#tiny one literally nothing happened but still. the coincidence

[ducktollers]

i got a tulip from my art class to draw throughout the week and i put it in a glass of water and last night i was like. looking around my room thinking “where can i put this so that if i bump smth or theres an earthquake the water wont tip onto important stuff” and then the next day i feel the first earthquake ive ever felt in my life. and i just think thats really funny

[kxsagi]

hiiihiiii!!! first off, i just wanted to say that your works are AMAZING and your humor is literally exquisite & comedic GOLD!!! I saw that your requests were open and I know you probably get like HUNDREDS of requests so you can ignore this if you find the plot cringe😭

Can you do one where the bllk boys (sae, rin, nagi, and whoever of your choice!) acts aloof towards the reader or pretends they don’t notice them, but on the inside every single time they talk to them, they’re internally tweaking out. Blushing, heart racing, tHEIR head is racing with thoughts; the infatuation goes crazy.

Also, I’m so sorry if I’m not specific enough or if you already have a fic like this (if so please tell me, I’m still binge-reading everything you write😍). Have a nice day/night!!!!

“𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝”

a/n: i really wonder if any boys see girls this way bc it’s sooo cute

like yes, be down bad for me 

also THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! this request is too cute not to do + i really love reading stuff like this because it makes me believe in love, but yeah, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy it and have a nice day/night as well!!!

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, karasu tabito, ness alexis

itoshi rin

rin is a professional at the “couldn’t care less” act. when you talk to him, he doesn’t lean in, doesn’t smile, doesn’t give any sign that you’re affecting him. his responses are always clipped, his eyes locked somewhere else like he’s focused on literally anything other than you. 

meanwhile, on the inside? absolute chaos. his chest feels tight, and he’s silently scolding himself for noticing the way your voice softens when you say his name. he hates how much he’s aware of every little detail about you – your perfume, your earrings, the way you tilt your head when you’re confused. 

if you accidentally brush against him, he’ll make it seem like it’s nothing, but internally he’s thinking, did she just touch me? holy shit, she touched me. 

he keeps track of every conversation you’ve ever had, even the throwaway ones. you tell him once that you like a certain snack, and a week later, he “happens” to have it, though he’ll claim it’s just a coincidence. 

if you catch him staring, he’ll look away instantly with that same blank expression, but inside, he’s panicking because you caught him looking, and now you probably think he’s weird, and why did he even look for that long in the first place – 

itoshi sae

on the outside, sae is calm, collected, and borderline uninterested whenever you talk to him. his answers are short, delivered in that smooth, flat tone that makes it feel like he’s barely putting effort in. if you ask him to pass something, he’ll do it without even glancing at you, like it’s the most mundane request in the world. 

but inside? he’s gone. from the moment you walk into the room, his brain is so aware of you – what you’re wearing, how your hair is sitting, the way you smell when you pass him. he keeps telling himself, don’t look at her too long, she’ll notice, but the second you speak to him, his heart does this ridiculous skip like he’s in some cheesy drama. 

if you ever compliment him, it’s a wrap. he’ll give you the world’s driest “thanks,” but mentally he’s replaying it on loop at 2 AM while staring at his ceiling like, … she meant that, right? 

sometimes you’ll smile at him for no reason, and he’ll act like he didn’t even see it – meanwhile, he’s wondering why he suddenly feels warm all over and why he can’t stop thinking about that tiny curve in your lips. 

he prides himself on being unreadable, but there’s a reason he’ll sometimes turn away before answering you: he’s hiding the faint pink in his ears. 

nagi seishiro

nagi looks like he’s barely even processing what you’re saying half the time. he’ll give lazy hums of acknowledgment, his eyes drifting back to his phone or game. it’s almost frustrating how uninterested he appears. 

but his brain? his brain is a mess. he notices everything – your tone, the way your laugh makes your shoulders shake, the shine in your eyes when you’re excited about something. he just doesn’t know how to react without making it obvious. 

if you lean over to see what he’s doing on his phone, it’s game over. his whole body goes rigid, and he suddenly forgets what button he was supposed to press. 

he likes to act like he forgets things, but he remembers everything you’ve ever told him, storing it away like some secret collection. you say you like a certain candy? the next time you hang out, it’s mysteriously there. 

once, you called him “cute” in passing, and he didn’t even respond, just kept playing like nothing happened. but internally, he was frozen, thinking, cute? she thinks i’m cute? huh… that’s… nice. and then he spent the next three days bringing it up to himself for no reason. 

isagi yoichi

isagi tries so hard to act normal around you. he’ll keep his tone even, his words casual, like he’s just talking to a friend. if you joke with him, he’ll give a small laugh, nothing over the top. 

but deep down? his heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s in his throat. you’ll say something simple like “hey” and he’s already gone, brain running laps like, did my voice crack? do i look okay? does she notice i’m sweating? 

every little compliment you give him makes him short-circuit. he’ll mumble a thanks while internally going holy crap holy crap holy crap. 

if you brush his hand while passing something, it’s as if the world just stopped. he’ll keep talking like nothing happened, but inside, he’s replaying the moment on loop, hyperaware of where your skin touched his. 

sometimes you’ll lean in close to show him something, and he’ll be nodding along like he’s focused, but in reality, his brain is going don’t move, don’t mess this up, she’s too close, oh my god she smells so good. 

the second you leave, he has to take a deep breath and calm himself down before anyone notices how pink his cheeks are. 

kaiser michael

kaiser masks his fluster with arrogance – always smirking, leaning against something, acting like he’s in complete control of the interaction. he’ll call you liebling in that teasing tone, just to make it seem like he’s the one making you react. 

but under that smug surface, he’s losing it. you walk into the room and his chest tightens instantly. if you so much as glance at him, he’s hyperaware of every inch of himself – how his hair looks, if his shirt is sitting right, whether his voice will sound too strained if he talks. 

when you laugh at something he says, it’s over. he’ll pretend it’s just another day, but his brain is already on “did i just make her laugh? do it again. no, too obvious. okay, but maybe–” 

you touch his arm once while walking past him and he spends the rest of the conversation trying to keep his cool, meanwhile internally he’s like “oh, so we’re holding hands next? marriage? kids?” 

if anyone else makes you laugh, he acts unaffected, but inside he’s competitive as hell, thinking no way anyone’s making her smile like that except me. 

shidou ryusei

shidou hides his fluster by going full chaos mode – loud teasing, leaning too close, acting like he’s just messing with you for fun. if you ask him something, he’ll answer with a smirk, pretending he’s not taking it seriously. 

but deep down? he’s caught. he notices the little curve of your lips when you’re holding back a laugh, the way you adjust your clothes, the light in your eyes when you’re excited. his heart is pounding so loud he wonders if you can hear it. 

you accidentally brush his hair back one day and he had to physically turn away so you wouldn’t see him smiling like an idiot. he played it off with, “don’t get handsy, sweetheart,” but internally he was thinking, touch me again, please god touch me again. 

if you say something nice to him, his brain short-circuits. he’ll respond with a sarcastic, “yeah, i know,” but the rest of the day is just him replaying your words like they’re his favorite song. 

despite how reckless he acts, he’s careful not to show how nervous you make him. chaos is easier than vulnerability. 

mikage reo

reo is naturally friendly and enthusiastic, so you’d never guess how much he’s overthinking around you. his easy smile makes it seem like he’s just his usual self, but his mind is running a mile a minute. 

you compliment his outfit once and he almost choked on his drink – still, he kept grinning like it was nothing, saying, “thanks, i like yours, too,” while internally screaming oh my gosh she noticed oh my gosh. 

whenever you talk to him, he’s focused on making the conversation good so you’ll want to keep talking. but that means he’s sometimes so caught up in making sure he doesn’t say something weird that he zones out mid-sentence. 

if you laugh at his jokes, he lights up like the sun, but he reins it in, not wanting to look too desperate. later, though? he’s telling nagi, “she laughed at three of my jokes today” like it’s a major victory. 

if you ever lean in close to look at something together, he keeps his expression neutral, but his mind is just do not blush do not blush do not blush. 

karasu tabito

karasu has perfected the art of looking unfazed. he’ll meet your eyes with a slow, lazy smirk, like nothing you do could possibly get to him. 

inside, though? you have him tripping over himself. his thoughts get tangled when you speak, and sometimes he has to pause for a second before answering just so he doesn’t sound breathless. 

you make an offhand comment about liking his shirt, and he just shrugs it off with a “thanks,” but he ends up wearing it again the next time he sees you, pretending it’s coincidence. 

if you touch his shoulder while laughing, he’ll glance at your hand with fake disinterest, but internally he’s like stay there forever, please. 

he plays the role of the guy who’s in control, but when you leave, he has to run a hand through his hair and mutter to himself just to shake off how much you got to him. 

ness alexis

ness is polite and soft-spoken with you, keeping his tone smooth and controlled. on the surface, he seems perfectly composed. 

but internally, he’s just as much of a mess as the others. you speak to him and he’s suddenly aware of how close you’re standing, the warmth in your voice, the tiny crinkle in your eyes when you smile. 

you compliment his playing once and he manages a simple “thank you,” but the second you’re gone, he’s smiling to himself like he just won the lottery. 

if you brush against him while reaching for something, his entire body tenses. he’ll pretend it didn’t happen, continuing the conversation like normal, but his brain is still stuck on she touched me. 

he’s the type to replay conversations in his head at night, wondering if he sounded okay, if you noticed how fast his heart was beating, if you could tell he was secretly watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[echantedtoon]

OK OK!!feel free to ignore if you want but what if the cookie husbands realized we were pregnant before Yn cookie did?? What would their reaction be?:D

Ok. Imma only doing this one thing. Warnings for pregnancy mentioned.

SHADOW MILK COOKIE:

-He's LITERALLY the cookie of knowledge. Of COURSE he's going to figure it out long before you do. He notices there's something off the moment you first get a 'stomach flu' unable to keep anything down, specifically only in the mornings, and you don't have any other flu symptoms such as coughing, runny nose, etc. He knows the moment he realizes the specific conditions of your 'flu'. Don't let his childish personality fool you to how smart he actually is.

-You're literally going to be walking around the Spire and run into him humming happily and sewing together plushies, which wasn't new..but also tiny blankets and what looked like...Onesies?? No, no. They must've been outfits for his plushies but they did look.. strangely like baby dough clothes. "Darling?" He hums not looking up from the tiny jester outfit he's making matching his own. VERY invested in perfecting the poofy white collar on it. "Are you ok? What's with all the tiny blankets and clothes?" He just smiles knowingly still sewing the jester onesie.

-"Oh. Nothing really. Someone I know happens to be pregnant and I'm being so generous to make something for the baby.~" Now you honestly didn't know if that was the truth or if he was making it up again, but there being SO much baby sized stuff wasn't a coincidence. "Mystic Flour is pregnant?" "Nope.~" "Eternal Sugar Cookie??" "Not even close." "NOT CANDY APPLE COOKIE!?" "You are WAY off. Also, no. Black Sapphire Cookie can barely handle one of her." You sigh in relief but still confused. "Then who? You don't exactly know a lot of women." "Oh, you'll figure it out soon enough.~"

PURE VANILLA COOKIE:

-He probably would be like you and think it was something you ate or a bad stomach bug. Not to worry. A few days of rest and eating plenty of healthy foods would fix you right up! Except..it didn't. You were starting to get frustrated when the medicine you had been taking wasn't working. When you didn't get better by nearly three weeks he just offered to heal you and get it over with, you being tired of the nausea agreed. But both were shocked the next morning when you were back throwing up dinner from last night into the trash can with him holding your hair back.

-He's very concerned about this. Why wasn't he able to heal you? It was just a cold! He should've been able to heal a cold! Were you cursed?! Did Shadow Milk Cookie do something to you?! He's venting one day to Hollyberry Cookie whom actually gives her friend the answer- "Are you sure she's not just pregnant?" He just stops and stares at her. "Wha- Pregnant??" "It sounds like she just has morning sickness. That happens during the first month of pregnancy." "How do you know that?" "I literally have kids, Vanilla."

-His mind is blown, but it definitely makes sense. If you were pregnant then of course his healing didn't work if you weren't harmed to begin with! And Hollyberry would know being a mother herself! So you're super confused when you're woken up from your afternoon nap to him just scooping you up crying, straight up happy sobbing into your shoulder. He'll tell you later but for now just awkwardly comfort him.

ELDER FAERIE COOKIE:

-Was worried you were sick or had food poisoning but found it strange that even after changing up your diet and deep cleaning the castle wasn't enough. The royal doctor didn't find anything wrong the first time you're examined so could it be you were allergic to something instead of being sick? He visits the physician again to discuss it with him while you nap, you've seem to become more tired lately. After discussing the subject and a lot of thinking the physician changes his diagnosis from not sick to one month pregnant. This sends a shocked spike through him, but quickly it gives way to awe and a delightful happiness he wasn't used to feeling.

-You're confused about why he's suddenly having fairy servants bring him all the books on baby doughs and childcare he has in the library, and why all of a sudden the bedroom right next to yours is completely gutted, cleaned, and then paid artists are drawing nature and cute little animals on the walls. It's like he was preparing to run a daycare. "Darling, why are you acting so strangely?" He looks at you very seriously. "Dear..You may want to sit down-"

MILLENNIAL TREE COOKIE:

-His roots and vines told him. They told him the happening in Beast Yeast and told him the coming of his own children. "My own blood with go on with the beating of a different heart, and a new life shall bless the forest with their youth." As usual you had no idea what his prediction riddles meant but he seemed the most happy he'd been in a long time so you of course were happy for him, assuming the new life meant his forest would be alive with new trees or perhaps wildlife but you were WAY off mark.

-It never dawned on you until he wants to show you something. A rather particular large tree had a large hole at the base with you assumed an animal's den but instead you were surprised to see the a nursery. Not a plant nursery but a baby nursery complete with a crib made from vibes and branches, toys carved from wood, and a few plushies and blankets sewn from natural materials gifted from Wind Archer Cookie. "We will be needing it for the little ones. They'll be here in eight more months." ...Oh. That's why he was unphased by your symptoms.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 10k words (.....yes. 10k. i know)

summary: You've been hooking up with Bradley for three weeks now. You're also hooking up with him tonight.

a/n: this is pure smut. honestly pure smut. 18+ i will now list all the things that you have to look out for. first and foremost i have NEVER written smut before dont kill me pls im trying my best. ok so

name kink, rank kink, choking, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyve had the conversation nothing bad will happen), oral sex!fem receiving, dom bradley, some "good girl" because i am a sucker for that, in general a lot of talking because bradley is A TALKER!!!!!!, a little strength kink? is that a thing? and a shit ton of begging

this can be read as a stand-alone most definitely, but is set in the same universe as "Tuesday Night" and “Not A Coincidence” and "Take Me On A Joyride" so maybe give those a read too?

top gun masterlist

You were behind the bar this evening, a rag in your hands as you wiped down the sticky wooden top for the bazillionth time and hummed along to the music coming from the jukebox. You were behind the bar most evenings, pouring beer and rum and whiskey and mixing cocktails (occasionally taking some sips of your own), smiling and laughing and flirting with customers left and right.

For the past few months now, the most regular of those costumers had been the Dagger squad.

They'd shown up here one random evening and hadn't left since. And it didn't seem like any of them would any time soon.

Not that you wanted them to, oh no. You had grown so close in so little time that it was scary at this point.

"Settle a bet for us, Junior."

Jake slid up to the bar as if it was second nature, putting an empty bottle of beer in front of him and resting one elbow next to it. You looked up at him and smiled, threw your rag over your shoulder and grabbed the bottle, condensation dripping down onto your fingertips. Rooster came up right behind him and your smile deepened even further.

"Hit me, Bagman", you challenged, set two full bottles on the bar top and then rested your forearms against the edge.

Jake grinned at you as he raised his beer in a toast.

"If you had to get with one of us tonight, who'd you get with?"

You didn't even flinch.

"Bradshaw", you said, quick like a shot, and watched Jake's face fall like he'd expected a different answer with just a tiny bit of amusement. You glanced at Rooster, who had already been looking at you, and whose only reaction to the fact that you were literally talking about sleeping with him was a small quirk of his lips.

"Bradshaw? Are you kidding? You- I'll give you a second to think about it, Junior. Don't you wanna think about it for a second?", Jake asked, regaining his facade, letting a tinge of his accent slip as he leaned in and winked at you. "You know, actually think about it. Imagine it. Picture it. Visualise it."

You decided to give him the satisfaction. So you pushed back from the bar top, crossed your arms, raised your eyebrows and eyed the two of them up and down - just because you could, just for the fun of it. Jake was in his usual jeans and shirt, leaning in with a self-assured grin and his hand wrapped around his beer bottle. Bradley was wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts that fit snugly on his bicep, his sunglasses tucked into the collar of the white top underneath, hair on the practically perfect side of unruly and his eyes fixed on yours so intensely that you had to bite down on your tongue for a moment there.

You counted to five.

"Bradshaw", you said again, dropped your arms and grabbed the rag from your shoulder. Jake's lips parted and a betrayed sort of gasp left his mouth before he started complaining - you shook your head and stepped over to the next customer and only allowed yourself to grin when you'd turned away, out of his sight.

You wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

You still didn't know whether to be surprised at this "bet" the both of them had made. You were pretty sure anyway that Jake had been the driving force in that. You knew the two of them well enough by now to not only be aware of their.... you could only call it a rivalry, really, but also of Jake's weird, warped sense of mischief. Maybe he had some narcissism problem or maybe some old trauma response. Who cared? Not you. It made for entertainment every night you were behind the bar. And also every night you were in front of the bar, drinking and dancing with the squad. You loved him, you really did. But definitely not enough to not put a stop to his ego whenever you could.

And if that way was by flaunting how very platonically you felt about him (because he was a self-named womanizer and couldn't understand how anyone could possibly not be attracted to him), you would.

...

It was 2am when Penny told you to pack your things and go. Most of the bar was empty already, except for three or four small groups of people, but those she could manage alone. Usually, maybe, you'd have declined, but tonight....

Well.

Jake had found someone to hook up with after his earlier disappointment and the rest of the squad had left at some point during the last hour too - the rest of the squad except for a particular pornstache guy.

Rooster had said goodbye to Fanboy and Payback ten minutes ago, had assured them he didn't need a ride home, he'd order another drink and then take an uber, had sat down on a bar stool, nursed his beer and watched you clean up and then pack your things. You'd snuck glances at him now and then, so you knew that he'd watched you.

When you stepped out from behind the bar, he sat up and followed you out of the Hard Deck wordlessly. Armed with a purse, fumbling for your car keys, fighting down the smile on your lips and the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, you took a second outside to close your eyes and breathe in the mild evening air.

Then two arms snuck around your waist. You let out a sigh as warm breath hit your neck.

"So you'd rather get with me than Bagman, hm, Junior?"

You chuckled, pushing back a little, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax for the first time tonight.

"I think you know very well that I'd rather get with you than Bagman, Rooster", you muttered, running your hands up his hands, then up his arms, then up naked skin until you could slide your fingertips underneath his shirt, up his shoulders... "I'd rather get with you than anyone."

He pressed a kiss right below your earlobe, bit down softly on the same patch of skin and soothed it again with a kiss.

"Oh, I know", he laughed quietly into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You settled even further into his arms. "I'd rather get with you than Bagman, too."

You had to laugh as well - the image of Hangman and Rooster was truly funny. But it was difficult to keep laughing when Bradley pressed more and more kisses to your neck, trailing a line of them down to the hemline of your shirt, nuzzling his nose in there when he couldn't go further. You tilted your head back a little to rest it against his shoulder, a pleasant flush rising up within - a comfortable warmth, the knowledge that you were safe, secure, protected. The way he always made you feel.

"Just to be clear - I do get to get with you tonight, right?", you asked, a grin on your lips because you knew the answer very, very well. Rooster chuckled into your ear and let out a hum.

"What do you think?", he muttered, one last, open-mouthed kiss pressed against your skin before he pulled away, pulled at your hand to twirl you around and pulled a squeal from your lips, one that conjured a smile on his face every time. "Take me home?"

...

The ride home was silent except for the radio in the background, but you were pretty much tuning that out. The steering wheel felt sturdy in your hands, the night lights bright and blinding, and your concentration on the streets and the car was waning ever so slowly, ever so steadily because Rooster's hand was slowly, steadily inching up your thigh. He'd put it innocently just above your knee when you'd strapped yourself in, his thumb sweeping in circles over the fabric of your jeans, but by now he'd brushed so far up that you were finding it hard to direct your thoughts back to driving.

Luckily, the drive back home only took ten minutes.

You weren't sure you'd have survived even a second more. He squeezed your thigh one last time as you turned the ignition off, then unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door and got out and you were left alone in pure silence for exactly two seconds. You took a deep breath in and out. One day, and you knew that, Bradley would be the death of you. He could get you all riled up with so very little that you felt like you were going mad sometimes. In a very good way, of course.

And just as you were lamenting on the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, on the images your brain conjured whenever you were close to him, whenever you were touching him, whenever-

"Madam", Rooster smiled, leaning one arm on the opened car door and reaching the other hand out for you to take. "Would you do me the honours?"

You could only shake your head and grin at him, giddiness making you squirm in your seat as you pulled your hands away from the steering wheel and put one of them in his.

"I could never deny you any of your wishes, kind sir", you said, allowing him to pull you out of the car and into his arms instead. He hugged you close, tilted his head down to nuzzle your nose with his - you had to put your head back to be able to look into his eyes when you stood this close in front of him, nevermind kissing him.

"Really?", he smiled, his fingertips dancing along your side, hooking into your belt loops, pulling your hips flush to his. You grabbed at his biceps to steady yourself. Or maybe just because you could. "Any of my wishes?"

You let out a sort of agreeable hum and grinned up at him.

"Whatever you want", you nodded.

It was the truth, simple and just. You'd do anything. You'd let him do anything. You trusted him like you'd never trusted anyone before and up until now, you'd only ever been rewarded for putting that kind of trust in him. Something about this felt right. Something about him felt right.

"What if I wanted to spend the rest of the night between your legs?", he muttered, eyes flicking down to your lips as your breath hitched.

"Well", you whispered, because whispering was the only thing you still knew how to do. "As I said, I won't deny you anything."

His eyes met yours and his lip quirked up and then, before you could do anything more, he'd dropped down, wrapped an arm around your legs and hauled you up. You let out a gasp and crossed your arms behind his neck in reflex, a soft, shocked "Rooster!" falling from your lips. Bradley only chuckled, closed the car door with his hip and started carrying you to your front door with seemingly no problem whatsoever.

Gods. Sometimes you forgot just how strong he really was.

But then, in moments like these, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed or pushed you up against a wall and you remembered. And you felt that sting in your stomach that had you press your legs together every time.

Now you didn't even have to remember. Now you were dangling safely from his arms, your hands linked behind his neck, your fingertips buried in his hair, your eyes wide as you watched him, as you tried to steady your irregular breathing because shit, this was happening. This was happening like it had been happening for over three weeks now.

He sat you down carefully in front of the door, but you were in such a trance that you needed to take a moment (or two or three) to stare at him, at this man, this fairytale prince, this god. Your man, your fairytale prince, your god.

"You need to unlock the door, honey", he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning you so you were facing the door, his chest pressed to your back, his breath fanning the exposed skin of your neck and right, right, right, the door! The door. The lock. The key. The key in your purse! That key. The key for your door. Right. Key, key, key.... Where the hell was that goddamn key? You were sure it was somewhere there in your purse. You'd put it in there like you always put it in there. Key, Key, Rooster, Rooster's arms around you, Rooster's hands brushing over your skin, Rooster's breath on your ear, Rooster between your legs, Rooster- Key! Key, key, key---

There.

At the very bottom of your purse, finally! There it was. You pulled it out with an almost triumphant sound, unlocked your door to Rooster's soft laughter behind you and stumbled into the dark hallway in a half-intoxicated way that shouldn't have been possible because you hadn't drunk anything tonight.

You threw your purse to the side and switched on the light and turned to Rooster just in time for him to have closed the door behind him and reached for you, his hands on your hips - so big, splayed so wide, his fingers so long - crowding you against the wall, his breath fanning over your mouth and then, finally, his lips on yours.

For the first time today, you were kissing him. He was so wide, so tall, so huge, everywhere all around you, his arms, his hands, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his chin and his cheeks and his lips and his hair. Your hands sunk into that hair, tugging at the roots and grabbing his head as though your life depended on it, depended on keeping him safely, steadily right on front of you, right here, pushing you against the wall and leaving you practically no room to breathe, to touch, to feel anything other than him.

You wanted him.

With every fibre of your body, your soul, every particle, every cell, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere all at once and you wanted him now.

So you bit down on his lip and allowed his tongue in and brushed your hands down his shoulders and down his chest to pull off that god-awful Hawaiian shirt that you admittedly found very attractive, but that was so incredibly, annoyingly in the way right now. You tugged it off his chest and down his arms and didn't care when it fell to the floor - that was where it should be, that was where it belonged.

You reached for the top then, for his waist to brush your fingertips below its hem, pushed it up, up, up until you could feel bare skin, washboard abs against your palms. That satisfied you for a moment - for a moment of running your fingers along the sharp edges of his stomach, for a moment of feeling his body heat, for a moment of being closer.

Luckily, Rooster had always been quite in-tune with you. He noticed the very second that your satisfaction turned to impatience, that your roaming, wandering hands weren't exploring, weren't enjoying anymore but were searching, longing for more - for more skin to touch, more, more, more.

He pulled away from your lips to get rid of his top, leaving you a panting, wide-eyed mess and by god, he'd only just gotten started. He hadn't even touched you. How were you already so wound up?

You blamed the fact that you'd had to stare at him from a distance for the past five days (you'd had late night shifts, he'd had early training days) and decided not to think about it further.

Especially not as his top joined his shirt on the floor, as he looked up at you with red smudged on his chin, kiss-swollen lips and unruly hair. His chest was heaving, his breath coming shorter than usual and his pupils had grown so dark you had to swallow hard.

Without thinking, you reached out and tried to wipe your lipstick off his skin.

That made him grin a little.

"Rooster?", you muttered, looking him right in the eyes. He let out a hum as he stared, a bit lost in thought it seemed and still quite shamelessly, only further at your lips. "Either take me to the bedroom or take a step back so I can get on my knees."

He let out a chuckle then and met your eyes, digging his fingers through your belt loops and pulling you a few inches away from the wall.

"I think you may have forgot something, honey", he said. "What about that wish I made?"

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to let your imagination run wild.

Rooster only grinned, and it seemed that your expression showed him just how much you didn't mind his wish at all, because he reached around you, grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, so effortlessly that it made you blush a little. You didn't even have to hold onto him, only had to wrap your legs loosely around his hips as he carried you through the hallway and into the bedroom.

That allowed you to focus all of your attention on pressing your lips to his skin.

He was warm. So warm. You trailed your lips all over his jaw, his throat, his shoulders, his bicep, and then, when you couldn't go any further down, Rooster had already found the light switch in your room and was dropping you onto your bed, pulling a surprised gasp from you.

The mattress was soft and bouncy as you landed on it, heat in your cheeks and your throat tightening at the sight in front of you - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw standing at the foot of of your bed, half-naked, sweaty, breathing heavy and looking down at you like he was a predator and you were his prey, like he wanted to devour you whole.

Which he did.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows at the same time that he advanced - pounding on you, almost, with a grin on his lips that set ablaze the slumbering flame in your abdomen. You didn't know which one of you got rid of your shirt, only that a few seconds later his lips were on yours, his hands reaching for your bra clasp and your shirt discarded somewhere on your floor.

You breathed hard against his mouth as his fingertips brushed along your back, along your bra, then slowly slid it off your shoulders, down your arms...

Cold air hit your breasts just as Rooster pulled away from you to fling your bra away to join your shirt on the floor, leaving you cold and panting, your eyes closing and opening again and staring at him as he stared at you, as he admired you, all bare, soft skin right there, right in front of him, just for him and nobody else.

You felt his palms against your ribcage then, pushing you down onto your back, onto the mattress, your breath hitching and your eyes closing in anticipation. He dropped a kiss onto your collarbone. Another just above your cleavage. Another onto the top of your breasts. His thumbs brushed right below them.

You wanted more. You always wanted more. You needed more.

But he was just trailing kisses along your breasts, never lingering for long enough, never biting or sucking or licking and as much as you were enjoying this... You needed more.

"Rooster", you sighed, dragging your hands through his hair because you needed more. He hummed against your skin. You could feel the vibration all over. "Roos, please."

He grinned - against your skin at first, before he looked up and right at you. "What was that?"

You bit down on your lip. God damn him. He always did this. Every single time, he did this. And the worst part was: You didn't even mind. You didn't mind begging, you didn't mind pleading, you didn't mind doing so much of it that you couldn't do, couldn't say anything else anymore. So you did just that.

"Please", you repeated, a little breathlessly. Rooster's grin widened.

And then he pulled away completely.

You could have screamed. You honestly thought, just for a second, that he would leave you lying there - panting and begging for him, with a bare chest and arousal heating up every part of you. But of course not. Of course not. This was Bradley fucking Bradshaw. He didn't leave you unsatisfied.

No.

Rooster got up from the bed only to grab you by the waist, to pull you down to the edge and kneel down on the floor. You swallowed hard. He fiddled with your shoes first, loosening the laces and taking them off, tugging down your socks and your pants and oh dear lord, you couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing.

He was kneeling in front of your bed. You bit back a moan from that alone.

Any and all forms of Bradley Bradshaw were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but to you, nothing would ever top the sight of him on his knees for you.

You tuned back in when your jeans thumped to the floor, when his fingertips danced softly, teasingly up your calves, up your knees, up your thighs. You clenched your jaw when he reached your underwear, when his eyes met yours again in one final reassurance that this was what the both of you wanted, and then he pulled it down your legs too and hooked his hands behind your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a deep breath - one, two, one, two.

One, two.

One, two.

You frowned and blinked open your eyes again.

Rooster was staring at you, blatantly staring at you with a knowing smirk plastered on his lips and his fingers digging into your hips, sure to hold you in place, not allowing you to push even an inch closer to him.

"Roos", you whined, for what already felt like the dozenth time tonight, your hand sinking into his hair, splaying out, tugging at the strands, trying your hardest to pull him in. He didn't move.

"Yes?", he asked, with that grin just deepening, telling you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Of course he did. Of course he'd make you- God, of course, of course, of course! It had been his idea. It had been his plan, his wish, his goddamn idea and now he was making you-

"Fuck", you grumbled, teeth digging into your bottom lip. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to do this because he hadn't even had you lying here for five minutes and he already wanted you to do this. "Roos, just-"

He bit down softly on the skin of your thigh then, pulling a surprised gasp from you, leaving your sentence hanging half-finished in mid air. You had to tilt your head back, had to throw a hand over your face because gods, you couldn't look at him now! Not with his breath meeting your thigh, with the feeling of his moustache against your skin, not with that grin on his lips. If you did, you'd melt in less than a heartbeat. You weren't about to give in that easily.

At least that was what you told yourself. You repeated it in your head like a mantra - he had barely touched you, he was the one who'd wished for this, you wouldn't... you weren't... you hadn't...

Fuck!

"C'mon honey", he encouraged, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh. You let out a shaky breath. He was close, so close now and he had you wound so tightly, so incredibly tightly that you felt like you were burning up from inside and-

"Bradley", you gave in, the word falling, tumbling from your lips in almost a moan. "Please, Bradley, please."

He was on you in a heartbeat. Licking a stripe up your slit, tongue flattened and you cried out, digging your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling, pushing, back arching off the bed as he finally, finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. He dove in like a starved man, licking, pushing, tasting you, devoured and ravaged you, took everything and gave everything at the same time.

Bradley was a god. You'd never had a man eat you out like this until you met him.

His hands pressing against your hips to hold you down, to keep you right there for him, not letting you move an inch from him, only letting you push impossibly closer, your mind, your body screaming more. More, more, more. More of him. More from him. More him.

His tongue found your clit. You cried his name into the vast nothingness of your bedroom, eyes squeezing close and hand cramping into the sheets next to your head, thighs clamping around his head, caging him in, his palms forcing your back still on the mattress.

You could faintly make out your own moans, your own voice as his tongue circled, traced and dipped -

More.

He drew your clit into his mouth. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, send a shiver through your body, make your legs twitch.

Please.

He sunk his tongue into you, brushed your clit, up and down and everywhere.

Bradley.

You were coming close. Close, so close. Every inch of your skin was tensing in anticipation, clenching, clutching. You babbled something of the sort, not listening to yourself, not able to, not starting or stopping, controlling none of your words, none of the sounds falling from your lips. Bradley loosened one of his palms from your hips and immediately you were pushing, arching up, held down a heartbeat later as he pinned his arm down again, his tongue working you, not faltering once and-

pressure.

His thumb on your clit.

You screamed out his name.

Your nails dug into his scalp. Your heels clasped around his back. Every single nerve in your body was on fire. And Bradley didn't stop.

He worked you right through your high, circling his thumb on your clit and sinking his tongue into you, holding you down, holding you close until you were panting, gasping, your legs unclasping from his head, your fingers loosening in his hair, loosening from the bedsheets, your eyes fluttering open, meeting his and only then did he relent. He pulled back softly, stilling his thumb and pressing a kiss to your thigh, watching you as you slowly came back to reality, back to him.

You blinked once. Twice.

He pulled his thumb from you as he rose up from the floor, running his hands along your sides instead, along your ribs, your breasts, your throat, studying the irregular rise and fall of your chest, mapping out your body beneath his. You watched with parted lips as he brought both his hands steadily down next to your head, as he leaned down to meet you in a kiss - heavy and heady and intense and full of all the right emotions. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

But before you could do any more, press yourself up or pull him down, he was gone again, hot breath meeting your lips and that familiar smile crawling back up onto his face.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asked, tilting his head to the side a little, catching the light of the overhead lamp. Wetness glistened on his moustache. You bit down on your bottom lip, doing your hardest to conceal the smile that was fighting to get to the surface.

Instead, you let out an agreeable hum and brought your hand up to his stache to wipe at it, to wipe some of you off him and admittedly, you already knew that wouldn't do much - but the simple act of innocently cleaning him off like that, fingers brushing above his mouth, just caressing his skin, it made something in your stomach churn.

"How about you? Now that we've checked one wish off your list... Any more?", you muttered, trailing your fingers along his cheek, down his scars, following those lines of skin you knew so well, burning them into your mind, burning him into your mind. You'd never seen anyone as beautiful. You didn't think there was anyone as beautiful out there. Your breath hitched, fingertips catching on a birthmark, before you snapped your eyes back up to his. "Any more wishes at all, Bradley?"

A sort of grunt left him as you did your best not to grin - you knew just what buttons to push, didn't you?

"You know", he muttered, dropping his head, brushing his nose down the sensitive skin of your throat. "I could think of a few more things."

"Yeah?", you asked, just on the right side of breathless again, skin tingling wherever he decided to place a few deliberate, almost chaste kisses. "Like what?"

He'd worked his way down to your breasts again, still holding himself up with both his hands.

"I could fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve it", he said softly, the words flowing from him as easily as if he were talking about breakfast the next day. Rational, sober, collected. You, on the other hand, could feel the wetness pooling in between your legs again. You couldn't believe how reasonable, how practical, how composed he could stay while he said things like that - how he'd fuck you, how he'd eat you out, how he'd pull every single thought from your mind with his fingers and his mouth and his cock.

"Or", he went on, completely unbothered still, stopping in between words to drop kisses onto your breasts. "I could fuck you hard and fast, because that's what you want, right?"

A moan tumbled from your lips all of its own accord, your eyes fluttering shut again. He was conjuring visuals in your mind that had you clenching your legs together, hands clawing their way back up into his hair - you needed something to keep you here and now, to keep you grounded.

"I'm right, honey, aren't I?", he muttered, obviously satisfied with himself. "You want me to fuck you rough, don't you?"

You were sure you'd crossed some border into heaven and just hadn't realised it. This man would truly be the death of you one day.

"Yes", you breathed, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair. "Yes, please, Bradley."

You could feel his grin against your bare skin.

"You look so pretty begging for me, honey", he smiled, raising himself up and before you could complain much about it, before you could as much as open your eyes again, he was dropping a kiss to your lips, long and longing, parted lips pressed against each other, breathing each other in.

Then he pulled away from you completely and you did let a whine fall from your lips after all, raising yourself up onto your elbows to blindly follow after him as he straightened up and then bent down to pull off his shoes, his socks, to fumble with his belt - all in fucking slow motion apparently, that's how long it took, two hours just to take off his goddamn socks and you were just sitting there, staring, blinking, hazy mind clearing up the way it always had to after you'd been so close to him, watching, staring, watching, staring...

An eternity, it seemed, until you grew too impatient and decided to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

You pushed yourself up, reached for his belt yourself, pulled it from its buckle, unhooked it, opened it finally, finally, finally! and blinked up at him again, all wide eyes and smudged lipstick and swollen lips and Bradley felt pretty sure he died a little just then - this had to be heaven, you had to be heaven. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and your tongue ran along your lips and he had to swallow hard.

His jeans fell to the floor, chased quickly by his boxer briefs and you took a deep breath as you looked at him, leaning forward, leaning in to reach for him-

He took both your hands in his and pushed you down on the mattress again, another of those pathetic whines dropping from your lips at being denied the feeling of him.

"Fuck, Roos, please", you begged, sounding pitiful to your own ears by now, pleading for something you knew he'd give to you anyway, just so goddamn impatient that you couldn't even help the words rolling off your tongue.

He let go of your hands, reached for your waist instead to pull you up, to tug you firmly farther up the mattress until he could follow after safely, until he could nudge your knees apart and trail a line of kisses up your shoulder, his hands finding their usual spot next to your head.

"What was that, honey?", he grinned against your skin, holding himself up above you to look you right in the eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled a moan from yourself and a similar groan from him, squeezed your eyes shut and had immediately forgotten what it'd been you'd said before. What it'd been he was asking about.

He brought one hand down to your thigh, squeezing tight, holding you even tighter to him, and pressed his hips down into the mattress, pulling another moan from you and, again, a similar groan from himself, making sure that you couldn't move against him on your own, that you were completely at his mercy.

As always.

"Please", you whined, desperate now, trying to rock your hips against his and not succeeding, not succeeding because he was holding you still, holding you down, holding you helpless and defenseless, withholding the one goddamn thing you wanted from him right now. And after all that talk too! "Roos, please, Bradley, do something."

You were far from whining now, breathless and moaning and sobbing basically, hands clawing at his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, begging and pleading and he was just holding still, doing nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing and you wanted more, you wanted something, anything.

"Look at me", he panted then - the only sign at all that he was somehow affected by this as well. "Look at me, honey, open your eyes."

And what else were you supposed to do but follow that command, grant him that wish?

So you forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look at him.

A thin layer of sweat gleaned on his skin. His stare was fixed on you and you alone. And his pupils had dilated so far that his usually hazel eyes were practically black now. You sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Good girl", he praised and you were done for.

You could have come from that alone.

Those two words, breathed into the nothingness of the room, onto your lips, onto your naked skin, sent a shiver down your spine, down your back and your hips and your legs, a shiver so violent that it pulled a moan right with it, a string of them. You barely heard Bradley's groan above you before he pulled away just the slightest bit, pulled away to brush his hand down your side, down your chest, down your hips, between your bodies, to reach for himself and stroke his tip through the wetness between your legs, your back arching off the mattress, into him, into more of him and-

"Wait", you panted.

Bradley froze immediately. His expression shifted to worry in the span of half a second, furrowing his brows and pulling away from you.

"What's wrong?", he asked, still breathless. You closed your eyes and took a breath, tensing, forcing yourself to keep down on the mattress, even as cold settled on your skin now that he wasn't warming you up anymore - inches away from you again. Considerate idiot.

"Just-", you stopped, opened your eyes, looked right at him. "Do you think Jake suspects anything?"

Bradley kept still for a few seconds. A shallow breath and another, your chest rising and falling and you had a hard time thinking, even now that he was barely touching you anymore. You were wound tightly, and you'd been so close, and now...

"You're not seriously thinking about Jake right now", Bradley said, almost accusingly.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange - you were naked, panting, your legs wrapped around his hips, and still you were thinking about Jake, about the bet, about what you'd said hours ago at the bar. You hadn't even been thinking about it, really. It had just come to you, overwhelming you, and you... you had needed to get it out. Still, you did have to admit, it was absurd.

So you bit down on your lip to conceal a smile, a grin, trailed your hands to his hair to brush it behind his ears, almost innocently (but just almost).

"I'm sorry, I just...", you whispered, stroking your hands down his scalp. "We've kept this between us for three weeks now. I don't want to have ruined that."

Bradley shook his head at you, dropped it to his chin, his curls brushing your nose, your cheeks, and sighed onto the skin of your throat.

"You're unbelievable", he muttered, dropping a kiss between your breasts now that he knew you weren't uncomfortable or afraid or anything of the sort in the slightest. Your breath hitched again. You didn't want to talk about this. You wanted him inside you, wanted him to make good on his promise from before. But you knew you had to, because otherwise the thought wouldn't leave you alone, even though the coil in your stomach, the heat in your body screamed bloody murder at you for it.

He looked back up, raised his chin again to meet your eyes.

"Don't worry about Jake", he reassured, one hand starting to softly, just so very softly, brush up and down your side. You had to swallow. "He won't even remember tomorrow."

He dropped another kiss onto your skin, a little further down, that grin, that moustache against your ribs.

"And I'll make sure you won't remember either, pretty girl. Alright?"

You nodded so quickly you almost got a head rush, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, head tilting back just the slightest, your fingers digging into his hair as his lips trailed down your skin, the covers rustling as he settled further back, as his breath ghosted over your center again.

"Need to hear you say it, honey. Say it for me."

"Please", you babbled instantly, not even thinking, not even close, not when Bradley was giving you such easy instructions to follow. "Please, Roos, please."

You could feel him shake his head, obviously unsatisfied, breathing hard, hands travelling up and down your thighs and nothing more, leaving you in some state of being touched but not really being touched and you felt like going insane again.

"Try again, honey", he tutted, and you were already about to plead, to beg even more when he went on - "Look at me, baby, look at me and try again."

You blinked open your eyes, tilted your head down to look at him, all pretty and wide-eyed, just like he'd asked, your fingers cramping in his hair.

"Please, Roos-"

He raised his eyebrows and you knew then, you knew where your mistake had been - you should've known before, you should've-

"Bradley", you moaned. "Please, Bradley, I want you. I need you."

He grinned at that, dropped a kiss to your thigh before flattening his tongue against your folds again, drawing another moan from you. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, but only because you knew he wanted you to, only because you knew he needed you to. His palms splayed out against the backs of your thighs, keeping them still, as always.

His tongue drew a circle on your clit and you arched off the bed, into him, a whine tumbling from your lips, followed by his name. He pulled back much too quickly, much too easily, with a much too satisfied grin on his lips, looking up at you for just a second before he leaned down to drop a kiss to your hip.

"Bradley", you complained, cut off by your own moan when you felt his fingers trail through your wetness instead of his tongue, all soft and slow and you rocked your hips against his hand - more friction, more touch, more, more, more.

You hadn't been kidding when you'd said that you wanted him. That you needed him.

Bradley chuckled, kissing his way up your body again, one hand next to your head to hold himself up just the way he'd done before, but his fingers brushing, stroking, his thumb on your clit, moan after moan spilling from you. You needed more. More.

You tried to shift closer, tried to cant your hips into his palm for more, blinking up at him and whimpering and fuck, Bradley was just human after all, how could he deny you anything if you looked at him like that? So he started drawing little circles with his thumb, little circles on your clit, and pushed a finger into you.

You rewarded him with the soft sound of his name rolling off your tongue, your hands reaching for his arms, clawing at his biceps. You had needed this, had needed him and now... Now you needed more. More, even as he pulled his finger from you and pushed in again, starting in a slow, easy rhythm, drawing little moans, quiet whimpers from you. You rocked your hips back onto him, pushed for more. More.

"More", you voiced your thoughts, begging, pleading again - you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted! And you'd been so close, you'd been so goddamn close, but now he was just lazily pushing his finger into you, with one of those grins on his lips that told you he knew what he was doing incredibly well too. He was a tease, a goddamn tease, and you-

"More what, honey?", Bradley asked, interrupting your thoughts, your spiraling thoughts as his finger moved ever so slowly, teasing, playing.

You let out a whine as he stilled completely, his finger nestled inside you, touching you but not touching you enough, not nearly enough and he'd make you go crazy one day, he would! You tried to push your hips into his hand. Not that it did anything.

"More what?", Bradley asked again, looked at you as you refocused on his face, his eyes because you knew he'd want you to. He always wanted you to look at him.

"Please", you whispered. "Bradley."

His smile deepened, but he didn't move.

"Nice try, baby", he chuckled. "But that wasn't the question."

You grumbled and tilted your head back, squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. You wanted more. And he was making you say exactly what.

Putting the power in your hands, it seemed - but you knew it wasn't that. He'd already promised you to do just what you wanted, had said it so easily, so soberly that he'd left you dazed. And now he was asking you to do the same.

You couldn't. He knew you couldn't.

So you let out a small whimper, let your head fall to the side to look at him again, eyes wide and teeth digging into your bottom lip and kept still as best as you could, even as the desire, the need to fuck yourself on his finger grew with every passing breath - trying to make sure that he wouldn't tease you further. He'd done that before already, you knew that he could and he would.

He seemed to have realised it too, your legs, your hips calm now, your eyes fixed on his.

"Please fuck me, Bradley", you said softly, only a little breathlessly, a little nervous around the edges, doing your best not to let your restraint show. You weren't used to just saying stuff like that out loud. It was different, somehow, to say it, and to say it right to his face too.

But as much as you tried to hide it, your body still had the same reaction - breath coming shorter, heat shooting straight to your cheeks, the coil in your stomach tightening again.

Bradley's eyes on yours didn't make it any better.

Neither did his grin as he pulled his finger from you, pulled a moan from your lips right with it, as he brushed it through your folds, up and down before his fingertip stopped on your clit.

"Fuck you how, honey?", he asked. He wanted you to lose your mind, you were sure of that. You bit down on your lip, furrowed your brows, forced yourself to think, to keep thinking even though he was drawing circles on your clit now, bringing you back to the endless loop of more, more, more in your mind.

"Fuck me-", you panted, starting and stopping, closing your eyes. "Rough, please, Bradley. Please."

He pulled his fingers from you entirely, chuckling as you mewled and blinked up at him again, as you watched him raise his hand to your lips. You parted them in reflex, let him push his fingers into your mouth, rest them on your tongue. This, finally, was something you felt much less nervous about. So you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his fingers clean.

Bradley had you well acquainted with the taste of yourself by now. Not that you minded.

You made sure to keep your eyes fixed on his as you brushed your tongue along his fingertips. He let out some sort of sound caught between a moan and a groan and a curse and, maybe, your name, and you had a hard time keeping your grin concealed as you sucked, spurred on not only the fire in your own abdomen, but in Bradley's as well, red heating up your cheeks and your legs growing restless.

You were getting impatient again. You needed more.

Luckily, it seemed that Bradley had about enough of this as well.

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, shook his head with a grin, trailed a line of your spit around your breasts, around your nipples.

"You look sinful", he muttered, dropping a kiss to your lips before you could even begin to think about a response, all open mouth and breathing each other in, the taste of you on both your tongues. "Tell me again how you want me to fuck you rough, honey. Just once more. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, nodded without thinking, panting a bit now, pressing your legs together at his voice, at the look in his eyes, at... at him, at everything about him. You needed him. You'd do anything he asked.

"Fuck me rough, Bradley. Please."

His eyes darkened further. He brought his lips down on yours again, firmer now, heavier now, claiming your mouth, your tongue, your lips, claiming you, back to the familiar, thrilling predator and prey game that the two of you had abandoned at some point along the way.

"Good girl", he rasped.

You let out a pitiful moan. God, this man would absolutely be the death of you.

Good girl.

You couldn't press your legs together any further, couldn't possibly get any more friction, could only whine and whimper and moan and wait, wait as Bradley reached between your bodies and finally, finally, finally pushed into you.

You'd been waiting for this for the past five days.

You let out some pathetic sounding sob of his name as he pressed his hips snugly to yours, stretching you out in the best of possible ways, dropping his lips to your throat, to your neck. You clawed at his arms, at his shoulders, pulled him close to you, even closer. Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, breath hitching.

Bradley gave you the entirety of half a second to adjust to him, half a second in which you could barely get past the moan of his name before he was moving, thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of you, drawing sounds you'd have been embarrassed about in any other situation.

But you could barely hear them.

You could barely do anything other than moan, anything other than scratch, hold, claw at him, anything other than let him wrap your legs around his waist and push in, pull out, push in again, his hold on your thigh so firm you'd see the marks tomorrow.

He fucked you with a relentlessness that reduced you to a mess of numb limbs, that pulled every last thought from you, one by one - with a rhythm, unfaltering, unwavering, with soft grunts and moans rolling off his tongue, with his mouth moving against your skin, working his way up to yours.

You met his lips in a frenzy, your hands tangled somewhere in his hair, your nails scratching somewhere down his back, your legs wrapped around his hips, your lips parted, your moans swallowed, his cock sliding in and out of you, the delicious drag of him building, setting alight the coil in your stomach.

You'd been waiting for this for too long. You wouldn't last much longer, not after he'd already pulled the first orgasm from you. Not after he'd been building you up for so long.

"Bradley", you moaned against his lips. "More."

He pulled back an inch and you blinked your eyes open, focused on him, on the blush on his cheeks and the rise and the fall of his chest as he slowed down a bit, drawing another whine from you, feeling different now, slower yes, but more deliberate maybe, more teasing maybe, hitting other spots, dragging it out, feeling more and less intense all the same and - most importantly - letting your close, so close grow weaker and weaker and weaker.

"You know-", Bradley panted, letting his thumb brush over the skin of your thigh, loosening his grip just the slightest. "You know how to ask, pretty girl."

A sob made its way past your lips. You wanted more, you needed more - you'd be good for him, you wanted to be good for him, but you forgot, you brushed right past it when he had you like this. So wasn't it his fault, really?

"Fuck me harder, Bradley", you whimpered - you'd lost the ability to feel embarrassed somewhere along the way. You didn't care anymore, not with his cock so slowly sliding in and out of you, not with his eyes on yours, not with... no, not anymore, you needed more now and you were desperate to get it, already rocking your hips back onto him in search of more - more friction, more touch, more him.

He pressed his lips to yours again, back to claiming you, back to firm, back to teeth and tongue before pulling away, pulling out, pulling another wail from you as he sat back on his ankles, hard and panting.

Then his hands clasped around your waist and you had no time to react before he had turned you over, your face smushed into the pillow, fingers reaching up to dig into the sheets.

He thrust back into you in one swift motion.

And you screamed.

You didn't know how he did it - you didn't want to know, really - but he hit that sensitive spot inside of you instantly, the new position allowing new depth, allowing new touches, new feelings, new and more and you couldn't think, could only touch, only feel.

Only touch, only feel him.

The drag of him, the push of him, the way he hit all those spots he needed to hit to have you up there, to have you close within seconds again.

He trailed his fingertips along your spine, sent a shiver through your body as he fucked you rough, just like you'd asked of him so very, very nicely. He reached your neck, reached around to your throat and when his fingers brushed along your jaw, he clasped his hand around it and pulled. Pulled you up, right to his chest, sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned his name.

You let your head drop back onto his shoulder, gave him more skin to touch, more of your body to claim, more of you to make his as he thrust relentlessly into you, as his other hand brushed between your legs, up your thighs until his fingers met your clit, pushed down and pulled an even louder moan of his name from you.

His hand closed around your throat at the same time.

You choked back a gasp, breath hitching, back arching off him and into him both, more and less clashing in your mind because this was what you wanted, this was what you'd begged him for, but all of it so suddenly, following each other so closely - too much, not enough.

You clenched around him.

Bradley let out a moan - his lips against your ear, the sound of it in every fibre of your body, of your mind, of your soul. And that was it for you.

You came with another cry of his name - a scream, a sob, maybe, or none of it, you weren't sure - maybe you let out no sound at all, rendered silent for once. The world was white for a second, your mouth dry, your throat hoarse, pleasure coarsing through every vein, every limb, every muscle, every bone.

You went slack against him. Your legs gave out, your eyes fell shut, your arms, your hands loose at your sides, and the only reason you didn't fall back onto your mattress were Bradley's arms around you - on your throat, around your hips. His fingertips circling your clit still, his hips snug to yours as he bit down on your shoulder, as he reached his own high, his moustache scratching deliciously against your skin, grounding you as your breath slowly came back to normal, as you won back the feeling in your legs.

You stayed still for a minute - just catching your breath, allowing yourself to take whatever time you needed to come back to yourself, to really notice the way Bradley held you up all on his own, the way his chest felt against your back, the way he had his lips pressed to the skin of your shoulder, the way his thumbs brushed ever so softly up and down, one along your throat, one along your stomach.

You never wanted this to end.

You were warm and safe and satisfied in his arms.

A slow smile spread on your face. Bradley's breath fanned softly over the shell of your ear. You could feel your own heart beat in your chest.

"Satisfied now, honey?", Bradley rasped, voice rough in all the right ways, his lips ghosting over your neck. You let out a soft hum in agreement. He chuckled against your skin.

"I'm gonna let go of you now, princess", he cautioned (you could just so push back the whine that wanted to escape) before ever so slowly, ever so carefully pulling his hand from your throat, pulling his arm from around you - softly pushing down on your back instead, hands wrapped around your hips again, laying you back down on the mattress and then turning you over. The bed was cold in comparison to him. Cold and lonely.

He had to pull out as he lay you down and that whine left your lips after all - you were empty and cold and lonely now and you wanted him, more of him, all of him again. Your legs were mushy and your mind still reeling, but you didn't have to think much anyway, not when you knew just what you wanted. You reached out, arms, hands in mid air as you tried to grab him, any of him.

He was sitting back on his ankles, running his hands through his hair, meeting your eyes as he saw you reach out for him. He looked positively exhausted.

You got hold of his hands and pulled him down, onto you. He brought them - and yours right with them - down next to your head in reflex, effectively pinning you down, and though neither of you had planned that, you still had to fight back a smile.

You were breathless, chest still heaving with the sticky intoxication of the moment, sweaty and hot and satisfied, truly, and you wanted him to wrap you up in his arms now and let you fall asleep on his chest.

Instead, he leaned in with a grin and kissed you. Kissed you with all the fiery passion fading into heady contentment, slow and deliberate, because he had all the time in the world now - it was the middle of the night and both of you were growing tired, your bones heavy, your muscles aching deliciously, your thoughts quiet, lazy almost. The middle of the night where romance could now dominate what had before been lust's reign.

That was what this felt like, Bradley's body on yours, his skin sticky with sweat, his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing down into the mattress. This felt like golden honey dripping down onto the reality of the moment, like gods' ichor flowing in your veins, like unnecessarily long and flowery metaphors for a feeling you felt too afraid to name this early on.

Bradley pulled away, let go of your hands and sat back once more - you followed him on some invisible kind of string, pushing up onto your palms, blinking at him in confusion.

He dropped another quick kiss onto your lips with a chuckle.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?", he asked, a grin playing on his lips, his hands brushing over your ribcage, your stomach as though he, too, had some carnal need to keep touching you, to keep his fingertips moving over your skin at all times.

You closed your eyes, allowed the smile on your face to grow as wide as it wanted, and nodded at him.

"Yes, please, Roos", you mumbled, bathing in the yellow light of your bedroom lamp, in the soft buzzing of the ac, in the rhythmic tic-toc of your kitchen clock. In all these daily-life things, because they weren't daily-life right now. Right now, Bradley had just fucked you, right now, Bradley was sitting in front of you, right now, Bradley had his hands on your body, right now... Right now, you were happy, happy and satisfied, content with the world.

"Back to Rooster, are we?", he asked, drew his hands back from you and got up. Your smile deepened.

"I thought you liked your callsign", you quipped back innocently, eyes opening again as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your mattress, into the air, just because he could, just because you wanted him to. You didn't think you'd ever possibly get tired of his strength. He was a bit like your own, personally crafted superhero.

"I do", he muttered. You crossed your arms behind his neck, pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "But the entire squad uses it."

"Oh", you said, exactly like that, because oh, indeed. "So when I say Rooster..."

"I think of work."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, even as his eyes were focused on the wall, trying to find the light switch for the bathroom.

"And you don't like that", you concluded, teeth digging into your bottom lip as a thought struck you. "You don't like thinking of work, Lieutenant?"

Bradley froze.

Bullseye.

"What did you say?"

His eyes focused on you, fixated on you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed. You did your best try at an innocent smile, at a doe-eyed look somehow, but you doubted you achieved anything even remotely close.

"Lieutenant", you muttered again, heat pooling in your lap once more simply at the look on his face. You'd uncovered another one of his layers and you were already anticipating the consequences. "Do you want me to beg again?"

[caramelt4me]

𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 - Ch "XX - 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 [1]"

Trigger warning: mentions of substance ab*se, corruption, suggestive themes, mental decline, identity-crisis, corruption, heavy brainwashing, angst and manipulation.

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

░𝟝.░

A younger sibling imitating an older one is nothing unheard of.

But when the older sibling also happens to be something of a substitute 'parent'...

Let's just say it might take the concept of "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" to a whole another level.

There was a time in Nex's life when he, too, was nothing short of Asher's little shadow.

Not much had changed (albeit for a rebellious streak in the middle)—but back then, it was something born out of necessity for him rather than a choice.

The grey-eyed toddler was still in the fumbling stages of forming an identity, when he found his tiny self suspended in a grand house that echoed with luxury and neglect in equal measure.

He was a ghost among the living, drifting unseen by the ever-busy servants—acknowledged only when he fell too ill, almost at the verge of dying from high fever; or when his cries screeched upon their ears too loud to ignore for food or a diaper change, begging for the bare minimum that a baby shouldn't have to.

The world was far too big, too cold for someone so small, and it rarely cared enough to stoop down to his level.

But things would change for the better whenever a certain blue-eyed boy visited.

Before being scooped away to be essentially hidden from the occasional 'visitor', the toddler had managed to catch a few fleeting glimpses of this "hyung".

At five years old, Asher was anything but a typical five-year-old.

Despite being a literal child, his face was devoid of any joy, cold-neutral, with icy blue eyes like winter lightning and a demeanor fit for the spawn of the Grim Reaper himself—he was also quite tall for his age then, with a height that of an average seven-year old boy.

Yet for little Nex, to whom the giant 'adults' were something like a walking Forest of Legs, to not get trampled under while crawling – Asher stood out, simply because of being seen; reachable from the toddler's limited view to be accessed.

Moreover, his arrival each time, did coincide with Nex's quality of life significantly improving, so that's that.

The same nannies who routinely treated him like background noise would suddenly spring to life, their every movement sharp with purpose. Anything to keep the baby from crying. Anything to avoid the baby from catching the guest's attention.

Clearly, the enigmatic blue-eyed boy was little Nex's ticket out of Baby Hell.

And so, driven by the raw instincts of a cornered creature too young to articulate his needs, one day Nex would make his move.

Tiny limbs propelled him forward—through a maze of legs and skirts and polished shoes—until his chubby hand finally latched onto the five-year-old child's cuffed trouser.

Icy blue eyes snapped toward him with a speed that startled the toddler into a soft, shaky whimper. His bottom lip trembled, curling down as his big doe greys welled up with tears—fear mixing with hopelessness as they squeezed shut.

Only to flutter open in stunned surprise—when he felt suddenly lifted off the ground.

Hoisted upward like a curious pet at an auction, the toddler dangled slightly in the blue-eyed boy's grasp.

Asher studied him—eyes narrowed, a strange glimmer of intrigue in their chill.

Then, slowly, a smile curled onto his lips. It was uneven. Slightly awkward.

As if smiling wasn't something he'd learned to do quite yet.

"You seem familiar... "

"...Have we met before?" The blue-eyed boy asked. His voice was sweet, dripping with boyish charm fit for his age – yet it was unsettling, creepy due to the ominous air that surrounded him.

Not that a naive toddler would notice such things.

Nex blinked.

At two years old, his mind wasn't exactly equipped with long-term recall—and the fact that he'd remember this moment later in life, resurfacing through a series of disjointed dreams, would be a miracle in itself.

And it would just so happen...

That the most vivid version of the nightmare would seize him shortly after his collapse that had you trapped under, while you'd spend those two drawn-out hours in a session of haunting introspection.

Yet, it would be nothing compared to the not-so-insidious ways these 'dreams of regression' would fracture his mind and conscience further—nudging him closer to the end of what his 'treatment' entailed.

To not just be Asher's not-so-little shadow again.

But even better.

So much so, that the reel would begin to feel too real at some point.

(Nex's nightmare resumes—)

── I have no idea who you are, but I'll go wherever you take me!

The baby version of him had responded with a string of babbled sounds, legs kicking as he wriggled closer—desperate to bridge the gap between him and his hyung.

Meanwhile, Asher held him up steady at a distance–surprisingly strong for a five-year old's arm strength and far too used to holding things that could get crushed if dropped or pressed too hard.

He regarded Nex with the quiet intensity of a young predator eyeing prey—mildly amused, yet unaware of the irrevocable bond being sealed in that moment.

The kind of moment small beings don't survive if they pick the wrong eyes to reach for.

Asher was the walking danger himself,

But to 2-year-old Nex, his icy blues were the right ones.

Just as they would be again for the 21-year-old Nex, disillusioned and restless, reliving the scene in a nightmare—grappling with emotions far messier now.

He wasn't just reliving a memory, but becoming a broken vessel—

Of regret and aching guilt,

For lost comfort.

And for him to remember and remain forever indebted to the guardian angel he'd ungratefully abandon—who had been a Devil to everyone else but never to him...

Or at least not to that extent.

His scary yet merciful hyung.

The one whose absence carved deep into his subconscious and stretched into waking life as stress-drenched tears from past nightmares he couldn't quite explain.

And yet—just like back then—it happened.

One of the taller adults nearby moved to pluck him away from his hyung, reaching with a gloved hand.

Too slow.

Even in the dream.

Because without warning, Nex was pulled inward—tucked completely into Asher's small but resolute chest.

Not as a hug,

But as a non-negotiable claim.

A hold that said mine in a language older than words.

"You seem dumber than a squirrel," Asher said coolly, ignoring the adult as his icy blues locked onto the innocent greys again.

The azure-eyed boy sneered, sounding anything but innocent—before he lazily poked the toddler's chubby cheek. "Your sense of danger seems to be more broken than I thought. How did you manage to stay alive till now?"

Unable to understand a word, the grey-eyed little one simply grabbed the poking finger—and stuck it in his mouth to nibble on; an action that only seemed to amuse Asher further as he sneered again. "Whatever, you're mine now."

"I decide what becomes of you."

Words that should have haunted Nex. Words that once might've felt like a chokehold, especially from someone who would grow into a manipulative, controlling figure in his life cloaked in care.

But now, all the grey-eyed dreamer wanted was to turn back time to those oppressive years.

Undo his 'mistakes' and let his hyung decide, as he'd willingly submit to the expectations he once despised trying to fulfill.

Do a better job at being the 'perfect' little brother he hadn't been—be everything Asher wanted him to be.

── I won't let you down again, hyung...

── I'll-I'll be good. I'll listen only to you and no one else...

Hm.

Not so sure about that claim, kiddo.

But oh well.

And so, in the dream Nex tried to cling onto his guardian angel of Death tight, breathing in a scent that should have brought nostalgic relief—

But alas, in reality it was yours – the scent of the one his hyung had imprinted on,

Not to be shared.

Yet here the 'little' shadow was—mistaking you for his owner.

The cursed protector he had once needed, but 'disgracefully' let go.

But now, with old instincts reawakened and unresolved trauma disguised as bittersweet nostalgia clouding his mind, Nex felt overwhelmed.

The guilt, the fear of being abandoned, intertwined with a carnal need that didn't truly belong—yet had somehow taken root within—unleashed a chaotic wave of hopelessness through his fractured mind.

How he had ruined everything—beyond repair.

So when, in reality, you finally stopped resisting—letting him have the hug, too intense, too unhealthy to have a name—Nex found his moment of disillusioned peace.

Even if it was a lie. Even if it was only meant to last for those two dream-suspended hours.

Because in that moment, it was his obsession to grasp onto anything his hyung's that had kept him bound to you, and nothing else.

That being said...

When his grey eyes finally fluttered open, reality offered him emotional whiplash as a reward.

Still coping with the aftereffects of the 'dream', Nex felt like he'd been plunged headfirst into another one.

Perhaps a forbidden kind.

Because you were there, in his arms, asleep.

░𝟜.░

In all honesty, Nex would have probably not begun to feel so intensely for you—if it hadn't been for your intimate connection with Asher.

But that doesn't automatically mean he wasn't crushing hard.

Those feelings of his were very real.

Just like the way Nex had found himself at the Cabin, disoriented and not fully aware of his new surroundings, yet his grey eyes had unconsciously taken note of the mundane things around —whenever his mind wasn't busy trying to grapple with the sudden turn of events following his accidental 'overdose'.

From the soft-colored walls, the minimal yet homely room décor—to the minute details like the dainty vase and warm-colored paintings hung around the place—Nex could tell his hyung's taste in things had changed quite a bit.

Which wasn't really a surprise, given the time they had spent apart due to their differences and their big fallout. Nevertheless, he found himself starting to take a liking to them too (begrudgingly then), after trying in vain to find faults in the inanimate objects by intimidating them with a long glare full of spite.

You, however, were the biggest 'update' in his hyung's life, of course—and not the easiest one for Nex to digest.

It also didn't help that your first impression was eerily similar to his "first" meeting with Asher—a distressed you clinging to the blue-eyed idol like he was your only life support.

Unconsciously, Nex had felt competitive—just as you had with him—but given that he was the 'grown adult' then and you were 'ill', the pink-haired maknae had refused to acknowledge that feeling's existence until it warped into a sense of curiosity to know more.

There was a reason why Asher had been shameless enough to mark his territory so blatantly by 'showing' the maknae you were off limits—using PDA as a means to put him off.

The blue-eyed idol didn't realize it then, but he was unconsciously acting on an older sibling instinct.

He'd seen it happen before—how the grey-eyed copycat would develop a habit of liking whatever was his.

Be it something as minor as a hand-me-down jacket that Asher still liked but would feel just generous enough to part with after catching those grey eyes lingering on it too long. Or, sometimes, he'd coldly dismiss the item—effectively making the maknae lose interest, though Nex would always get over the transient heartbreak soon enough.

Just like how Nex's once-burning passion for singing quietly gave way to dancing, once his hyung decided the former no longer aligned with their future plans.

To Asher, the maknae's interests—especially the ones that overlapped with his own—were nothing more than "phases." A little identity crisis Nex would grow out of eventually and find his own thing (though conveniently, that "thing" was usually chosen for him by his hyung).

Questionable or not, Nex's choices weren't taken seriously. They were temporary—disposable, if inconvenient.

And since 'you' fell into the rare category of things Asher felt fiercely territorial about, the blue-eyed ex-benefactor had become particularly aggressive in asserting his selfish claim—through actions downright offensive.

Not realizing the opposite, jarring effect the whole 'making out in front of my little bro' was having on Nex—who was uncomfortable, sure, but not in the way either sibling realized.

Exceptions exist in every aspect of life, after all.

As now, the same soft squelching sound of kissing seemed to ring in the maknae's ears as his grey eyes lingered on your unconscious lips like they were an enticing forbidden fruit on display—imagining how they'd feel and taste against his own, before he took in a hungry gulp of restraint.

── It should be fine... since it's just a dream, right?

He seemed to wrongly reason with himself, yet far more timid—unlike his hyung, who wouldn't think twice anymore before passionately feasting on your lips.

Then again, Asher was your lover,

While Nex... was attempting to trespass.

Uncertain.

Frozen in place by guilt and craving alike.

Still debating if it would be wrong to indulge in that perverse curiosity of his, like some 'good' kid sneaking a cookie while no one was looking.

── Just a peck... no more.

But it seemed the buildup was for nothing, as the moment he stirred—your eyes snapped open, as if you hadn't been asleep at all, merely getting a shut-eye—before you simply remarked, "Ah, you're finally awake. That's good."

That was enough to sober Nex up.

Visibly flustered, he scrambled backward, stammering apologies that didn't quite land—more like a panicked escape as he leapt up to give you the space you'd asked for two hours ago.

Though it didn't help (or maybe it did) when the memory of that earlier conversation came rushing back to him like a surreal, fever-dream. ── Wait...that was real?

Yup.

── Fuck, what-what did I do afterwards then...

Nex panicked, trying to remember if he had accidentally said something he shouldn't have or what if he'd touched—

── No. No. No. I couldn't have–

── Ughh did I?!-

You, however, seemed to be taking the whole situation far too well, as you patted his back in reassurance and sighed like a tired mother. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

"I was just starting to wonder if letting you sleep on me for two hours straight was a mistake or not..." You rubbed the exhaustion from your eyes, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs like you hadn't just been used as someone's emotional pillow. "But clearly you needed that nap, didn't you? Did you not sleep well last night?"

Nex swallowed hard.

His mind blanked.

Your words barely registered in his ears as he was still overthinking about what he may have done while he was fully out.

── Fuck, I-I can't seem to remember a thing!

── And why is noona so-so chill about this? Is she overcompensating for my sake–Did my actions scare her to pretend?!

Your sudden relaxed demeanor was clearly throwing him off, as his vitals spiked from the restless anxiety building within—

── Hyung did say she might get mood swings due to her 'illness'...Is-Is she having one of those?!

Asher indeed had been mindful to give Nex a vague heads-up about you 'acting off' from time to time. And of course, to inform hyung dearest if it happened during his absence.

── Right... I should-I should let hyung know. I think I've already messed things up–eek!

But before he could act on that thought, Nex snapped back to reality once he felt the back of his right hand, caressed by you–a startled, half-swallowed yelp caught in his throat.

His tongue fought to function.

"Ah-N-Noona?!—I—what—"

"How does it feel?" you asked softly, eyes flicking to his hand, full of concern. "Does it tingle too much?"

You meant the hand. He experienced and understood something entirely different.

Your soothing touch, accompanied with that gentle tone of yours as he took in your tender gaze— All of which were causing the tightening in Nex's chest to return, his heart threatening to give out.

While his face flushed, almost matching his pink hair, before he mumbled,"Y-Yeah... it hurts."

"I think...something's really wrong with it."

(With my heart.)

"Really?" Your eyes widened in alarm as you leaned in to inspect the exposed part of his arm, delicate and intent— before casually suggesting something that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

"Let's get rid of your hoodie, then. I think that might help."

"Wha—huh?" His breath hitched, grey eyes wavering.

── What does that ?!—how can you ??!!—what are you even?!—Ugh, Noona!

You blinked.

"Ah, sorry. I shouldn't have assumed." You corrected yourself,unaware of the damage already done.

And the far greater one you were about to unwittingly create.

"Do you want me to take it off for you?"

Boom!

[Nex died.]

[Cause of death: Overheating due to apocalyptic-level arousal.]

Nah, just kidding.

The pink-haired maknae was still alive—but trembling like an anxious chihuahua.

Eyes wide. Pulse erratic. Entirely frozen.

Nex couldn't speak.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

While you?

You didn't wait for permission from a boy who'd clearly malfunctioned.

With a sigh, you simply pulled his hoodie up, gently guiding his arms out of the sleeves like he was some fragile patient. Then, with clinical precision, you examined his bare muscular arms— While Nex sat there in his grey t-shirt, completely dazed, still lost in the emotional aftermath of your earlier offer.

Were you going a bit overboard because of your own 'muscle memory' acting up? Perhaps.

But was the grey-eyed maknae planning to resist for real anytime soon? Fuck no.

Your gaze flicked up and met his, Before he looked away immediately, guilt-ridden.

You huffed. "I think we should just eat lunch and figure this out afterward. The pain might just be hunger—you're probably confusing the two. It's nearly 4 PM, anyway."

That grounded Nex—barely though.

"R-Right. That must be it..."

His words trailed off before guilt struck again and he sprang to his feet, flustered. "I-I'm sorry, noona—I didn't mean to hold you up—"

"If you really feel sorry for me, then sit back down."

Your maternal patience seemed to have run thin as you interrupted his nervous ramble—a strained smile barely concealing your irritation as you added. "Now, Nex."

You didn't want to put your foot down again with the maknae.

But the clock was ticking, and both of you needed to eat.

Once Nex sheepishly obeyed, you got up and moved to the kitchen—retrieving two simple bowls of reheated food. Nothing fancy. Just something balanced and gentle for two empty stomachs.

But when he reached for his bowl, you outright refused.

"Don't even think about it."

He blinked in confusion, only to freeze again as you opened the lid of his meal, cooled a spoonful with your breath, and held it out to him.

"I'll feed you until we figure out what's wrong with your hand."

Nex just blinked.

Did he hear that right?

"You better not fight me on this," you added firmly. "If you do, I won't eat either."

That shut him up completely.

If it was his hyung in his place — he would have too, but the latter would have other plans ready afterward...

Unlike Asher though, the starry-eyed maknae, too naive and pure-hearted despite everything, had not a single working brain cell under his control to think otherwise.

And so, you began spoon-feeding Nex, slowly and steadily.

Like he was a stubborn toddler refusing his greens.

── What...What is happening right now...

He stared at you, doe-eyed and dazed, watching your face as you offered him another bite.

His cheeks puffed up like a hamster's, after accepting too many spoonfuls at once.

Alas, the maknae was a slow eater when fed.

Inevitably, some of it spilled down the corner of his mouth.

You caught it effortlessly with a napkin, of course.

Before scolding him softly,

"Don't take more until you've finished what's already in your mouth."

Nex nodded slowly.

Ashamed.

Awestruck.

And entirely overwhelmed.

── Is this really not a dream? I... His thoughts began to fog again.

── I don't know anymore... Childlike glee flickered across his dazed greys,

Before a giddy almost silly smile spread across the pink-haired maknae's face.

── But if it is...

── ...I don't want it to end.

He wished, watching you continue to spoon-feed him, alternating with bites of your own meal.

░𝟛.░

Congratulations!

Perhaps the blue-eyed Devil had known exactly what he was doing when he decided to make you his 'significant other'.

Because you, with nothing but your existence, were single-handedly unraveling people's lives—bringing chaos and pulling out their deepest, darkest desires from where they'd been buried along with your own ones.

Whether it was Nex, who found himself swooning over you without even knowing your name...

Or Damian, who kept chasing the ghost of your existence, hiding behind lies about doing it all for the greater good—until he was handed a name and a face to match his Schrödinger's cat; a single fragment of your past, and already it was driving him over the edge... without even meeting you.

Ha. Ironic, wasn't it?

One knew your name but hadn't met you yet, while the other didn't know your name but had met and personally interacted with you, albeit for a few days now—still both had their own reasons to obsess.

But be beware,

Just because two more people seemed enchanted by you didn't mean everyone would follow suit.

As for every person falling under your spell,

There was someone out there sharpening their knives.

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

[l0sercat]

I HEARD YOUR CALL 2012 shreddy X JESTER (clown mutant maybe) READER (maybe gender neutral)

ALSO YES I AM OBSESSED WITH 2012 SHREDDER

TYYYY and Bro literally same, I'm about to make a cardboard cutout of him. Cause I'm literally obsessed and have been <3 Also need whoever makes gifs to make more gifs of Shredder lol there is not that many 😭🙏🏻 I hope I did this ask justice 😞

Shredder x Reader

You were minding your business, walking down the streets of New York, you were trying to get home after a long hard day of work

When suddenly you were pulled into the alleyway and while you struggled you were eventually knocked out, the next thing you knew you woke back up in the same alley

Although now the sun is beginning to rise, your head is fuzzy and vision is blurry but soon clears

You got up making sure to check to see if you still had your belongings, you did and you checked your body, no signs of any assault so what the fuck happened

You heard a sound of jingles that tiny bells would create, you were confused and didn't know what was creating that sound

You did take notice that your clothes were now different, they were similar to that of a jesters, bells adorned on the cuffs that were shackled on your wrists

You brought your hand to your head and felt a hat with tiny bells, you got up slowly and made your way to your apartment, when you got inside you immediately made your way to the bathroom

You let out a terrified scream, now you know why people looked at you weird while walking down the street, you thought they were just being judgemental fuckers

But now you now see what they were staring at, tears pricked the corners of your eyes, your eyes were now a unnatural color and your skin was now pure white

Your Ears were unnaturally long and pointy and your fingernails were sharp, long, and painted

Your face was painted like you were some kind of clown or jester, you grab a towel and tried to wipe it off, but nothing it was like it was permanent

Tears now flowed freely from your ears and you gripped the counter. What was going on?! Your outfit's bells jingled with every move you made, you gritted your teeth

You didn't know what to do so you packed your bags and ran, leading you to fall into the Shredders hands, it was a coincidence honestly

You sprinted down the alleys mind a mess and emotions running wild, when you ran into him, you don't know what he was doing there

He turned to face you, he looked you up and down and then made his way over to you

He interrogated you and it seemed like luck was on your side for once because he didn't decide to kill you, no once he learned you were mutated he decided to make you join his side

And you figured why not, where else did you have to go? (Shredder is really trying to collect mutants like pokemon lol)

So now you were in training to be one of his foot soldiers. You were also there to be personal entertainment, when you were mutated you also seemed to have jester like behavior

You always had a bounce to your step and always told jokes, your flexibility also improved making you able to do a lot of tricks

He always kept you by his side in his throne room, when Xever was first mutated you would stand by the glass and tell him jokes, Xever seemed to enjoy the friendly company

Shredder didn't mind, but after a while the jokes irritated him, he wanted silence so he would just raise his hand making you quiet down

You would then bounce and cartwheel around the room, your bells jingling and echoing in the room, that also gets old quick with shredder so he then forces you to kneel by his side and to stay like that

Now whe he sends you out he will only send you on missions that stealth isn't needed because your bells are loud, so most of the time your a decoy, bring the enemies to you so that way, when they draw near the others waiting in the shadows will get the jump on them

He will send you to steal stuff for him, that is your specialty and he loves you for it, you always steal anything he wants and you never fail, your flexibility comes in handy so many times

Over time he developed a sense of fondness for you, he could feel his cold heart start to warm when he was with you

Honestly his feelings didn't go unnoticed, it was a little obvious when you were requested to go on almost every mission with him, Karai was happy her father finally found someone, maybe you could keep him happy and maybe he won't be so obsessed about those damn turtles

When Xever and Chris caught on they would tease you until you were flustered, you knew by now that Shredder had to feel something for you

When he eventually asked you out on a date, it was very cute and romantic setup, he asked you to be his partner and he was low-key a little nervous you would say no

But was absolutely over the moon(although you can't tell) he smiled softly and he would hold your hand in his the rest of the night

You guys are like the golden retriever partner and the black cat boyfriend duo, you are always happy to see him and are all to bring a smile to his, while he is more quiet and just rather enjoy your company and let you ramble while he listens

Bro is so exhausted all the time that at night when your rambling and telling jokes, he just falls asleep with his head in your lap and his arms clinging onto you

[eris-snow]

7. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, swearing, crying

A life behind the curtain is heaven for some, but for others, it’s utter hell. 

L/n!” Katsuki hollers, ripping the curtain open. “We need to talk—oh.”

Katsuki knows what he sees. He doesn’t like it.

You’re wearing that big hoodie and you’re hiding your face, shivering in a corner with a pack of tissues next to you.

You’re sniffling and shaking like an earthquake hit, and his thoughts immediately go blank.

Uh-oh.

Katsuki has been through a war, died and came back. His heart stopped beating for the love of nachos, and he still can’t handle it when he sees someone cry.

What’s worse is that your breaths are quickening and you’re tearing your hands through your hair as your eyes are shut so tightly he’s afraid they might never open up again.

A tiny sob wrecks your entire body before Katsuki says fuck it and kicks his instincts to gear.

“L/n?” He kneels down, forcing himself to smoothen his tone of its rough edges.

No go. You’re still quivering as frantically as before and he thinks it’s getting worse.

“Y/n, hey—” He reaches out experimentally, but you don’t even flinch at his touch. Nothing he does helps, hell, he’s the worst person to deal with this kind of—

Sunshine.

His mind spat out.

Almost instinctively, his mouth followed suit. “Sunshine.”

To his utter surprise, your head snaps up for him to see your face riddled with tears and snot. Your face says one word: Help.

“Katsuki?” you croke, eyes desperate and breath caught.

He nods, right in front of you. “I’m here.”

Your breath doesn’t slow, but your eyes are on him and he needs to do something. He lets go of the decade-old foolscap and focuses his gaze on you.

“Breathe with me,” he says softly, “I need you to stay with me.”

He works you through the exercise for god knows how long, rubbing circles on your hands and breathing, but it’s finally worth it when your breaths coincide and you look lucid again. It’s especially rewarding when you stop quaking like you’re in a frenzy.

He eases himself on the floor, letting your hands go.

“Better?”

Your nod is shameful, and you can’t bear to look him straight in the eye. You look so embarrassed, hiding your face away and shaking your head like you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“This is—you shouldn’t have seen this,” you finally mutter. “Forget this happened, please—”

“No.” Katsuki’s voice is firm, and it holds such authority that it makes you flinch. “I’m done pretending that whatever the fuck going on is normal. Shit’s been weird, and we’re finally going to talk about it. No diversions, no more secrets.” He grabs the foolscap paper at his side and tosses it to you, eyeing your reaction. “I found this in the library. Seen it before?”

Your silence speaks louder than any words could.

“Thought so. I’ve had a real, shitty week with no fuckin’ sleep and too much coffee to be healthy.” He grits out, hands steaming. He’s fed up, and he has every reason to be after being strung along like an idiot. You’re so frustrating that it’s driving him insane.

“I don’t have a damn clue as to what is going on, but I’m smart enough to know that I’m involved in it. So for the sake of my sanity, tell me what is going on.”

You don’t say anything for a good second. And then, you take a tissue out of the packet beside you, blow your nose, and crumple it up in your hand. You look at him, and you look wrecked. Eyes frost cold, the usual warmth stripped and shredded like a glass shattering on concrete.

“You’ve had a shitty week?” You repeat, voice sharp, enunciating each syllable like the words are foreign to you. It’s such a stark difference from the you that would listen to him earnestly, or reply to his banters ever so snarkily.

“I’m sorry you’ve had a shitty week, Bakugou, and I’m sorry that you’re scarred emotionally because of the war, your kidnapping, and being literally revived on the battlefield. But news flash, everyone probably had a shitty week too! And you don’t see them complaining about it, do you?”

“You wanna know what’s happening? Fine! Where should I start? What about when I found this stupid report, hm? Or that time you told Izuku to take a swan dive off the roof? Oh! How about the day you forgot about me.” You’re practically snarling now, and, oh look, you’re crying again.

“We attended the same piano lessons; best in our academy's and whatever. We skipped stones and traded likes as I listened to you rant obsessively about heroes like a sick puppy dog. You called me Sunshine, you called me your equal. Your ideas, your dreams, your friends, you shared everything with lil’ old me even as we quit music. Where’d you think I know All Might’s successor from?”

“Izuku’s been high profile for a long while now—”

“You told him to suicide because he was Quirkless.” You spit. “I was in that classroom when that happened, the same classroom you told me to get lost in because you didn’t remember me.” You laugh. It’s a bitter, dark, humourless one. “I was so confused. Everyone kept ignoring me and so were you. I kept calling out to you in class and you got so fed up with me, you snapped.”

—

Past (3 years ago): Middle school 2nd year,

“Katsuki.”

The ash blond stopped and looked back, obviously annoyed. “What do you want, extra? Who the fuck are you?”

You looked at him in disbelief, face crumbling as fear, hurt and disbelief seeped into your heart.

“Katsuki, don’t you remember me?”

No. No way. Not you too.

He laughed, low and raspy and god damn mocking that it makes your blood boil. “Who do you think you are, hah? I’ve never seen you in my life. Now get lost—”

“Sunshine, remember? Nuvole Bianche our duet?” You pointed to yourself, getting desperate now. If Katsuki didn’t know you, who would?

“You’re a freak,” He spat, shouldering his bag. “Stay the fuck away from me, creep. Talk to me again, and see what’ll happen.”

You stood there in utter shock, watching as he stalked off with his lackeys who flanked him left, right and back, and in a wave of utter panic you called out to him, just one more time.

But your voice was stolen by the wind, and you didn’t even get a glance as he left you alone in the classroom.

—

Present:

“I couldn’t have known you!” Katsuki’s voice cuts deep, and boy, it stings. ”There’s too many missing holes, someone would have noticed!”

Lashing out is the worst thing you could have done with Katsuki. When you yell, he yells back, and everything escalates until harsh words that can’t be taken back spew from both your lips. You’ve always been good at taking, but it’s a pity that Katsuki finds a way to tear down your mask one way or the other.

You give him a glum smile, the fire in you finally fading as you settle back into your corner.

“If everybody forgets, nobody remembers.”

And because of that, Katsuki’s heart tugs.

Katsuki doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know a thing about your family, have a clue about your past or even how this happened.

So why did he call you Sunshine? Why did he come back and visit you every goddamn day when he has internships, school work, training and so much in between?

Why does he feel like even though he knows nothing about you…

He’s drawn like a moth to a flame to this place just so he can see you again?

You seem to blend a little more into your surroundings as you murmur, no longer shouting but instead coming back to grudging acceptance. “Who am I kidding? You read that catalogue. I’m finished, whether you believe me or not.” You slump down, head tucked in between your knees. “I tried everything.”

“You clearly didn’t.”

You glance up to glare at the blond, opening your mouth to snap back when you catch his eyes.

You’ve forgotten that feeling. That feeling of being really seen, of being heard. That look that you’ve long for the past 3 years…is now the look that is being given by one of the most explosive people on the planet.

Something stirs in your chest but you fight it down. Now isn’t the time for past regrets. Now isn’t the time for feelings.

“You have me now, don’t you?” Katsuki refutes, raising an eyebrow as he swipes the log out of your hands. “For someone who supposedly knew me my entire life, you have balls to underestimate me like that.”

He waves the foolscap in front of your face, a familiar, cocky smirk coiling on his face. “We have alumni, teachers, and I have insane fuckin’ connections. This was written by Invisible Shit and his knight in shining armour? Great.”

“Let’s go find them.”

[thisdorkyblogthing]

AU where Laufey gives birth to Loki very unexpectedly (he'd just manged to carry and birth one heir, and they both barely survived the process) and Loki's so small that he's struggling to live in Jotunheim's harsh climate. They keep him close to some old, rarely used furnaces/fireplaces to keep him warm, but he's still constantly shivering and crying and Laufey can't even hold him long enough to feed him.

So, just a few days after giving birth to Loki, Laufey shows up in Asgard alone and looking exhausted and rough, wanting to talk with Odin. Jotunheim and Asgard have been long time enemies, with war being a constant threat hanging over their collective heads, so Laufey showing up and basically begging Odin to take his baby and raise it is a bit of shock.

But maybe he's feeling a little soft because Frigga just gave birth to Thor (the same day Loki was born- what a coincidence!) and agrees to raise Loki to adulthood after quickly negotiating a very lopsided deal. (Because Odin's still gotta be a bit of jerk and take advantage of his enemy when he's desperate.) Laufey rushes back to Jotunheim and Odin informs Frigga she's gonna have an extra baby to take care of.

Needless to say, a lot of people - especially on Laufey's side- don't love this whole plan very much. They would very much rather have Loki just die on Jotunheim than have a prince raised in Asgard and let Odin get what he wants. Laufey knows this but just cannot give a single shit. He's lost so many babies and he cannot bear the thought of watching another one die right before his eyes. He's all on his own again when Odin + Frigga and a handful of some other Asgardians show up for the Loki hand off and get the deal started. Laufey is pretty fucking miserable about the whole situation but feels a little hope when he hands Loki to Frigga and she clearly falls in love with his tiny screaming infant right then and there. Still hurts when she has to instantly turn around and whisk him off to Asgard.

And Frigga was definitely pissed when Odin told her The Plan. She literally just gave birth, she's frazzled even with the help of like, 1000 maids and nurses. But Loki's so tiny and fragile and She Just Knows she has to keep this lil guy safe and loved. And after having him looked over and getting him warm and fed she plops him into the crib right next to Thor and Just Knows that these boys where meant to be together.

>>Fast forward>> and now The Time Has Come: Loki's almost an adult and he has to go back to Jotunheim.

Except there's one little tiny thing Odin's neglected to mention to anyone (not even Frigga) - once Loki goes to Jotunheim, he can't come back. No visits, no letters, no nothing. It was agreed that it would be essentially like the whole raising Loki on Asgard thing never happened at all. (Why? Because The Drama.)

Now Thor and Loki are incredibly close, they're brothers! They always assumed even after Loki had to go that they'd at least get to talk through letters and have the occasional visit. It would still suck, but they'd have something. So the news that their upcoming birthday would be the last day they'd share together. Ever. It's like a bomb being dropped on the dinner table.

(Frigga's not to pleased that Odin would have the Fucking Audacity to plop a baby in her lap to love and raise as her own then expect her to be fine when he ripped him out of her arms- like, yeah, she's had The Visions and knows her boys are gonna be together one way or another but it still doesn't make what Odin has done any better in her eyes. Especially having to console her shocked, heartbroken boys in the aftermath. Oh she is Pissed.)

(this is getting so long, damn!)

Loki had always felt very out of place in Asgard. People were generally polite and kind, but he never felt truly welcomed by anyone aside from Thor, Frigga, and the handful of the maids/guards/pages etc. that he was around the most. Odin certainly made him feel like a temporary intrusion upon his life. So he'd often dreamed about getting to go live on Jotunheim and be with his people- except when he gets there he feels just as out of place and maybe even a little more unwelcome then he had back on Asgard. A lot of Jotuns (especially the more powerful set) where still very unhappy with the deal Laufey made to save him and they would've really preferred that Loki had just died instead.

And the fact that he literally just doesn't fit in that well, size-wise. Despite having a wing of his own sized to fit him, everything else is huge, and despite being hearty enough to survive the climate now, it's still far too cold for him to really do much or anything. The only place he really has outside of the palace is a Little Asgard-esque town set up a bit away from the city, where Asgard set up one of their mining operations as part of Odin and Laufey's deal over Loki, and now where the more country/redneck-ish Asgardians and Jotuns come to live and work for weeks/months at a time. The people are vastly more friendly to him there, at least.

But, apart from that and Laufey desperately trying to catch up and get to know his long lost son, Loki spends most of his time being sad and alone in his bedroom, wishing he could see and talk to Thor again.

Meanwhile, Asgard has become one massive puddle.

The first week after Loki left Thor was just in shock. He kept walking to Loki's empty room and the library and all the little corners and quiet spots Loki used to hide out in. It didn't seem real that Loki was just gone, and that he was somehow supposed to just forget their entire childhood together. He couldn't fathom it.

And then, out of nowhere, The Anger comes. He creates a massive storm that he couldn't control even if he wanted to and it lasts for weeks. He barely sleeps or eats, never leaves his room. Odin manages to be smart enough for once to not bother him, but Frigga eventually risks venturing into his hurricane destroyed bedroom to prod him into committing a little treason for True Love and helpfully informs him about the bridge that they use to send the Asgardian miners to and from Jotunheim, and how crazy would it be if Thor dressed extra casual one day and happened to get a bit lost traversing the countryside and accidentally found his way on to that bridge and got sent over to Jotunheim? That would be so fucking weird, right???

(And what if Thor happened to get there right at the start of Jotunheim's summer when the sky becomes a big swirl of pink and purple and orange for that one month or so and it's conveniently the same time that Jotun's become fertile and they celebrate with a massive festival where they harvest one of their land's 2 or 3 flowers that they make into a tea and works as an aphrodisiac and that the Asgardians have figured out how to turn into a moonshine-esque liquor that is even more potent than the tea and Loki and Thor have no idea about any of this they just know that they've been apart for too long and that they need each other in every way imaginable and they need these clothes off RIGHT NOW.)

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Hive, Pt. 18

We get a shot of Sheppard glancing up at the canopy and looking really intensely at something, likely the hive he was aiming at, wherefrom we transition back to the Daedalus and Caldwell saying that he does not believe what he is seeing. This invites us to ask whether Sheppard too had trouble believing his eyes. Sheppard seems very serious, almost pained as he maneuvres the dart, and we see the corners of mouth draw back as he grimaces. What he thinks in this moment, we can only guess.

We know from what he tells them later on that he had gone to the space gate as soon as he noticed that the hives had started firing on each other, which must have been right about here. This means that getting away was still his priority, was still the most important thing to him. He sincerely hopes that he was able to help the people of the planet that was about to be culled if not outright save them, but he had to get away to fight another day. And again it is unclear whether he actually saw something up on the canopy or he glanced upward for some other reason, for example in a quick and silent prayer. It is also possible that Sheppard looking up coincided with McKay speaking his name on the Daedalus. What is obvious is that he looks sad here, on his face is barely contained sorrow.

Caldwell: I don't believe what I'm seeing.

And from Sheppard grimacing we move back to the bridge of the Daedalus, to Caldwell, McKay and Lorne looking at the strange scene unfolding before them. As Lorne makes the observation that what Sheppard is doing is very clever, we see McKay break out in a smile. It is an honest-to-God smile. This is the happiest we have ever seen him (barring when he was playing with his new personal shield with Sheppard in Hide and Seek, S01E03). This is McKay at peace.

Lorne: Sheppard's actually getting them to fire at each other!

McKay does not say anything, he does not comment on it, he probably cannot even hear what the others are saying. He is focused on Sheppard, his attention narrowed on the dart that he knows with absolute certainty is carrying the man that he loves, contains the sum total of everything he cares about. His entire world has narrowed into that tiny dot in the distance. This is a man in love. Tell me this is not the face of a man in love:

For one fleeting moment there is a look of absolute bliss on McKay's face, like he had seen the actual countenance of God, as they watch the hives blow each other up to smithereens. But then the reality of the situation hits him, and again he is much quicker in realizing what had happened even though every single cell in his body is begging someone to tell him that it is not true. We watch the color drain from McKay, literally, as the light of the explosions that had shone so bright it had nearly blinded them vanishes and his face is bathed in darkness.

Still unable to speak, still having nothing to say, not wanting to break the silence with anything trite, McKay turns on his heel and steps away from the window, returning to his original place by the scanners hoping and praying that they would be able to tell him something different from what his heart already knows.

Sheppard is not there anymore. He cannot feel Sheppard out there anymore. He had been able to feel Sheppard and then, all of a sudden, that connection had been severed. And as much as he does not want to acknowledge it, there is only one explanation for it. Sheppard was gone. And note that McKay gets "there" much quicker than Caldwell or Lorne. He has already arrived at the horrible reality of the situation when they are still grasping to understand what had just happened.

McKay: Blast has destroyed everything in a fifteen thousand metre radius. Caldwell: Did any darts survive? Kleinman: Negative, sir.

McKay gets confirmation to his worst fears by the scanner read-out, and as he informs the others, we can tell how much he is disinclined to speak in how he seems unable to form a complete sentence. He has basically been reduced to "Me Tarzan" syntax, saying only what is necessary to convey the information and not a syllable more.

Caldwell asks the Canadian weapons' officer to confirm the reading and as he does, they all fall silent. There seems to be nothing more to say. McKay takes slow steps back to the window, forcing himself to look out, to look at where Sheppard was last seen. To look out at what would become his final resting place. There is a shadow that falls on his face and we see him want to look away, he tries to look away but is unable. His eyes move rapidly as a quick succession of thoughts passes his mind before his mind goes blank, his lips tremble minutely. McKay is in shock. He is in the kind of shock that a man who had just watched their spouse die is in, where the grief will come much later because it is too much to take in all at once. The full impact of the pain and sorrow are far out in the future. McKay is numb.

And this is not the first time that we have seen him right here. He had been in such pain as he had not even known existed less than a year ago, having counted down himself the time for impact only to watch the dot that was Sheppard disappear from their screen on the Atlantis control platform in The Siege (S02E01). And somehow he was right back here again. How could he lose Sheppard again when he had never really even gotten him back? How was it possible for it to hurt even more? He looks out of the window, committing everything to memory because he knows that there will be nothing left for them to even bury. And he has to be careful not to let anyone see his grief. He grieves like a lover but knows that no one can recognize his pain as such. In his heart he is every inch the widower but the world will not allow him to grieve as such. He does not have the right.

And so we move to Atlantis, watch the Canadian gate technician inform Weir of the bad news. We see her try to process the information, the sharp stab of pain as she quickly cycles through all the stages of grief from shock to denial to indignation to bargaining and begrudging acceptance. We linger much longer on her shock but that does not make her grief greater than his. It just means that we get to be privy to her loss where he has to conceal his emotions both from the members of the military all around him on the Daedalus, under the watchful eye of Sheppard's superior officer and his second in command, but also from the audience -- where she is free both to show the world the pain of her loss and to receive sympathy as she does from Chuck, who is very respectful and empathetic as he delivers the news.

Chuck: We received word from Daedalus. They said they should be back to Atlantis by nineteen hundred hours. Weir: They called the search off? Chuck: They said there was nothing to search for. Weir: Thank you.

And to add insult to injury, her grief is extremely short-lived as almost immediately they are alerted to an unscheduled off-world activation. Against all odds Sheppard had survived, and the prodigal son was about to make a joyous return with his team. Weir runs up to them like the heroine of a romantic film running through an airport to get to their beloved. Only, that is not what this is.

Chuck: Off-world activation! Weir: Who is it? Chuck: We have an IDC It's Colonel Sheppard's code! Weir: Let them in! Sheppard: Sorry we're late.

Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla walk in through the stargate and the first thing Sheppard does is to tell his men to stand down, clearly well in control of the situation. They all walk in a relaxed strut, suggesting that some time has passed since Sheppard had restored them from the dart's memory device. It also suggests that Sheppard had no idea that people were convinced that he had died, only that they had been missing and now returned. Also note the fact that the director or cinematographer made sure that no glances are exchanged between Sheppard and Weir that would betray any lingering desires, secret longings for his touch. Weir runs up to them but we see her look at all three of them in turn, and the scene ends with her smiling and looking from Teyla to Ronon. It would have been so easy to make this scene more ambiguous and yet they decided to play it out like this.

Sheppard's comment here is well-meaning but flippant. He is turning their whole ordeal into a joke because that is how he deals with emotionally overwhelming moments. He is glad to be home. For a moment there, he was sure that he was not going to make it. They are alive, he got Teyla and Ronon back to Atlantis safe and sound. And while we get no confirmation of it, we might also speculate that the planet he had dialled to had been the same as where they left, especially because Ford had told him, whether it was true or not, that the dart would only gate to there and back. It was also the planet he had left McKay on, and whether or not he felt McKay's presence by the hives, whether he knew that the Daedalus had arrived to stop the culling, he had no rational reason to think that McKay would be anywhere else but on Ford's planet, being held hostage by Ford's men.

But Sheppard seems happy to be back, he is much too relaxed not to know McKay's fate. So the likeliest chain of events is that he returned to Ford's planet, he unloaded Ronon and Teyla from the dart's memory device, they went back to the caves and found Ford's two henchmen nursing their bruises. And with Ronon, it was probably not all that difficult to get the information out of them that McKay had knocked them down and escaped with the control crystals to the gate, which then also allowed the team to return on foot instead of the original plan, which had been for Sheppard to fly them home in the dart. He gives the excuse that he had not dialled Atlantis directly because he did not think the dart would fit, which is contradicted by their entire original plan. What is significant is that Sheppard's reaction to seeing Weir and to seeing McKay are very different, and it would be easy to interpret Sheppard as being happy to see Weir and not so happy to see McKay, when his response here is actually somewhat noncommittal. We are happy to be back, let's not make a big deal out of it.

We do not get to see further into their reunion as we next return to them when the Daedalus has arrived at 1900 hours. We do not know exactly how long it took for them to return, but it is obvious that they had received the news of the team's survival somewhere along the way. Sheppard is in the infirmary, looking over as Beckett is testing or treating Ronon and Teyla, his body turned away from both Teyla and Weir as he stands with his hands folded over his chest. He seems to be feeling defensive for some reason when they are joined by McKay and Caldwell, who seem to have come directly from the Daedalus to the sickbay, and we have to wonder if his defensiveness now that he watches Beckett treating Ronon has anything to do with having been filled in on what McKay had done that had almost gotten him killed very recently.

Beckett: Alright. Up you go. McKay: Why aren't you dead? Sheppard: It's good to see you too, Rodney.

We are able to see such a contrast between the two reunions. Here, Sheppard is undeniably sarcastic. This is not just him sounding sarcastic, he is being sarcastic. He emphasizes it with a faux-friendly smile, his smile also dripping with sarcasm. He sounds almost bitter as he turns to face McKay, he sounds like he can barely contain his irritation. This is one of those scenes that make some people think that Sheppard does not like McKay very much. If he is being sarcastic about thinking it is nice to see him, it means that he is not glad to see him, right? That is not how Sheppard uses sarcasm. He uses sarcasm to conceal his emotions, not his thoughts. Sheppard is glad to see him. We actually see him start to turn toward McKay before he had even heard him, as though he could somehow sense McKay was coming in.

Where Weir had run up to greet them with open arms and Sheppard's reaction had been "Sorry we're late," he seems upset by the fact that McKay does what they always do, which is to continue their conversation as though it had never ended, had only been on pause. McKay is being insensitive in starting with the question that was not spoken with the intention of not celebrating the fact that they returned alive, but that was the question most plaguing him at the moment. McKay had thought that Sheppard was dead, he had grieved for him, and he wanted to know how they managed to survive. Obviously he is thankful for that, he is so glad to see Sheppard he can barely contain himself, but walking in with Sheppard's superior officer and their reunion taking place in public naturally precludes him from actually expressing any of his genuine feelings on the matter.

But Sheppard had clearly been hoping for a warmer welcome from him. Given how they were forced to separate, as much as he has been worrying about McKay, what he had just learned about McKay almost killing himself for him, as much as he had McKay on his mind throughout the ordeal, he was expecting something more. Sheppard is visibly upset that he does not get a warmer welcome from McKay. It is easy to interpret Sheppard as glad to be back home with Weir and nonchalant with McKay when that is almost the opposite of what he actually feels.

And the thing is, McKay remembers this moment later on. 40,000 years into the future when Sheppard is welcomed by the digital effigy of McKay that he had constructed when he was an old man and had lived most of his life without Sheppard (but thinking of him every waking hour as he tried to figure out a way to save him from being marooned in the future) in The Last Man (S04E20), he still remembers. It is because of this moment, this very scene, that we hear McKay tell him "God, it is good to see you again" even though he is a hologram. He programmed himself to say this to Sheppard upon making first contact. This is what he remembered. This is what Sheppard had been expecting to hear here, what he had wanted to hear.

It was not McKay's intention to come across as callous and uncaring. Solving problems is his way of trying to cope, and his mind had been working on this problem ever since they had learned that they had survived. Sheppard was not looking for hellos or howareyous, he was just looking for some indication that McKay had missed him half as much as Sheppard had missed him in his cold damp cell, and the only way he can even deal with his emotions in this moment is defensive sarcasm. Sheppard was feeling raw.

McKay: No, no, I mean... Well, you know what I mean. Why aren't you... dead? Sheppard: Well, I knew when the hives started to shoot at each other, it was just a matter of time before they blew each other up, so I went to the space gate and dialled an address where I could land safely.

Note that just as soon as Sheppard launches into his explanation, his tone sounds remarkably soft. Likely he realizes how badly McKay needs to hear this, and he makes sure not to keep him in suspense. Also note that McKay seems to understand the gist of what he is saying before he even gets to the explanation. Just as soon as Sheppard says "blew each other up," McKay lifts his chin in his "Ah, of course!" expression, like he suddenly got it even though Sheppard had not yet even reached the part where they made their escape. In Trinity (S02E06) we saw Sheppard react to something McKay said before he said it, and the same seems to happen here in reverse.

We may note that Sheppard is still keeping his hands folded across his chest even as he is turned toward McKay, and being that he is in the middle of a whole group of people that are all expecting something from him, feeling defensive is a rather natural position here. We also frequently see him keep his arms folded when he is by Caldwell, which may also be contributing to this. But the tone. We do not hear Sheppard use this tone with McKay when other people are around usually. It is intimate. Sheppard knows a thing or two about believing someone to be dead when they are not actually dead, and he is trying to extend his compassion toward McKay even though they are in public.

Sheppard: I didn't think the dart could fit in our gate room. Teyla: The Colonel was kind enough to make us whole again, and we returned home. Caldwell: I'm curious, Sheppard. How did you know the wraith would fight each other?

So, this is suspicious. Sheppard looks at Teyla and Teyla then volunteers information that no one asked for. The easiest way to catch someone lying is to look out for unnecessary details. Sheppard tells them that he did not dial Atlantis directly because he did not think that the dart would fit in, which is not what he had thought originally when his plan had been to fly them home. Teyla tells them that Sheppard had re-materialized them like that much is not obvious to everyone. Really, "I dialled the space gate" is as much explanation that is required, and all of this extra detail and Sheppard looking at Teyla for support just makes them seem like they are lying. But why?

The only explanation is that something had taken place on Ford's planet before they returned that they had agreed they would not disclose to the others. Let us recall that the two henchmen that had kept McKay hostage knew about Atlantis (and Earth, even though that might not have meant anything to them), and they were trying to keep the survival of Atlantis a secret. Caldwell had worried that Ford would disclose the survival of Atlantis to the wraith. We never get any confirmation for this but given that they must have gone to find out what had happened to McKay, it is possible they had taken care of that problem permanently -- and that is rather dark. But it might explain why Sheppard is being so defensive here. Needs must.

Sheppard: A little intel from Ford and the gang, plus, well, I kind of goosed things along with the Queen. Teyla: It would appear the wraith are becoming more territorial than we had thought. There is definite tension building among them. Dex: Which is good for us. Weir: Certainly is. It also opens a brand new strategy in fighting them.

Sheppard also seems defensive as he answers Caldwell's question, and he certainly looks like he is leaving more than a little out. He looks down as he mentions the queen, not meeting McKay's eyes. And the way McKay looks at him is interesting because he seems to be able to read something off of Sheppard's face. Teyla mentions that the wraith are becoming more territorial, which is something that Jace had told McKay, and while McKay is territorial himself when it comes to Sheppard and women, it is doubtful that he thinks Sheppard had any special regard for the queen. Much more likely is that McKay can see that Sheppard has suffered something more than he is telling them, that he is affected by what happened more than he lets on. He does not speak, merely listening to the others talk, but McKay definitely seems more than a little worried for Sheppard here.

McKay: Hmm! And, and, where's Ford? Teyla: He was aboard the hive ship when it was destroyed. Sheppard: He was last seen aboard the hive ship. McKay: What does that mean? Sheppard: Well, you know Ford. I wouldn't be surprised if we run into him again.

While the others are talking strategy and start devising ways of using this new intel on fighting the wraith more effectively in the future, McKay's attention seems to be squarely on Sheppard. And given that he can clearly see that Sheppard is not alright and is hiding something, he makes the observation that Ford is not actually there with them. Teyla picks up the answer for Sheppard as we have seen her do before when she thinks that Sheppard is unable to voice something, but because he seems to be in denial about what had happened to Ford, he amends her statement. And at this point, they were leaving the door open for the character of Ford to return at some later time which is why they left the fate of the character more ambiguous than it might have been otherwise, and the episode ends with Sheppard's ominous prediction.

What is obvious is that Sheppard is feeling guilty about what happened to Ford from beginning to end, feeling like the young soldier he had made his second was his responsibility, which is fair enough. Interesting here is that McKay picks up on Sheppard's shiftiness immediately. And note also that Sheppard keeps eye contact with McKay. He looks down, he looks away, and he always returns his eyes to McKay. And as we do not see McKay looking back at him, the fact that they are looking at each other is once more obscured. We also get a close-up shot of Weir looking at the back of Sheppard's head and then shift her eyes to Caldwell when Sheppard had not looked at her once during the entire scene. Not once.

And again, Sheppard is not trying to avoid looking at her. He was avoiding looking at McKay because he seems to be feeling guilty and trying to hide that, but it seems like his need to look at McKay was stronger than his need to hide his feelings, and his eyes kept coming back and back to McKay. And again we fade to black with Sheppard returning his eyes to McKay, information flowing between them even though they are in public, surrounded by other people. For the next episode, we may note that while McKay is entirely open here toward Sheppard, Sheppard is feeling defensive and even lets Teyla's hospital bed remain between them as a barrier almost like he has to forcibly keep himself from doing anything stupid like reaching out to the man he had recently realized he has not actually, properly held in months.

So, The Hive. The hive is obviously the designation of the wraith mothership where most of the action in the episode takes place. But the titles usually tell us something more than that, they are making references and framing the stories. The hives get their design from beehives as the societal structure of the wraith seem to resemble bees or wasps since they are evolved from insects. The hive is a place that is ruled by a queen and hence the name of several gay clubs across the globe. However, since "The ship" were the very first words spoken in the episode, the title card was shown as the words "another ship" were spoken, and even at the end of the episode they mention "the hive ship" twice (and Sheppard calls the hive a "boat"), there may be a more curious reference hiding in the title -- and not just in the fact that the hive in the episode may call back to the pirate ship of Captain Hook, given the title of the previous episode and its connections to Peter Pan.

The Hive is the name of a famous ship that was wrecked off the coast of Australia. The fact that it is a shipwreck is not the significant part. The Hive was a prisoner transport vessel, transporting convicts from England to Australia that was wrecked off the coast of New South Wales in 1835. Just like the hive in the episode, that is, The Hive was transporting prisoners and most of the prisoners survived the wreck. And many of the convicts on the vessel were gay not just because the prison context gives rise to "situational homosexuality," but because homosexuality was punishable by law and the actual crime for which some of the prisoners had been convicted for was sodomy. In the early 1800s, a lot of people were convicted on sodomy charges and shipped off to the prison colony, and during the year of the wreck, there were at least two men that had still been executed in the UK for practicing homosexuality. It is an ugly history, but at the same time in prison colonies some of these men found the freedom to love and form intimate bonds with other men, incarcerated but free of the judgement and oppression of society at large.

There are even letters that the convicts had written to their lovers, one (the oldest same sex love letter from Australia) of which reads:

I hope you wont forget me when I am far away and all my bones is moldered away I have not closed an eye since I lost sight of you your precious sight was always a welcome and loving charming spectacle. Dear Jack I value Death nothing but it is in leaving you my dear behind and no one to look after you… The only thing that grieves me love is when I think of the pleasant nights we have had together. I hope you wont fall in love with no other man when I am dead and I remain your True and loving affectionate Lover

And the thing is, this letter would not be out of place for one that Sheppard might have written McKay during his recent incarceration, and especially pertinent are the facts that he was unable to sleep in the cell and his totally normal and warranted and extremely heterosexual reaction here as he did not get the warm welcome from McKay he had hoped for. Sheppard and the True and loving affectionate Lover of the letter have much in common.

But while there are curious parallels between The Hive and the hive in the episode, what I find really interesting is this: The Hive is a ship that cannot be seen when someone looks out to the sea off of the coast of New South Wales because it is submerged. And yet people know that it is there. It is one of the most famous shipwrecks in history, it is an actual cultural heritage site. People scuba dive by the ship, so while it cannot be seen with the naked eye from the surface and people that do not know of its existence would never be able to detect it, the ship is very much there and there is tangible evidence for its existence. We know that it is there. People who are in the know, know. It may lie beneath the surface but it is there.

[strqyr]

Honestly smth i find weird is how Oz has, seemingly, never been to the Ever After.

Cause like,, Oz is OLD. He's thousands of years old- and that's a very vague timeframe, that could be 5k years just as easily as 90k years. Regardless, that's a LONG ass time and a lot of lives; statistically, he WOULD have ended up in the Ever After, considering the Blacksmith implied that more than just the people we know had ended up in the Ever After, and Alyx and Lewis got there entirely on accident.

Hell, it's possible SALEM has gotten there. Miles said in a cameo that Salem knows more about the Brothers now than she did during and right after her rebellion, and one of her WOR videos (the one on aura) depicts a Blacksmith (which like, could be coincidence lol)- so it's entirely possible Salem, at the very least, knows about the Blacksmith.

If *Salem* knows even a tiny bit about the Ever After- then I really wonder why Oz... doesn't. Cause from my perspective and what I remember, it seems like he only thought it was just a story, and the theory that Lewis was an ozcarnation, iirc, was debunked. So Oz has never been to the Ever After, at least from what we've seen.

And i just think that's weird? He should have at Some point, but he hasn't. My working theory rn is that Light made it a part of Ozma's curse that he can't end up in the Ever After, if that's even possible.

But I wanted your thoughts on it, cause idk if it's a plot hole the writers overlooked, or if it's something that has an in-universe explanation lol

i'm very mixed on this bc on one hand, oz recognized the story when oscar was quoting it, telling him that he has lived through his fair share of fairy tales, which is a leading statement that implies the girl who fell through the world is something he is personally familiar with—i.e. he has lived through it. sure, the line might just be in reference to all the other fairy tales that are about oz's experiences, but if you're show-only watcher and know nothing about the fairy tales of remnant, that context is lost on you.

but then. . . oscar tries searching for more information in vacuo, narrating that "ozpin has no explanation of what might have happened" to those who fell, which then takes us to a completely different direction. one explanation could be that, well. there's probably multiple ways of ending up in the ever after—like i sincerely doubt alyx and lewis used to staff to create this pathway "not on remnant" and then fell lol—, and you simply cannot assume that different entry point has the same exit, right?

so. a mixed bag. one possibility is that oz himself hasn't been in the ever after, but one of his reincarnations before he reincarnated into them might have. so, no personal experience, but memories of one, yes.

and i kinda feel like salem might be in a similar kind of boat? part of the curse the gods put on her was that she would walk the face of remnant as long as it turned, and i get the feeling that's very literal, in the same vein ambrosius takes things literally; she can't leave remnant. it echoes back to her tower, the window that was her only view to the outside world, blocked by an invisible barrier that she couldn't get through, and it would explain why they've made the point of the space within the vaults not being on remnant—and hence why she needs others to get the relics for her, or why she never appeared on the bridge despite being back for some time while the battle was still going.

but it's still possible that someone salem knows has been in the ever after and this is where my "summer rose is still alive" agenda and "why did the sundered rose appear in the ever after like that?" question meet.

. . . anyway. i think it makes sense for the gods to make some rules for both oz and salem in terms of where they can and cannot go, bc ascension could very easily turn into a "get out of jail for free" card re: their curses, and the gods would obviously know about it, so better nip that at the bud before it's too late.

so my guess would be that neither oz or salem have been in the ever after personally, but someone they know (or have reincarnated into with oz) has been, and that's where their knowledge comes from. . . if they do know anything, at all.

[nuhlas]

i do love being enabled ( affectionate ) so let me just. the incriminated piece:

i found this composition so random at first look because ?? sure i can believe these are the people who loved morpheus the most and the once who decided to stay all the way to say their final goodbyes - i'm truly not surprised at all, because they were almost all sitting front row during the ceremony, while most guests were celebrating or neutral, they were mourning.

concerning nuala specifically ... being in between delirium and despair is not that coincidental - the negative feelings she's shoving deep down to put a brave face on are quite literally manifesting at both sides. except that that restricting delirium to just this name wouldn't be so fair, right? she used to be delight once, we see glimpses of that throughout the season.

the cards nuala was dealt with by fate brought her both joy and grief, and they coexist - ann mentions how nuala's journey relates to the poem the withering of the boughs; and it's all about youth and death and the passing of time, how every moment counts etc. it's quiet resignation for a looped fate that will keep happening like this, she will always be a second too late ... and even in the face of that, she's still hopeful for what's to come. tiny little detail, her hands gesture mirrors morpheus' while descending the staircase when cluracan came to take her back home.

though the hand gesture is very similar to corinthian's here, too. they're technically new the dreaming despite once being from there ( in different ways obviously ). it's about relearning how to live and act in a place that once was home and it's becoming that again. in his case, considering how he has been written, he might as well just be itching to hold joanna's hand lmao, we'll never know.

what we do know though is that desire /had/ to stay in the middle. they have prayed on this downfall which has brought them no satisfaction whatsoever. they /have/ to stand next to corinthian because he's being an absolute menace to joanna since the beginning of the service about his feelings for her - meanwhile she keeps a distance, her hands hidden unlike the others around her. as we know it's to keep herself from getting hurt. understandable honestly.

joanna and death lingering close to destiny is no coincidence either. it might get lost to casual watchers but in the end they were the two people who could have avoided the spilling of blood and the way the prophecy came into existence. and i know you'll tell me well nina it's not fair to put the blame on death for guiding orpheus back then or condemning him to exist in that state. or to joanna for not being the one to do the killing. and you'd be right - but these were possible destinies and i do wonder how differently it would have shaped the events.

merv is that far because it means less cgi to use BUT he's kinda funny you know? corinthian was disassembled by dream, merv was killed and brought back to life. i wonder if that changes the future in any capacity or either him or gilbert being alive / dead means nothing to the texture of fate.

now on to my favourite part. did you know morpheus smiles more this season? how precious. to nuala, hob and delirium specifically - who are also three of the last people he meets before dying ( aside from death of course, it was fair for her to have THE last moment ) and you know what's ironic to me? all the three of them wanted was more time with morpheus. he was just starting to opening up and accept them, and he was taken away from them so suddenly. they will be fine, because in different ways they've all lived enough to experience grief and know that it will pass ... but it does hurt so much in the now, you know?

hob and nuala. it has come to my attention that it only took a week for the fandoms of these ships to start throwing hands and usual i'm sitting here wondering if they're out of their minds since nuala, morpheus and hob are all interconnected for better or worse - for once, nuala and hob are ""supernatural"" beings unaffiliated to the dreaming, they're people not created by dream hence not an extension of him. but they do see and understand morpheus for what he is. throughout the season they give him good advices when he's troubled, have been touched by his mind in the past but kept living their lives regardless of his presence in them. they're the true believers and bearers of hope ironically, in equal measures the love morpheus has been yearning for but keeps running away from.

they have a mirror scene where morpheus corrects them about shakespeare and his plays - they both know very well the guy wouldn't be who he has become if it wasn't for the lord shaper. they have the sort of quiet devotion that has kept going for 500+ years, and it will be what makes them going further in the future. their positions are curious because he's just a tiny step behind her. nuala is grieving, but is very clinical about it; she's already at the stage of acceptance. hob is still in the stage of denial, maybe bargaining since we do know he asks daniel!dream to meet in 100 years.

he's catching up to her, and if i'm completely honest i have a feeling that had there been a s3 we would have seen them grow close - nuala never being a replacement of daniel in the meeting situation of course, just an addition. after all they both loved morpheus so much, he was their dream ( though they express it in different ways, hob loses his composure for a second, nuala mentions that the new dream is "a child in the body of a grown man" ) it seems fair they'd end up floating around each other while trying not to sink in the motions ( i'd actually add lucienne in this too, but that's another whole can of worms )

[actual-lea]

Hello it is I, returning with more of this fic!

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

“It’s your turn.”

Daniel snaps out of his trance. “Right, sorry.”

He picks up one of the tiny red discs and drops it into place in the Connect Four grid, blocking off a diagonal line Hurley tried to sneak past him. Plastic clatters against plastic, the only sound in the nearly-empty game room aside from a few orderlies chatting in the hallway and a dark-haired woman muttering softly to herself at another table. It’s hypnotic, almost, an oddly relaxing soundscape akin to the “ocean sounds” CD he used to own.

Or, still owns? It’s likely still gathering dust in the bedroom of his childhood home, stacked neatly between the few other albums he would occasionally listen to, most of them gifts from Caroline. He wishes he could remember any of the artists’ names, or any of the songs, for that matter; they’re all jumbled together in his head, a medley of contextless musical phrases that occasionally rise to the surface of his subconscious in a blur of half-remembered melodies and half-finished thoughts.

“Your turn,” Hurley repeats.

Daniel flinches again. “Sorry.”

Another piece clatters into place. “You alright, man? You seem kinda distracted.”

Daniel nods automatically. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just… I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he rambles, a laughable understatement.

Since requesting access to Widmore’s intel, Dan has learned more new information about the island in the past month than he had in the previous two years combined.

In 1954, the year that was printed on the photographs he’d taken from his mother’s office in the church, the island had been the site of a thermonuclear test – ostensibly, anyway. The files Abaddon provided, marked “U.S. ARMY – OP 264” consisted in part of more photographs, including several of the bomb itself; there were detailed diagrams of every piece, along with yield estimates, detonation procedures, personnel lists, everything but the date of the test itself or any kind of report on the aftermath.

It must have been called off; that’s the only thing that makes sense. The projected yield of nearly ten megatons would be more than enough to quite literally wipe the island off the map, leaving nothing but a radioactive crater in its place. The files don’t mention any kind of delay or cancellation, though, nothing to suggest that the test was scrubbed and the bomb recovered for reconfiguring or disassembly.

So, what happened to it? Surely the U.S. military didn’t just misplace an entire hydrogen bomb. He’d requested more information, of course, but that was well over two weeks ago and he’s heard nothing from Abaddon since.

The bomb must still be there, somewhere on the island. That’s the conclusion he keeps coming back to, the one piece that could make everything else clatter into place, if he lets it – the FISSION CHAIN REACTION scrawled across the top of Theresa’s diagram, the DHARMA orientation photo from 1977 with Jack, Kate, and Hurley.

Hurley, who picks at the edge of the black piece in his hand, his eyes distant.

“I think it’s…your turn?” Daniel realizes aloud; Hurley’s turn to flinch and nod sheepishly and drop the piece into the board, seemingly at random. “A lot on your mind, too?” 

Hurley shrugs. “I guess.”

“Everything okay?”

“I guess,” he repeats, then he frowns. “Actually, can I ask you something?”

Dan nods. “Of course.”

Hurley rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the room and lowering his voice. “It's about the island.”

A spike of fear flares up in Daniel’s chest, and he swallows hard to push it back down. Hurley can’t read his mind; if he’s been thinking about the island too, it’s nothing more than pure coincidence. Probably. “Go ahead,” he prompts when Hurley doesn’t say anything else.

“I was thinking about…what you said before,” Hurley says. “About how the island fixed you."

Daniel nods stiffly, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, I was wondering...did it fix anything else for you?" he asks hesitantly. "Like, did it help with...with seeing things that aren't there?"

Daniel frowns. "You mean…hallucinations? I didn’t have hallucinations. I wasn’t that crazy,” he says without thinking, and then he grimaces. What an awful thing to say inside a mental health facility.

Hurley nods anyway, returning his attention to the Connect Four board.

“Why…do you ask?” Daniel shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Have you been…seeing things?”

“Forget I said anything, dude.”

“Hurley.” He leans closer, because he has to know. “Why are you asking about the island?”

Hurley looks up, then down to the table, then back up, and lets out a deep breath. “Locke came to visit me the other day.”

Daniel frowns again, confused. “Locke?”

Realization dawns in Hurley’s eyes. “Oh yeah, that’s right, I guess you never met him. He’s like this crazy, bald, outdoorsy guy.” He lowers his voice again. “He was on our plane.”

“And he… He left the island? How?”

Hurley shrugs again, fidgeting with the black piece in his hand. "He didn’t tell me that. He just said that we all need to go back. Everybody who left."

The gears start turning in Daniel’s head, a low rumble pulsing in time with his suddenly racing heart. “And he knew some way to do that?”

“I don’t know. It kinda freaked me out, so I didn’t really listen to him.”

“Did he leave you with any kind of contact information?” he asks, already digging through his pack for a pen. “A phone number, maybe, or a date that he’d be visiting you again?” 

“Yeah, but…” Hurley glances around the room again, like he’s searching for an excuse. “I don’t even have it with me, it’s in my room–”

“Well, could you go and get it?”

He frowns. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, man–”

“Hurley, please.”

With a resigned sigh, Hurley pulls the bottom from the Connect Four board, sending all the pieces crashing to the table as he stands up. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

------

Daniel, If you’re reading this, your journal must have made it back to you somehow. That doesn’t seem outside the realm of possibility, considering where when we might be. It took us longer than it should have to understand what happened when the freighter disappeared, and even longer to understand what’s happening to us now. Having your journal helped, though I can only understand bits and pieces of it. It’s nice to think that you’re still helping us, even from so far away. The survivors from the Zodiac raft told us you weren’t on the freighter when it exploded. I hope you’re still all right out there somewhere, in your own time. Hopefully I’ll be the one to return this journal to you, and you can explain why all this is happening (has happened? will happen?) to the island.

“Writing your memoirs?”

Charlotte turns to watch Miles approach. “Writing to Dan,” she says, showing him the journal.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll get it.” Miles plops down on the sand beside her without glancing at it. “Probably hasn’t even been born yet.”

“You don’t know that.”

He shrugs and stares out at the dark waves. The soothing sound nearly drowns out the bickering from behind the two of them, further up the beach, where a small cluster of the Oceanic survivors are still stubbornly trying to start a fire.

“Find anything in there about how to stop this?” Miles asks, nodding toward the journal.

Charlotte shakes her head. “Not yet, anyway.” Squinting in the dim light from the moon, she finds her place and keeps writing.

We miss you here. Miles misses you too, even if he won’t admit it. It’s the strangest thing, being stuck here on the island after searching for so long. This is the place I was born, I’m certain of it, but I feel no closer to understanding why. Why did we leave? Why did my mother forbid me from ever talking about this place? Why did she lie and tell me that I made it all up? I’ve been thinking about her a lot today. Wondering what she would say, if she could see me now. I realized that I can’t quite picture her face anymore, disappointed or otherwise. I can barely remember the sound of her voice. It’s strange to think that the distance from the outside world is enough to make me forget all its details.

“Are you cool?”

Her head jerks up. She stares at Miles. “What?”

He gestures vaguely. “You look like you’re pouring your heart out over there, and I just wanna know if you’re about to get all emotional, so I can leave before that.”

She frowns. “It’s nothing like that, it’s…” She places the pen in the journal as a bookmark and closes it. “Do you ever feel like… Like you're forgetting something important? More than one something?”

“Yeah.” Miles shrugs. “Couldn’t have been too important if you forgot it though, right?”

Charlotte’s frown deepens, but she nods anyway. “I’ve been…remembering things, too,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “Weird things.”

Bits and pieces, fragments of moments like something from a dream. Yellow houses, and a swingset, and neighbors that she doesn’t recognize, and yet…

She takes a deep breath. “Miles, are you sure you haven’t been to this island before?”

Miles’ face clouds over. It’s a long few seconds before he finally responds. “Why are you asking me–”

A wordless shout from behind him, sharper than the ongoing squabbling, cuts through the still night air. Charlotte’s head snaps toward the sound as one of the distant figures staggers back from the rest, flailing madly at the fiery arrow now embedded in their torso.

The sky overhead bursts into flames, a deadly meteor shower of bright lights raining down over all their heads.

Charlotte is on her feet in an instant and running for cover in the next, sprinting across the wide open sand toward the safety of the trees. There’s screaming, chaos, fire everywhere, and cutting through it all is Sawyer’s voice, shouting for everyone to meet at the creek.

If she had the time, she’d roll her eyes. There’s no way that the unseen assailants responsible for the volley can’t hear his instructions loud and clear. She'd bet money that an ambush will be the only thing waiting at the creek, especially for her and Miles, who’ve yet to find their way into the survivors’ good graces.

Miles. A pang of something like guilt twists in Charlotte’s stomach. Surely he’s right behind her? As she reaches the sparse foliage at the edge of the jungle, she throws a glance over her shoulder to assure herself that she hasn’t left him behind to die without a second thought.

A cluster of vines catches her ankle, and she hits the ground hard with a curse. Before she can scramble back to her feet, a hand grabs her arm to haul her up.

Miles. “You okay?” he says in a rush, as if the answer could matter less while they’re running for their lives.

Charlotte nods once. A flaming arrow hits the nearest tree, less than a meter away, and she breaks into a sprint once more with Miles’ hand now clasped tightly in hers.

------

“Wait here a moment,��� the hospital receptionist says, and walks away.

Daniel drums his fingers on the counter impatiently. The phone number Hurley gave him was for a place called the Westerfield Hotel, but he was promptly informed by the front desk that “Jeremy Bentham” was currently unavailable. That fact hadn’t changed by the time Daniel showed up to ask in person, but after a bit of persuasion – and no small amount of bribery – he learned that Locke had most recently extended his stay via a phone call from a St. Sebastian Hospital on the west side of Los Angeles.

Unsurprisingly, calling the hospital didn’t yield any information, so here he is, pacing in the lobby. Bribery surely isn’t a viable option here; if the receptionist returns without any answers, he’s not sure what to do.

But he can’t just give up now. If there’s a way to get back to the island without Widmore, he has to try.

“Faraday?” a voice calls from somewhere behind him.

He whirls around and stares, baffled, at a familiar face. “Jack?”

Jack moves toward him with a frown and shoves him around a corner, out of sight of the very public lobby. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He's angry; angrier than expected, angrier than Dan's seen him since that night on the beach, when he caught him in a lie and screamed in his face. Daniel checks the scribbled writing on his hand, mostly as an excuse to avoid his glare. “I'm, uh. I'm looking for Jeremy Bentham.”

“How do you know that name?” Jack asks in a furious whisper.

“I talked to Hurley,” Daniel replies, and for a split second, he's sure that Jack is going to punch him.

He doesn't, though; he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a few quick steps away, calming himself down, before returning to Dan. “What the hell do you want with Locke?”

“It– It’s a bit of a long story,” he stammers out. “I…just need to talk to him.”

“You need to leave,” Jack says, motioning toward the exit. “Right now.”

Daniel squares his shoulders and shakes his head. “I'm not leaving until I talk to him.”

Again, Jack looks ready to hit him, but again, he calms down. “This way,” he says curtly, and he starts walking.

Dan follows him through a few doors and into a hallway lined with patient rooms. They stop outside of one, and Jack turns back to him.

“Five minutes, then I want you gone,” he says firmly, and then he walks away.

Daniel takes a deep breath and knocks softly on the door before opening it.

The bald man lying in the bed looks up; his face is a mess, bruised all over, and he watches Dan warily. “I think you have the wrong room.”

Dan shakes his head. “You’re…Jeremy Bentham, right? Or…” He glances over his shoulder as the door closes behind him. “John Locke?”

The man frowns. “And who are you?”

“My name's Daniel.” He wrings his hands and takes a step forward, lowering his voice. “And you don't know me, but...you know my friends, Charlotte Lewis and Miles Straume.”

Locke's bruised face lights up with recognition. “You were the other one, from the freighter.”

“Yeah. Uh...” He drags a nearby chair over to the bed and sits down. “I was wondering if you could tell me how you got off the island.”

Locke eyes him suspiciously. “Why do you wanna know that, Daniel?”

“Because...” He chooses his words carefully. “It might help me to find a way back.”

At that, Locke seems to relax. “You're here to help me, then?”

Dan nods hesitantly. “I…guess I am.”

“Did Charles Widmore send you?”

“Not...exactly.” He clears his throat. “Uh, is he... Are you expecting someone, or...?”

Locke shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter now. All that matters, is that we have to convince everyone to go back.” He leans toward Dan. “You have to help me convince them.”

Daniel blinks. “Why, exactly?”

“Because it’s the only way to save everyone who was left behind.”

“Wait, slow down. Save them from what?”

“From dying,” Locke says. “You and all the others, you were never supposed to leave.”

“How do you know that?” Daniel asks. “What happened, after the island moved?”

“It didn’t stop moving.”

(next chapter)

[loregoddess]

For your girl, Anna Pascal 💚🖤🤍

one aspect about them i love Really love how kind she is at heart, and how this isn't immediately apparent and even seems to go against the "cool, calm, quiet deadly spy" impression she gives off (although she is all those things too), but like, despite all that she is incredibly thoughtful of the people around her, and chooses to be kind despite having a lot of her own stuff going on.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them Ehhh, of what I've seen Anna doesn't feel like she gets taken too far out of character by the fandom. I guess the fact that she actually seems pretty aware of, and in touch with, her own emotions, and all things considered is one of the more emotionally healthy characters in the story overall. Also I feel like the fact that she's at least 30 gets overlooked sometimes, due to her being like, tiny in stature compared to other characters.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character Anna has a really good singing voice, but it's also like super quiet. Perfect for lullabies type of quiet, but like she couldn't project across a tavern or anything. Sings for some of the children the army encounters, but doesn't like, bring any attention to this skill, so one soldier being like "I swear I heard Lady Anna singing Quahaug to sleep the other night" would be met with fierce skepticism bc no one has ever heard her sing. Picked up the skill from Benedict, who would deny ever singing in his life, despite definitely singing Anna to sleep when she was really young.

one character i love seeing them interact with Hnnnghh, yes. All of them. I love all of Anna's canon interactions. That said, trying to figure out the dynamics of her and Benedict's relationship haunts me still.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more Avlora, I swear they'd get along in a really weird way. Also I'm really curious about how Anna and Hossabara get along since Hossabara seems to have been a mainstay of the Wolfforts for quite a while, and most of the important adult figures in Anna's life that we know from canon were all men (Benedict, Erador, Archibald), so it's like?? Could Hossabara potentially have filled the older woman role-model for Anna?? There is literally nothing to imply she did, but I still Wonder.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character I think Anna eventually figures out who Groma is specifically, and then does some insane things to get Groma and Archibald set up together but like, all in the background like, "Oh wow, it's such a coincidence that all of the crates from our most recent shipment of trade goods from Aesfrost just happen to be arranged in such a way that Archibald walks Directly Into Groma's New Tea Shop, wonder how that happened" as if Anna didn't go and rearrange them all in the middle of the night. She denies doing anything of course, but makes it her mission to play wingwoman to her teacher.

[ouroboros-hideout]

It‘s time. Going to drop some headcanons and assumptions about the Colonel here.

Grab some snackies and feel free to comment your own thoughts about him if you like. Think everyone has his/her own view on the character, would be interested to hear them. And I already noticed I missed some information because I am like a blind little mole while playing games. So if there are STILL things I just missed, that are somehow connected to stuff I came up with pls let me know. Need to absorb all the little details about the dog.

And of course there are spoilers below the line. If you don‘t likey, don‘t looky.

1. He‘s not dead

That‘s like my absolute main hc. Said it in a post before and say it again: I was disappointed How he was treated especially in the end. Guess I could live with his death, if it was written differently, but for me it was extremely unsatisfying. First of all: he‘s a high performing, experienced military machine. It‘s said his strengths primarily lie in interrogation, that he‘s a natural born leader and organizational stuff is his thing, but he‘s a skilled fighter too. If you side with Reed you have to fight him and damn. He‘s a beast.

I don‘t like that the protagonist of a story (would be V in this case) has to win all fights. There should be more enemies who are invincible and fights would be resolved differenty. It’s a general thing I would like to see more often in games, especially rpgs with strong choice making mechanics. Yes, V is a skilled fighter and Alex definitely knows how to completely delete someone too, but I don‘t know. It felt really uninspired and didn’t do justice to the character. If I had to decide for a mixture of canon for my headcanon, it would be Alex catching him off guard (like when you‘re siding with Songbird) but he‘ll survive and lands in the hospital (the same way if you don‘t kill him at the end of the boss fight).

The hc would be that he took this opportunity and staged his death. Fake news, fake corpse at the funeral, Jago and Bennett doing a little show so it’s more believable. Let Myers and the gov think he‘s gone, while he has the opportunity to plot against them without them knowing. I want him to have an epic revenge arc.

2. His scars and cyberware

Not that confident with this one yet but I need a story for it. His bonked-in forehead, the ear and the arm need to be connected somehow. Not a coincidence that all of this is happening on the left side. I like to believe it happened at the end of the Midnight Storm mission. When Arasaka came to shore and they where forced to retreat. Maybe I missed that or it‘s just not clearly stated but for me it always sounded like they got the order to get the fuck away, but literally where left to die, because Arasaka was superior to them. They got attacked, many died and he lost his left arm. The what and hows I am not sure about. Feel like he got bonked really hard by something or someone and the arm was ripped off. Could have been a grenade or something, but don’t know if there would be different type of scars then. The last survivors found shelter, Kurt decided to fuck the orders, after Myers agreed on peace and the rest is history.

Part of that hc is, that he doesn‘t like his cyberarm. He adapted to it, but to me, he seems like a „less is more guy“. He surely has a lot of implants but compared to veterans like Bennett or Rinder he‘s rather low on chrome imo. Like the casual military gear for a person with his rank, he probably had to install but nothing more.

Since he is right-handed I’d say he got the cyberware on the right this arm earlier and it’s related to better aim or another improvement regarding the use of weapons. There‘s a little tiny lettering on it saying „Yukimura“. That‘s a type of smart gun. Wild Dog and Bald Eagle are both power weapons but could be some sort smart link cyberware anyway and they used smart assault rifles in the military.

3. Family/Childhood/Military

It‘s said in his military file, that he was a gang member at young age and enlisted in the Militech Forces soon as he reached legal age. Thing is: I basically don‘t know anything about american law or army regulations. Just did a quick research on that topic and found some stuff on Reddit that it is technical possible that you could avoid a prison term, especially in juvenile law, if you instead join the armed forces. I don‘t know if there is something like this in the Cyberpunk lore too, but I think it would be very fitting. So there was gang member Kurt, doing all the illegal stuff like theft, armed robbery and probably worse. Think he than grew up in a typical broken home situation. Divorced parents or they just didn't give a shit. Something like this. Then he or one of his goons fucks up, got caught and he joins Militech instead of spending a lot of years in prison. In one of his voice lines he says smth like: some don't have another choice than joining the army. Like to think that applies to him aswell. At the beginning it was just a way out for him. He then settled in very quickly and liked the solid structures and discipline, that he probably never had before in his life. The fact, that he was really good at the things he had to learn and had to do, gave him a lot of confidence - like a military glow up. Think he really enjoyed his time in the military to a certain point. The Power and respect he gained throughout the years. But also he never lost his rebellious side, like it's said in his psychological profile.

Could be possible that he wanted to join the army by free will also. But I like the plot, that he always was kind of an rotten apple, the military made him stronger and brought up hidden qualities in him, but in the end failed to reform him. Reed said something like: that's it the govs fault, that Kurt is the man, he is now. So they failed to keep him on the rightous path.

4. His first kill

Inspired by the message you can get from Alex. She’s asking V if he could remember his first kill. That’s a pretty cool question and hc material imo. In Kurts military file it‘s stated, that shortly after he joined the military he was picked to go to the military academy. So I guess he did something he stood out for, between all the other people who joined at that time. He definitely was judged very critical in the beginning and had a hard time because of his streetkid past.

He probably could have killed some ppl back then, but I‘d rather believe that he still was in the lower ranks of the gang, considering his age, and had to do rookie-shit, instead of big jobs involving killing ppl for example. My hc is, that there was another recruit in his unit who tried to skip a lot of training by getting heavy cyberware and taking a lot of boosting stuff to quickly become the best among them and getting chosen for a higher position faster. In the end all he got was a cyberpsychosis and eventually turned on his mates during a combat training. Kurt then managed to take him out and saved the others. In the end he was the one getting the wanted attention of the superiors. Connecting to this event, I think he has a low tolerance for people who don‘t know their boundaries and can‘t handle their chrome and themselves.

5. Jago

I think he really likes Jago, maybe even more then Bennett sometimes. I like to compare these two because of the „Run this Town“ mission. Bennett surely has a bonus because he’s been in the army with Kurt and is his most trusted and loyal man, but I can imagine Kurt enjoys to work with someone without military background. He would probably call it refreshing. Don’t know just really like their dynamic. Absolute pros in what they do and profiting from each others skills. Can imagine he often just asks Jago about his opinion, if he needs one, because he has a different view on things. Other than a soldier who‘s just used to follow orders most of the time.

6. Boxing

He‘s into boxing. Doing it himself and following professional sports alike. He definitely does some kind of sports. Daily workouts or something like this too, but he‘s eager to stay in shape for sure. Like to think he has some sort of Fight Club thing running inside of Barghest. They meet up one or two times per month and are boxing against each other. There’s a scoreboard, they show off their bloody noses and black eyes the next day. That HC came from the „Balls to the Wall“ mission. Loved that vibe. And he enjoys watching professional fighters. And betting on the fights for sure. AND imagine a highclass boxing fight in the Sapphire. Inviting all the rich folks, there’s a boxing ring instead of a stage. Following that Las Vegas vibe Dogtown has.

7. Collection

Although he is quite a show-off when dealing with his customers and business partners, boasting about fancy parties, expensive champagne, his successes and income, I think that he is otherwise a pretty grounded guy. The way he still dresses like the casual military man, no chic suits or other unnecessary things. The Black Sapphire is the only really glam looking place in Dogtown. Everything else that‘s run by him is purely practical. But: I think he has some sort of guilty pleasure. Like collecting historical or rare guns and other weapons. Or a collection of high priced liquors. Or maybe he‘s interested in cars and/or motorcycles like Aymeric. Would suit him.

8. Privacy

This one is very simple and rather short but I think he really values his privacy. His quarters (according to early concept art) is in the upper levels in the Black Sapphire. A big ass office and probably all the other stuff like bedroom etc. on one floor. Can imagine that all or the most of these rooms are off limits for everyone else. Everyone needs some save space to decompress.

[paddedlittleparadise]

Solar Eclipse Info, 2024

Hey, over the last few weeks I've seen a lot of curiosity about the upcoming solar eclipse. Here's a quick roundup of some common questions and answers that might help!

1. Da fuk is a solar eclipse, anyway?

The Moon goes in front of the Sun. Because they look about the same size from Earth - a very cool coincidence! - when they line up just right the entire disk of the Sun gets covered up, making it a total eclipse. On April 8, 2024, this only happens in a narrow band of North America: a thin ribbon stretching from Mexico to Canada, traced out by the Moon's shadow.

In most places, the Moon will be a bit too high or too low to cover the Sun right; here folks will only get to see a partial eclipse. Partial eclipses are kinda cool, but nothing like a total eclipse.

2. Hey – If the Sun is covered, won’t it get dark?

Yes and no. The Sun is stupidly bright, so even when most of it's covered, daylight doesn't look super different. Even during the last fifteen minutes or so before it's 100% covered, the light only gradually begins to dim. It's only once the Sun is entirely covered – what we call "totality" – that it really gets dark. (Not dark like midnight, but about as dark as twilight.) Also, because the Moon's shadow is constantly moving, this bit of darkness only lasts a few minutes, depending on where exactly you are.

3. Why are people telling me to wear eclipse glasses? Is it some stupid cash grab? Or are eclipses weirdly dangerous?

Eclipses themselves are not dangerous. The Sun is, though – because like I said, it's stupidly bright! The reason why scientists warn people about hurting their eyes during an eclipse is because that’s basically the only time millions of people will try staring directly into a giant dazzling ball of gas.

So YES - anytime even a tiny bit of the Sun is visible, use eclipse glasses or some other verified, proper filter to save your poor retinas. They’re the only ones you have! Only if and when the Sun is COMPLETELY covered should you take a look without a filter.

NOTE: Filters are even more necessary if you're using binoculars or a telescope! These things work by collecting and concentrating light, so when pointed at the Sun without a filter, the beam of light coming out of the eyepieces can literally melt holes through plastic. I've seen it myself. So please… use a dang filter, okay?

4. Da heck is that white stuff around the sun in the pictures? Do I need glasses to look at THAT?

That's the corona – the Sun's searingly hot outer atmosphere. Because the Sun is stupidly bright (besides being a deadly laser) the corona is usually invisible to us. So, yep – total solar eclipses are the only time you and I ordinarily get to see it!

And nope, the corona is pretty dim and totally safe to look at without glasses. Just DON'T get so focused staring at it that you forget to put your eclipse glasses back on when totality ends!

5. How rare are these things, anyway? And why?

As it moves through the sky, the Moon circles past the Sun literally every 29.5 days – it's just that usually it's too high or low to cover even a bit of it. Globally, solar eclipses do happen pretty frequently: about every 18 months on average. But because the Earth is a big place, they might occur anywhere: the south Pacific, Africa, even Antarctica. On top of that, the odds that you specifically will be somewhere in that thin band of totality is pretty darn rare. As far as North America goes, the last total solar eclipse was nearly seven years ago, in 2017. For the next one in North America? You'll have to wait until 2045.

6. Why are people so excited?

As someone who got to experience totality in 2017 (that's my own pic above), it's tough to explain. Many people, even folks who aren't particularly spiritual, have likened totality to a religious experience. There's something chillingly cool about standing still and feeling the sun slowly dim as the Moon's shadow sweeps toward you. It's a cosmic motion as inexorable as fate, and no one – not you, not the pope, not even Bruce Willis – can stop it.

Once totality hits, the temperature typically drops a few degrees. Wind sometimes picks up or dies down because of the temperature drop. Birds and other animals freak the heck out. The brighter stars come out, midday be damned. All around the horizon glows a 360-degree "sunset"… while overhead it's like the Sun has died and left us puny humanoids staring up open-mouthed at its ghostly shell.

THAT's why totality is a big deal. And why I, along with literally millions of others, will try my level best to go see it. All the while hoping like heck that it's not cloudy.

–––

To read a more in-depth and super-useful guide, check out NASA's official site. Great American Eclipse also has a lot of sweet resources and maps. And feel free to reply with any other questions!

[codenamehazard]

.:Down the Rabbit Hole:.

Chapter 31: Down the Rabbit Hole

Hey guys!

Time to keep following Cole on this rigmarole of a rabbit chase and see what happens next now that he's in the big top that gives Tri-Point its name!

Without further ado, let's jump in!

--------

“Alright, you damned rabbit. This game’s gone on long enough!!”

I rip random shit out from their places as I search high and low for this antlered thorn in my side, not really caring what it is or who it might belong to. I don’t know what it’s trying to get at, but it’s only going to make things so much worse for it when I get my hands on it. “How do I see myself?” What kind of mind games is it trying to play; Especially with asking that while I was literally looking in a damn mirror? The answer is literally staring me in the face! I’m me! Always have been.

That damn question though… It circles in my head more than I’d like, fucking vultures riding a rising current of hot air. While yes, it is true that I haven’t physically changed much, but I have. God I hate to admit it, but so much has changed that I’m not even sure who I am anymore. Everything that made me the man I was is gone, torn asunder and ashes in the wind. Zeke’s been dead for what… Two, three years? Trish has been gone longer still. Empire City is crater, courtesy of John. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been deemed the US’s own Chernobyl or something.

Any ties I had to that old life is just… Gone. Save for whatever tiny scraps I managed to salvage… The life I had planned for, the life I wanted, will never come to be.

It’s not helped by the fact that I’ve been nothing more than either some kind of errand boy or a puppet on fucking strings ever since I was popped out of my mother. Any choice I made was either deemed incorrect, wrong or the choice was outright taken away! At this point, I’ve stopped trying.

Now I’m starting to understand the question and my answer is: “Does it fucking matter?”

My rampage in the big top continues on, leaving debris of knocked over furniture, confetti and dust in my wake when I think I see a plume of purple in my periphery. I turn my head to look, but see nothing, probably just glitter or some shit like that. However, I do spot another flash, another mirror. What a fucking coincidence.

I try to ignore it and focus on my task of finding that damn rabbit, but every time I see glimpses of my reflection, my curiosity grows… I eventually just say “fuck it” and walk over.

I make note of the mirror now that I’m actually looking at it. It’s one of those full, stand-up mirrors you find in those old as fuck mansions that are definitely not haunted. I know those ghost stories and while those kinds of things were more Zeke’s wheelhouse, with the “Killer Clown” vibes this place has going on? I’m not taking any chances… Especially with a circus full of Conduits.

I walk to the mirror, making sure I’m far enough away that should some fucking “Ringu” or “Grudge” thing be hiding in the mirror tries to grab me or some shit like that I can jump back out of reach, but close enough to see my full body in the reflective glass.

Damn… There’s a lot more change than I thought now that I look at myself fully.

My skin actually looks half-way healthy, slightly tanned from being cooked in the sun and bringing out the freckles that I had as a kid. The only hint of the pale, sickly grey that I’m used to seeing all over my body is focused on the scar that tracked across my chest like spider lightning through the clouds. First time in a long time I get to see that painful reminder.

I look at my clothes and it hammers home just how much I’ve changed, it’s honestly strange. I can see bits and pieces of someone new, yet it’s still my face, still my scars… I can almost feel my mind starting to struggle a bit. Trying to decide who this person in the mirror is even though I know it’s still me.

As I’m having a slight identity crisis, I hear something whisper in my ear. “How do you think others see you?”

A Punch Blast rips from my hands as I whirl around with a start, sending a popcorn machine and some heavy props flying in its wake. I scan the area, ready to fry the bastard that’s been toying with me ever since I stepped into this madhouse. I growl loudly as my frustration grows, seeing nothing. 

“Hey, fuzzy lil’ fucker!” I shout out, my accent starting to slip more than I’d like. “Stop fuckin’ aroun’ with me and face me!” 

All I get is crickets as I sweep the area, looking for hide or hair of the pain in my ass, but of fucking course, the rabbit is nowhere to be seen. I am getting so sick and tired of all of these games.

If I was a less stubborn man, I would have given up at this point and head back to the hospital to take a long-ass nap. Sadly, I am not a less stubborn man and I want that bunny made into a pair of leather gloves for all the grief it’s put me through.

What I didn’t know is that I’m in for one hell of a shock myself when I turn around and face the mirror again.

Staring back at me isn’t myself… It doesn’t even look human, it looks closer to a living storm, not a shred of humanity to be seen in its crimson eyes. It almost frightened me. Yet…. Somehow I knew that it’s still me.

It’s twisted and monstrous, even more so than how I am in my Beast form… Or is that not my Beast form and what I’m looking at is supposed to be what it’s actually supposed to look like? I remember John’s whole shtick was being a giant magma golem of a monster and I could never figure out how to get that.

I growl and shake my head before dismissing the reflection and walking away, remembering the question and guessing that’s what the mirror was showing; how others saw me.That I couldn’t give less of a rat’s ass about. Not surprising in the least that people saw me less as an actual person and more of a monster or a force of nature, something soulless and without care. It’s honestly nothing new to me.

I’ve been a reject of society ever since I knew what that was. Always casted aside: mocked, shunned and scapegoated in some way, shape or form. So how is this any different? Always a fuck-up, so fucking what? It’s a non-issue at this point. They can think however they want, as long as those dumb shits stay the hell out of my way, then there will be no issues.

My search for Bugs Bunny’s horned cousin continues when I think I see something else furry, a fluffy looking tabby cat sitting on a chest. Not what I’m looking for, but okay.

Though as I look at it, I can’t tell if it’s the color of my lightning or what, but I swear this cat was an odd color… Almost blending in with the hue my sparks bathed the area in, but it was definitely an unnatural color for a cat, pink? Purple? I couldn’t tell, nor did I care.

I try to get close so I can get a better look at the feline, but as I did, the cat turns to purple smoke and flits away. Are you fucking kidding me?!? First a white rabbit who can teleport, now a purple-y cat that can turn to smoke, what’s next? Am I gonna stumble across a giant ass caterpillar smoking from a hookah or something?!? I watch the wisp dart around, the sight feeling familiar for some odd reason.

I don’t have much time to ponder that before it dashes off, prompting me to go after it.

“Maybe this fucker will lead me its little bunny friend.” I think to myself before following it through the big top and find it went through a door. I narrow my eyes in suspicion, this reeks of a trap, yet something keeps telling me to push forward. Is it my curiosity? My stubbornness? Or is it me thinking that I’ve made it this far in, might as well how deep this goes?

Doesn’t matter which it is as I follow the smoke inside.

Through the door, I am damn near blinded by the amount of light my dark-adjusted eyes were subjected to, forcing me to cover them until they had readjusted. I remove my hands and my jaw falls open at the sight I see.

That cat lead me into a fucking mirror maze.

“What’s with all the goddamn mirrors?!” I growl out loud as I look around, seeing myself at damn near every conceivable angle. The scowl on my face deepens the more I see my reflections, I already don’t like seeing myself, let alone being stuck in a room that’s nothing but myself. It infuriates me to no end. It’s almost dizzying and disorienting with everything reflecting everything else. I start to step back, I’m getting in over my head. I need to get out so I can regroup and…

A voice stops my thoughts dead in its tracks as an all too familiar voice hisses in my ear, full of venom and cruelty.

“Do you want to see who you really are?”

The door behind me slams shut with a deafening “BANG” as I try to get out. There was nothing to grab hold of and no way to force it open, it’s flushed with the wall. I’m stuck in here and that damned voice laughs at my struggle and plight. I fire off an Alpha Blast to blow the door open, but it bounces off the reflection and damn near hits me in the process. I can feel my heart start to race as the fact sinks in more and more. I’m trapped in this damned maze.

I slowly turn around, knowing what I have to do, but what I see behind me… My eyes widen as I can feel the color drain from my face, my blood runs cold as I face what is my worst fear made manifest.

“No…”