouldn’t start a fire in your distraction.

Zayne was there on the other side of the door. He was out of breath, as if he’d run straight from Akso Hospital. He also looked…angry, and you ushered him inside.

“Doctor Zayne? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He took a moment to compose himself. It was almost disturbing to see the usually unflappable Doctor Zayne in such a state, and you feared the worst.

“When were you going to tell me,” he demanded. His usually even voice held the slightest of tremors, and you didn’t understand why. His eyes held an intensity to them that made you look anywhere but his face.

“What do you mean? Tell you about what?” He sat heavily in a stool at your breakfast bar and you put a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch.

“When were you going to tell me that you’re leaving?”

“Oh. That.” You still didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him. It was just like any other away mission before. You always texted him when you were heading out and he wished you a safe return. And then when you returned, the two of you would go out to dinner together. You always celebrated your wins with him, mourned the losses with him.

“Were you just going to send me some off-hand text again? Letting me know you’d be leaving and then leave me in radio silence for weeks on end? Leave me wondering if everything was going okay, if you were safe- alive, even?”

He stood and punctuated his words by crowding you against the counter. His hazel eyes held a predatory glint to them, a look you were so unused to in his regularly smooth expression. He wasn’t one to wear his emotions easily, and you always struggled to read him. Even now, when he had you pinned at your counter, you couldn’t figure out what he was so upset over.

“Doctor Zayne, it’s fine. I do stuff like this all the time, it’s part of my job.”

His hand slammed down on the counter, making you jump. “Purposefully throwing yourself in harm’s way is not part of the job, not when you constantly do it to the point of self-destruction!”

You stared up at him, eyes wide in wonder. His face was flush and you thought you could read despair in his expression. This was a man that was always calm, cool, and collected, and yet here he was losing his temper at you.

“I…didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry,” you say to him, trying to appease him so he would relax. But your words only seemed to fuel his frustration even more.

“That’s the problem. You never seem to think,” he whispered, the tremble in his voice more prominent now.

“Zayne,” you say, dropping his title in favour of your friendship. “What’s all this about? I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this. Please, help me understand.”

He blew out a shaky breath and let his head drop to your shoulder. You froze. It’s not that you didn’t see Zayne as a man, it’s that you always thought he never saw you as a woman. You thought maybe he only ever saw you as a trouble-making younger sibling, seeing as you had been friends with him since childhood. But here he was, face buried in your neck while he struggled to maintain his composure.

“I’m tired of watching the woman I love run head-long into danger,” he said quietly. “And not knowing if you’re safe is a special kind of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

You felt your heart shudder at his admission. Oh how you’ve been so stupid, so blind to his true feelings. The only credit you could give yourself is that Zayne wasn’t the best at portraying what he felt, and you were even worse at picking up social cues.

Your mind dug through all of your memories with him. How he would always seem to hug you a little longer than necessary when you came home. How he would always use one excuse or another to call and check up on you. How his demeanor went from cold and distant to warm and welcoming as time passed. The clues were there all along, you just never picked up on them. Or you assumed they were just a natural progression of friendship.

“Zayne, I-“ you didn’t know what to say. How to finish that sentence. You felt like you were in shock and you didn’t know what to do. He lifted his head from your shoulder slowly, bringing those damnably beautiful eyes up to bore into your very soul.

“I hate not knowing if you’ll survive the next mission that takes you away from me. I hate not being able to clear my schedule fast enough to go alongside you as a medic. And I hate the very idea of losing you to your own stubbornness.”

With that, he leaned forward and his lips captured yours. It was hesitant at first, testing, but the last remnants of his control snapped when you returned the kiss in equal measure. He coaxed your mouth open with ease and plunged his tongue in to tangle with yours. He poured all his desperation into you in that single point of contact, his hand coming up to grasp the back of your head to hold you in place.

When he finally broke away to let you have some air, his face was flush with all that was left unsaid. His eyes pleaded with you, his breath mingled with yours. He searched you for the same kind of yearning he bore to you. And when your gaze flicked to his mouth and back to his eyes with a soft sigh, he knew he had his answer.

He hauled you up against him, holding you as close as he possibly could as if that act alone could prevent you from leaving him. As if that alone would keep you by his side and out of danger forever. But it was that threat of danger that made desperation all the more prominent, all the more sweeter.

Zayne carried you to your bedroom without hesitation and without trouble, as though you weighed nothing more than the pen he carried in his lab coat every day at work. Your legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his broad shoulders on instinct, hiking up the skirt you wore and exposing yourself to his chill touch. He plopped down on the corner of your mattress with you straddling his lap, not even taking a moment to break the kiss. You rocked your hips against him, lost to his every touch that drove you deeper into a needy mess.

You hated admitting it, but you knew that this is what you’ve been craving for so long. The realization that you were waiting for him to make a move so that your passion wouldn’t scare the normally reserved doctor away. Zayne was letting go of all those reservations and it was the single most attractive thing you ever experienced.

He devoured you. Touched you. The noises he made shot right to your core and your own noises rose to respond to him. The chill of his hands sent shivers dancing through you. You could feel the length of him hardening beneath you, responding resolutely to the grind of your core against him. One of his large hands found your thigh, smoothing along your skin until he was at your hip and his thumb ran along the edge of your underwear. You were subconsciously glad you wore lace, but it didn’t really matter when you were lost to him. And, gods, the cold metal of his watch pressing into your hot skin did something unspeakable to you.

The pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, making lazy circles as his tongue continued to battle with yours. You couldn’t stop the moan you released into his mouth, but the noise only seemed to goad him further. He absorbed the sounds you made and became drunk off you.

And then you were suddenly pinned underneath him. One hand held your wrists above your head while those elegant fingers of the other dipped into your slicked folds. When he found you wet and wanting, he groaned into your neck. He curled those fingers inside you, eliciting a gasp as he put pressure in the perfect place. You bucked your hips against his hand, chasing the release he was so graciously gifting you.

And when you fell over the edge, you breathed his name into the air like a chanting prayer. Your body arched into him involuntarily and your hands grasped at whatever they could while still restrained.

But Zayne wasn’t done with you. He was far from it.

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to inspect the result of your climax still slicked between them. And then he looked you in the eye, muttering ‘beautiful’ before he stuck those fingers in his mouth and savored the taste of you with a moan. And something about that damn watch on his wrist while he did it.

And, fuck, he still wasn’t done torturing you.

The buckle of his belt was loosened and his cock freed from his pants with hardly an effort. He did it all with one hand while still pinning your wrists together above your head. You wanted so badly to touch him, but all you could do was wrap your legs around his hips as his narrow hips nestled between your thighs. And then your underwear was brushed aside and his cock slicked against your folds, a gentle, testing nudge at first. Then pushing further at your moaned pleas.

You all but begged him to fuck you roughly like you wanted, and still he took the time to make sure your petite body could accommodate his size without hurting you. And, oh how he filled you. It was more than you could have ever dreamed, and still he remained infuriatingly still inside you while his mouth worked at yours with promises of what was to come.

You flexed your walls on him in silent revenge, and he hissed a moan into your mouth with an involuntary forward jerk of his hips. And that’s all it took for the dam to break on his control.

Before you knew it, he was slamming into you with reckless abandon, so hard you swore you could feel yourself being moved across your bed. His hand finally released yours and all you could do was cling to him while he basically folded you in half, trying to somehow get even deeper than he already was. His grunts, moans, whimpers were diffused by him burying his face in your neck. You chanted his name into the open air, punctuating it by kisses and bites against whatever skin of his neck and chest you could access.

He hooked his arms underneath your knees, giving himself the most access he could while he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. Every thrust slammed against that sweet spot in your core and you came undone around him more times than you could count before he’d even gotten close to his end. Each climax that swept through you was more intense than the last until you were all but screaming his name.

“So damn…good,” he grunted, his pace increasing as his own orgasm finally neared. His sounds were no longer muffled by your neck or mouth. He let his own pleasured cries rise with yours as he continued making a mess of the both of you. His words became incoherent as he lost himself to the rapture.

Zayne slammed so, so impossibly deep into you with a sound that came out like a mix between a shout and a moan. His climax steamrolled through him so thoroughly that all he could do was jerk his hips while trembling in your hold. Your walls quivered around his cock once more, milking him as he flooded you with his cum.

Zayne collapsed atop you, a sweating panting mess. You realized that the both of you were still fully clothed, so caught up in your frenzied coupling that you didn’t even take time to undress. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed at the madness that’d taken over the both of you. Especially when he was still shifting his hips in micro-thrusts that made you realize that he was still hard inside you.

Everything about this encounter sent a thrill through you, and it was something you would never forget. Though, your mind went blank when he suddenly rode you through overstimulation only to jolt you both through an unexpected mutual orgasm. His cock twitched and pulsed inside you as another deluge of cum filled you. And your body was all too eager to take him in. If it weren’t the sensations of his cock inside you, you were almost certain the sounds he was making would have sent you over the edge again. Or even the contrast of his cold hands on your heated skin.

It felt all too soon, but he pulled from you with a long moan. He kissed you and put his forehead against yours in an action so tender that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to you with an embarrassed smile. “That’s not exactly how I imagined that would go.”

“Yeah?” You chuckled. “How was it supposed to go?”

“Slow and sweet. Definitely not horny and wild while clothed,” he grumbled. You couldn't help but look down and grinned when you saw the mess the both of you had made against his nice black trousers.

“Why not show me how it was meant to be?” You ventured. That soft smile of his played across his face as he leaned in and kissed you.

He proceeded to demonstrate what his first idea had been. Soft, slow, and sweet, bringing the both of you to climax over and over. He worshipped your body in a multitude of ways and you were grateful, then, for the days off that Jenna had given you. Because, aside from going home for a change of clothes and picking up some take out, Zayne hardly left your bed until it was time for you to go.

He walked you to the shuttle while trying to stoically hide the devastation in his eyes. Other hunters were already boarding the vehicle, but you turned to face him while your luggage was loaded, drawing him into a tight hug.

“I promise to be more mindful of missions in the future,” you say to him. You lean up in his embrace and kiss him in full view of anyone that cared to look. You knew there would be relentless teasing from Tara, but you didn’t care.

“After all, I have someone at home to look forward to now.”

[thehorsewaslee]

Re-blooming

(Alt ending to Wilted lemon trees)

The recruiter x reader

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Warnings; No reader body/race/age descriptions (if any pls lmk), but in my mind there’s an age gap. A little ooc. NO USE OF Y/N, I still don’t refer to the recruiter with a specific name. English is not my first language. Some description of injury.

WC: Just 2k 🤏🏻

Summary; Alt/fluffy ending to wilted lemon trees (for the fluff girliesss). I don’t think this could be read alone tbh :p (to me this is not canon 😔)

A/N: hope you enjoy this cause I wrote it instead of paying attention to my lectures and now I’m hashtag regretting it

He watched through the scope as the car approached his made up end spot. Welcome to the final show. The car you picked out was unassuming, grey and very much a family car but he caught your alias pretty easily. You were speeding down an empty backcountry road, almost at your sweet sweet escape, not on his watch though. He shot the bullet, hitting your tires immediately, causing the car to flip over into a nearby ditch. He abandoned his position, taking his gun with him to ensure the job is done. The wreck caught up in flames, the light from the fire casting a yellow glow onto the surroundings. He approached your position under the turned-over car. Your back was to the ground as your hands were reaching for your gun, but it was too far away, plus he kicked it from your line of sight with his polished shoe. You panted, looking down at your lower body with defeat, the wreckage making it difficult to move. He watched you, so helpless and at his mercy and he couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Just a little.

“Bad time to say that suit looks great on you?” You coughed. “Brings your face out.”

“Get up.” he kicked your side softly, causing you to cough more.

“Way to kick a woman when she’s down.”

The flames from the car had reached your legs, that's for sure, but the fact that you were not crying out in pain right now was concerning.

“Cmon now, don’t give up so easily.” He dropped his weapon, hurrying over to attempt to lift the car a little to give you crawl space. The metal of the door burnt his hands, but he endured, for you. You shimmied out on your elbows and collapsed once more, panting heavily with a bloodied nose from impact. He picked his gun back up and stood over you, feet at your sides with the weapon aimed at your head. Your hands came up slowly in surrender.

“You win.” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, though he was unsure as to why.

His jaw clenched, grip tight on the firearm as he looked into your tired eyes. He needs to do this. Now.

“Just like back in Cairo, huh?” You coughed, causing him to smile a little.

“You and I remember Cairo very differently.”

The memories of that time crawled into his mind involuntarily, especially how the air felt that night. You studied his face from your position on the rough floor, conflicted and hesitant.

“Was this not what you wanted?” You croaked.

He didn’t answer, only kept his gaze trained on your face.

Cairo must’ve left a lasting mark on him.

Your eyes were already getting blurry from a combination of blood loss, the adrenaline wearing off and the newly felt pain.

“Just kill me, babe.” You coughed.

That seemed to do the trick, as he knelt down to smack you on the head with his gun. As you finally succumbed to unconsciousness, you heard a shot ring out, then felt the sharp pain in your abdomen; the final domino in your blacking out spell.

. . .

There was an unfamiliar warmth on your face easing you out of the state you were in. Kind, welcoming, gentle. Your senses began making their way back to you, the sweet birdsong melody engulfing you warmly. There was a waft of fresh air all around, the kind you smell deep in the countryside when the next city isn’t for hours. Then, pain.

So so so much pain, everywhere. At the sensation, your eyes shot open, but they were instantly shot back shut due to the intense light on your pupils. You blinked a few times, willing yourself to beat the force of the sun beaming down on you. When your eyes finally adjusted to lights, you attempted to sit up, wary of the unfamiliarity of the surroundings. It was futile, the pain knocking you immediately back down, a handcuff at your wrist also limiting your movement. You were shackled to the bed. More pain was elicited when you’d attempted to pull on the chain.

“Don’t do that.” You hadn’t even noticed his presence, posted in a dark corner with the light from the window only hitting his lower half. You took a second to take the room in whilst propped up on one arm.

It was a small bedroom with very little indication as to who lived in it before, only a few boxes of belongings strewn about. The floor was a mess, bills and other varieties of papers covering the small carpet. The walls had what you could assume were certificates of achievements adorning them, a wide variety of colours and sizes. By the bed lay a singular teddy bear, brown and innocent, and the only indication of this being a child’s bedroom.

Your eyes made their way back to him, observing as he leaned forward slowly, allowing the sun to hit his blemish-free face. Well, almost blemish free, save for a small scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Kinky” you jiggled the chain.

“You were strongly against any and every form of help I tried to offer you.” He tilted his palm to show a nasty bite mark on it. “You wouldn’t let me stich, sedate or transport you. Or anyone else for that matter. Caused me a lot of trouble.”

He got up slowly from his spot, opening the door by his side and disappearing outside.

You got up as well, the chain being long enough to allow you some movement in the small room. You padded over to the certificates, bare footed and a little cold. They were almost all academic achievements, all dedicated to one-

“Is that your name?” You didn’t have to turn around to feel his presence there behind you.

“Yeah.” His hand came up to your side, grasping your wrist gently to undo the cuff. You couldn’t tear your eyes from his name though, it felt like a gigantic leap forward, like he’d just given you the moon and stars. It was so fitting for him.

“You live here?”

“Used to.”

“And then?”

“You know.”

Growing up, the games, it was a stupid question really, you were just so giddy and so barely able to think straight.

He exited the room wordlessly once more, leaving you to your curious exploration. You lipped over to one of the boxes by the bed, small and unassuming, the outside adorned with little hand drawn hearts and other shapes. Inside, a modest collection of old photos, mostly of him and his father. Camping, fishing, playing, bathing. There were few where his mother made appearances in, mostly just him and his dad. He looked so eerily normal, smiles wide and carefree like he wouldn’t grow up to be a murderer. You must’ve spent a good amount of time flipping through each photograph, soaking in the normalcy they held. The smell of food began filling your senses, alerting you of your previously quiet hunger. You limped over slowly to the door, then out through the hallways to where you could hear some plates and pans clinking. There he was, back to you over the small stovetop cooking what you could assume was a steak. He wore a plain white shirt, a little loose on his form, paired with a pair of plaid pants.

He’s in his pyjamas. You held back a giggle by biting your lip.

You still don’t know why he brought you here, or why he hadn’t killed you yet.

“Is that the only meal you know how to make?”

“You know the answer to that. It’s just convenient. And you need to restore your iron.”

He turned around, revealing a very pretty blue apron with lemons on it. He plated the tempting meal and took the apron off, sitting down on the small kitchen table, opening the seat by his side for you to take. You descended onto the chair slowly, wincing at the pain from your side. He dug into his plate with his usual class, but your curiosity prevented you from eating anything, the questions on your mind already too filling.

“What’s the plan here? Wine, dine and end my bloodline?”

He dropped the utensils, a hand coming up to rub his eyes at your stupid play on words. There was a small smile on his lips when he looked back up at you.

“No. You’re already dead.”

You exaggerate a look around the place, eyes wide and breath loud. “Spooky.”

He gave you a tired look and sighed.

“I regret not killing you.”

“You don’t mean that”

“I do, actually.”

He turned back to his meal, mentally preparing himself for what looks to be a lifetime of lame jokes.

“I faked it all. The body, the death. Had to shoot you for authenticity and all. Also because the bullet had your name so I didn’t want to waste it.”

You poked his side, earning no reaction from him.

“They didn’t check after me, loyalty pays off I guess.”

“Where are we?”

“About an hour drive out of Seoul, it’s cozy here. Has its charm. I can keep you safe and keep my job at the same time.”

“Oh? So when you’re out playing villain, what do I do? I’m not your little housewife.” There was a small smile in your words.

“Is that so bad? Weren’t you the one who wanted white picket fences and wrap-around porches?”

“You wanted it too, hotshot. Or else you wouldn't’ve kept me alive.”

He slumped back, hands dropping the utensils once again, turning his face to look at you.

“Must you be difficult?” He sighed.

Your hand came up to fix his slightly disheveled hair out of his face. “You’re just so entertaining.”

His eyes were on the hand he had on the table now, watching as he cracked knuckle after knuckle, the other hand at his side. He pushed his tongue out into his cheek, taking a few deep breaths to try to cool his anger. His throat bobbed heavily before he pushed up suddenly from his spot, taking a few short strides to the outside. You irritated him endlessly, making his feelings for you all the more infuriating. You followed him a minute later, finding him leaning on the house front, one leg over the other as he watched the empty field opposite. He had his hands in his pockets, jaw clenched tightly as he tapped his head on the wall gently. You brought your hand up to touch his bare bicep, causing him to sigh and shut his eyes, his shoulders relaxing. In a swift movement, he brought your form flush into his, engulfing you in his embrace, a hand coming up to press your head into him, scratching at your scalp a little.

“I risked a lot to get you here I-” he let out a shaky breath. “You need to work with me to keep our peace. Seoul isn’t safe right now, it won’t be for a while, for you anyway. I know it’s a huge contrast, but…we can figure it out when you’re feeling better, okay?”

So he got it all, the job, the girl, the looks. You…weren’t mad, nodding into him.

He used his hand to angle your face to look into his.

He kissed you then, it was new. Unsure and a little innocent, unfitting for who either of you were. You smiled against his lips, pulling away to look at him once more. His arm found your waist, the other coming up to interlace with yours. You swayed gently to no music, moving in tandem to the sound of nothing. It was mostly him, though, being a surprisingly great dancer. He hummed a soft song you were unfamiliar with, eyes boring into yours somberly .

I won’t say I’m in love.

[theroguescientist]

Polish scientist watches Orb: Episode 15

This episode is made up of three parts. First, there's the guy who helped Jolenta. He only gets to be the main character for a few minutes (but I think he deserves to be called a main character, even if he lasts like 5 minutes in this role and I don't even know his name), but the scene is quite impactful.

"Love thy enemy" I actually applauded. Finally someone who's read the Bible and got the right message out of it! There is something powerful about turning the other cheek, even when they're both bruised already. Unfortunately, in this world, it just gets you another beating. But something tells me at least some of the people who witnessed this will remember it. Inspiration strikes again. Rest in peace, kid. You were right.

Then we finally get a Nowak and Jolenta episode. Sort of. Antoni tells him she's dead.

Nowak shows very little emotion while watching the body burn. Makes sense that he's the kind of guy who doesn't cry in public.

"I tried to oppose the decision" Oh, fuck you, asshole. It was your decision.

Also, what was that you said about the dangers of letting a possible heretic get away? Because you're letting her get away. And I hope she finds a way to make you regret it. She deserves it. As a treat.

Also, telling No.1 Dad you killed his beloved daughter seems pretty risky to me, but I'm afraid Antoni has a plan.

See, Nowak loves his daughter too much to try to catch her. Like, even if he became convinced that she's a dangerous heretic, he'd likely approach the task with even less enthusiasm than usual. But who can find her more easily than he?

And he's seen enough burnt corpses to notice that this one isn't even the right size to be her. He's gonna figure out she's alive sooner or later, and Antoni probably hopes he'll look for her, not as an inquisitor, but as a concerned parent. The gloves might even be useful, if he has a dog that can sniff her out. Is that it? Is that the plan?

(I could, of course, be totally wrong here, but please don't laugh at my dumb theories in the notes. I'm trying to avoid spoilers. I might make a separate post later to laugh at my own dumb theories.)

Ah. Now he's grieving.

And we get a little flashback to them being a cute little family (btw, I wonder if we're ever gonna find out what happened to Jolenta's mother).

Baby Jolenta is barely smaller than teen Jolenta, lol. She was still wearing the same gloves as a teenager. And they weren't that much too big when she was little.

A tiny kid talking about her dad "working for God" like she thinks God is his actual boss is weirdly adorable.

(The grammar in that letter is actually kind of awful, btw. Not that I would expect an author to learn a whole-ass language just to tell a story set in a particular country, and, of course, it's way better than my Japanese, but I thought I'd point it out anyway. Baby Jolenta's handwriting, however, is way better than mine ever was.)

I understand why she doesn't want to risk it, but it would be funny if Jolenta just ran back home after escaping from the inquisition HQ. If her father was there mourning her death, and suddenly she comes in. Could it end in disaster? Probably. It would be funny for 5 seconds and then hit me right in the feels, I'm sure. But that's not what happens. When will actually they see each other again? Knowing this show, when one of them is about to die for real.

And then we switch to Grabowski thinking about what happened to Badeni.

"Everything he did was suspiscious"

It's funny because it's true.

Ah, so the tip was about the book Grabowski found. At least he tried to decode it first. He wouldn't immediately freak out and alert the authorities just because he saw something written in a language he doesn't understand.

For some reason I'm reminded of that story about a guy doing math on a plane, causing the person next to him to freak out and accuse him of being a terrorist just because they couldn't understand what he was writing. I guess human nature doesn't change. If it's not heresy, it's something else. Some people will always fear anything they don't understand.

I'm not too surprised he did it. He's a decent guy, but he's also extremely normal. As long as he doesn't see a huge obvious reason not to, he just does what he's told.

And this guy is our last hope. He does feel bad about what he's done, but he's also afraid of heretics (Even ones he was sort-of friends with?)

Badeni asking Grabowski to educate the beggars? Even after death, he keeps getting more character development!

The beggar is wearing a hat inside a church. This is probably not actually a crime, even in this world which is absurdly strict about religious stuff, but Grabowski should immediately suspect that he has a reason to cover his head.

Well, what are you gonna do now, Grabowski? You can't report this. These are innocent people who can't even read what's written on their heads. And you can't ignore it either.

[inotcat04]

Hello!I am here again with another head cannon because I am lazy to write another story(which knows,I might write a story based off of this but for now I am tired)I hope you like this head cannon/story!if you liked this pls leave a comment and if you didn’t tell me what I can do to improve also credits to @smol-vehvi for writing family foe which is the story that this head cannon is based off of!Anyways,enjoy !💙(I am honestly a bottle nervous to post this one too,is it normal?)

HC:head cannon

HC:What I think will happen after the incident with demon ford.

I think ford will move in with Mabel after the incident for a while since he isn’t allowed to back into the mystery shack because of Melody and Wendy.I think Mabel’s husband was very angry at him and slightly at Mabel for forgiving ford so easily but wasn’t angry at Mabel for too long since he knew it was her nature to look at the good side of people even if that person injured you but was still angry at Ford which makes sense since yk he tried killing his wife while he was away and never allow him to be alone with Mabel for too long afraid that that part of him would suddenly come out of nowhere and injury her.And he couldn’t let that happen.

Dipper is eventually forgave him but still has a lot of trauma about it and still gets nightmares every so often.Like Mabel’s husband doesn’t allow him too be with his children alone for too long.Dipper is still scared of that part of ford to come out but Pacifica is always there too calm him down and tell him that that part of ford is gone since they had burnt the last journal and there is almost no way that that incident would happen again.Dipper is very grateful to have Pacifica with him this time around because the last time dipper trust issues had grown a lot after ford betrayed his trust and decided that no one should be trusted well expect Mabel but at that time Mabel was also having a tough time.She was taking their parents divorce hard so Dipper had no one to support him but this time it was different because he had his love and light of his life.Pacifica.

Wendy and Melody forgive just a tiny bit just for Mabel’s sake but still doesn’t allow him into the house.The last time Ford had entered the mystery shack was to collect his stuff and Wendy and Melody gave him death stares as he collected his stuff.They just weren’t ready to forgive him.Wendy,even though she doesn’t want to admit it,feel a little awful at what he said to ford.She doesn’t feel regretful because she meant every word that she said but she just wished that she didn’t say it so awfully but she can’t change the past.i also HC that at first she didn’t want to shout anything because Ford at that point looked so much like Stan and she would never shout at him especially after what happen on the day he died.But she remembered that this wasn’t Stan,this was ford.The person that caused dipper trust issues to sky rocket,caused dipper and Mabel to have nightmares till this day and worst of all,Stan pines,the person she saw as her father,pain,caused his heart to turn black and his smile hollow.Just because of Ford thinking foolishly that he could handle whatever Bill could give him.She couldn’t hold back.Melody didn’t want to forgive because she also saw how hollow Stan’s smile was after the end of the world.She could never forgot that smile.Also after hearing the horror stories of what happened just cemented that resentment she want to have between her and ford but she understood why Dipper and Mabel would forgive him.After all,they were ford’s great niece and nephew so it made sense.

Ford was and still is very grateful to Mabel and Dipper for forgiving him but Ford can still feel a bit of resentment from Dipper but it made sense since he was trying to kill him and his entire family.Ford understands why Wendy and Melody wouldn’t want him in the house,and even though the house is technically his.He decided to let them have the house because he didn’t want to fight them and he was mostly ok with staying with Mabel for the time being while he slowly started to sell his information about mysteries and other lame nerd junk that he had discovered when he was younger to buy a house to live in since he didn’t want to stay with Mabel for too long.He also felt a little uncomfortable with all the death stares Mabel’s husband was throwing at him.Mabel’s husband originally disagreed to letting Ford stay with them but when Mabel said that he had nowhere and pulled out her puppy dog eyes that still looked the same as when she was 12 he caved in saying that he only could stay a while.Ford also understood why Mabel’s husband and Dipper were so wary of letting him stay with Mabel and Dipper’s children alone to spend time for long periods of time and he never complained.he was just happy to spend time with them.

Dipper’s children,Lexi and Adam(pls tell me if I got them wrong,were very scared of ford when they learnt that he was one that they let out of the book.But after spending some time with Ford while their mother was still there,they learnt that that demon was long gone and what replaced was Stan’s twin who had one extra finger for Adam to colour with a sharpie since Lexi was never liked nail polish and that kind of girly stuff.Lexi was more like dad at her age while Adam was more like auntie Mabel.So Adam was clearly the first one to warm up to ford,hugging him when he first entered the room thinking he was Stan.Lexi also thought that ford was Stan at first and almost started crying but quickly realised that he had six fingers instead of five.Lexi felt a little gloomy after that because she really missed Stan but quickly pushed it away when she thought for a bit because she thought she saw that hand somewhere before.She finally realised that it was on the book that that demon had escaped out of and was immediately scared but calmed down after ford explained his back story.

And finally after 20 years,They were mostly a family.Even though there might be some cracks here and there that doesn’t mean that they aren’t putting glue at the broken pieces and piecing the broken pieces together.They are all healing slowly but surly.They will become a family again,all it takes is patience and time which never worked well for ford in the past but this time,it worked well.

Thank you for reading finish,I hope you liked it and thank you @smol-vehvi for liking my previous work,I loved you ever since I read among the stars!I hope you like this one too.Please tell me if you guys disagree with any thing I said in this head cannon!Anyways,Thank you and Byebye!💖(thank you for all the support you have given me,I get sooooo happy when I see you guys leave me and comment,repost and a like!You all motivate me to do ore of this kinda stuff so THANK YOU!)💞💞(sorry smol-vehvi for tagging you so much,it’s just that I am still not over how good family foe is so yeah!)

[muninnhuginn]

So, the thing with Qiu Qingzhi vs Qiu Shenji is that they *are* different characters in a lot of ways. Qiu Shenji is more explicitly morally complex whilst what we see of Qiu Qingzhi is much lighter grey, all considered. But the root of their sense of morality remains, for the most part, identical.

In both cases, they have people they prioritise as "their" people. And for these people, they would sell the world. In the cdrama, this applies to Li Bing and the former slaves/convicts. In the manhua/donghua, it's the people working beneath him (such as General Lang in her former role).

Qiu Shenji is very much running the numbers game in a way that implicitly devalues the lives of civilians, purely because of the potential that the civilians could themselves be sleeper agents. He's been burnt before by doing the "compassionate" thing and so now would rather his troops get away safe, even at the expense of potential innocents. He even outright says something to this effect in his discussion with Minister Xu. If it's not their blood on the ground, then it's his.

To be quite frank, it's entirely possible that Qiu Qingzhi is off doing similar maths in the background of the cdrama, and it's an adaptational choice not to make that too explicit. But at the same time, Qiu Qingzhi's chosen people are not *necessarily* the same as Qiu Shenji's. And so the people he is willing to sacrifice to achieve his aims and protect those close to him differ accordingly.

The cdrama doesn't overly concern itself with asking questions of morality, being focused on more personal stakes overall, rather than weighing up any lofty ideas of what constitutes "ends justify the means" or the distant idea of a "greater good".

But just looking at the wider framework here. Qiu Shenji and Qiu Qingzhi are both a lot more politically aware than Li Bing and this heavily informs their actions. Li Bing can afford to rally for justice because of the space that's been made for him to do so. Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji do not have that option.

In Qiu Qingzhi's case, it's because his upbringing as a slave cannot be cast off. (Both he and Lai Zhongzhu have this in common. Where the donghua/manhua go for morality and politics, the cdrama goes more for class commentary. Qiu Qingzhi and Lai Zhongzhu both claw their way up from their birth stations and yet neither can remain there for long. They would never *truly* be accepted, not matter what actions they take to prove their loyalty). He has seen how disposable he and his fellow slaves are considered to be and so knows he cannot put a foot wrong.

In Qiu Shenji's, it's because he knows full well how easily he can be implicated by his former relationship with the Li family. (Something that the actual Li Bing was politically astute enough to pick up on years before any rebellion had taken place) And, honestly, even with his other reasons, I wouldn't be surprised if that also plays somewhat into why he's so overzealous in quashing rebellions. The idea of taking down rebels so viciously that he cannot ever be accused of being one himself.

Both Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji act strongly in their determination to achieve their aims. They want to shoulder the hard acts because they believe that they *have* to be done, but at the same time, are entirely willing to take on that burden *alone* without demeaning those who feel differently.

For Qiu Shenji, General Lang mentions she couldn't stomach his rebel-quashing tactics and so he made sure to obtain her a position elsewhere. She says he had also done this for others and seems thankful, even as she must know she is still complicit. Qiu Shenji knows how he is seen by the general populace, but thinks it an acceptable sacrifice for maintaining peace.

For Qiu Qingzhi, he made his deal with Yi Zhihua and then locked out Li Bing entirely, despite all their history. He would rather Li Bing hate him but be safe than let him in and put him at risk.

Both Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji commit to drown themselves in the blood of others so that they can protect "their" people. They made their decisions long ago and remain committed. Even choking, caged in a trap slowly tightening around them, they will not flee.

[aurelia1uvscats]

𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧 | Nagito Komaeda ੈ✩‧₊˚

word count: 1,637

warnings: none! fluff and comfort fem!reader

[notes]: yall this is my first fanfic ever owmwshwjhssj please dont mind it being absolutely CRINGE and BAD ive read this so many times that i despise this fic idc if it has mistakes im not READING THIS AGAIN 😭😭 also this fic is just sum beach walking and comforting komaeda

⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

The sulphury smell of the ocean enters your nostrils while you walk along the nearby shores of the beach. The wind blows gently at you, it tugs your hair a tinsy bit. You close your eyes, slowly taking a moment to inhale the intoxicating aroma with ease. The more you move forward in your path, the more footprints you set on the sand, in which the ocean will wash away eventually, and leave remains of nothing. You favored walks on the beach. It helped you concentrate and relieve all that pent-up stress within you. Not only that, but the beach gave you a sense of familiarity, it felt like a home to you.

The boy that had accompanied you on your stroll walked with the same peaceful aura as you. He was carrying a green umbrella due to his pale skin having the tendency to get burnt easily, such an inconvenience to him in which you found adoring. You halted to a stop and the boy behind you mimicked your actions, he looked at you with curiosity painted on his face. You begin gazing at the horizon at the end of the ocean, entranced by the beauty the world had to offer. The horizon displayed ombre colors consisting of various types of blue, with a small tint of yellow from the sun. You begin smiling with content. Not only was it due to the capturing scene bestowed upon your eyes, it was a result of the boy’s comforting presence as well. You were enamored by him, he had a very peculiar way of seeing the world, he had piqued your interest from the very beginning. Komaeda would support you at any given time, his undying kindness always took a toll on you, it prevented you from thinking straight. You weren’t sure what you felt towards him, but you could say for certain that you felt a compelling attraction towards him, you wanted him to remain by your side, always. Though, the way he would talk down to himself was something you much disliked about the boy. You loathed the way he perceived himself, the boy had extraordinary qualities, and yet he would still wear himself down. You wish he would see himself the way you saw him, An entracing work of art.

The boy’s smile by this time was plastered on his face, admiring you with the most adoring eyes. He wondered, what exactly were you thinking of? Komaeda cherished the moments you two would spend together. He felt that you completed him as a person, you made him want to experience many things he hadn’t indulged in before. He was spiraling with emotions due to your effect, he simply didn’t know what to do anymore. He preferred not to disgrace you with his execrable feelings, so he leaned for the choice to keep them confidential. Though, he did find that just being in your presence was simply enough for him.

You slowly turned your gaze towards him, noticing he was already staring at you with a warm smile. Could he have heard you thinking? Red tints begin spreading across your face, it begins stretching towards your ears.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled softly, avoiding his gaze.

“I always tend to get distracted when it comes to the beach.”

“It makes me think a lot,” you tell him, beginning to fidget with your hair. You shift your eyes back to him a bit.

The boy gives you a small chuckle, reassuring you he didn’t mind it.

“Hanging out with you is more than I could ask for y/n…My luck has truly blessed me today.” He meets your gaze and gives you a warm smile, slightly tilting his head. You could hear the thudding of your heart through your ears, it felt like it was going to combust, the effect he had on you was insane.

“Though, I should ask why you asked me of all people to accompany you.” He began.

“I’m just a nobody, someone who has no place to be near a talented ultimate as yourself…Let alone walk with you! I would ruin the view for you with my terrible constant talking and…”

You faced him with intense eyes, a sweat bead goes down his forehead.

“Ah, seems I did just that, huh? I’ll just go back to staying quiet, so please continue.”

You began approaching him slowly, still maintaining the intense eye contact. Komaeda didn’t seem to step back.

“I must have truly angered you… My apologies, y/n. Feel free to punish me as you wish.”

You approached so close that Komaeda dropped his green umbrella onto the sand. He just stared at you in a confused manner, he seemed disappointed you hadn’t punished him yet.

Komaeda watched your lips part, awaiting the insult. You start, “I’m not mad Komaeda, I’m just simply admiring my view.”

“Your view?” He repeated in a confused manner.

“I don't quite follow.”

“Can't you see Komaeda? You’re my view.” Komaedas eyes widen at her sudden comment, he’s completely stunned. Did he hear you correctly?

“What…?” He asked,

“I’d rather much watch you than any other horizon.” You happily admit, returning the warm smile he had given you earlier. His eyes widened, a flush crept upon his face. Then you were hit by the sudden realization of your bold comments… Your brain broke a fuse.

“Yeah!! But, I don’t mean it in a weird way, please don’t misunderstand me. It’s just that I find you more intriguing than the horizon. Uh, That wasn’t phrased correctly either. What I mean is that-“

“Please…. Don’t say things like that, y/n. You don’t want to taint your eyes with trash like me.”

“Komaeda….”

The umbrella he had dropped had been taken away by the shore. And you and Komaeda stared at each other silently, all that was heard was the sound of the waves. Why did he hate himself so much? You could go on for days talking about all his good qualities and perfect personality. You wish you had met him earlier, maybe you could’ve stopped him from hating himself so much, maybe he could’ve appreciated himself better and see that his presence does matter in this world. But, that wasn’t the current situation… You had to commit another bold move, though you would dread on it later, you had to do something.

You abruptly reached out for his clammy hands and clasped onto them. Komaeda jumped at your sudden action.

“Komaeda,” you inhaled deeply and began,

“You’re very important to me. I don’t care about tainting myself with you. I’ll take the risk again and again because I genuinely enjoy being in your presence.”

“One day, I truly hope you see yourself the way I do. I think of you as a man who's intriguing, thoughtful, warm-hearted, understanding,” You kept listing every single quality that came to your brain nonstop, you had no filter.

Komaeda removed his right hand from your grasp and gently placed it upon your mouth. You slowly began opening your eyes… You hadn’t sunk his reaction since you had shut your eyes closed when you began talking. Komaeda’s face seemed very flushed, or so you thought, maybe it was due to the sun’s rays striking upon his pale skin… You on the other hand weren't aware on how your reaction was displayed, all you knew was you felt like you might pass out at any moment.

Komaeda is the first one to break the silence.

“Do… you really see me in that way, y/n…?” He asked while removing his hand from your mouth. He anxiously waited for your answer while his jaw clenched.

“Y-yeah. I do…” you release his other hand softly.

You saw his eyes widen once again, and then they begin turning glossy…. His facial expression contorting to one of sadness and mouth slowly held out agape. You were alerted by his sudden change of emotion and began rethinking on what you may have said for him to react this certain way. His knees slowly buckled, and he was falling to the sand, you clutched his shoulders with all your might and held onto him, falling in a sitting position in the sand with him. You stayed in that position for what felt an eternity, the sand on the ground bruised your knees a tiny bit, but certainly you didn’t mind it at all. You let him cry it all out while rubbing circles on his back as a way to calm him down. After he finished, he managed to mutter:

“Thank you so much, y/n.” He faced you with small tear beads in his eyes. You realize that he wasn’t crying due to a comment you had said, but crying due to someone expressing such strong feelings towards him. He’s never received such bombardment of compliments before.

“You’re welcome Komaeda.” You tell him, whilst swiping his remaining tears with your thumb.

“How about we continue with our walk, yeah?” You offered, letting go of him and standing up. You stretch out your hand towards him with a warm smile. He shyly nodded and gladly accepts it, he stands up as well.

Even while standing up, you two never separated your hands, both of you held them firmly. You were flushed at such a fact, but still went onwards with your walk. You looked at Komaeda, and he was smiling with such content, your heart melted once again. If you had managed to convey such colossal amount of compliments, then surely confessing should be easier, but, right now didn't seem like the perfect moment to confess… You wanted to enjoy your remaining walk with him, making him feel completely cherished.

“You have a purpose, Nagito Komaeda...” You mumbled to him out of nowhere.

That’s all he needed to hear.

[suck-a-egg]

A possible au that has been entertaining the hell out of me for months but everytime I try to post it, I forget it immediately.

long story short: Domino survives, they go into hiding until after order 66. This is going to be hard to explain so stick with me

After Rishi, it turns out that Droidbate was more or less stunned but left behind by the others. He has a weird feeling and decides to stick back. He gets out of the building in time to watch Cutup get eaten by the eel and the flair go up and the other three make their way to the "inspectors" and sees Rex kill the eel. He runs and cuts Cutup, haha, out of the eel's stomach because I dont understand how stomach acid works and I don't care to know.

Newly released Cutup and confused as fuck Droidbate, now watch as Hevy sacrifices himself and they bust into the old station and find him burnt up. Listen, if Echo can survive an explosion so can Hevy. They somehow got him stable, don't know how and don't really care.

After Fives and Echo leave with Rex and Cody they get in contact with the "survivors" and give them a comm channel to contact them on and they all talk regularly. The twins give the comm channel to 99 the morning of the invasion but he never gets to use it.

After the citadel, Echo still gets blown up there's literally no way of stopping it, the comm channel goes silent until Umbara where Fives just wants an outsiders opinion and starts talking to them again.

When Fives finds out about the chips, Fox shoots Fives in the shoulder instead of the chest and one of the Corrie guards patches him up. Fives, understanding that if he stays with the GAR then he will be killed, contacts Domino and is smuggled off the planet and back to their little base that they made in a corner of Rishi (Kamino doesn't really pay attention to the moon anymore). Rex doesn't know where Fives; went he just knows he's alive and has no way of communicating with him.

Fast forward towards the end of the war, Rex and the bad batch find Echo caught in the wires on Skako Minor. Rex tries his hardest to try to somehow get in contact with Fives but he's just left at a lot of dead ends. He tells Echo about Fives to a certain degree. He basically just tells him that he went AWOL and doesnt even try to explain the chips or anything. But Echo, being one of the one only people to know about the comm channel, just calls Fives one day and has him explain it.

Domino, now knowing that Echo is alive, tries to convince him to leave the GAR and come with them. But since Echo is not done fighting yet, he chooses to go with the Bad Batch. But Domino makes him agree that if he's ever in trouble or needs help that he will contact them but once he does they will take him "home" to be with them.

Hunter figures out that Echo knows some type of squad outside of the ones that he has personally met because he hears a little bit of their conversation due to his senses. But he chooses to not say anything.

Order 66 still happens and the events of season 1 of the Bad Batch still happens.

After the fall of Kamino, Rex contacts the Batch asking them to go on a mission with him and they somehow end up captured (Omega included). The group that captured them are allies with the Techno Union and they easily figured out who and what Echo was and are trying to take him back to Wambor. The captors for some reason didn't take their equipment, so Echo, now panicking, contacts Hevy specifically, because he's the least likely to freak out, and asks for help. The batch has no idea who he's talking to but Rex has an idea after he hears Hevy's voice.

Rex starts to basically interrogate Echo, asking how long he had known, who was alive, why he kept it a secret. Echo breaks down because he doesn't want his older brother to be mad at him but he also wants to keep his other brothers safe and away from the war.

Wambor shows up an hour before Domino does and they have already taken Echo and hooked him back into a computer and have him completely out of it.

Domino busts in and Hevy and Droidbait find Rex and the rest of the Batch. They let them out of their cell and start asking them where Echo is but get cut off by Fives and Cutup on the comm line telling them that they had found the final Domino. Everyone rushes over and finds Fives cradling Echo to his chest while trying to calm him down. Fives ends up carrying him out of the prison and back on to the ship that they somehow commandeered.

They get poor echo back on the ship and after some questioning from Rex, they take the Batch back to the marauder but when they try to get off of Domino's ship, Echo doesn't go with them and chaos ensues.

You didn't see this, E

[maria-rayro]

Lucky jacket

Granthem walks with a slow step along the corridors of the basement, easily navigating in an intricate labyrinth. The night was just beginning, and he only killed Mr. Lonnit by now. Everything goes according to plan. He had to get rid of him at the beginning of the night, to prevent himself from making the mistake of succumbing to the staggering amount of time they were together. Charlie was for him something like a sweet memory from his youth, his first love - of course, a peculiar one, given the peculiarities of Hector's psyche, but still, it was the word "love" that he would prefer to use to describe that crazy cocktail of feelings that he then experienced for the young investigator. He gave him just one sweet week before Hector had to fake his death. He thought about going back and taking Lonnit for himself, but... he just couldn't. He saw the young man meeting his mother at the airport and stepped back. He preferred not to think about this act of his and its reasons.

When he finally heard about Lonnit Entertainment after so many years, he couldn't miss the chance. Despite everything, Du'Met was rather sentimental; he kept his mother's body in the lighthouse, and Sherman's body in the castle, as well as many things that remind him of the past. At first, he wanted to make an animatronic out of Charles, but forced himself to act differently and, listening to the devil inside himself, decided to burn Charlie to wipe him off the face of the earth forever. Out of sight, out of mind. And no sentimentality.

But, of course, he felt sad now that it had ended this way. There was nothing left of Charles, except for a burnt jacket... it was even strange, actually.

Thinking about this, he turns around the next turn and suddenly freezes. Not far from him, with his back to him, unaware of his presence, stands Charlie. He tries to break the door with a makeshift lockpick, but that's not what Hector pays attention to.

He is in a jacket. In his FBI jacket.

Inside Du'Met, a fire flares up even stronger than in the furnace from which Charles, like a phoenix, got out alive and almost unharmed. He tilts his head to one side, his eyes moving over Lonnit's body. Charlie suddenly angrily slams his hand on the door, which he never managed to open, and the next moment he plugs his mouth with his hand, realizing that he just made a noise. He looks around and immediately screams, jumping back when he sees Granthem. "No!" he screams desperately, realizing that he has driven himself into a dead end.

Du'Met finally dies and takes a step forward, slowly closing the distance between him and Charles, who continues to babble. He listened to it now not really attentively, fully focusing his gaze on the jacket.

Years ago, he draped it over Charles's shoulders. The young man was cold and trembling after the stress of the encounter with the maniac, and Hector wanted to take care. Charlie then smiled gratefully at him, and Munday to this day periodically returned to this sweet memory.

Did Charles think about that moment when he put on his jacket? Did he do it to protect himself from the cold, or was he still looking for a sense of security in this piece of clothing, the same that Hector had given him so many years ago?

"Please, Mr. Du'Met! No, please, don't, I... I'll do anything, just don't hurt me, please! I don't want to burn, I..." he says with fear. Du'Met's eyes are fixed on his fingers as they grip the fabric of his jacket.

Why did Charles put it on?

Granthem gets very close to Lonnit, forcing him to back up against the wall. He sighs softly as he looks at Charlie through the slits in his mask, wondering what to do next. He doesn't want to burn him again. No. He can't even think about it now.

He reaches out and touches the jacket with his fingertips, in the next moment looking up at Lonnit's eyes. The man seems very frightened and confused. Granthem defiantly pulls on the edge of his jacket a couple of times and looks at him questioningly, head tilted to one side. Charlie opens his mouth, trying to figure out what he needs to say. "This... I... I found this in one of the rooms... s-sorry, I shouldn't have, I, I... let me take this off?" he suggests anxiously.

Munday purses his lips, lowering his gaze, unable to get enough of the view that fate has given him. He shakes his head and looks back into Lonnit's blue-gray eyes, looking for any hint of what he needs to do to save himself.

"You don't want me to take this off? But what... what should I... what should I do then? Mr. Du'Met?" he asks a little confused. Granthem greedily looks him up and down again, wondering what he wants to do with Charles now. His brain is now clouded with strange desires. He looks into Lonnit's eyes again as soon as he stops at one crazy idea.

Du'Met suddenly puts his hand up to his face, and Charles sobs in fear, squinting, but soon opens his eyes again when he feels, instead of the expected punch or other form of violence, the soft touch of latex. He looks confused and frightened into the face of a man hidden behind a mask, stroking his cheek. "M-Mr. D-Du'Met?"

Granthem makes a purr-like sound, and the corners of his lips lift slightly. He leans rapaciously towards his face, and Charles shakes with fear.

With his other hand, he squeezes the fabric of the FBI jacket, feeling a crazy desire, and then suddenly abruptly grabs the man and, ignoring his frightened cry, holds him up as if he weighs nothing, and almost throws him on the table. Lonnit groans painfully, hitting the back of his head against the wall. "Please, please don't, don't kill me!"

Granthem stands between his reflexively spread legs and tilts his head to one side, looking with interest at the picture in front of him. He suddenly reaches out and touches his knee, with pressure, but without the purpose of hurting him, stroking it through the fabric of his pants. Lonnit twitches, trying to get rid of the touch, but Du'Met holds him tight, and then grabs his other leg and sharply moves towards himself, forcing his lower back to slide to the edge of the table. Charlie curls his fingers into his jacket. "What are you-" he starts to ask, but Granthem, without a second's hesitation, reaches for his fly and unzips it with a couple of sure strokes. "Oh my God-"

Du'Met feels pleased to see how confused Charlie is. He is so beautifully emotional. His eyes like deers ones. Lips tremble. He froze completely, obviously afraid to move, not understanding what would follow next, what this man was going to do with him.

Granthem suddenly yanks off his trousers, and Charles screams and instinctively tries to escape, but, realizing that he is being held very tightly, hides his face in his elbow, pleading or swearing in fear. He thinks what is waiting for him now, thinks about the knife behind Granthem's back and is already preparing to say goodbye to life...

Du'Met suddenly sinks to the floor between his legs and, continuing to hold him tightly by the knees, touches his thigh with hot lips and a cold mask. "Oh?" Charlie exhales in puzzlement, opening his eyes and looking confusedly at Du'Met, who, oh god, is looking at him through the slits in his mask, running his tongue over his skin, which immediately breaks out into goosebumps. "What are you doing?" he asks in a trembling voice; the fear is somewhat blunted by shock.

Granthem stares straight into his eyes, and then tilts his head slightly to one side and bites the soft skin in exactly the same way and exactly the same spot he bit him on their first and only night they spent together many years ago. He looks at him, greedily catching the man's reaction. His pupils dilate. He couldn't help remembering, Granthem knew it.

He licks the bite mark and is pleased to see that Lonnit's cock is already hardening just a little. Charlie has always been an adrenaline junkie, no wonder.

He grins contentedly, and Lonnit throws his head back, unable to look at it, and clutches the FBI jacket between his fingers. Memories of Hector flash through his mind, but he pushes those thoughts aside. It all feels like a strange, surreal dream. But now, when Du'Met touches the head of his dick with his tongue, he cannot help imagining his former lover in the place of the maniac. God, how he wished he could go back to that time now. To the sense of safety that this FBI jacket and its owner gave him.

His toes twitch, and there is only fog in his head, he does not know where to put his hands. Suddenly, without even bothering to think about it, he whispers a name on the verge of madness. "Hector..."

He realizes his mistake right away and manages to panic, but the menacing man, instead of getting angry, makes some strange satisfied sound and pushes his mouth harder on his cock, moving his head, tightening his fingers on his hips, and Charlie looks down, looking in his eyes, in those brown, God, so brown, just like-

He lets out a groan and cums very unexpectedly; Du'Met pulls away, and white drops fall on his mouth and mask.

Granthem licks his lips and wipes sperm off his skin with a glove, straightening up and looking down at Charles, fixing his eyes on the jacket again.

"Hector..." heavy breathing and a hoarse voice. Granthem sighs, lazily assessing the result of his work.

He so wanted to let him go. Forget. Out of sight, out of mind. But now... oh, he has a much better idea.

"Your lucky jacket" Granthem says briefly. "Keep it" he orders, pulling away and turning his back to the man, leisurely leaving the room, closing it on his way out.

He'll come back to Charles, when the night ends.

When his work will be done.

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (3)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: none 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky stared down at the fresh coffee stained on the sidewalk; a caramel puddle nestling into the cracks and stretching along the lines until it spilled out into the street. He could smell the bitterness and the sweetness in the cream, the steam of it still warm as it filtered up into the cold, autumn air. He cursed at himself under his breath.  

You’d looked so beautiful, even with your eyes wide in shock and lips parted in a gasp as coffee spilled to your shoes. Dressed under an army green overcoat, a sliver of a burnt orange sweater peaked out from underneath. He’d seen that particular shade before, cast over a forest of evergreens and reflecting into the clouds, just above the sun as it set over the tree line.  

But he’d made a fool of himself in front of you and he could still feel the burning in his ears. He felt hot under his jacket and he found himself glancing down the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. Only, you were waiting for him inside and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you.

Gathering what remained of his courage, Bucky parted the double doors and stepped inside. It took a minute to let his eyes adjust, but when the dim lighting came into view, he noticed you were standing by the entrance waiting for him like you’d known he’d decide to follow. You beamed as he caught sight of you and his stomach twisted straight to knots. You were still clutching the donut box to your chest, almost as if you were afraid he’d knock that out of your hands, too.  

“Come on, you can help me set up.” You gestured down the hall to the room he met you in a few days prior. The library with no books on the shelves and cobwebs in the corners. “We’ve got to get you a book before the others show up.”

Bucky nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he followed you. It was pretty quiet without so many people lingering around, but everyone seemed to smile as you approached; perking up from under their clouds and called out your name until you waved back at them. It was like you carried sunshine in your pockets and comfort in your presence, breaking away stormy skies as you passed by.  

Before you could reach the library door, Bucky rushed out ahead of you and grabbed a hold of the knob. You paused, eyes catching his for a moment and a pink filtered into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.  

“Figured I could do one decent thing today after I ruined your shoes,” he explained, pulling open the door for you.  

“You showed up, didn’t you?” you added with a wink. “I count two decent things today, James Barnes.”

He chuckled at that, nodding. “Y-Yeah, okay.”  

You set the donuts on the coffee table and began to push the furniture around into a circle. You shouldered most of your weight into the couch to get it to budge and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips just watching you. Concentrated frown on your face, determination in your eyes, staring down the couch as if it were your sworn enemy.  

“You need help with that?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the couch that barely moved a few inches while you were out of breath.  

You glanced up at him over the spine of the couch, nodding gratefully. “This one always gives me trouble.”

“I’m sure if you waited for the others to show up, they’d help you move these around,” Bucky said as he placed his right hand on the back of the armrest, his knee digging into the center of the back. You stood next to him, hands on the frame to help push despite the fact that Bucky was strong enough, even without his left arm, to move the couch on his own. But he liked the idea of you beside him, so he didn’t say anything.  

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” you exhaled as they couch slid perfectly into place within the circle. “They all work so hard though, you know? It’s nice to have them just walk in and sit down for a change. Don’t need them thinking I’m expecting work out of them, too.”

“Ah, so that's why I’m here, then...”  

He was surprised by the teasing in his own voice. When was the last time he made a joke? He couldn’t even remember. But you started to smile, that brightness shining right up into your eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d make a thousand jokes if you would keep looking at him like that.  

“Careful now,” you warned, a glimmer in your eye. “I might need you to help move this couch every week...”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”  

He didn’t know where this was coming from or how it slipped off his tongue so easily, but he liked the way it seemed to catch your off guard. You stilled for a second, a nervous laugh under your breath as you quickly tucked away a few strands of fallen hair. You were flustered. Shit. He was done for.  

“Haven't even seen one meeting and you’re offering to move couches for me on a weekly basis? Consider me eternally grateful, James Barnes.” You plopped down on the couch, reaching for the strap of your bag, though it was a few inches out of reach.  

Bucky leaned down and picked up the bag, surprised to find it as heavy as it was, and gently set it in your lap. He took a seat on the couch on your left, though he left considerable room between you. You started digging through the bag, pulling out book after book and setting them on the table.  

“We’ve got to pick your book of choice,” you explained, smiling at him and clearly eager to see what he would select. “Anything you want. I can get something else from the library for next week if you’re not interested in these. I’ve got some guys reading Harry Potter for the first time. Lang’s on the second Twilight book. Romanoff is halfway through The Odyssey. Barton’s about a few pages to the end of a murder mystery he guessed the plot twist of within the first ten pages, which is just downright infuriating...”

Your nose was all scrunched up and it was the damn near cutest thing Bucky had ever seen. He must have been staring for too long though, because you raised a brow at him.  

Bucky cleared this throat, quickly looking away. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and tried to steer the conversation strictly away from how adorable he found you.  

“Isn’t the point of a book club to read the same book?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged, “but not my book club. The whole point is just to help these guys feel comfortable, give them a moment of peace, even if it’s for an hour once a week. Sometimes we’ll sit around the circle and talk about what we’re reading. Lang’s working really hard to sell the Twilight books to the rest of the group despite being about a decade late to the game. Most times though, we just read, listen to some music. It’s quite nice, actually.”

So that was what Sam meant by unconventional.

“I don’t know the last time I read anything,” Bucky admitted slowly. He could barely get himself to concentrate on a single newspaper article these days, let alone an entire book. He often caught himself staring at the TV and realizing an episode later that he didn’t have a clue what had happened.  

“A lot of the guys take breaks,” you offered, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the donuts are for. Oh, and the coffee, of course.”

You jumped up, making your way over to the pots sitting on the table lining the wall. The pots were already filled and he wondered who took the time to do that for you before you even arrived. You were so well liked around here, Bucky found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who felt like you could tell him to do just about anything and he’d oblige without question.

“You want some?” you asked, holding up an empty cup, but Bucky shook his head. He was already starting to get warm and adding coffee to the mix wouldn’t help things.  

You didn’t seem to mind as you shrugged off your jacket and draped it by the door. The orange sweater he’d caught a glimpse of under your jacket turned out to be a cardigan. It flowed long down by your thighs, draped over a simple, white tank top and black jeans. Gold jewelry sat over your collarbone and you had a sudden glow about you, like that hour just before sunset.

Golden hour, he realized. That’s what you reminded him of.  

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” you asked, fanning yourself as you set the coffee on the table. “It’s not just me?”

It’s definitely you, Bucky thought. He’d never met anyone who carried such a presence as to melt the icy cold shards planted defensively around his chest. You were the epitome of warmth and kindness and the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen... but a trail of sweat lined his hairline and he could feel the heat trapped under his jacket.  

“Not you,” Bucky confirmed, brushing at his brow. “It’s hot.”

“Here,” you stood up, holding out a hand to him, “I can take your jacket for you.”

Bucky froze, jaw clenched. He became painfully aware of the empty sleeve on his left side. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew you must have noticed by now, but taking the jacket off made it obvious that a piece of him was missing, the stub at his shoulder the only thing left in place of an arm he could still feel most days.  

“I’m, uh, I’m okay,” he stuttered out, his eyes falling to the ground, hoping you didn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. He could feel your eyes on him and he was almost certain that if he dared to look up at you, you’d be fixated on his empty sleeve.  

Shame started to burn hot in his chest when suddenly he felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. When he looked in search of you, he found you setting up a fan at the edge of the room, angling it just enough so that it was sure to reach him on every rotation.  

He swallowed as he watched you. You didn’t ask questions or push him to take the jacket off despite being clearly too warm to keep it on. Instead, you offered him a short smile as you sat back on the couch beside him, a little closer this time.  

“Any better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that's really nice. Thanks.”

You smiled for him and he wondered if he could stay inside that moment forever.  

***

Bucky selected The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Gilman from the stack of books on the table. It surprised you as his hand ghosted over the cover before flipping it over in his palm, a curious look on his features. It was one of your favorites, one not many would choose to pick up in fear of the publishing date in the late 1800s, but it was a short story, one he could finish within the span of the meeting today.  

As he stared down at the unusual yellow pattern on the cover, a frown pushed at his lips as he started to see the strange images hidden under the surface. You found yourself struggling to tear your gaze away from him. With such a reaction to the cover, you couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting just to hear what he thought of the story.  

Soon, the usuals started filtering into the room and you noticed that Bucky had barely said a word as the low hum of small talk and chatter filled the empty space. He kept to himself, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion like he might run at any second as you talked with one of the oldest VA members by the door.  

Upon sensing his discomfort, you quickly made your way back to the couch and you were surprised when you felt the cushion dip a little as he leaned in your direction as if he was using you as anchor; something familiar amongst an unknown. You tried to suppress a smile when he looked at you, but you really liked the idea of being something familiar to him.  

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” you told him quietly, nudging his side playfully with your shoulder. It drew a soft laugh from under his breath and he nodded, gripping tight to the book.  

“Yeah, me too.” He sank back into the couch and relaxed the tension in his body.  

Six on the dot. You turned to the group.  

Tony Stark sat in his usual throne, legs draped over the arm rest, sitting sprawled out over the single chair. Heir to Stark Industries, he’d enlisted himself in rebellion against his own father. He’d ended up in the Air Force for three tours and prided himself on the tattoo on his chest he’d gotten drunkenly off base in his early twenties.  

Natasha Romanoff found her place sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning up against the seat of Tony’s chair. She was a sort of a mystery to you, never spoke a word about her position within the military and how long she served, but she was exceptionally perceptive. Part of you wondered if she was some sort of super spy. Despite becoming a close friend, there was still so little you knew about her history. She rested a pillow in her lap.

Then, there was Scott Lang. He’d found himself in some trouble after his discharge, but he was turning his life around. He had a little girl to stick around for and he was trying desperately to find a job. You suspected his fascination with the Twilight books stemmed more from an unbreakable bond with his daughter than anything else. He took his place on the bean bag chair.  

Clint Barton sat on the table outside the circle. He was a sharp shooter in his time and found more comfort in the distance. He kept to himself and had an exceptionally entertaining habit of making quick remarks under his breath few were fortunate to hear. You were determined to hand him a book with a plot twist not even he could see coming. You resided to put Defending Jacob by William Landay on hold.  

A few others filled out the circle; familiar faces of men and women most would look past on the streets. Dark circles under their eyes, a hardened look about them. Some with tattoos and long beards, other’s draped in leather. Some, you could see the ghost of their former selves in their eyes, but they all seemed to lighten as they sat around the circle.  

A moment of peace. It’s all you could offer and they took it gladly.  

“Hey everyone. We’ve got a newbie in today.” You gestured to Bucky and he slowly lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is the group. Play nice.”

“What’s your rank, soldier?” Tony quipped from his chair; legs kicked out over the side. He never had much of a filter, or a sense of restraint. You shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice, or rather he didn’t care.  

“Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He said it as though it burned him, like the very act of the title was painful just to speak.  

“Where’d you serve?”

“Tony, we’re not grilling the new kid today,” you warned, but Bucky cleared his throat.

“Afghanistan mostly.” He curled his hand into a fist, pinching at the pages of The Yellow Wallpaper in his grip. A hardness had swept over most of his features, almost in a protective layer, and you wanted to whack Tony upside the head for stealing the soft undertones in his expression.  

“And the rest?”

Bucky paused, releasing his fist. “Classified.”  

Tony pursed his lips, staring Bucky down over the top lens of his thick rimmed glasses. A testament of wills. A challenge. Then, he nodded, satisfied.  

“Great,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now that Tony here has finished interrogating our newest member, we can get started.”

“Hey, consider it my welcome to the group!” Tony hands thrown defensively in the air. Scott nodded from his couch, remembering his own initiation the day Tony demanded to know the extent of his robbery charges following his discharge.  

You shook your head, smiling spreading back to your lips and you were thankful to find that Bucky had sat back into the couch, relaxing as the attention moved back to you.  

“I think we’ll just spend today reading,” you said. “I’ll put on the playlist Tony recommended – and don’t worry, I did browse through to make sure he didn’t slip any rock anthems in again. We don’t need to give Dr. Selvig down the hall another heart attack when Back in Black starts blaring directly after Yiruma.”

The room laughed and you were purposeful in glancing over at Bucky to see if a smile caught on his lips. It was small, a little uncomfortable as his eyes flickered around the room at the other group members, but he seemed to soften as he landed on you again. You nodded at him.  

“Alright kids, hush up now.” You pressed play and the gentle strokes of a piano began to fill the room. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

You waited until everyone settled in and opened their books. One of the older gentlemen in the back with a long and burly white beard and a leather vest draped over his shoulders set the open novel on his chest and promptly closed his eyes for his weekly nap. You smiled to yourself as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest – the man deserved one decent hour of rest a week, anyway.  

By the time you made your way back to the couch, you noticed Bucky had tensed up again. He was staring down at the book, harsh breaths pressing through his nose as he tried to keep the book propped open with on hand, losing his place as he tried to turn the page. His jaw was clenched so tight you wondered if he’d bite it clean off.  

He didn’t dare ask for help or so much as look in your direction, but it was a determination you’d come to expect from the people you met in these halls. It didn’t mean you couldn’t offer it anyway.  

You quietly opened a drawer at the edge of the room, pushing aside knick knacks and old ketchup packets until you came across a small wooden clip. One of the older members had used it when he was going through extensive PT for his hand and couldn’t pinch his fingers enough to grip the thin slip of the page. You pulled it from the drawer and quickly skirted your way back to the couch beside Bucky.

“Here,” you offered, extending the clip to him as the book fell closed on his lap for the fourth time. He looked up at you, confused. You wondered if he realized how cute he looked when his brows pinched together like that; made him look about ten years younger and wiped the evidence of the war clean off his face.  

You smiled at him. “It holds the pages down for you. Look.”

Gently pulling the book from his lip, you opened to the first page and set the clip at the bottom of the binding. When you released it, the pages stayed open, giving him free range of motion to turn the page without losing his place.  

He blinked a few times as he stared down at the book. It was clear he’d never considered a tool like this and you wondered how many times he had sat down with the intention of reading only to find he couldn’t even turn past the first page. He might have been able to figure out the skill in it if he’d had the patience, but you imagined his own frustration got in the way of that. He seemed to have little patience for himself, as soldiers returning home often did. 

There was a brief moment when the tips of his fingers brushed over yours as you pulled away. His hands were warm, almost feverish in comparison to the chill in your own. A blush warmed his cheeks and his eyes quickly darted down to the pages. Your stomach was in pleasant knots.  

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, a soft semblance of a smile rising sweetly at the edges of his lips.  

You nodded, settling in on the couch beside him and pulling your own book up into your lap. You listened to the gentle strokes of the piano carrying softly through the room until a page turned on your left and then, you let yourself sink into the bindings of the book perched upon your lap.  

***

“So! What did you think?!”

It was the first thing you said as the final group member exited the room. Barely even a footstep out the door and you were already anxiously awaiting his reaction. Bucky was busy pushing the couch back into its original position and he glanced back at you to see you biting nervously on your lip, hands wringing out in front of you. You were swaying onto your tip toes like a kid hyped up on sugar. It was the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen.  

“It was... a little creepy at the end?” Bucky chuckled, glancing down at The Yellow Wallpaper as it sat on the coffee table. “The woman went completely mad.”

You nodded vigorously, the smile on your face beaming and he had to watch himself to keep from mirroring your excitement.  

"It’s a critique on how women’s mental health was perceived in the nineteenth century!” you explained with that giddy look on your face, reaching down for the book and flipping the pages through your fingers, the soft brush of wrinkled paper touching over each thumbprint. “Women were believed to be weak minded and frail, unable to handle more than two hours of mental stimulation. The woman in the story was prescribed ‘rest’ by her physician to treat her depression, essentially restricting her to little more than staring at the walls.”  

You rolled your eyes, groaning dramatically, and drawing a smile to Bucky’s face that ached into his cheeks. “Slowly, it drove her to seek stimulation in impossible places, like the image of a woman she saw in the wallpaper! By the end of the story, that’s who she became. Wild, right?”

You shook your head, seemingly lost in astonishment. There was a slight crinkle in your nose when you smiled that wide, Bucky realized, like even the features on your face couldn’t hope to contain the joy bursting from your smile. Radiated like the fucking sun. Bucky was helpless in his stance, frozen, as he listened to you.  

“You know the author once said, ‘it’s not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy,’” you continued, setting the book down with such a gentle touch, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. You handled it with such care and Bucky began to wonder if you’d ever touch him like that – if he was worth such tenderness.  

The thought startled him and he quickly swallowed it back. Jaw clenched, right hand pressed to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. Stone cold expression. And yet – you were still talking about that book, all starry eyed and adorable, and a smile managed to crack through his lips. It was his new favorite book, he decided. Whatever could make you smile like that was his favorite. He’d sit there and read the fucking phone book if you asked him to.  

“She wrote it in retaliation of her own experience of a physician disregarding her depression. It's actually quite remarkable when you think about it. It's one of the earliest American Feminist works of it’s– ” You froze suddenly, hand clamping over your mouth. You winced at him, slowly pealing your palm away. “Oh God, I’m rambling. I tend to get a little excited about these things... You must be so bored right now.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile as it rose in his cheeks. He liked seeing you so flustered, caught up in a passion he so rarely saw these days. He didn’t know the last time he cared about anything as much as you cared for books. He could have easily listened to you talk like that for hours without interruption.  

“No, no, not bored at all,” he reassured you and you visibly relaxed, relief sweeping through your shoulders. You started to fold up the chairs when Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. “I, uh, I did like the story, though. Has a lot of relevance today. I see why you like it.”

If he thought you were going to burst before, he should have waited to see how you were looking at him now. Chewing on the inside of your cheek in hopes of suppressing it, though it clearly did little use.  You planted your hands on your hips.  

“Watch what you say, Barnes. I’ll talk your ear off.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m already down an arm, what’s an ear, too?”

The second the words left his lips, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; drenching his clothes, goosebumps on his ice, sinking into his veins and freezing him to stone. He woken up from a pleasant dream by the harsh ringing of an alarm. He'd been pushed off a cliff, stomach churning in the freefall.  

You knew. Obviously, you knew.  

You weren’t blind and he was certain you could tell there was a startling absence where his left arm should be, even with the poorly camouflaged sleeve hanging off his side. It wasn’t fooling strangers on the street and it certainly didn’t fool you either, even if it gave him an ounce of peace, like maybe he could pretend he was whole again.

But you’d brought him that book clip for a reason.  

You knew.  

At yet, this was the first time he mentioned it aloud. Actually said the words. Drew attention to the fact that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and now he was waiting for you to flinch, for the familiar shades of pity and embarrassment to cloud over your starry eyes, but he waited and waited and – it never came.  

Instead, you started to laugh.  

It filled the room and washed away whatever panic was surging inside of him within a matter of seconds. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and he wished you didn’t shield your hand over your lips in an effort to contain it because – God – he could have spent his whole life sitting in that moment. Tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, looking at him like he was the man he was before the war, like he was something worth looking at.  

“You’re funny, James Barnes,” you said after you caught your breath again, a whisper of a laugh still lingering in your voice. You brushed the tears from your eyes.  

Bucky’s chest felt instantly lighter. His right hand was swinging down at his side and he brought it up to his hair to brush it from his face.  

“I could use a new book for next week,” he started, a little surprised at himself, and judging by the look in your eyes, it surprised you too. But you were smiling at him and it gave him the courage to continue. “Thought maybe you could help me find something?”

“Really?” you asked, practically glowing. “You’ll come back next week?”

He’d do anything if you kept looking at him like that.  

“Yeah,” was all he said, but you looked as though he told you he’d just told you he won the lottery. Maybe he had.  

“Well then, I’d be happy to! Just, um, hold on a second,” you scrambled around the room, looking for a pen and paper. You clicked a pen a few times before doodling in the corner to get the ink moving. When you were finished, you handed it to him. “These are my hours at the library. Come by anytime, okay? If I’m not up front, ask Mrs. Jefferson to page me. She’ll know who you are.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, staring down at the scribbled numbers. Did you talk about him at work? Butterflies swarmed in his stomach at the thought. He wondered what kinds of things you would say about him.  

“Walk me out?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the rack and gesturing to the door. Bucky looked up, not even realizing the room was already set back in its original formation, the empty box of donuts discarded.  

He nodded, following you to the door.  

“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come today,” you said as you passed into the hallway. Bucky kept an even pace at your side and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach escape to where you could see.  

“Almost didn’t,” he admitted with a tired chuckle.  

“Figured by the staring contest you were having with the building before the coffee incident.”

Bucky winced, but you were smiling as he looked over at you and he felt the tension slip from his muscles instantly. “I am sorry about that...”

“Maybe you can just owe me a coffee,” you suggested casually, as if the prospect of spending time together, just the two of you didn’t make the butterflies crawl a little further up into his chest. “A real one. Not the shitty stuff we serve at the VA.”

Bucky swallowed, pushing the creatures back into his stomach. His throat was dry. “I can do that.”  

He pictured sitting across from you at a café, watching your hands curl around the outside of a mug, the steam of it brushing on your nose. Glistening in the reflection of the sunlight peaking through the windows, draped in the glow of the sunset. He’d buy you a thousand coffees.  

“Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?”

Bucky looked around and realized suddenly that he was standing outside. The cold breeze had turned into a frigid autumn chill with the sun nearly set behind the skyline. Peaks of orange remained at the horizon, mimicking the colors in your sweater. When he looked down, he could still see the stain of coffee on the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, determined to push past whatever doubt etched into his way. It faded in an instant as he saw your lips curve up high into your cheeks. “I’ll see you soon.”

[animatedrapture]

"𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖞" — suna rintarou ;

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: suna rintarō is so much more than his bored eyes, the blunt between his lips, and his tendency to slack off—luckily, you're one of the very few people who know this; especially after he comes home to you sullen after finding out he didn't make it to the olympic players.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: female reader. fluff—established relationship. angst if you squint. comfort. mention of drug use. like, one swear word.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k

𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: in lieu of the influx of toxic stoner!suna content, i offer you a piece of appreciation towards him and all that he is. i was meaning to post this in my new blog but i thought there's so much of you here who would appreciate and need this more. written on a whim at 1AM and didn't proofread so for any errors, gomen. repost because tumblr tagging hates me. cross posted on ao3 under the same username. original post here. this was written before we got information that he actually made it to the olympic team. furudate really told me to stfu, huh?

It's you who find out first that there is truly so much more to Suna Rintarō than his expressionless exterior, sleepy eyes, and bored gaze towards even the most ridiculous situations. It's when his self assured stance dwindled as he walked towards you once upon a time, introducing himself first before asking you for your number.

"My number?" You echoed his request, trying your best not to gawk at his attractive features and six foot two stature towering over you so easily; making you feel oh so small. (Which is funny, given that you were already standing straight on your heels.)

"If you don't mind, 's cool if you say no," he replies, tearing his gaze from you as if he was actually anxious you'd say no.

It's funny, really. It's not every day a famous pro-athlete known for both his good looks and skills walk up to you, asking for your number and actually considering you'd say no to him and his pretty features—in fact, nevermind that he was pretty, it was more the fact that he wasn't so full of himself to actually think you wouldn't say no.

That's what makes you nod your head; your heart already beating right out of your chest as he gives you a lazy grin and his phone to press your number in. When you're done, you hand it back to him and you mentally pat yourself at the back for not visibly trembling.

"Y/N?" He reads your name from the contact information, and good God, did your name sound so beautiful coming out of his mouth. He doesn't wait for your reply anymore, looking back at you from his phone, the lazy smile still across his lips as if he knew it was a heart killer.

"Thanks, I'll text you later," is the last thing he said before he walked away from you.

It didn't take long for you to fall in love with someone like Suna Rintarō—underneath his detached personality also lied someone who was truly passionate with the things he set his mind to, gave his time to. Like you or volleyball or the video game he's been waiting to release for a whole month—it only had to be something or someone who was special enough, then, he would give it his all.

The smoke that filled his lungs occasionally did nothing to lessen your own intoxication of Suna Rintarō and his passions—because every exhale, his dark green eyes would meet yours and oh so easily, he offers you that same lazy smile yet one that was dripping with affection.

"Should you even be smoking that, Rintarō?" You had questioned him before, about the second time you've seen him put the rolled blunt in between his soft lips, inhaling it.

"It's a once in a while kinda thing, you don't actually think I'd sacrifice my career for this don'tcha?" He grins at you, amusement flooding his usually bored eyes — now glazed over with the effects of the weed—from the way he gazes at you with an eyebrow raised.

It's when you realize that Suna Rintarō was independent and knew what he was doing—did what he did with full awareness, full control, full flexibility. It's as if who he was in court was who he was in person as well.

"You're really interesting, y'know that Rin?" You had mumbled against his chest once before, it was at the first few months of dating—he had one of his arms around you with you cuddled on his side, watching a movie from his couch.

"Yeah?"

"I mean—you've always been so good at what you do, huh? But you still work for it."

"What makes you say that?" You can feel him looking down on face against his chest.

"C'mon, don't be silly. You were scouted at middle school and you only got better as you grew up!" You say, finally moving your head to meet his gaze.

But all you get is a flick on your forehead and his low chuckle, "'s not that deep, y/n," he answers.

But you already knew better.

Suna isn't one for words, and no matter how much you insist that he was beyond the description of words, he only rolls his narrowed eyes at you. You find out Suna Rintarō, your boyfriend, was a huge inspiration during your sixth month together when you finally met his little sister.

It's hard to say it wasn't amusing how snarky she was, just as he was to his friends whom you've met a few times before—Atsumu and Osamu Miya, you remember. She's quick with her tongue, easily retorting back to her brother's comments.

"Are you sure you didn't just pay Y/N-san to be your girlfriend, nii-san?"

"Nah, you still jealous I came out prettier than you?" Suna bites back, a teasing grin plastered across his face. His sister only scoffs, looking back at you.

"You can tell me if he blackmailed you to come here!" She attempts to whisper. You're not sure whether you should be worried or continue to laugh, but you do neither as you choke on the drink you were sipping on right as she told you this.

"Shit, Y/N," Suna curses as you cough, your throat burning at the drink's intrusion, but Suna's quick to rub soothingly against your back as he offers you his water, his eyes glazed over in panic.

"You okay?" He asks when you stopped coughing, and you nod in response—throat remaining slightly sore. Suna lets out an aggravated groan, "Be careful next time," he manages to scold you, but oddly enough, his words remain saccharine.

There's something about the way that his little sister doesn't seem the least bit surprised with his reaction that somehow lets you know that perhaps, Suna Rintarō might just be quite the caring brother behind closed doors.

After that, it was when Suna excused himself to take a call from his manager, leaving you with his sister.

"Hey, nee-san, promise you'll take care of Rin-nii? You won't break his heart, will you?" His sister asks, eyes gleaming with something akin to hope, expectation, wonder. It easily takes you by surprise.

"Don't you worry, I'll promise I'll take care of him, promise I won't break his heart," your voice easily softens, nodding. His little sister's gaze remains on you, as if she's assessing you and as if she would easily tell whether or not you meant the words that came out of your mouth.

It makes you hold a breath until she nods slowly, smiling at you lightly just as Suna comes walking back, eyebrows raised, knowing he must've missed something.

"Whatcha girls talkin' bout?" He asked as he slipped back on his seat beside you.

"None of your business, obviously," his sister quickly answers.

They're truly quite similar, it's enough to make you smile and get through meeting his little sister until both of you dropped her off back to the train station.

"What'd she tell you?" Suna nudged you after seeing her train leave.

"Nothing, Rin," you answered with a wide smile, leaning up to place a chaste kiss against his lips—yet just as you pull away, one of his hands has found its way behind your neck, pulling you back to him.

You never thought a kiss could feel so loving before—but it really seemed as if Suna Rintarō had a knack for proving you wrong, over and over again.

It was the day that the Olympic team was announced when you see so much more of Suna Rintarō. Quick like the blink of an eye, or lightning that leaves the thunder chasing it; Suna felt the exhaustion, the pressure, the burnt-out feeling that's been repressed in the back of his head. It comes to him, crashing down like boulders not just on his shoulders but weighing down every part of his body.

Did he lack somewhere? He wonders. Where did that lacking end and start? What could have he done? Was it training, where he spent most of his time now? Suna had end up seeing you less and less since the drafting of olympic players started and you've been nothing but patient.

What was he supposed to tell you? After all the time it has stolen away from you—that he didn't make it?

When he opened the door to your shared apartment, he doesn't look up at you with a relieved sigh as he usually would—he avoids you gaze entirely, he avoids your observing eyes from the couch you sat on, watching him slowly shrug his shoes off.

"I'm just gonn—" he started, about to make an excuse to avoid looking at you.

"Prepared your bath, Rin. C'mon," Suna hears you say but it doesn't sink in his head, watching you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

Suna remains silent as he looks down on the bath you prepared for him, warm and inviting.

"Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, okay?" He hears you say, followed by the echo of your footsteps walking away.

You easily understand that Suna Rintarō was more than his talents, his efforts, and every little thing about him when you feel his large arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressed against your back and his face buried on the crook of your neck. His fresh scent right out of the shower engulfing you and invading your senses, flooding you with him.

"'m sorry, bunny," he mumbles.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Ri—"

"It's odd, thought I'd pull it off, thought it'd be nothin' if I didn't make it. Don't know why I'm so upset right now," he continues, cutting you off, "Been so patient for me too, bunny. Thought I'd be nice to make you proud, ya know?"

Your sigh comes out sharp from the heavy feeling from your chest, not knowing what to do to make him feel better—like he did with you, always knowing his way around your low moments.

You wriggle out of his arms, making him grumble until you fully face him. He looks back at you with a small frown, eyebrows furrowed, watching your expression.

"I'm always proud of you, Rin. Olympic player or not, you make me so proud," you speak softly, your hands cupping each side of his face.

"Don't even get why it matters to me this much, it's just—" it was your turn to cut him off, tipping your toes to press a lingering kiss against his lips. Suna smiles against your lips, carrying you to sit on the kitchen counter like he always did—knowing you always would have to tip on your toes to reach him.

Soon, the lingering kiss turns slow and passionate—lips softly grazing the other, and it feels more like pouring the heavy weight of love out of your chest and into the other. A kiss so loving, so reassuring, so passionate—the kind that easily takes your breath away and makes your mind go blank. When Suna pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. You smile at him because it's all you can do when your heart feels like it's going to leap out of your throat just to offer itself to him entirely—and Suna smiles back at you, pecking your lips before wrapping his arms around you again, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, hoping it would help soothe him, and then you say, "I promise that you'll make it next year, Rin. I'll be with you now, and I'll still be with you then."

It only makes him hold you tighter, closer to him, "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Rintarō. You deserve the world and all the stars in the galaxy."

"'s too bad there's nothin' more I need than you, then."

That's what Suna tells you—Suna, who was smoke in his lungs, dumb videos of the twins to blackmail them with, little mistakes, bored eyes, and lazy attitude. The same Suna who was slow kisses, passion, and genuine smiles reserved for you—the same Suna who gave his passions his all, the same Suna who held you securely in his arms every night, the same Suna his little sister admired. Most of all, the same Suna Rintarō you loved with every beat of your heart, every fibre of your being.

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

[dathen]

Does Jon deny all the statements/the Supernatural ROUND EIGHT:  TMA 36-39

At last...the final installment I procrastinated on as I got caught up in my s2 relisten.  And the thrilling conclusion!!

- TMA 36 - Taken Ill:  “Another tale full of dead ends,” Jon says.  The lack of documentation and corroborating evidence for this one was notable even to Sasha, but Jon notes that “based on this statement, that’s not necessarily a point of incredulity.”  AND THEN!!  This entire last paragraph deserves attention!!

Still, there’s a lot here that puts me in mind of other statements. Something in the way Ms. Baxter talks about fear. I can’t help but be reminded of statement 0142302, how Jane Prentiss talks about her own fears. And the old man and his companion… who does that remind me of? If he wasn’t dead, I’d think it might have been Trevor –

Jon, is your academic detachment fleeing you again?  Did you forget that you’re supposed to be pretending not to believe these?  Look at you comparing the vibes of the statement to one you’ve already stated you believe (and for the correct entity too!), working off your gut feeling again!  Look at you making connections to statement-givers that it took me three listens to catch!  These are not the words of a dismissive researcher.  Conclusion:  Not dismissed, connected to other statements.

- TMA 37 - Burnt Offering:  Jon admits that there’s no evidence that would require that this incident is supernatural, but doesn’t go so far to say it isn’t.  Despite the lack of definitive corraborating support, Jon concludes shakily, “I have no idea what this means. I have no idea what any of this means. I’m...very tired.”  Conclusion:  Not dismissed.

- TMA 38 - Lost and Found:  The last statement of season 1!!  Here, Jon is clearly on the way to supporting it:  “Before I dig too deeply into the background of this statement, I feel I should mention something that puts much of it in a slightly different light.”  He then brings up the half-empty marriage license, then goes on to talk about Salesa as the source of many of the items in Artefact Storage--which he and his fellow professed-skeptic Sasha easily agree is full of genuinely supernatural items.  Conclusion:  Supported.

TMA 39 AND CONCLUSION

Throwing the rest under a cut as I tie it all together!

Let’s look at both Martin’s accusation and Jon’s response.

Martin: Why do you do that?

Jon:  Do what?

Martin:  Push the skeptic thing so hard?  I mean, it made sense at first, but now?  After everything we’ve seen, after everything you’ve read!  I hear you recording statements and you just dismiss them!  You tear them to pieces like they’re wasting your time, but half of the ‘rational’ explanations you give are actually more far-fetched than just accepting it was a...a ghost or something.  I mean for god’s sake, Jon, we’re literally hiding from some kind of worm…queen…thing, how-- how could you possibly still not believe?

“It made sense at first” is a very curious comment here.  If you look back over my past posts, Jon is more critical of the earlier statements, but Martin thought that approach made sense.  However, more recently, Martin feels Jon has gotten more vicious and more in denial.  There’s a few important things to note, here:

- As I noted in my previous entry in this series, Jon flat-out stated that he knew the “worm queen thing” was supernatural.  Apparently, Martin hasn’t listened to this statement, which in turn shows that Martin isn’t listening to 100% of Jon’s recordings.  

- Jon is also recording dozens of false statements.  Which--as time goes on--he is more and more sure they’re false.  As soon as something starts recording to the laptop, the “this is fake” sign starts flashing in Jon’s brain.  He’s trying to be kinder to Martin and not take his stress out on him, so imagine him unleashing all his stress and fear by ranting about the statements he knows are lies, or pranks, or superstitions, or “I think my weird neighbor is a cultist,” or “I had sleep paralysis but I’m pretty sure it was a demon,” or conspiracy theories...   Martin is hearing all of this!  Martin doesn’t have the Beholding instinct of feeling the weight of a god’s gaze on his back whenever a Real Statement is being read!  He’s hearing Jon snarl and snark about a good 98% of what they record, and it’s a matter of chance for whether he even listens to the 2% that were caught on tape--and that we hear in the show.

- Martin was really, really worked up about the Carlos Vittery statement.  Just like what happens with a lot of listeners, that one no doubt stood out in his mind as the #1 example of “Jon comes up with bullshit explanations to brush off stuff that is OBVIOUSLY weird” that would easily overshadow more rational follow-ups like “this person admitted to drinking heavily that night.”

So what is Jon confessing to?

Jon:  Of course I believe!  Of course I do.  Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact Storage?  That’s enough to convince anyone.  But...but even before that…  Why do you think I started working here?  It’s not exactly glamorous.  I have…  I’ve always believed in the supernatural.  Within reason.  I mean...I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real.  Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe thirty, forty that are…that go on tape.  Now, those, I believe, at least for the most part.

Martin:  Then why do you--

Jon:  Because I’m scared, Martin!  Because when I record these statements it feels…it feels like I’m being watched.  I… I lose myself, a bit.  And then when I come back, it’s like like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will…know somehow.  The skepticism, feigning ignorance...  It just felt safer.

Here, Jon is repeating what we’ve seen the whole time: that he never said he doesn’t believe the supernatural, as we’ve seen from how up-front he is about the danger Leitner tomes pose, and how much effort he makes in the follow-up.  The difference is that after a certain point he knows which are and aren’t real right off the bat--

--but doesn’t admit it.  

It isn’t that he’s accusing them all of being fake, it’s that he KNOWS they’re true, but Hive is the only one where he admits “I know this is true because I can feel it.”  He’s feigning ignorance--pretending that he doesn’t know in his gut that those 2% are real.  That’s where the professional skepticism comes in, which genuinely is part of his job!  He’s relying on his skills as a researcher, using corroborating evidence and follow-up to verify the likelihood of a statement being a prank, a lie, a misunderstanding, or something genuinely paranormal.  

In reality, Jon feels the weight of those eyes on him the moment the tape recorder clicks on, and has to pretend he doesn’t know right away that it’s real.  

[gaegalsyd]

Tracing Footsteps in the Wind

summary: You are a peculiar who travels through different loops to help different ymbrynes in their loop and their children. But what will happen when you visit the loop of one ymbryne called Miss Peregrine. Will you find friendship, sorrow, or love?

Chapter 2: It doesn't matter where we take this road

1

The next morning, you decided to help Miss Kestrel make breakfast for the children so you made your way downstairs silently after changing from your sleepwear and fixing your hair. The smell of the waffles in the kitchen wafted in your nose, and the sizzle of the bacons was the only sound in the area. Miss Kestrel was there alone sipping her tea while making sure none of the food got burnt.

“Good morning Miss Kestrel, anything I can do to help?” the older woman acknowledged you by preparing another cup of tea for you “Good morning y/n you can set the table, and what’s your preference for your tea?” You took the plates and utensils before responding with a smile “the usual, miss.”

After setting the plates, one of the older children came down to help prepare for breakfast and after a while all of the children were seated at the table and were already eating.

While everyone is eating, the headmistress cleared her throat to catch everyone’s attention “children, Miss y/n will be leaving the loop after breakfast, I expect you would want to say a proper goodbye to her” the children looked at you in surprise and started asking questions like “will you come back?” “Can you send us photographs?” which you all answered easily.

After breakfast you gathered all your things and went downstairs and saw the children and Miss Kestrel waiting for you. The older woman patted your back while all the children gave you a hug. “Be careful out there y/n, you can send us a letter anytime you need anything” Miss Kestrel said while holding your arm.

You thanked her and everyone in the house, and once you’ve exited the loop you felt the vast difference in the atmosphere and time. Without looking back, you started your journey towards Cairnholm.

The travel from Brighton to Cairnholm would have been a lot easier without the war and trying not to get any attention for yourself. But while you are in the boat on the way to the island, you are starting to feel at ease and are already thinking of how the children are. And when you saw the shape of the island you noticed a bird flying, a peregrine falcon to be exact, you knew that there is a big chance that this is the ymbryne of the new place you’ll be calling home but you did not do anything to acknowledge it.

When the boat stopped, you immediately got off it and started walking around the island. You can feel that this island must have been through a lot just with the look of the houses with doors and windows closed, and with the people being in a hurry as if trying to get to their destinations to get out of the open area as soon as possible. The island is not that picturesque, not that you are expecting it to be picture perfect, the weather is gloomy and the air is a bit cold that matches the atmosphere of the island. Walking around, you did not see any hint of the loop or a place where the children may stay while they are on the island, that’s why you did not hesitate to enter the first pub you saw which is the Priest Hole.

“You there! You don’t look familiar, what brought you here? ``One of the men in a Welsh accent asked you, and when you were about to approach them, a woman asked “Are you here for the children?” which surprised you because surely they don’t know about peculiars or if they do then that could be troublesome, you thought. You said yes hoping that they did not notice the hesitancy in your voice, then one man approached you and placed a hand to your shoulder then said sorry for your loss. You sat on one of the chairs and took a drink, after listening and engaging to some of their conversations, you learned that the house was bombed and not one survived. “So the house was bombed but where is the entrance to the loop” you thought quietly, after a while you asked some questions in hopes that you’ll get some answer to where the entrance is but when you got nothing you just sighed and asked “Can you tell me the direction to their house?” after giving the directions the owner of the pub reminded you “The house was bombed just a few weeks ago, it might not be safe to wander too much and be careful of the bogs” You gathered your things and thanked the people “ I might leave as soon as I see the house, thank you for the directions”

The path towards the house is not an easy path, they must have stopped maintaining it after the house was bombed since it is the only house on that side of the island. And when you saw the home, your heart sank despite knowing that every occupant survived. The front part of the roof is completely shattered and some parts are just waiting to fall around, and it is reeking the smell of smoke and burnt woods but you walked closer. It was probably raining a few days after the bombs but you cannot bring yourself to come inside the home since from your inspection, the building is very unstable as of the moment and would need a few more weeks until anyone can safely come inside.

Assuming that the entrance of the loop must be close, you started to walk around the house until you felt a presence, then saw footsteps that ended just beside you. “Is someone there? I can feel you and you’re not so good in hiding” you pointed the footsteps, then you heard a sigh “You must be miss y/n, Miss Peregrine asked us to fetch you” you smiled towards the air where you think the voice came from and grinned “Why don’t you lead the way then” After saying those words, a girl with red hair and a leather gloves approached you from behind the trimmed bushes that you assume to be once a garden, with clothes in her hand which she handed to the invisible boy you were talking to “you were naked the whole time” you said in disbelief.

The girl with red hair giggled and said “ My name is Olive, that is Millard, and yes he was naked the whole time”

The only respond you had was an “Oh”

“My name is Bronwyn!” a little girl with brown curly hair said. You knelt in front of her “Hello Bronwyn, my name is y/n” you offered your hand to her which she accepted “I did not notice you immediately, young lady” you added and made Bronwyn giggle.

“Let’s go, Miss Peregrine would not appreciate not being on time” Olive said that prompted you to stand and follow her.

On the way to the entrance, you had small talks with the three of them while keeping track of every turn and step you took but you realized that you were approaching a cave near the beach. Realization hit you that if you were left on your devices to look for the entrance, it would take you so much time. After making sure that no one followed the three of you, you entered the loop and heard a ringing and a pop! That means you have successfully entered the loop. When you emerged from the small cave, you were surprised by the shift in the weather and atmosphere. It was sunny and everything was vibrant, there’s no sign of rain or fog, you could even hear the chirping of the birds and the laughter of the children as you neared the house. It was just a few weeks ago when this loop was made but this is perfect.

You saw the house in its glory and almost forgot what it looked like when you first saw it as a ruin. The sun had already set and lights were already lit but it did not make the grounds look less than perfect. When you stepped to the porch, the three children excused themselves to finish their chores, and when you were about to knock, the door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a woman about as tall as you with her hair done in an updo and she’s holding a pipe. The woman stepped outside and you finally saw what she looked like, and the first thought in your mind is that she’s beautiful and far from what you are expecting, her hair is dark with strands of dark blue which is probably a thing with the ymbrynes, her eyes are light blue reminding you of the sky and it is accentuated by her dark makeup around it, and her lips are rosy as if tempting you to kiss her. She took the pipe from her mouth and looked at you and you looked back at her and figured that comparing her eyes to the sky does not do her any justice for it also has some shade of green but can be mistaken for gray. But you still cannot remember where you first saw her.

“You must be Miss y/l/n. Alma Peregrine, delighted to meet you” she offered a hand which you accepted and the faster beating of your heart did not go unnoticed to you. “Yes, that would be me” the ymbryne looked from your head to your toe with a curious glint in her eyes before smiling widely “come in dear, welcome to our loop”

The smell of bread and vanilla inside the house was the first thing that reached your senses, you were welcomed by a house that gave you comfort and coziness.

“You have a very lovely loop Miss Peregrine” the woman smiled proudly and you thought that she looked even more beautiful when smiling “Thank you dear, and please call me Alma without the presence of the children”

“Then you can call me y/n” you smiled at her. She guided you to a room upstairs where you will be staying and before she left she placed a hand to your arm “The children are done for supper and I’ll bring some foods here, you may rest early if you wish”

You sat in the bed before responding to the woman “good night, Alma” then she smiled at you and closed the door. And you were sure that if she would smile at you often, you would already be a happy woman with that alone.

[savorysatori]

DEJA VU. / SATORI TENDŌ! — dé·jà vu.

Deja Vu. /ˌdāZHä ˈvo͞o / a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

synopsis. — you were both broken up. done with each other for the rest of your life, but, that one phone call always awoke something in you. bringing you back to where you used to be.

// warnings. smoking, car sex, tiny bit of angst. fem!reader, ex-lovers. possessiveness, toxic!tendō, face-sitting, daddy kink. + overstimulation, manipulation, non-con at first.

leader’s notes. my second attempt at writing angst and I hope I don’t butcher it, anyways, writing this hurt bad <33 but it’s also so hot because of toxic tendō. hehe! 💗

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

4:55 AM. — It was a soft breeze tonight, the birds were silent and the sun was slowly rising to uplift the night sky. It was a quiet night. Nothing to disturb your neighbors of their slumber, deep sleep with dreams of all kinds of things swishing between them and others. 

But, you, oh you. You were up, wide awake, awaiting that same message you get from him every single day. It had become a schedule to stay up this late, hoping the three bubbles would pop up beside his name. You yearned to see him again. And it was awful. An awful, awful thing. You fell deeper into his hole of games and tricks he played on you, unable to climb out from it. Fell deep into the love he provided you. But he couldn't love you back. That was the worst part of it, and the reason you could never tell anybody. You wanted to leave, and you did. You were the one who chose to break up, yet the one who kept going back and forth. This was the cycle of a pathetic relationship, and you knew it. You felt your cell phone vibrate in your hand. You felt a mixture of dread and excitement. Dread, because you knew who was texting.

“Come outside. I’m here.”

The message showed up. From there, you knew it was him. His words were short. Uneventful, but short. You opened your front door, walking out to the middle of the meadow behind your house, to feel the crisp air on your famished skin. The moon was high in the sky, and its light illuminated your surroundings. There was nobody else around, giving you a sense of isolation from any other living being. Tendō leaned against his sleek car, exactly where your visions had led you to expect him to be. His legs were crossed and his shoulders slumped as if he was trying to disappear into the dark color of the car. You couldn't make out much else about him, as he was keeping himself cloaked in shadow.

"Tendō," you uttered, walking up to him.

He slowly lifted his head, peeking out from the cloak of car. His eyes were lifeless. Empty. There was no emotion in those deep vermillions. They were cold. Hard. Like the metal of the car they were resting on.

"So, you did come,” he said, his voice monotone and emotionless, his mouth however was pulled up into a small smirk. He pushed himself up from the car, standing at its height. He brushed some dirt off his slacks, and pulled the car door open, climbing inside. You followed his example, climbing into the passenger seat.

Tendō’s car was spotless. Not a speck of dirt was anywhere to be found on the car's interior. The seats were equally as clean, with not a single stain or tear in sight. It was obvious that he took great care in keeping his car in pristine condition. It made all the memories flood back easily into your brain, having you remember exactly everything that happened in here. As you sat in it, the engine still idling, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and putting it in his mouth. He lit it with his flickery lighter, taking a deep breath in and releasing it through his nose.

“I thought you quit,” you repeated the same words from before, hoping he took them in. He didn't answer. Instead, he focused on the cigarette in his mouth as he drew it out. Pushed a button to raise the window, allowing the smoke to escape into the frigid night air.

‘Why wasn’t he answering you?’

The clock in your head ticked and tocked. Back and forth with you getting irritated with by the lack of response you are getting.

He slowly exhaled, the smoke leaving his lips in a thin stream.

"Quit your bickering, would ya’? "

The two of you sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Smoke filled the car's interior, clouds swirling around each other as they rose into the air. The smell of tobacco vanished when he crushed the cig in his palm, flicking the now burnt remains out the window. Once the window rolled up, you could see the uneasiness settle into your stomach.

“Ten- we gotta.. end this, tonight. Last time.”

You were sure about it. Hundred percent, sure. Even if the need of your body wasn’t. You could feel it. His words were vague, non-committal at best, but his eyes, that's what he was getting at. His dead eyes told you all you need to know. Tendō grabbed your hand, and before you could even think about it, your hand went near your mouth, coercing you onto his lap with a brutal grip.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. Your legs moved to straddle him, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hand left your mouth, finding its way onto your throat. You gulped in a breath, instantly feeling the pain of his fingers trapping your flesh. His face, so close to yours.

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

And he was right, so right. All of it. All of his games, tactics, his plans. You left him, yet you kept coming back. Why?

His eyes burned with a bright red, like two hot cinders. Tempting you to utter a word from your quivering lips, daring you to make a peep. And just like that, his found yours, smothering your lips. Soft at first, but soon they were hungry. They were everywhere, and you welcomed each one. Tongue pushed into your mouth; you tasted the blood from your bitten lip. The smoky flavor of his mouth was gone, replaced by the metal-like bitterness of his cold breath. You were weak. Powerless against him.

Your knees bent, your legs becoming wobbly, and you gave in. What else could you do? You couldn’t resist to his whims. His cold fingers rested against your burning cheek, his other hand grabbed at the side of your face, fingers digging into your jaw.

"You're mine." He breathed, his lips barely moving.

Dazed and confused, you didn't utter a single sound. His hand ran down your cheek, and he gave a light squeeze, holding you in place for his next move. His cold lips pressed against your cheek, moving slowly to your ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours!” The words escaped your lips, as if someone had pressed them in. They felt unnatural, wrong. It was like you was forcing yourself to say them. He let out a low chuckle, his hot breath causing you to shiver, no, to tremble. "Good girl."

The hand that was on your face moved down, and he grabbed at the front of your shirt. The feeling of his hand against your skin sent chills down your spine. You could feel him smile against your skin, his lips splayed on your chest. It all came too fast. One moment he was whispering dreadful words, the next he had the leather seat laid back, the remaining clothes thrown away with your legs fastened around each side of his head, cunt mere inches away from his hungry mouth. He had your wrists pushed against your head, and the leather seat belt were tied to your arms, leaving you unable to move them. Tied down, forced to watch, no matter how hard you tried to look away... he filled your glistening pussy with his cold tongue.

It was brutal. it was exquisite.

Moans came out of your lips with every thrust, and you couldn't help but push against his mouth. You wanted more. So much more. You could feel the warmth of his mouth, hear the slurping and slopping sounds as his tongue moved in and out, spreading the lips of your pussy to suckle. The harder you went, the wetter he made you, flicking at your clit. His stubble raked against your inner thighs as his mouth moved up to your aching sex. You rocked into his face, faster with a swirl from your hips. You could almost feel the heat of his breath against your clit as you loosed a torrent of dirty words, his name passed your lips in a long tone.

“Daddy! hah, ye- yes! ‘s good,”

He didn't need telling twice. Grabbing your hips, he steadied your gyrating body as he buried his head in your depths. He pushed your legs up, spreading you wide open. His tongue swept in and out, faster and faster. You could feel the air swirling around your clit as his nose pushed against your folds, sucking your sore bud into his mouth and biting down. You came hard, shuddering as your muscles tightened and unknotted themselves, unable to do anything else as wave after wave hit you.

Tendō’s tongue slid up from your sensitive bud, slipping back into his mouth with the filth of your juices splayed on it. He did exactly what he always did, make you dazed over him. Crawling back to him and his dick with need.

“Look at you. A fucking whore, whinin’ and squealing, you can’t go a fucking day without me — can you?” he urged you on with his harsh words, bringing you back from the aftershock.

You were addicted to him.

“No. I — I can’t, I love you too much,” a sniffle came from you, eyes settling to close. “But, please .. fuck me, daddy.”

A pleased look spread onto his face. He won. “You’re finally learning, dove. Now you know you can’t live without me, I’m too fuckin’ good.” you were swished from on top of his face, your legs being forced up, your knees drawn back as his fingers dug into your thighs. Gently, he guided his dick to you. His hands wrapped around your legs as he slowly started to push into you, rocking his hips as he found your warm, wet hole.

“Daddy! — ah, fuuck.” you hissed as he entered you, wincing as he twisted his hips, grinding the last inches of his cock into you. Cool air brushed against your raw neck and the inside of your thighs as his warm body pushed against you. With every thrust, his dick ground against your clit, sending jolts of delight through your body. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as your fingers bit into his flesh. You didn't want it to end. This pure, unadulterated pleasure. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearms as he panted.

You were tight. So fuckin’ tight, Tendō could barely move.

He thrust into you, hard. His pelvis slapped your ass as you took him in. You moaned into his mouth as his dick rubbed that sweet spot inside you, your body felt as if it was in a craze of desire. He steadied his breathing as he started to thrust harder, keeping an intent of driving you cock drunk. Tendō wrapped his hand around your throat, as his other hand raised your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His lips were messily pressed against your cheek as he kissed you with deep, raw animalistic lust. You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from making any noise, but your body betrayed you as a moan still slipped past your lips.

“I know you missed this from the way you look, I know you miss me. Let me hear you mutter it, baby.” he panted as your bodies' rhythm began to sync up.

Your nostrils were filled with his scent, your eyes were covered by your hair, but you could still see as he fucked you with kind-buttons, and the pain grew. “I’ve missed it!” And you did as you were told, jumping onto his cock and draining it dry with your whines. “I’ve missed you, s’so much, lo- love you too.”

“Knew it. I fucking knew it already, your mine.”

He was unrelenting as his cock mushed against your womb, his forehead pressed against yours. His fingers dug into your sweat-soaked back as he huffed, his breath coming out in heavy pants. You could feel the liquid filling your insides as his warm cum plugged you. His body kept on thrusting as he emptied himself into you. Your vision grew dark as the world turned all of its colors. You felt light-headed, but you didn't want it to end. You couldn’t have it end.

Tendō’s eyes ranked of desire and crave, he had you where he always wanted. Plugged you to be his, lure you back in with his lustful advances, have you stay up till the crack of dawn — waiting for that phone call from him. Make you whine just for the simplest touch from him. He drove you mad. That devilish grin on his face as he had you pinned down, that was all it took for you to fall into temptation's arms again. You were the king and he was the pawn, catching you in checkmate.

“You also still .. love me, right?”

A deep, guttural laugh escaped from him. One that would make someone wince, embarrassed of the question they asked. You wished you could take it back, wish you could go back in time and not say a peep. Wish you could disappear from reality. Just this once.

“Yes. Of course I do, my little devil. But that’s in another lifetime, one where I’m your actual boyfriend.”

You’ve felt this moment before. Tasted those same words leaving your lips, savored them to the hilt. This exact feeling felt familiar like you’ve experienced it before. You were trapped in a haze of deja vu, going around in circles and repeating the same actions from before. Just like now, what you asked him. You asked him before.

“Checkmate.”

[praxeus-13]

I had an idea for a dhawan!master x reader. I apologize in advanced but this request is really tailored to my experiences with mental illness(if any part of this ask makes you uncomfortable just please ignore this ask). If you have any questions please send me a dm

The idea is that the reader is autistic and has trouble masking it. They try to come across as normal but there are things such as poor comunication skills, the lack of ability to get sarcasm, hyper fixation, sensitivive senses(mine are tactile and sound), and intense emotional respose. The Master acts like he the reader weak and sometimes the reader doesn’t even know why he keeps them around. The reader does their best to impress him and eventually pushes themselves too far and has a melt down and The Master manages to calm them down

Misunderstandings

Pairing: Dh!Master x Autistic!Reader

Word Count: 2400

Summary: (see above)

Warnings: Autistic meltdown

For: @phoenixofthevalley

A/N: Thanks so much for this request, sorry it took a while I got a tad carried away 😅 Hope you like it ☺️ Also, requests are still open for everyone 😄

Since you started travelling with The Master, you had been trying your hardest to mask your autistic traits. He already saw humans as weak and inferior beings, knowing that he could easily kill anyone of them, including you. So you hadn’t wanted to give him any reason to kill you, or abandon you.

However, you had always found masking difficult, and in the past it had definitely been a cause of lost friendships. You were determined for this time to be different - especially since you had started developing feelings for the amazing alien you travelled with.

The Master seemed almost ethereal to you, you loved the way he could stride around with such confidence - never knowing if he would burn a planet or simply enjoy its existence. You knew that if he didn’t have constant reminders of why he should keep you around, he would probably just forget about you, or get rid of you. This, of course, had lead you to pushing yourself on almost every adventure the two of you went on, striving to be the best companion he could think of. Maybe you pushed yourself a little too far sometimes, but whenever The Master made a snide comment about how weak humans were it only motivated you to try harder.

You hated that he saw you as weak, as it was how an awful lot of people had viewed you throughout your entire life, and you had truly hoped that the alien man from a faraway planet wouldn’t be the same as them. Still, you were determined to change his mind, which is how you had ended up in your current situation.

Yet again, the two of you had landed on a planet that The Master had been planning to take over (at least until he got bored and burnt it to the ground). However, unlike most of the other times the two of you had done this, the people of this planet fought back with a fury that neither of you were entirely prepared for.

Both of you had been backed into a small building, surrounded on all sides by an angry hoard of the planet’s inhabitants. There was banging, shooting and yelling coming from all directions, the noises almost overwhelming your body. Somehow you managed to resist the urge to plug your fingers into ears and carried on following The Master around as you secured the building from the mob.

One particularly loud bang from outside the doors cause you to flinch back violently, though you didn’t think The Master took any notice. As you followed his instructions, you tried to ignore the growing sense of unease and the tell-tale signs of an incoming meltdown. If you were back on Earth this was normally about the time when you would get out of the situation, find somewhere quiet to ride it out, but even if you wanted to do that you couldn’t.

The noises outside were getting louder, or maybe you were simply becoming more affected by them, either way the commands The Master was giving you were becoming less and less clear as you struggled to focus on your immediate surroundings. The room the two of you were in was dark (no windows) and cramped full of work tables and tools for making who-knows-what. As you passed one of the tables your hand brushed with a piece of sandpaper, and you couldn’t stop the near-pitiful whine that left your mouth while you cradled your hand and tried to forget the awful texture.

At this point you weren’t even focused on whether The Master could tell that you were spiralling or not, you just wanted out of the building, away from the bad noises and textures to somewhere safe and quiet. Eyes flicking rapidly around the room, you desperately searched for somewhere to hide until the noises passed, unaware of how violently you were flapping you hands, or of the fact that your companion was watching you with concern.

He called your name and you heard, but it was just another noise at this point so you didn’t look towards him. When he purposefully placed himself in front of you, you did finally notice him.

“It’s okay, I’m going to get us out of here alive.” The Master’s words were finally registering, though with everything outside continuing they weren’t much help.

You tried to speak, tried to reply, but you couldn’t talk and the closest you could get was a concerned mumble. Of course, this only made you more distressed, and you wished you had brought some stim toys along with you in that moment.

“Okay, just sit down,” The Master told you in a gentle tone, and you immediately sat on the floor, back against one of the work benches.

“Try to focus on me rather than what’s going on outside, can you do that for me?” He asked as he sat down in front of you, moving to stay in your eye line whenever your gaze changed.

You nodded, glad to have something to focus your senses on, though simply looking at him was not enough. You started rocking rather intensely, not even realising what you were doing at first, and you finally covered your ears with your hands.

Honestly, you weren’t quite sure how long your meltdown lasted, but The Master stayed with you throughout it. He kept on speaking to you, telling you stories about adventures he had before he met you. You knew that he was usually rather eccentric in his story telling, though this time he told his story with minimal dramatic effects and a clam voice - something you deeply appreciated.

Once you had finally calmed down enough that you were actually able to focus on him without needing to stim at the same time he finished up the story.

“Are you feeling better now?”

You simply nodded in response, still unable to speak.

“Good, now we have two options: the first is that we both get out of this building and back to the TARDIS together - meaning that you will have to pass through the loud mob;” he shot you an apologetic look, before continuing “the second is I go to get the TARDIS and bring it back here to get you - though it means you’ll be alone for a while. Which option would you prefer?”

You considered the options for a few moments, before holding up two fingers to signify your choice of option two.

“Alright, I have headphones if they’ll help? They’re not noise proof but you could connect them to your phone and play music?” He held them out for you to take, and you gave him a small smile as you did so.

Once he was sure that you had connected them properly he ushered you under the workbench you were sat by and told you to wait there. Then he left, and while you definitely weren’t as worked up as you had been, you were starting to regret your decision of being left alone.

Still, you tried to focus on the music rather than the crowd outside. What actually managed to distract you, however, was worrying about what was going to happen now that you had had a meltdown in front of him.

He would truly see you as a weak and inferior human now, and you had no doubts that he would want to be rid of you. Part of you was hoping that he would simply drop you off on Earth, and though you knew that would hurt you definitely preferred it to being dropped on some random planet. Just as you were contemplating whether he would actually kill you, a worse thought occurred.

What if he just left you here?

What if the last time you had seen him was the last time you would ever see him?

Now you were panicking again, and started rocking back and forth to accompany your spiralling thoughts. You didn’t want to be left here, waiting for the angry mob to finally break into the building and kill you. You didn’t want that to have been the last time you were able to see that incredible man, you hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to him. With that realisation you started to cry, not bothering to wipe away the tears.

Closing your eyes and pressing your head into your knees, you continued to rock back and forth. Unfortunately, you had turned the music up loud enough that you couldn’t hear The Master’s TARDIS landing mere meters away from you, or the sounds of him getting out of the TARDIS and walking towards where he had left you.

“Y/n?”

You froze when you heard him, unsure of whether you were imagining his voice or not.

“I brought the TARDIS back, why don’t we go inside?”

This got you to look up at him, and you were both scared and relieved that he was actually there crouched down in front of you.

You nodded before shuffling out from under the workbench and following him nervously into the TARDIS. This was a place you had become fond of over your time travelling, and you never failed to feel safe once inside the ship. Unfortunately, that feeling of relief never came, as you were still too scared about the upcoming consequences.

The Master guided you to sit down on one of the sofas he kept in the console room, and as soon as you were sat down you curled into yourself again. The tears still hadn’t stopped, but you could barely find it in yourself to care. In the back of your mind you vaguely registered the sounds of the TARDIS taking off and landing again.

You were desperately trying to calm yourself enough to speak again, hoping to try and justify your meltdown and convince him to let you continue travelling with him. Though by the time he sat down next to you, you were still unable to talk.

“Sorry for leaving you alone, I didn’t think you would get stressed out this much.” The Master told you in a soft tone.

You looked up at him, still teary-eyed but suddenly confused. You had landed, hopefully on Earth, and he should be kicking you out right now.

But he wasn’t.

Instead he was sat with you, gently trying to calm you down, trying to help you through your meltdown. You didn’t understand, but you were very grateful. Eventually, after lots of stimming and comforting words later, your meltdown had stopped. You were exhausted, but finally able to speak again.

“Why are you being nice to me?” When you spoke your voice was hoarse from the crying and barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“You just saw what a weak and inferior human I am, just like the rest of them. You won’t want me around now, so you should be kicking me out of the TARDIS, but you’re not.” You were finding it difficult to keep back the tears again, yet somehow you were managing it.

The Master didn’t speak for a few seconds, and you were worried that he was only just realising what you said was true, and now he was for sure going to toss you out.

“Oh y/n. I didn’t - I didn’t-“ He stumbled over his words, looking at you with a guilt-ridden look. “When I said those things about humans I wasn’t including you with them! You’re not weak and inferior to me, you’re so much more than the rest of your pathetic species. Rassilon I didn’t even think that what I was saying would affect you like that.” The Master ran his fingers through his hair, looking as though he wished he could take back everything he had ever said to you about your species.

You were still very confused, looking up at him with worried eyes and not yet comprehending what he was saying.

“I’m not going to abandon you, not ever. You may be human, but you’re so much more than that to me, you always have been.” He reached one of his hands out, as though he wanted to touch you, but he was unsure.

Slowly, his words registered their meaning with you, and you reached out your hand the rest of the way to grab his. Normally you were pretty touch adverse, but you probably trusted The Master more than any other person in your life, so his touch wasn’t nearly as bad as other peoples’ tended to be. It also helped when he applied just the right amount of pressure for you to feel completely comfortable with the contact.

“You really mean that?” You asked him, still worried that he would change his mind.

“Of course, and you don’t need to worry about hiding any of your autistic traits from me. I really should have been paying more attention to you today, if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have had a meltdown.”

For a few moments you stared at him in shock, “You know I’m autistic? But I never told you?”

At your question the guilty look returned to The Master’s face, “When you started travelling with me I noticed you were a bit more sensitive to certain things than the average human, so I did a bit of research. I figured you were probably autistic, but I thought that outright asking you might be rude so I just got the TARDIS to check for me. Bit weird, I know, but I was still getting used to you.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“No, why would I mind? It just means I have to look out for you a bit more than I would a neurotypical human, which is fine by me.” He gave you a charming smile and you felt your face heat up.

“So you’re definitely not going to throw me out then?”

“Definitely not.”

“Oh, okay… thank you.”

You gave him a small smile and in return he gave you a short kiss on your forehead, before tugging you off of the sofa (still holding your hand) and pulling you along to the library.

Later that day when the two of you were settled close together on a sofa, watching one of your favourite Earth movies, you realised both how stupid you had been and how lucky you were. The Master and you both cared deeply for each other, even if neither of you were ready to admit it yet, and you couldn’t be more pleased.