#who could've thunk it

[beastsovrevelation]

While I fully recognize Lottie is most likely both a sensitive and a shizophrenic, it seems perfectly likely to me, that whatever forces linger in these woods, did compel her to kill the researcher guy. I mean, if they get rescued, the Wilderness loses it's toys. I doubt it wants that, to end up alone and hungry again, without it's devotees to feed it blood.

[taswelle]

even more at art dump......

[completelylusingit]

yknow while we're talkin about deerling and sawsbuck, up until a couple decades ago they were quite a menace in alot of places. they didn't have alot of natural predators left so they overgrazed like crazy

but with successful reintroductions of lycanroc and liepard numbers back up, that's largely been brought back under control

[dhwty-writes]

After being paralysed by the threat of looming deadlines for weeks now I finally sat my ass down and actually wrote them down and holy hell this is looking a lot more manageable now

[multimusewonderland]

@edgeofdarkmess inquired:

Edge approached Allegra, a little stiffly, thumbs stuck in her jacket pocket. Her ears swiveled slightly, following a short inhale and sigh, "So," she started, "This might sound rude. But I don't really... Get music," she scratched her inner ear with a pinky claw, "Mind helping me get my ears in the right direction?"

~

Allegra, who hadn't noticed the heroes' ship touching back down on her planet, was surprised to see her, let alone approaching on her lonesome. She closed the distance between them, slightly apprehensive in case the hero brought bad news. Had Cursa silenced them, leaving Edge alone to seek help?

...Only for Allegra to smile at the much more pleasant topic, immediately perking up.

"There is no one way to "get" music. Every performance is different, even if the performers and their instruments are all the same." She paused, studying Edge for a moment. "Just the same, not every melody is music to everyone's ears. I can't make you enjoy somthing that doesn't resonate with you."

It was then that Allegra turned away, using her fork to gently brush aside foliage. There was no path in sight, yet she was fairly confident that Edge wouldn't refuse just because the way to their destination was unclear and dirty.

She hadn't kept an eye on the Heroes for nothing, after all.

"Do you remember the biophany you heard once our dark shadow had disappeared? That isn't the only form music takes, even on this planet. If you come with me. perhaps we can find something that marches to a beat similar to your own..."

[rabotimagines]

"Good job" GN BOT Reader x Trailbreaker, Optimus, Bumblebee, Red Alert, Soundwave, Thundercracker, Starscream, Megatron

Summary: You tell your significant other good job and kiss his cheek.

Genre/Theme: Romantic fluff!

Warnings: Aftermath of Megatron inflicted violence in Strascream's

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: Cybertronian reader, I'm casually referencing G1 episodes here and there.

Trailbreaker sparkdamn near collapses after Cosmos gave him the go-ahead to drop his force field. He doesn't manage to catch himself before his legs refuse to follow his equilibrium center and keep himself up right. He crashes into someone who quickly makes an effort to keep him upwards. Brawn is on his other side helping support him, too. Primus, Trailbreaker can't feel a lot of his frame right now. And to say he was exhausted would be putting it softly.

Trailbreaker registers your helm kibble and lately realizes it's you on his other side only when you kiss him on the cheek. "Good job." You praise him, and your em field is caressing his frame. If Trailbreaker had the energy right now, his optics would be burning hot. But there is a warm ball settling in his spark from your affection that gives Trailbreaker enough energy to smile and weakly chuckle. Trailbreakers just glad you all didn't die in a burning inferno. Trailbreakers' servo is grasped onto your pauldron and he lets his own em field drag along your frame.

Hopefully, you guys can kick Decepticon tailpipe fast. Because Trailbreaker needed to enter recharge badly. Preferably with his helm on your chassis.

-

Optimus sinks into his chair with a thunk. His frame is heavy and much too warn out after the days events. You'd all almost died, and none of you would have been able to avert it if it wasn't for Trailbreaker's quick thinking. He's still getting through the multiple apologies from the various human leaders, for almost accidentally condemning you all to such an unjust fate. Optimus sighed when he recalled the insults, and things shouted at them from the humans when they'd believed the fake evidence.

Optimus straightens his frame out when you enter his office. He nods and picks up a data pad to continue reading where he left off. You place an energon cube on his desk, and Optimus is about to rightfully thank you for it. But you're suddenly lightly guiding his helm. The soft press of your derma against the side of Optimus's battle mask had his finials perking back straight like they're supposed to be. "Good job." You praise him, and the next soft sigh out of Optimus makes his chassis leagues lighter.

"Thank you, love." Optimus mummers when you slowly pull away, one of his servos finding your arm and squeezing lightly. Optimus would finish this sooner than later now that he remembered he had more important matters to attend to...

-

Bumblebee's struts were killing him after that tornado he charged into. He's glad the plan worked anyway, and Auggie wasn't as big as an aft as he could've been. So the charities actually got something to split. But right now everything ached and after getting cleared by Hoist he tracked out and found you waiting for him in the hallway. Bumblebee was catching you up on the Insanity you'd just missed, ending his recap with how the charities only got something because of Auggie.

Bumblebee's not really paying as much attention as he usually would be because he's really tired. So he's surprised when your arm gets tossed over his pauldrons. Your arm crooks, and you dragged his frame close against your own. Bumblebee cycles his optics when you press close to kiss his cheek. "Good job." Bumblebee's optics brighten, and his plating fluffs under your affections. The ache is less obvious under the attention of your warm em field.

Bumblebee laughs, a smile making its way onto his face. "Aw, shucks-" Bumblebee readily leans against your own frame. He didn't know what he'd do without you sometimes.

-

Red Alert's processor is finally re-calibrated to account for his own heightened sensors and his own glitch. Ratchet and Hoist both granted him clearance to leave. On the condition, he is off duty for the next two cycles to rest and recover. The thought only makes Red Alert panic, because what were they supposed to do in the meantime while he was gone!? No one would be taking the necessary security measures like he would, and they could very well be infiltrated! All because he let himself be tricked by Starscream of all bots!

He's marching through the hallway towards his habsuite, trying to think of something to combat the coming major security risk. And a bot comes around the corner and Red Alert jerks so he doesn't crash into them- he almost barks out they state their Autobot ID but realizes it's you when you advance further and- your derma presses soft onto the side of his faceplate and you pull back. "Good job." Red Alerts sensors fizzle, and when he comprehends what you'd said, he asks for clarification. You just cycle your optics as if he's the unreasonable one here. "For doing the right thing at the end."

Red Alert's glitch fizzles into a dull hum when the affection starts burning in his frame. "You- I-" He suddenly can't find what to say but you just smile and offer a servo out to him. He takes it, and you start leading him on the path towards your own habsuite. Maybe he could just send a few dozen debriefs while he was forced to rest...

-

Soundwave was not an easy mech to wear down. But right now, he was practically just his struts at this point. The giant flying ship Megatron had them built was rerouted to directly on top of the nemesis... as it was crashing. Sealing the breaches themselves was their own task and a half. The ship only had so many fail safes for armor breaches. The other was even rounding up the Decepticons to hurry and save their base from becoming utterly and completely flooded. Soundwave had gotten into arguments with others, been threatened, and had to pull leagues of saved blackmail. But the nemesis was not in mortal danger anymore.

Soundwave tapped out the next orders he was sending out via his datapad. A frame made its way towards him out of the edge of his visors compression. Lazerbeak, who was on his paldron, did not react in any way, so he'd assumed he would be fine continuing to focus on his work. So when two servos grasp the sides of his helm, Soundwave freezes and preemptively resigns himself to probably being thrown across the room. Only he's tugged and- derma press against the side of his mask, and Soundwave realizes it's you when your em field touches him. "Good job." You murmur, and Soundwave's plating flattens back out.

Soundwave can't stop the hum of a sound in his vocalizor when his chassis warms with tenderness. Lazerbeak jumped from one of his pauldrons to his other and leaned over for a kiss, too. You obliged, and Lazerbeak hums a sound much like Soundwave's own. Soundwave could give himself a much needed break after this joor. He deserved it after all...

-

Thundercracker was going to put a dent or two into Starscream if he sees him any time soon! Couldn't keep Thundercracker out of his schemes for two klicks! Then Skyfire shows back up alive, and Starscream decides to act even more reckless than usual. Even after Thundercracker told him to keep him out of his slag! But no! He had to try and make Thundercracker screw up guarding the artifact and almost get them both slagged by the Autobots at the same time! Thundercrackers marching his way to the flight deck because he needed to go for a fly before his weapon system engaged the next time he got even slightly angrier.

Thundercracker almost runs into a bot on a hallway corner, and his wings slant even further, promising violence, and he bares his denta. Only his wings re correct, and his optics widen when he realizes it's you. Before he can mutter out anything, you step even closer and grab his face. Thundercracker lets you lead his frame, and you plant a kiss right on the side of his cheek. "Good job." You tell him and pull away, your em field smoothing the puffed plating down on his front.

Thundercracker's system disengages with its attempt to start up his battle measures. His plating slacks all at once, and his pauldrons drop and loosen along with the rest of his frame. And Thundercrackers suddenly very tired instead of raging so hard it felt like his spark was about to burst. Thundercracker sighs, and you just grab his servo and start leading him back towards his habsuite. Primus, Thundercracker needed to lie down, maybe with his helm in your lap...

-

Starscream huffed, the sound coming out like the plating being scraped right off a bot. Oh, go get the footage reel, Strascream! We won't tell you there's more than one reel till you get back! How the frag was Strascream supposed to know anything about there being a backup!? He had to push his next assassination attempt up a bit further as a "thank you" for Megatrons' kindness in only ripping his entire vocalizor and half his throat right out of him.

New movement made him sneer in the general direction of whoever It was who just entered the med bay. The touch of a familiar em field made his plating slack back down slightly. You made it to his side, and Strascream didn't bother looking your way, too busy scheming (and not wanting to see whatever expression was on your faceplate). Your servos tilted his face gently to the side, and your derma pressed against his cheek. "Good job." You muttered while your other servo moved by his wing and traced the edge of it. Starscream's plating fluffs then flattens even further than before. A very minute sliver of his rage shimmers out to make room for some sliver of fondness.

He then huffs again the sound just as splitting as before from his broken parts. Starscream looks away from your optics quickly to scowl at the wall instead. He wants to rant and rave to you, but he'll have to settle for seething silently by your side for now...

-

Megatron sits down on his chair with a heavy sound, with his servo coming up to pinch the edge of his olfactory right between his optics. The battle and mistakes of the day that nearly lead to you all blowing up alongside this sparkdamn rock. A quick biting of glossia, temporary alliance, and panicking, and you all were no longer going to die in a plant wide explosion. He should have accounted for Devastators pension for- stupidity. Apparently they'd shorted his logic center in the fight for control of him, but he should have seen that coming regardless. But instead, that careless mistake smashed right through the escape plans and almost killed everyone. The door opening doesn't make him glance because whoever It was should know better to come in uninvited without a sparkdamn good reason for it.

Your em field drags along his back when you get closer, and his plating rattles a touch when he huffs in realization. You're on his side, and your servos drag his faceplate towards you. Your derma presses soft against the side right where his helm ends and meets his cheek. "Good job," you say and Megatron levels you with a look that he knows says more than just his displeasure. You aren't intimidated by it, continuing on regardless. "Don't pout at me. You still sent a lot of energon back to Cybertron."

He- supposed you had a point. It did end up a disaster and nearly a deadly disaster. But a large amount of energon was still acquired and sent off to Cybertron before it had gone badly. Which means more time before anyone on Cybertron would starve. Megatron's expression loosens a touch before he grabs you by your waist to drag you into sitting on his lap. (He still does this on the off chance you are larger than him). Megatron had more plans to make, and he can make them with your em field brushing along him.

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x DP #50: Accidentally Kidnapping a (ex) Crime Lord

(I've seen that reverse trope list, so I just had to do it. I might do more in the future. But for now, here's accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss in dc x dp format) Jason awoke with a low groan, slowly lifting his head as his eyes blinked to take in his location.

It had happened so quick. So quick that he couldn't even blink.

There was word going around Crime Alley of a new stray making their way around. Which wasn't new given that it's Crime Alley and Gotham altogether, but there was definitely something wrong with the kid.

Apparently everyone who met him got some odd vibe. Like there was something wrong with him. Many said that he was a meta on the run, but there were others that didn't believe that.

And when Jason found out he was in Crime Alley, it was like something cold walked through him. Like someone was walking over his grave. Figuratively and literally. Something bigger than him was in his territory. Something dangerous. And every bit of him said that it was the new kid.

So Jason set out to look for him. He wasn't going to let the others find out about this, not when it was on his turg. And perhaps if he could figure out what he was, perhaps ask why he calmed the pits in such a way.

He looked into the kid, a Daniel "Danny" Nightingale from the looks of it, and that he was only sixteen. No talk about any parents, but there was word of an older sister, Jasmine Nightingale, that was going to Gotham University to study psychology. But other than that? Nothing. Zilch. As if the two appeared out of nowhere. LIke ghosts.

So, Jason took to tracking him physically. Trying to figure out where he went and if he met with anyone in particular that might raise suspicion. Whether it be some other thugs or a some gang of some sort. But he had no such luck. Not because he wasn't meeting anyone, it was he always lost him. Every corner he turned, he was always gone when Jason walked around to follow him. It was like the kid was a ghost. Did he know that he was being followed?

It was late one night when Jason caught sight of Danny on his own, walking down the street with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Thinking that he was either going to meet someone or head home, he decided to trail him and see if he could finally fill another piece of this puzzle that was Nightingale.

Jason was right on his heels as he turned the corner leading to another street, ready to confront him. But once again, Nightingale was gone.

And before he could even curse or question as to where he could've gone so quickly, a heavy thunk was heard as something heavy hit the back of Jason's head. The last thing he saw before losing unconsciousness was a pair of worn sneakers as as the attacker approached him.

Which lead him to here: tied up in a worn down apartment. Nightingale standing across from him in what he supposed was a threatening manner. A baseball bat with a faded glowing green sticker on its base. Jason could make out the word 'Fenton' on it and made sure to look up that name later once he was out of this mess. But for now, he had to deal with NIghtingale.

Jason turned his attention to him, but with his helmet on he doubted Nightingale could tell whether his gaze shifted to his chosen weapon or not. But the slightest movement was enough to tell Nightingale that Jason was indeed awake from his unconscious state.

But before Jason could speak or make any comment about the situation, Nightingale beat him to it.

"What do you want with me?" He asked bluntly. It was one question that Jason wasn't expecting, so he stared at Nightingale confused.

"What?" Came the robotic reply of his voice filter. Apparently that wasn't the right answer as Nightingale let out a frustrated huff and waved his bat towards him.

"What do you want with me? You've been following me for some time and it's getting annoying? What are you? A thug? A goon? Or are you another rogue trying to make it big. Gotta say; not a good start just by stalking someone if you were."

His words had shocked Jason to his core for various reasons. One: he didn't know who Jason was. Two: apparently he was skilled in knowing when he was followed and Jason couldn't tell. And three: HE DIDN'T KNOW WHO JASON WAS!

Jason let out a dry laugh as he realized that he was serious about his questions. Nightingale has been here for months at least. So how did he not know about the notorious Red Hood? His reputation usually brought fear to those. It was strange for someone in Gotham not to know about him.

"Do you seriously not know who I am?" Jason asked, his eyebrow raised in a question even though his hood covered it, he was sure that Nightingale understood his confusion. His blue eyes shining in confusion as he tilted his head.

"No? Are you a rogue already? Ancients, they keep popping up every week." He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. And while Jason could agree to the sentiment, he needed to get to the bottom of Nightingale and what he was doing here. And whether or not he was a threat to Gotham, or at least Crime Alley.

"I wouldn't call myself a rogue. Not anymore at least. The name's Red Hood, kid." Jason answered gruffly, eyes still focused on Nightingale as he waited for his reaction.

Nightingale titled his head at the name. Recognition flashing his eyes as he heard it.

"Red Hood? But isn't that guy that runs crime alley? Why would that-"

His eyes widened in dawning horror, his already pale skin seeming to get paler as he came to a realization as he stared at Jason. More specifically, his hood.

Jason expected some panic. That perhaps Nightingale might even try to knock him out again or hightail it out of his apartment. But instead he just continued to stare at Jason in ever growing horror as he whispered,

"Oh Ancients, I just kidnapped a crime lord." Now, there was a lot that Jason wanted to unpack from this interaction, but for some reason the first thing that came out his mouth was-

"It's ex crime lord."

[timetravellingkitty]

tags by @tiredguyswag (also please don't harass op that's not gonna get you anywhere)

Doesn't matter if you are a right wined or left winged individual, everyone should watch this documentary atleast once. Leave your biases behind for 1.5 hrs and listen to what this guy has to say.

Absolutely amazing work with proper citations and all

You hate brahmins? watch this! Love brahmins and think they did nothing wrong? watch this!

Hate Manusmriti and wanna burn the shit out of it? watch the video

Think that caste discrimination was started by British/Mughals? Watch the damn video

Believe in Aryan invasion theory? Think the north Indians started the north-south divide or wanna know how the term Dravidians came to life? Watch the fucking video

i'll even tag some blogs so this can reach a wider audience

@drowning-in-ichor @rhysaka @mrityuloknative @mizutaama @magic-coffee

[flowerofenigmas]

Maskless Mark x black male reader

An: Not a lot of black reader fics for Invincible, especially not male ones, so I thought I'd do it myself. The next post will most likely be either an Invincible X Tamaranean reader or a self-indulgent Genshin Self insert post. Or the secret THIRD option: an invincible self-insert post.

CW for major character death (reader), angst, and mild gore.

"Where's Mark, Y/N? You were supposed to drop him off an hour ago."

It was a simple question, one you could've answered easily. Amber and Mark had a bit of a falling out, you two talked for a bit after, and then he went to see Eve. An easy sequence of events to relay.

But the real question was if you wanted to.

You had never seen Omni-man so pissed, especially towards Mark. If you told him where Mark went, would he be safe afterward? You could do that to someone.

Especially not someone you love.

Omni-man's finger gripped the side of your car door, threatening to dent it. "Answer the question, Y/N. Where is Mark?" The words came more impatient and stern than the last, with the 'hero' leaning closer to you and maintaining firm eye contact. Your heart was beating so hard you swore it would just leap out. It raced faster when you noticed the blood on his fingers.

Even still, you couldn't betray Mark.

"He and Amber had a bit of a falling out...?" You murmured, voice small as you gently tugged on a loc. "And uh- he went to the mall to cool off and, um..."

Thunk.

There was now a hand shaped indent in the roof of your car. Omni-man knew you were lying, and his patience with you was near gone.

"One last chance, Y/N. Where. Is. Mark?"

You panicked.

Without a second thought, you slammed your foot down against the pedal and sped off. The roof of your car was now beyond repair and the side was now heavily scratched. You didn't care, though.

You didn't get far.

You were violently dragged out of your car, one side now cut from glass and metal and your neck held in a tight grip.

You were given a chance.

And you wasted it.

But at least it was on love.

The last thing you saw was Omni-man's fist pulling back to punch you.

Crunch.

The scene Mark had returned to was gruesome, to say the least.

Not much in the traditional sense, as it was one person, but to him, it was.

One person lay dead on the street, neck nearly twisted off and face caved in beyond recognition, but Mark knew who it was.

Brown skin. Long black locs. A Seance Dog hoodie that once belonged to him.

It was you.

"I know how much he meant to you, Mark, but you have to understand that our mission is much more important than the life of one person."

Mark didn't look back to his father; he didn't even acknowledge him. Right now, he was focused on you. The life you could've had. The gifts he had wanted to give you. Your plans to go 'hang out' later. He could've had everything with you, but it was taken from him.

You were dead, gone, and yet still he raised a hand to reach out to you.

Omni-man flew closer to Mark, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He was holding you back, son. With him around, you would've never helped me conquer Earth. He needed to go. If you're so distraught, then you can get another pet later. Right now, you need to-"

"You're right, Dad. I wouldn't have ever conquered Earth for Viltrum with him around." Mark interrupted as he finally stopped reaching out. "But after what you did? I don't want you here."

Mark finally turned back to face his father, eyes hollow and numb. "I can see the future, and you don't live to see tomorrow."

It was quiet.

He was finally quiet.

He was heartless, so Mark made sure that he fit that descriptor.

A giant hole in the chest of his 'father.'

He'd never have to listen to him again.

His mother had been killed not that long ago by his 'father.' His friend- no, not friend, you were more than that to him. His everything was killed by him, too. And now his 'father' was dead, leaving poor Mark alone.

He had gotten revenge. Revenge for his mother, revenge for you. But he didn't feel any better.

You were gone.

And he didn't feel any better.

Just empty.

Empty and angry.

Why did everyone else get to live so carefree while you had to die? It wasn't fair.

He'd make it fair.

Tell me if anything is off with the tags or if there are any spelling mistakes.

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg//

summary- with your marriage in shambles, you find yourself at your wits end when Mingyu's infidelity comes to light. heated discussions ensue.

pt 2. pt3.hv pt3.sv

Mingyu never thought he'd end up here. As tears brim over your cheeks, hurt evident in your eyes, he feels his world collapse.

Sure, he'd only married you because his father arranged it, but as your relationship comes up on its first year, he's developed certain feelings towards you. Feelings you can never know of. Feelings he thought you'd never return.

Your marriage has never been a point of envy for those around you. It's common knowledge that you and Mingyu hate each other's guts. You've made your peace with this- or at least you thought you did, until this morning, when your breakfast was interrupted by an unexpected voice message.

'hi, it's me- um I think you left your tie at my place last night... d'you wanna come get it? I've uh, I've bought that set you told me to get last week. call me back, kay? see ya'

The words ring clear as day in your head, even now, as you sob into your palms, hunched over in bed.

Filled with dread, you waited for your husband to leave the house, heading to work. You knew he would've heard the message- her message- sometime during the day, and so, you waited.

Waited for the call-

"I'll be home late today- there's an issue that came up last minute. don't wait up."

There. That same excuse you've heard night after night, for months on end. Your heart breaks when you realise that Mingyu's probably gone to see her everytime he had to 'stay late at the office'.

Although you knew going into this marriage that there would be no love, no romance, you couldn't help but hope. Hope that one day your husband would wake up and realise that he's been in love with you all along. Hope that one day the fighting and screaming would cease. Hope that one day he'd look at you like you matter to him.

Hearing the practiced ease with which Mingyu lied to you, you felt your last straw snap. No love, you could deal with. No intimacy, you could self satisfy. But no respect? Taking you for a fool, playing around behind your back, lying? You've reached a new low.

What's worse is, despite knowing that he's in the wrong here, you can't help but wonder what she has that you don't. What can you do to make him love you? How can you make him want you?

Mingyu's neglect has done permanent damage to your self esteem, and now you find yourself caught in an endless loop of obsession.

Evening rolls around and you're alone, in your big apartment, surrounded by cold, white furniture. Your house is spotless. It's clean and neat and unfamiliar. You can't call this place home. Not when nobody really lives in it.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as your mind fills with thoughts of your husband's infidelity. He's smiled at her, undressed her, touched her. Fuck, he probably looks at her and sees the ghost of what could've been.

No, you tell yourself. You cannot possibly be crying over a man who doesn't care about you. Where is the self respecting woman you once knew? The one that would stand up tall, make her presence felt.

Hours pass by like this, and the house grows dark. You haven't moved from your position in bed- scrunched up, hugging your knees close. You haven't eaten all day. You haven't thought of anything but Mingyu's betrayal.

There's a sharp jangle of keys sticking into the door, and you know he's here. You can't bring yourself to move, can't be bothered to greet him like you usually do.

His bag lands on the couch outside with a dull thunk, and he makes his way to the bedroom.

You should move- pretend to be asleep so he doesn't try to say anything, turn to the side so he doesn't notice your pain- but you don't. You can't, rather.

Mingyu walks in, head hanging low. He notices your frame, hunched up on the mattress, and his shoulders tense.

"you're up" he says to you, as if to confirm.

You stay silent.

"y/n?"

More silence.

Flicking the lights on now, Mingyu takes a step towards the bed, now noticing the red hot flush of tears streaming down your face.

"hey what's-" he draws closer, arm reaching out to thumb away your tears, "you're crying,"

So you did end up crying.

All the mental pep talks you gave yourself about self respect and how he doesn't deserve your tears, clearly didn't do much.

You lift a hand to your cheeks, feeling the wetness of your tears.

"oh", is all you can manage, wondering when you started crying, sitting dumbly as if under some sort of spell. Your eyes, unfocused, stare blankly at the wall in front of you, and your lips begin to quiver.

"what's wrong? oh my g- please don't cry" Mingyu panics, reaching out to grab your face, but your words have him freeze.

"don't. don't touch me."

Your voice is a whisper, trembling like a leaf, but it carries a dangerous certainty.

He backs away instantly- "is everything oka-"

This time you turn to the side, facing him properly, and something within him just knows that you know.

"oh." he breathes, eyes flashing with guilt.

"when were you going to tell me?"

When he fails to respond, you push further, voice laced with a dangerous mix of hurt and rage.

"how long have you been seeing her for? goddammit Mingyu I know you don't love me- I know you aren't happy but god how could you do this to me? to us? you have to remember, I'm just a woman at the end of the day. I'm only human- fuck" you break off into a sob, letting your words, your emotions free. It was reckless- being so raw- but there's nothing to lose anymore...

You've already lost what little you thought you had.

Your watery, blank eyes tremble upwards to meet his, and you see his face contort with an unrecognizable kind of pain. You've never seen him like this before.

"whatever you wanted, whatever you needed- you could've taken it from me, I'm your wife Mingyu. god, I feel so fucking stupid waiting for you all this while to just love me- and you've been crawling into someone else's sheets? Do I disgust you so much that you won't even touch me to satisfy yourself? Do you hate me so mu-"

"don't you dare." Mingyu interrupts, jaw tensing, "you can call me a liar, a cheat, an asshole I don't care but don't you dare try and tell me how I feel- not when you don't fucking know anything."

Your brows pinch together, an insurmountable rage boiling inside you, and you rise to your feet, standing as you face your husband.

"oh, I, don't know anything? What about you then, Mingyu? What do you know that I don't? I'm telling you how I feel 'cause I fucking see it. I see the way you look at me with that unamused, tired look in your eyes, I see how you don't talk to me, I see how you leave your stupid fucking ties at some girl's house 'cause you'd rather fuck her than touch m-"

You can't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Somehow, saying what you already know, makes if feeler so much more real. You can't bear the thought of him not loving you, not wanting you.

"you think this is what I wanted? you think I wanted to look for someone else instead of touching you? fuck y/n after all the screaming and fighting, you think I didn't wanna reach out and hold you? everyday when I get home you think I don't wan- fuck do you really think I don't wanna talk to you and hear your voice and feel you?"

You shake your head, slightly afraid of how Mingyu's eyes have darkened, taking on a crazed hue.

"my arms would never have comforted you, y/n. You thought me a stranger. How could I touch you, knowing damn well you don't want me like I want you?" He stops, chest heaving with bottled emotions, and his words ring in your head.

'you don't want me like I want you'

Trembling hands ball into fists, punching his chest as tears stream down your face. How dare he? How dare he assume that you didn't want him- that you didn't love him?

"you fucking idiot" you sob, fat tears rolling down your cheek.

There's a short pause as Mingyu derives meaning from your words, and his eyes widen.

"y-you mean to say that you lo-" he chokes back a shudder when your hands grip at the fabric of his shirt in wordless confirmation. A hand wraps around your fist, pulling you closer, and your eyes widen.

"what are you doing-"

"what I should've done a long time ago."

A swift tug has you stumbling forward, right into him, and your lips meet. Mingyu's free hand splays against your lower back, dragging you nearer- as close as physically possible- while he devours you like a prisoner on death row receiving his last meal.

It's a messy, desperate kiss, but the sparks it sends flying over your body has your knees growing weaker and weaker. His lips cradle yours, sucking, tugging, pushing, as he holds you like there's no tomorrow. Tears prick your eyes once more, but this time it's different.

Now you can feel his emotions, feel his love.

The longing, the yearning he's felt all this while, comes pouring out into the points where your bodies connect. His touch sends fire burning all over you, chasing away your despair and replacing it instead with red-hot desire.

Mingyu's tongue pushes into you, licking at the seam of your mouth, circling your tongue as he discovers you in a way he never has before. You can't help but whimper at his actions, and you find yourself getting lost in him. No sound- other than your heartbeat, thudding in your ears- is audible to you. Nothing. It's as though you're underwater, and your hearing is muffled- except this time, it's him you're drowning in.

Aching lungs remind you that air is a necessity, and you both pull away, a string of saliva connecting your crimson lips to his. The rapid rise and fall of your chest tells Mingyu to give you time, but his body doesn't listen.

The taste of you is addictive.

He pulls you in once again, ignoring the helpless gasp you let out in response. Trailing up your back, Mingyu tangles his hand into your hair, letting his palm cradle the nape of your neck. The plush surface of his lips feel sinful against yours- leaving you in desperate need of more. His tongue swipes at the seam of your mouth and you let him in, giving him access once again.

The hand holding your wrist crawls up to your palm, interlacing his fingers with yours, and squeezing tight, as if to reassure you, as if to say- 'I'm right here, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere'

"Mingyu," you breathe against his lips, "do you reall-"

You feel his lips quirk up into a smile, letting his canines show ever so slightly, and he moves down to your neck, right below your ear.

Sucking harsh, wet love bites into the sensitive skin, he whispers-

"I love you more than words could even begin to describe"

His breath ghosts over your ear, spreading goosebumps all around your body and you shudder at the sudden stimulation. Pulling back, you look him in the eye, lust and love brewing in your own.

"so show me"

It's as though you've awoken something within him- something he's been trying to tame, to control. There's a fire burning in his eyes, dancing with danger, with desire. Without warning, Mingyu pushes into you, closing the space between your bodies, and you let out a pitiful whimper.

"will you let me?" he takes in a sharp breath, feeling your body against his.

You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and nod. Mingyu taps at your thighs, and you jump right away, trusting him blindly to catch you.

"good girl-" he rasps as his hand travels down to squeeze the curve of your ass.

Mingyu sucks bruises into your skin- neck, chest, jaw- wherever he can, and you let him, not caring about who sees them. You tip your head down to do the same, but something stops you.

A bruise.

He tugs you back, searching your eyes.

"what's wrong?"

"she's kissed you here"

He sighs.

"we don't have to do this- I've j-"

"no! no I want to- I want this god I want this I just- can I do something first?"

He nods.

"anything you want, my love"

Mingyu places you back down and lets you push him onto the bed, laying him down on his back as you crawl on top of him. Stradling his waist, you begin to unbutton his shirt, letting the crisp white fabric fall slack against your fingers.

"you're mine now, you got that?"

"all yours baby, only yours" he breathes as you part his shirt.

Your eyes skim over the hickeys painted over his chest and your heart twists painfully in your chest. Unshed tears sting at your eyes, and immediately Mingyu sits up against the headboard, holding your face.

"I'm so sorry- I- fuck we shouldn't-"

"no."

"baby..."

"no- I want these-" you motion to the bruises on his chest, "I want these off of you"

Mingyu nods silently, leaning back against the headboard, and you continue your actions. Lowering your face to his throat, you find a red-ish splotch, and attach your lips to it, sucking into the tender skin so hard it breaks, leaving a purple bruise behind.

He winces as you move to the next one, sucking harder and harder each time, desperately trying to erase the past. Observing this, Mingyu's face softens. A gentle, guilty smile stretches past his lips and he brings a hand to pat the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair to pull you closer- flush against his bare chest.

A yelp escapes you as you lose your balance, falling forward into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you still as he says-

"I'm yours," He squeezes around you, nuzzling into your neck, "I can't change the past, and I'm sorry for everything I've done- sorry for hurting you the way I did"

You can feel how rapidly his heart thuds against his chest, beating on the door of his ribcage as if it wants to be let out, as if it wants to jump out of his chest, into your hands.

"it hurts," you sniffle, "it really hurts"

His fingers rub soothing circles into your skin, trying to melt away your pain, feeling his own heart shatter into a million pieces. This is of his own doing, though. Only he is to blame.

"lemme make you feel good, hm? let me show you how much you really mean to me,"

You nod, letting him move you as he pleases, until you're under him, nestled comfortably between the pillows, with him hovering over you. The veins of his forearms tense deliciously as they hold his weight, and you feel your body grow hot.

Soft moans slip out of your mouth when he lowers his face into the crook of your neck, sucking red marks into you- gentle, yet firm. His lips suction your skin, teeth nipping at the chosen spot until your skin breaks, before letting his tongue soothe over the crimson bruise.

Like this, he carves a path down your neck to the collar of your shirt, stopping right at your cleavage.

"this okay, my love?" he stares up at you, one hand shifting to tickle the hem of your shirt

"mhm"

Gently, like you're made of glass, he undresses you, gasping when he realises that you're bare underneath.

Your skin catches him off-guard, and Mingyu finds himself transfixed. Like an anchorite discovering the face of God, he stares at you in wonder, in awe, finally feeling complete.

The intensity of his stare has you nervous, and you lift your arms to cover yourself.

"do-don't stare," you mumble, cheeks growing hot as his eyes burn holes into your skin.

"can't help myself- you're so beautiful,"

"Mingyu please," you whimper, feeling wetness pool between your legs, "I need you"

Feverish hands roam over you, and his head dips into the valley of your breasts, pressing soft, wet kisses to your skin. Mingyu closes in on your breast, letting his teeth nip gently at your hardened nipple, and you gasp, feeling your body light up at the motion.

He grins against you, repeating the action and you let out a trembling whimper.

"don't tease" you plead, threading your fingers through his hair, "need you so bad Gyu,"

"I could kiss you all my life and never get enough,"

Enough said. You tug him up, pushing your lips together once again in a messy kiss. Mingyu grinds into you, and you gasp at the prominent bulge poking out of his trousers. He uses this to his advantage, pushing his tongue into you, letting the wet muscle trace over the corners of your mouth as if to memorise every texture, every taste.

You chest flutters, and you whimper into his mouth, almost losing your composure when he begins to carve a path from your lips to your stomach, leaving gentle kisses down your collarbones, chest, tummy.

Stopping at the waistband of your shorts, Mingyu looks up at you, eyes practically begging that you allow him to undress you.

"please" you whisper, head tipping back into the pillows when his hands smooth down your sides, hooking under your shorts to pull them off. Keeping his eyes trained on yours, he tugs the fabric down, tantalisingly slow.

The sensuality, the intimacy of this act finally becomes known to you, when your eyes stay stitched together, as if connected by string.

Once you're left completely bare, at his mercy, he kneels.

At the foot of the bed, as if it is your alter, Mingyu kneels, letting your ankles rest on his broad shoulders. He presses tender kisses to your limbs; ankles, calves, thighs, making his way up to his very own pot of gold.

Liquid gold.

"baby you're dripping-" he groans, almost frustrated with how stunning you look, splayed out and wet, all for him.

His kisses inch closer and closer, moving from your thighs to the tender flesh right next to your sex.

You know what comes next.

"oh"

Your lips part, settling into an 'o' shape, when Mingyu licks a long, fat stripe up your slit, stopping at your clit to prod gentle circles with the tip of his tongue.

For a man who's hasn't as much as kissed you before, he sure knows how to work your body.

Perhaps you were just made for one another.

You feel the thick trickle of arousal seeping out of your hole, and Mingyu laps it up, letting his tongue dip into you slightly, curling up to cup every last drop.

"fuck you taste divine," he groans, voice low and gruff, "better than everything I've imagined-"

Your heart swells.

"you thought abou- f-fuck Mingyu right there"

He smirks against your cunt, humming a quick affirmation that sends a jolt up your spine.

"thought of you every night, wanted to hold you, feel you-"

You gasp, gulping thickly at his words, and your mind grows fuzzy, filled with cotton as you feel your body beginning to float away.

Mingyu brings his lips around your clit, suctioning the sensitive bud out of its hiding as his tongue laps at it. Your grip on his hair tightens, and your mouth hangs open- whimpers slipping out, beyond your control.

Without warning, Mingyu slips a finger into you, pushing his way in. Your back arches off the bed, and your hips snap up, but he holds you down, basking in the long drawn moan he manages to rip from your throat.

The stretch of your walls around his digit has you whimpering and writhing under him, and you can't help but wonder how big his cock is, how it would split you open for good if his fingers are already almost too much.

As if he read your thoughts, Mingyu winces at the way you suck him in.

"so fuckin' tight-" he gasps, jaw dropping in awe at how your tiny little cunt stretches to accomodate a single finger.

With the way Mingyu worked his tongue against you, and his finger into you, it's no wonder your orgasm begins to build. You feel your body tense, on the verge of release, limbs and stomach tightening as he works against you.

"please- don't sto- oh" you shudder when his tongue presses harder.

The great wave of pleasure rises, up and up, higher and higher, ready to come crashing down any moment now, when suddenly, he plunges a second finger into you, ripping your orgasm out of you with such force, your legs tremble as a string of moans and profanities leave your parted lips.

Mingyu scissors into you, fucking you through your orgasm, as your arousal drips down his fingers, down his wrist. Your legs shake uncontrollably as he pistons in and out of you, and you shudder.

"w-wait I'm still-"

"sensitive? mm I can tell" he smirks, lowering his face back to your cunt, tongue lapping at your juices eagerly.

He prods the muscle into you, bullying it's way beside his fingers to collect the remnants of your orgasm.

"fu-" you gasp, feeling your body convulse.

Cupping his tongue, Mingyu drags your wetness up your folds, spreading it over your clit before licking firm circles around the sensitive bud.

You moan, helplessly, and your body is ablaze, nerves standing on edge from the intensity of your previous orgasm.

As he continues his assault on your overstimulated sex, you feel another orgasm build at record speed.

Feeling you clench up around his fingers, Mingyu pushes harder, licking tighter circles into your clit, and you come undone within seconds- shocking both yourself and him.

"that's it, that's my good girl," he sighs, secretly in awe of how responsive you are to his touch.

He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whimper at the sudden loss.

"patience," he soothes, tongue trailing up his wrist to the tip of his finger, taking in your arousal.

Your breath hitches at his actions.

"you taste too fucking good to waste any of this"

Rising off the floor, he licks his lips, staring down at you with adoration painted plain as day on his handsome face.

His knee presses between your legs, and you feel the bed dip under his weight. Swift hands unbuckle his belt, undoing the clasp with one hand while the other works at his buttons.

Before you know it, Mingyu's pants are off, leaving him in plain black boxers and an opened shirt. He peels his top off, tossing it to the side, staring into your eyes.

"you can touch," he rasps, tugging you up to sit before his naked torso.

Your body listens before your brain can comprehend his words, and you let his hand pull your wrist up, placing your palm flush against his abs.

Your jaw drops.

He's rock solid. Years of hard work and dedication have defined the ridges of his muscles, and your mouth waters at the sight. You trace over each contour, each ridge, before turning your attention to his arms.

Those were another story altogether...

The thick, sturdy flesh of his biceps tense under your touch, rippling as your fingers pushing into them, testing how firm they really are.

answer: very.

Your nails rake down his arm, drawing over his veins, and he sucks in a sharp breath, feeling his cock grow painfully hard.

You notice, and tug his boxers off, gasping when you see his cock spring free.

It's huge. It's long and thick and veiny, flushed red at the tip with pent up energy. You bring your hand to stroke it as gently as possible, and he hisses, hips startling when you make contact with his dick

"baby," he pleads, using one hand to cup your jaw, tilting your head up to face him, "say it again"

You're confused for a moment before realisation hits.

He wanted you to say that you-

"I love you," you state, loud and clear.

His eyes darken, jaw tensing as he grits out, "again."

Mingyu pushes you down, laying you on your back, and you speak, voice meeker than before.

"I love you,"

He let's out a shaky breath.

"again"

"I love y-"your voice is a whisper now, cutting off into a stunned gasp when he pushes into you.

"oh my god," you tremble, your voice small and frail.

The girth of his cock is nothing like you've ever felt before- not with other men, not even with the toys you use. He eases himself into your tight cunt, going as slowly as his body let's him, and your eyes screw shut.

"uh uh, eyes on me,"

You look up at him, eyes wide as your brows scrunch up. Your jaw falls slack, and you can't stop your throat from opening up to release the filthiest sounds known to man.

"that's it, shh- takin' me so good," he shudders, eyes honed in on the way your face contorts in pleasure.

With each inch his pushes further, your thoughts disappear one by one, until all that's left is him.

"Mingyu" you choke out, nails clawing at his exposed back, "I love you"

Whatever seemed to have been holding him back snaps for good, and he bottoms out in one swift motion, earning a loud moan in response.

You feel your lungs burn as he pulls all the air out of you, feel how deep he is inside you.

Mingyu pulls out, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, before slamming back in, one hand on your hip, pulling your body closer, harder.

His head drops to the spot below your ear and he let's his teeth graze the delicate cartilage.

"I love you," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "I love you so much,"

Angling his hips, he pulls your thighs up over his back, and his cock burrows deeper inside you, hitting a spot no one ever has before.

"Mingy- oh my godd" you drawl, voice shaking as he thrusts into you with force enough to power a tiny village.

The sheer girth of his cock has your walls pressing into him, squeezing so tight you can feel each ridge and furrow of his veins.

"so fuckin' perfect- m-made just for me-" His voice is a whisper. He pants into your ear, groaning everytime you squeeze around him.

The solid, steady snap of his hips into you has your head spinning. His size has you losing your mind, and soon enough, you're thoughts are limited to him.

"Mingyu Mingyu Mingyu-" you sob, tears streaming down your face at how he abuses your cunt, how he makes you feel so fucking good.

"I know, pretty, I know," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the spot under your ear, before pulling himself up to look at you again.

The sight before him has his eyes widening. It's as if his world stops. Hair fluttering around your face, skin glistening with a thin film of sweat, lips red and parted as you moan his name through thick sobs and teary, glistening eyes- fuck, how could a person be this beautiful?

"I love you," he shudders, looking you in the eye as his hand trails down to fiddle with your clit, rubbing lazy circles into the flesh.

Your head falls back, tipping into the pillows, and you choke out a strangled- "I love y- m'all yours Mingyu"

Gaining newfound access to your throat, Mingyu kisses greedily at the exposed skin, groaning as your cunt clenches down around him.

Your sounds- nothing short of pure sin- echo around the room, bouncing off the walls. The air is heavy, steaming up with the heat emanating off of your bodies. After all this time, the wait is over. He's finally yours.

As your moans turn shrill, increasing in volume and pitch, Mingyu's own voice grows breathier, and you know you're both close.

On the verge of falling deep into the cool black embrace of pleasure, you clutch desperately at each other, rutting into one another as if there was no tomorrow.

His thrusts grow sloppy as your cunt clamps down on him, and you feel your orgasms rip out of you like a whirlwind. You claw at his back as your body shakes under him, releasing your third orgasm, and he groans deeply into, riding through his own high.

Hot spurts of cum dribble out of you, forming a frothy white ring around the base of his cock- still thrusting into you.

"f-fuck Ming- please," you blubber, tears staining your cheeks, "s'too much-"

His hips halt their reckless movement, and he pulls out of you, watching as your combined orgasms trickle out of your hole.

"too much?" he asks, bringing a hand up to stroke you cheek so lovingly your heart melts.

"mhm," You nuzzle into his palm, "but it was perfect."

For a moment he stares into your eyes, guilt panging in his chest at how you look at him with so much love, despite all that he's done.

"we'll talk over breakfast tomorrow, hm? let's just- let's just stay like this for now"

You nod, letting your eyes flutter closed, and he shuffles beside you, pulling your limp frame into his chest.

The haphazard thudding of his heart tells you how nervous he is, how he's afraid to lose you, and you smile.

"hey," he mumbles, sleep taking over.

You hum and it reverberate in his chest.

"I love you"

"I love you too, Gyu"

"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for how we started," he places a soft kiss to your forehead and you mumble something incomprehensible, already drifting off to sleep.

A fond smile takes over his lips, and he sighs.

You're the best thing to have happened to him.

[madelynraemunson]

NEED…MORE…EX-HUSBAND!EDDIE…I AM FERAL AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH PLEASE BLESS US MORE I’M BEGGING

IT’S ANGST O’CLOCK!!!

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠)

ex husband! eddie x fem!reader

“all that still matters is ‘love ever after’ — after the life we’ve been through” — life after you // daughtry

WC: ~950 words

3AM. The witching hour.

The air smells of twilight musk and marinating dew. It's pitch black all around you, the nearest gas station being an agonizing 1.3 miles away. You're also 10 miles from Hawkins, pulled over in nothing but platform heels, a black mini dress, and expired pepper spray in your purse. To make matters worse, the only friends up who seem to be up at this hour are hungry bears and obnoxious, chirping crickets. And skinwalkers if you're where you think you are.

A horrible ending to a girls night out. Just what you needed.

Alone and afraid, you decide to call the number one person on speed dial, whose gradual distaste towards you renders itself very evident from the moment he answers the phone.

"What?! I'm trying to sleep."

"Eds." you whimper into the phone. "I need you."

There's a long pause in response to your petrified sobs, followed by the clicking noise of a phone keyboard before you hear cursing and the frantic ruffling of sheets.

"I’ll be there."

"Well?"

You watch as Eddie crinkles his forehead in concentration, examining your car while his soot-tainted hands explore every crevice of your hood. Routine maintenance has never been as issue because you've always had a personal mechanic at your feet. But since the divorce, you've gotten pretty bad about it. Otherwise, the you and Eddie wouldn't be stuck in this situation. Obviously.

"Weeelp." Eddie sighs, stretching out every bit of the syllable. He slams the hood shut. "She's just about blown out. You're lucky that thing didn't overheat too much with you in it."

You've prided yourself in not needing a man to change your tires, wiper fluid, OR oil nowadays. But in the midst of your journey towards self love and independence, you somehow forgot that your car could also overheat.

"Oh..”

You try not to watch intently as Eddie cleans his hands off with his hanky, the one he keeps neatly tucked into the back pocket of his flattering dark, denim jeans. Your eyes then trail towards his leather jacket, which housed his broad shoulders and delicious waist so nicely, you would've thought it had been tailored just for him. And you could just about fall right into him when he angles his torso towards you, his sculpted jawline glistening in the moonlight — but nearly not as glistening as those gorgeous chocolate eyes, the ones he used to his advantage during your marriage to get you to forgive him for whatever mistake he seemed to make that week. Before you could fawn any further, Eddie snaps you back to reality.

"When was the last time you put some coolant in this thing?"

"Some what?"

"You keep Prestone at the house?" Eddie pesters. "Antifreeze? Peak?"

Cheeks reddening, you shake your head. "No.”

"You get this thing examined often?"

“Not unless you do it," is what you shamefully admit. “For the most part…”

Eddie's face scrunches out of frustration. He knew this would happen.

"God, I hate when you do shit like this," he snaps. "For all I know your engine light could've been on for weeks."

"But it wasn't." you mutter softly. You're already scared. This is the last thing you need.

"You know your car in particular needs to be serviced every half year?" Eddie mutters. "Oil changes, tire rotations. Your break pads have also seen better days. Which is concerning."

"Ok.”

"And how many times do I have to say you gotta pay attention to this fucking radiator?!" Eddie hisses, slapping at the hood again with his open palm. You shudder at the loud *THUNK* noise that echoes across the woods. "We wouldn't be out here in 3AM if you had just taken proactive measures.”

"Stop YELLING at me!" you whine, a piece of your inner child spewing outwards to combat Eddie's belligerent word vomit.

"I'm not yelling." Eddie firmly insists.

He turns his back to you and starts towards your car again.

"Yes, you are, you always do." you croak miserably, balling your fists up in frustration. “You always do Eddie, and I'm sick of it! You always want to be right, and you always kick me when I'm already down to-"

“Okay, okay, okay." Eddie hushes you. He runs a frantic hand through his hair. "Agh, fuck, okay — I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with guilty, glimmering eyes as you shift your body away from him. Guarded, tense. Closing up all access of you towards him because he lost those rights a long time ago. Muttering to himself now, Eddie scrapes at the pebbles beneath his feet, fiddling with the chain of his wallet before he dares to speak to you again.

"I just worry about you a lot."

You peer back over at him. "Deadass?"

He snorts. "Well yeah."

With your permission Eddie stalks closer to you.

"I don't want to wake up to a phone call talking about my wife's car bursting into flames — with her inside." He rolls his eyes. “All because she hasn't been maintaining her shit.”

"I have been," you fib just a bit, though most of it rings true. just forgot to iron out some little details."

Eddie relaxes his shoulders.

"I know," he surrenders. “I guess there's a part of me that secretly hopes you'll still need me somehow. Some way, or another."

"I'll always need your presence," you reassure him.

Your ex husband softens up. He always thought that during your separation you had found another Superman to save the day. Some other handsome devil to fix your car and maintain all the leaky faucets inside your once shared home. But as you've always insisted, nobody has your back like Eddie. Your very own George Reeves. At your disposal for you and you only.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, and as you predicted you ease right into him, the comfort and familiarity of Eddie melting away any ounce of hostility you guys have ever harbored against each other. You both have your days, but the love you two have for each other has always remained the same. Just changed form, is all.

"I'm glad you're okay," is all he says.

'I'm glad you're here," you sniff. "Always playing hero, per usual..."

"Well for you, always."

He plants a gentle kiss on top of your forehead as you two sway around in unison. You hum to showcase your endearment.

And he'd do it again.

———

🏷️ tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe 🫶🏼✨ thank you guys for reading :)

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths

[hexjulia]

Downloaded some books about the physics of acoustics and i hope truly understanding these isn't necessary to build things that sound the way i'd like them to because this is interesting but more than a little intimidating haha.

i want to make instruments so badly. Well i have but i mean something with a little more musical function. I have ideas but the types of wood that are suitable are expensive to just mess around with, i don't know enough about acoustics, i think i need to build more and better cabinets and little tables so i'm at least a little more sure of my skills with wood before i mess up how much string tension my terrible hybrid instrument would put on the nameless object's weakest point and it explodes the moment someone tries to play it

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 53 Chapter 53 | pomegranate promises⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

When you reached the inn, the door creaked open under your hand, spilling a wash of warm, familiar noise into the street—laughter, chairs scraping, the low clink of mugs.

You slipped inside, the heavy wood thunking shut behind you.

Lady lifted her head immediately from where she was sprawled near the hearth, her ears perking. Eben popped up from behind the front counter, nearly tripping over a stool in his eagerness.

"You're back!" he beamed. "Did you find anything cool? Did you see any monsters? Did you—"

You held up a hand, laughing under your breath. "One thing at a time," you said, setting the basket carefully on the nearest table.

Eben rushed over, already peeking inside, his eyes going wide when he spotted the little carved boat.

"For me?" he gasped.

You nudged it toward him. "Try not to crash it into anything expensive."

He snatched it up with both hands like it was the finest treasure he'd ever seen, spinning on his heel to show Lady, who thumped her tail once in approval.

You watched him for a moment—this wiry, stubborn boy with salt in his hair and a future he hadn't even dreamed of yet—before turning back to unpack the rest of the basket.

You pulled out the bolts of cloth first—deep red, rich blue, sunset gold. Eben let out a breathy "Whoa," his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but knew better than to grab without asking.

"For Asta," you said, holding up the scarf, letting it catch the firelight. "She'll hate it, but secretly love it."

Eben leaned in so close he nearly bumped his nose against the fabric. "It's so bright! She's gonna look like a flag," he giggled, already imagining it.

You grinned, shaking your head, tugging out a few more things—a polished stone for Kieran, a silver ring wrapped in copper wire for Callias, a braided bracelet for Lysandra that jingled faintly when you shook it.

Eben ooh'd and aah'd at each one, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet like a puppy who couldn't decide which treat he wanted first.

You were just draping Asta's scarf across your arms to admire the way the threads shimmered when—

BANG!

The front door slammed open so hard it hit the wall with a crack.

You and Eben both jumped a full foot into the air.

Lady leapt up with a ferocious bark, hackles rising, teeth bared toward the door like she was ready to kill first and ask questions never.

The entire bar went dead silent.

Chairs scraped. Cups froze halfway to mouths. Every head turned in perfect, synchronized horror toward the entrance.

And there, framed by the evening light like some kind of unhinged oracle, stood Thyessa.

She had one hand flung dramatically against the doorframe, curls flying wild, a grin stretched across her face so wide you could see it from across the room. She wore a different cloak now—stolen, probably—and clutched a half-empty bottle of something suspiciously golden.

And she sang.

"____~!" she wailed in a rich, off-key belt, swinging the bottle overhead like a torch. "Where is my little flower? I have come to WATER YOU WITH SIN!"

You slapped a hand over your face.

Eben gaped openly, mouth hanging so wide you could've tossed the boat right into it.

Lady barked again, a warning snarl that turned into a whine of sheer confusion.

Thyessa twirled in the doorway, nearly clipping a poor sailor trying to sneak out unnoticed, and kept singing—louder this time.

"I HAVE COIN! I HAVE WINE! I HAVE TERRIBLE DECISIONS TO SHAAAARE!"

You ducked instinctively, tugging Eben down with you like you were evading enemy fire.

"Don't move," you hissed under your breath. "Maybe she won't see us."

Before her spinning eyes could zero in on you, however—

From the back room, Nico appeared like a demon summoned by sheer annoyance.

He stomped out of the storage closet, wiping his hands on a rag, already muttering, "If that's who I think it is—"

Then he saw her.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

They locked eyes.

Thyessa froze mid-spin, bottle raised like a gladiator about to throw a spear.

"You," Nico said, voice dripping with loathing.

"Youuuuuu~" Thyessa crooned, delighted.

Nico pointed at her like he was aiming a crossbow. "You are fifteen weeks overdue on your last tab! You owe this establishment five hundred and sixty-two drachmas, three goblets, one busted lute string, and a goddamn dignity fee!"

Someone at a nearby table snorted into their mug.

Thyessa clutched her chest with mock offense. "I don't even HAVE dignity! You can't charge me for what the gods did not bestow!"

Nico looked like he might actually start foaming at the mouth.

"You," he growled, storming forward, "are banned!"

Thyessa danced backward out of reach, laughing, her bottle sloshing dangerously close to a group of very alarmed sailors.

You and Eben stayed crouched behind the table, watching it all unfold like a very bad, very drunk play.

Lady still hadn't decided whether to attack or play dead. She was crouched low, ears pinned flat, her whole body tense and trembling like a pulled bowstring.

Meanwhile, Nico was gaining ground.

You watched, half in horror, half in awe, as he ducked under a swinging bottle and lunged forward, one hand snapping out to grab Thyessa by the back of her cloak.

For a second—just one second—it looked like he had her.

You could see it in his face—the wild, victorious glint, the triumphant shout building in his chest.

And then—like a snake slipping through a crack—Thyessa twisted.

She planted both hands on a nearby table, kicked up into a messy, laughing handstand, flipped her legs over Nico's head, and landed—barefoot and grinning—on the other side.

The entire inn gasped.

A mug shattered somewhere near the bar.

Someone muttered, "By the gods," in a reverent whisper.

Nico stumbled after her, arms flailing like a man trying to grab smoke.

Thyessa just fanned him off with her free hand, like he was an annoying gnat buzzing near her wine. "Shoo, shoo," she sang sweetly, the bottle in her other hand swinging dangerously close to a poor sailor's ear. "I'm on important business~"

Nico sputtered something furious under his breath, but Thyessa ignored him, twirling a lazy circle in the middle of the room like she was performing for an invisible crowd.

"I'm looking," she called, voice lilting and syrupy, "for a very special someone."

Her eyes roved across the bar, sharp and glittering.

You froze where you crouched.

Eben stiffened too, clutching the carved boat like it could shield him.

"A little flower," Thyessa crooned, spinning once on her heel. "One that's growing thorns now—sharp, shiny, dangerous ones~"

Lady let out a low whine at your side, as if trying to warn you: It's too late.

"And I know," Thyessa sang, drawing the words out long and slow, "she's here somewhere..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze finally landed on you. She lit up instantly, eyes going wide, smile blooming into something wicked and delighted.

"There you are~" she purred.

Before you could even think about ducking back down, she was already moving.

Nico, who had finally caught up to her again, tried to block her path with both arms outstretched—but she just reached out and pushed his face aside with one hand, sending him stumbling sideways like a scolded dog.

She sashayed past him without missing a beat, her bottle swinging in lazy arcs at her side.

Straight toward you.

You scrambled to your feet, Eben doing the same, Lady barking once as Thyessa closed the distance like a ship catching full wind.

She leaned against your table with a heavy, exaggerated sigh—so close you could smell the wine on her breath—and draped herself across it like you were her long-lost savior.

"There you are, little flower," she whispered, voice all smoke and giddy triumph. "I've been searching everywhere."

You blinked up at her.

Lady growled low in her throat.

Thyessa only laughed, tilting her head at the hound like she found her more amusing than threatening.

Then she reached into her cloak.

Your body reacted before your mind caught up.

Your heart kicked into your ribs. Your hand shot toward the dagger at your hip, fingers curling around the hilt with instinct sharp and cold. If she so much as twitched wrong—if she pulled steel—you'd gut her right there in front of the whole inn.

You'd do it without thinking.

Without regret.

Because you weren't letting anyone, anyone, hurt Lady.

But Thyessa didn't pull a blade.

Instead, with a dramatic little flourish, she dragged out something wrapped in a rumpled piece of cloth—dark with grease spots, the edges damp and curling.

She unrolled it with a careless flick, and the heavy smell hit you immediately—salt, fat, roasted meat, and old smoke.

A lamb leg. Big, browned, still slick with juices soaking through the cloth.

Thyessa tossed it onto the floor at Lady's paws like she was offering tribute to a queen. "For the beast," she said grandly, wiping her hands on her hips. "Good girl. Protecting your little master so fiercely."

Lady stiffened.

Sniffed once.

Twice.

And then—

The betrayal happened.

Your companion—your loyal, growling, terrifying beast—let out a loud, gleeful bark, her whole body lighting up like a bonfire.

Her tail wagged so hard it slapped your shin. Her head tilted in that dopey, sweet way that made strangers fall in love with her. Her hackles smoothed instantly, like none of the past thirty seconds had ever happened.

Without a single glance back at you, she scooped up the lamb leg—grease staining the fur around her mouth—and trotted happily toward the stairs leading to your rooms.

You stared.

Mouth open.

Heart in pieces.

"Lady?!" you called after her, voice cracking with pure, raw betrayal.

She didn't even pause.

Just a happy thump-thump-thump of her tail against the wall as she disappeared up the steps, carrying her bribe like a prize.

You could only stand there, palm outstretched, the dagger still loose in your other hand, absolutely flabbergasted.

You couldn't believe it.

Lady.

Your fierce, brave, battle-tested companion.

Gone over a piece of meat.

Literally.

You were still standing there—arms limp at your sides, brain fried—when Thyessa turned her attention fully back to you.

Her smirk hadn't faded. If anything, it deepened, lazy and pleased, like she'd just won a bet no one else knew they were playing.

"You got a wild one," she said, jerking her chin toward where Lady had disappeared upstairs. "Takes after her owner, I bet."

She let that last word purr off her tongue a little too slow, a little too warm.

You opened your mouth to snap something back—anything—but before you could, you heard it.

A small, high-pitched squeak.

You blinked and glanced to the side.

Eben.

The poor boy stood frozen a few feet away, clutching the carved boat to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His whole face was beet red, his ears practically glowing, and his wide, round eyes were locked—no, glued—to Thyessa.

You heard the softest little breath escape him."Pretty," he whispered, just barely loud enough for the gods—and unfortunately, for Thyessa—to hear.

Thyessa's smile sharpened.

Without missing a beat, she leaned back slightly and sent the boy a slow, lazy wink.

Eben let out another mortified squeak—higher this time—hugged the boat tighter, and bolted like a spooked rabbit, dashing toward the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

You watched him go, biting back a laugh, then turned just in time to catch Thyessa shaking her head fondly. "Cute," she murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

Then her attention zeroed back in on you.

Predator smooth.

"You~" she purred, reaching across the table, "owe me a drink."

You blinked, still trying to recalibrate. "What? I—"

She leaned in closer, her hands moving like liquid.

One slid up and into your hair—messy from your earlier scuffle and definitely not helped by Hermes' handsy goodbye—smoothing it down slowly, gently, like she was petting you.

You stiffened... but you didn't move away.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing along the side of your face, her knuckles skimming your jaw in a touch so light it sent a shiver crawling down your spine.

"Had a blast the other night," she said, voice curling low between you. "You, me, good wine, good chaos..." Her thumb traced a slow, absentminded line across your cheekbone. "Feels like we ought to celebrate surviving it."

Your brain scrambled for something—anything—to say.

She smiled wider, sensing your hesitation.

"Oh, come on, little flower," she coaxed, voice syrupy and dangerous. "The barkeep said even better wine came into port this morning. Sweeter than yesterday's. Richer. Meant for royalty, he said."

Her fingers slipped from your jaw, leaving a warm ghost of touch behind.

"And you," she added with a wink, "deserve a royal drink after the day you've had."

You hesitated.

Some tiny, tired, stubborn voice inside you said you should probably be responsible. Sleep. Plan. Lay low after almost getting spirited into the clouds by Hermes.

But another part—an exhausted, humming part—whispered. Why not?

You were already here.

Already tangled in madness.

Maybe one drink wouldn't hurt.

Maybe you needed it.

Maybe, just maybe, you deserved it.

You let out a long breath through your nose, shoulders slumping in defeat. "...Fine," you muttered.

Thyessa beamed.

She reached down, grabbed your hand, and tugged you gently to your feet like you'd just agreed to run away together.

"That's my girl," she said, grin gleaming.

And before you knew it, she was pulling you toward the bar—trouble clinging to her heels like perfume—and gods help you...

You didn't even resist.

You let Thyessa tug you toward the door, her fingers warm around yours, the promise of wine and worse ideas hanging between you like smoke.

The two of you pushed out into the evening air—cool and soft, the edges of the sky starting to bruise purple with the first hints of sunset. The port buzzed quietly around you, the world starting to slow into nighttime.

You were halfway down the steps when you remembered.

You cursed under your breath, digging your heels into the stone.

"Hold on," you said, tugging your hand free.

Thyessa turned back, one brow lifting lazily.

"I forgot," you said, already backing up a few steps toward the door. "I've got to tell someone something. Two seconds."

She gave a dramatic sigh, flopping herself onto the nearest barrel like she was going to die from the inconvenience. "I'll time you, little flower," she teased, swinging her legs idly.

You shot her a look over your shoulder and slipped back inside the inn.

The warmth and noise hit you again, heavy and familiar.

You spotted Nico immediately—leaning against the bar, arms crossed, chewing something between his teeth like he was planning to chew out the entire world next.

Perfect.

You made a beeline for him.

He noticed you halfway across the room and straightened up, grinning wide like a cat catching sight of an unattended stew pot.

"You coming to beg me for a second round?" he called out, waggling his brows.

You didn't slow down.

You planted yourself in front of him, crossed your arms loosely, and said flatly, "Hermes said you're free."

Nico blinked.

You could practically see the gears struggling to turn behind his eyes.

"What," he said.

You tilted your head. "Free. From your 'servitude.' Congratulations."

He opened his mouth, eyebrows slamming down hard. "So—so wait, does that mean...—?"

"But if you want to stay on as Messenger's Assistant, with all the perks and wine and godly favor, you have to accept. Right now. No take-backs."

You started to turn away.

Immediately, Nico leaned after you, snapping his fingers like he was signing a contract only he could see. "I accept!" he blurted. "I accept, alright?"

You paused halfway to the door, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder. "Accept what?"

"The freedom!" he barked, flinging his hands up. "Obviously! Gods—I'm not stupid!"

You barely held back a snort. Poor man. You just gave a vague little shrug, careful to keep your face even.

Nico leaned forward, lowering his voice to a near-whisper. "Not that it's any great loss, mind you," he muttered. "Between you and me, having Hermes for a boss is like herding cats. Blind, drunk cats."

You hummed, noncommittal, hiding your sympathy deep. If only he knew there was no real 'freedom' to accept—that he'd just walked straight into another leash.

But you didn't say it.

Instead, you snorted quietly.

And then—almost kindly, almost lazily—you said. "Yeah... well. Hope you're good at it."

Something about the way you said it—too light, too easy—made his face falter for just a second.

Like maybe... just maybe... he'd missed something important.

Like maybe deep down, a part of him realized herding drunk cats wasn't just a bad job.

It was his job now.

Forever.

But you didn't stick around to watch it fully settle.

You turned on your heel and ducked through the door just as you heard the shout. "WAIT, WHAT—?!" Followed by the heavy slam of a stool crashing to the floor.

You could hear Nico's voice roaring through the open windows, stomping and cursing like someone had just set his hair on fire.

"REPARATIONS! I DEMAND REPARATIONS!"

The sound of cups clattering. Chairs scraping. A distant bark of someone laughing at his misery.

"I SPENT YEARS BEING PAID IN POMEGRANATE SEEDS! POMEGRANATE!!" Nico howled, the words ragged with betrayal. "HERMES SAID I COULD TRADE THEM FOR DRACHMAS LATER—'ONCE HE CAME AROUND'!"

Another crash. "HE NEVER CAME AROUND!!"

You snorted under your breath, biting down a grin that threatened to split your face in two.

Thyessa glanced up from her perch, grinning as she saw you. "Took you long enough," she teased, standing and dusting her hands off on her cloak. "What, did the barkeep propose?"

"Something like that," you muttered, shaking your head as the sound of Nico's furious shouting faded behind you.

You turned your back on the inn, on the chaos, on everything.

And let Thyessa lead you into the deepening twilight.

☆

☆

Somewhere along the way, the twilight melted into full night—and you found yourself back in the same smoky tavern where everything seemed to happen.

The place buzzed with life again: the clatter of mugs, the crackle of a roaring hearth, the low hum of songs half-remembered by drunken sailors.

You and Thyessa had snagged a booth tucked against the far wall, your backs to the rough timber, your drinks already stacking up dangerously fast.

And somehow—gods help you—Nico had joined.

The man slumped into the seat across from you both about an hour ago, looking like a kicked dog and already halfway into a cup of something strong enough to strip paint.

Apparently, losing one's opportunity as a "godly servant" in a lose-lose situation hit harder than expected.

You spent a good portion of the night there: swapping stories, arguing about who could beat who in a foot race—Thyessa swore she once outran a centaur; Nico called her a liar to her face—making stupid bets over which barmaid could carry the most mugs at once, and occasionally tossing peanuts at a wooden carving mounted crookedly over the fireplace—for the record, you were winning.

Now, on your third pint—definitely feeling it but not nearly as the other night—you wiped the back of your hand across your mouth and leaned heavily toward Nico.

He slumped lower in his chair, chin practically in his cup, looking like he was two minutes from either passing out or starting a full-blown tavern ballad about betrayal.

You squinted at him through the warm haze starting to blur the edges of your vision.

"Hey," you said, poking your finger against the sticky table to steady yourself. "Serious question."

Nico grunted without looking up. "If it's about whether I'd win in a knife fight against a seagull, the answer's no."

You snorted, shaking your head.

"No, idiot," you said, pushing your pint a few inches away so you wouldn't knock it over by accident. "Why're you even here? Shouldn't you be over at the inn's bar? It's like, right there."

You jabbed your thumb vaguely toward the direction of the inn, even though you were pretty sure you pointed at the ceiling instead.

Nico made a noise so loud and disgusted it rattled your teeth.

He lifted his head just enough to shoot you a look—one part betrayed, one part exhausted.

"The inn's bar is trash," he declared, slurring just a little as he waved his hand dramatically. "It's piss. Actual piss. I've watered flowers with thicker stuff."

You laughed, pressing your forehead against the cool wood of the table for a second, just breathing through it.

Across from you, Thyessa cackled, nearly spilling her drink down the front of her tunic.

"No, no," Nico went on, warming up now, slapping the table weakly for emphasis. "You don't understand. They water it down so much that once, I swear, I drank three full mugs and only got a headache. No buzz. No fun. Just betrayal. Betrayal in a cup."

You lifted your head slowly, still laughing under your breath, and gave him a solemn nod. "Tragic."

"The worst tragedy of our time," Nico agreed, stabbing his finger in the air like he was making a formal declaration. "Someone should write an epic about it. Nico and the Quest for Non-Watered Ale."

Thyessa howled with laughter so loud a few heads turned from nearby tables.

You couldn't help it—you cracked up too, your ribs aching with it, the night buzzing golden around the edges.

And gods help you—you were only three pints in.

Thyessa leaned her chin onto her hand, tilting her head at Nico like a curious cat catching a mouse mid-drama.

"So, Nico," she purred, tapping her fingers lazily against the table, "how exactly did you end up being Hermes' personal coffee runner, hmm?"

You snorted into your cup.

Nico froze.

For half a second, he looked like he might answer normally.

Then his whole face darkened like a storm cloud had dropped right on top of him.

He grumbled something under his breath—you caught the words "betrayal" and "unfair advantage"—before scraping his chair closer to the table and grabbing his empty mug with the grim focus of a man preparing for war.

"I'm gonna need a few more pints," he announced flatly.

And without another word, he threw back whatever sad drops were left in his cup, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic, and then—boldly, shamelessly—reached straight across the table and snatched your mug right out of your hands.

"Hey!" you yelped, but Nico was already tossing it back like a man drowning in sorrow, not even tasting it.

And that was how—twelve drinks later (on Nico's end, somehow just six more on yours, and gods only knew how many from Thyessa, who had mysteriously gained and lost several different mugs throughout the night)—you found yourself sitting there, deadpan, staring into your now empty cup.

Nico was sobbing into your shoulder.

Full-on, chest-shaking sobs.

About how Hermes "tricked him," and "stole his freedom."

Meanwhile, across the bar, Thyessa was gone—flirting her way into yet another free round of drinks, practically draped over the poor barkeep, laughing at something you were pretty sure wasn't actually that funny.

You sat there stiff as a statue, one hand awkwardly patting Nico's hair like he was a sad, wet dog, your mind somewhere far, far away.

Somewhere drier.

And quieter.

You sighed into your empty cup, already regretting every decision that led you here.

It wasn't until Nico practically glued himself onto you—half on your lap, an arm slung clumsily around your waist—that you realized how truly dire your situation was.

And somehow, somehow, the man was still drinking.

You stared down at him in disbelief.

It would've been almost comical if you weren't currently the victim. This tall, grown man—who could probably lift a barrel over his head on a normal day—was now slumped across you like a defeated cat, mug wobbling dangerously close to spilling onto your tunic.

He hiccupped pitifully, tears and wine practically pouring from every corner of him.

You tried to shove his arm off once.

It didn't budge.

Instead, he just tucked himself closer, muttering something about "cruel fate" and "lying gods" against your side.

The third time his wild flailing nearly sloshed wine into your lap—and the third time he jolted you with a dramatic sob—you snapped.

"Get yourself together!" you barked bluntly, jabbing a finger into his ribs.

Nico froze mid-wail.

For half a second, he just blinked up at you—red-eyed, sniffling, mouth hanging open like you'd just personally kicked over his sandcastle.

Then, with a loud, wounded noise, he dramatically threw himself off you—flopping sideways onto the bench next to you like some kind of abandoned tragic hero.

His arm draped over his eyes with a pitiful little groan.

You just stared at him.

Dead inside.

Gods.

You needed another drink.

Immediately.

You dragged your hands down your face and sighed—the kind of pitiful, heavy sound that felt like it belonged at the end of a funeral procession.

You shook your head once, defeated.

Then, because you had no better options left and you were already knee-deep in regret, you slumped sideways on your elbow and asked the question you really, really weren't sure you wanted the answer to.

"Alright," you muttered, voice flat, "spill it. How'd you even get roped into working for Hermes in the first place?"

Nico peeked out from under his arm, one bloodshot eye squinting at you like a wounded animal.

He sniffled once. Twice. Then dramatically dragged himself upright, hands flopping in front of him like dead fish.

"It's a tragic story," he announced grandly, thumping his mug against the table like he was about to deliver an epic.

You raised your brows.

He sniffed again, wiped his nose with his sleeve (gross), and launched into it.

"So there I was," he started, voice already wobbling. "At a festival. Mindin' my own business. Lookin' real good, by the way—best tunic I ever wore, hair slicked back, sandals tied right. A vision."

You hummed like you didn't believe a word of it.

"And across the courtyard," Nico said, waving a hand loosely, "I see her. The most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. Curves like a ship ready to set sail. Lips red as pomegranate seeds. Gods, she was art. She looked at me, and I knew—I knew—this was fate."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

Nico thumped his chest, eyes shining a little too much from the wine. "So I go over. I flirt. I charm. I tell her she's got the kind of beauty that could sink islands."

He leaned closer, voice dropping dramatically.

"And it worked. She smiled. At me. Not at the meathead next to me. Not at the prince's cousin sniffin' around. Me."

You nodded slowly, playing along.

"So what's the problem?" you asked. "Sounds like you won."

Nico's face twisted like he just bit into a lemon.

"The problem," he said darkly, "is that apparently, Hermes was flirting with her too."

You blinked.

Then snorted.

"You're telling me," you said, covering your mouth to hide your grin, "you accidentally stole a woman from a god?"

Nico slapped both hands down on the table. "I didn't even know she was his!"

You started laughing, full-on now.

Nico pushed on, undeterred. "One minute I'm chatting her up—next minute, Hermes shows up all shiny and smug, flexing like some half-naked rooster, and she just—" he threw his hands up, exasperated, "—she chooses me!"

He said it like it was the most baffling thing in the world.

You wiped tears from your eyes, breathless. "So what'd he do?" you managed to wheeze.

Nico scowled, rubbing his forehead like the memory physically hurt him.

"He smiled," he muttered. "Said it was fine. Said he'd 'let me have this one.' Then the next morning I woke up tied to a temple pillar with a new life contract nailed above my head."

You blinked. "Wait—seriously?"

Nico nodded grimly. "Signed by him and everything. Divine ink. Couldn't even burn it. Said I'd agreed, in my 'drunken joy.'"

You slapped a hand over your mouth, laughing so hard your sides hurt.

Nico slumped face-down onto the table with a groan.

"And worst part?" he mumbled into the wood. "She wasn't even mortal. She was a dryad passing through. Disappeared into a tree two days later."

You let your head drop onto your arms, shaking from how hard you were laughing.

Gods.

Only Nico could manage to out-flirt a god and somehow lose everything and the girl.

Still half-snorting, you reached blindly for the cup of water a barmaid had set down earlier.

"That's not even that bad," you said between hiccuping breaths, dragging the cup toward you. "Maybe he'll let you go after a few years."

You lifted the cup to your lips just as Nico groaned again, full of tragic misery.

"Yeah," he muttered bitterly, voice muffled by the wood, "and maybe pigs will sprout wings and carry me on their hairy backs."

You pulled the cup away from your mouth, giving him a half-hearted glare over the rim.

"Hey," you said, nudging his shoulder with your knuckles, "don't be that dark. You're what, twenty-seven? You couldn't have been stuck in this contract that long. What—five years? Six, maybe?"

Nico let out a small, pitiful wheeze, slumping even deeper into the table.

Then—still flopped sideways across the table like a dying fish—he lifted his hand and made a vague, lazy wave in the air.

"Yeah, about that," he mumbled.

You squinted at him. "What about it?" you asked slowly, suspicion already curling in your gut.

Nico groaned and flopped onto his back across the bench, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. "I'm not twenty-seven," he said flatly.

You blinked. "...What?"

He sighed—long, mournful, and dramatic, like a man confessing his greatest shame.. "Honestly? I stopped counting sometime after the third century."

You froze.

"Buuuttt," he added, lifting one finger like a footnote, "I do remember celebrating my three hundred and sixty-seventh. Big party. Fire-breathing goats. Very niche crowd."

Just like that.

Casual. Miserable.

You choked.

Literally choked.

The sip of water you'd just taken went down the wrong pipe, and you coughed so violently you nearly flung the cup across the room.

You doubled over the table, hacking, pounding your fist against your chest as Nico blinked up at you with glassy indifference.

The noise must've been loud, because half the tavern turned to stare.

Including Thyessa—who chose that exact moment to saunter back over, a tray of fresh drinks balanced in one hand.

She paused.

Eyed you choking.

Eyed Nico looking like a corpse in an alleyway.

Eyed the general chaos.

And just shook her head fondly.

"Gods," she said, setting the tray down with a clatter, "I leave you alone for five minutes."

You finally hacked the last of the water out of your lungs, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you croaked out, voice hoarse. "Three hundred and sixty-seven?!"

Nico just nodded miserably from where he was still half-sprawled on the bench.

You stared at him, mouth dry, brain short-circuiting.

Thyessa snorted as she slid into the booth in front of you, already reaching for a cup. "You're really pathetic, Nico. Did you know that?" she said cheerfully.

Then, because apparently you hated yourself, you croaked out, "How—how in Hades' name are you still under that contract? Didn't it have, like, a time limit? A set number of years you had to serve?"

Nico sniffled loudly and gave a half-hearted shrug, like even he thought it sounded pathetic. "Yeah," he muttered, voice thick, "it did... At first."

You squinted at him, confused. "So what happened?"

Nico dropped his forehead onto the table with a dull thunk. "I kept betting them away," he mumbled into the wood.

You blinked, sure you'd misheard. "You—what!?"

He groaned, dragging his arms over his head like a man burying himself alive. "Over the years, I... made bets with Hermes. Dumb bets. Stupid things. Drinking contests. Racing turtles. Seeing who could charm the most women in one festival night—" He waved a hand vaguely. "Trivial stuff."

You just gawked at him.

"And every time I lost," Nico said miserably, voice muffled, "he added the remaining years back on."

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"Wait," you said slowly, like your brain needed extra time to process the stupidity, "you—you bet your years of servitude?"

Nico nodded into the table.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting the urge to scream. "Gods above, Nico—"

"And..." he added pitifully, "one time... I bet my next chance at getting a straight path after death, too."

You stared. "What?" you whispered, already dreading the answer.

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to look you dead in the eye.

"Yeah," he said hollowly. "I bet my next shot at reincarnation."

You sat there, frozen in horror, as the pieces clicked together.

"What—wait—what?!" you sputtered, blinking hard. "When?! How—why would you even—"

Nico winced and gave the saddest shrug you'd ever seen. "May or may not've... wagered away my ability to die properly." He sniffed, muttering, "Was a dumb game of knucklebones. I thought I was winning."

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"So... if Hermes does decide to free you," you asked slowly, each word dragging like a rockslide, "and you die..."

Nico gave a small, pitiful laugh.

"I go straight back into another life," he said, eyes tired. "And all the years I sold off just start over again. Soul already stamped and tagged. Property of Hermes. No detours. No judgment. No peace."

You stared at him, completely deadpan.

Then dropped your head into your hands with a long, agonized groan.

"Gods," you muttered. "You are so stupid."

Nico just nodded miserably against the table.

And for once—you didn't even have the heart to argue. So you just sat there, wide-eyed, one hand clutching your chest like you were about to demand a recount from the gods themselves.

Gods.

You needed something stronger than water.

Badly.

But you didn't even get the chance to reach for your drink because suddenly—suddenly—Nico was on you again.

Sobbing.

Full-body, miserable sobbing.

Before you could dodge, he flung his arms around your head—your head—dragging you straight into his chest with alarming force. You let out a muffled yelp against his shirt as he rocked you back and forth like a grieving widow, one hand awkwardly patting and flattening your hair like you were some distraught child.

You tried to peel yourself free.

Failed.

Tried again.

Still failed.

"You don't understand!" Nico wailed dramatically into the tavern air. "I wanna dieeeee!"

He cradled your head tighter against his ribs for extra pity points, practically keening now.

"I can't even get laid!" he bawled.

The entire booth—and probably half the bar—definitely heard that.

Thyessa almost spat out her drink laughing.

You groaned into his chest, both hands now pushing at him in a desperate attempt to escape.

He just rocked harder, like that would help.

"Don't wanna be celibate 'til the end of time!" Nico howled, voice cracking halfway through.

At that, he actually started shaking you a little—like you were supposed to fix it by force of will alone.

You'd had enough.

You shoved him off with both hands, making him stumble back into his side of the booth with a squeak.

"Gods above, then go get laid!" you snapped, raking both hands through your poor, tussled hair. "I'm pretty sure I passed like, three brothels on the way here!"

Nico moaned—a long, pitiful sound—as he flopped sideways onto the bench again, arm draped dramatically over his eyes like a dying poet.

"I can't!" he whined, reaching blindly for one of the fresh drinks Thyessa had set down.

You stared at him, genuinely stunned. "Why the Hades not?" you demanded.

Nico let out a low groan, reaching for his new drink like it was the only thing anchoring him to this mortal coil. "One of the stipulations," he mumbled miserably, sloshing the wine as he lifted it. "Hermes' trickster bastard self said—and I quote—'You may not partake in pleasures of the flesh lest you wish to resemble it.'"

You blinked.

Hard.

"...What?" you said flatly.

Nico just threw his head back and guzzled half the cup.

"When I try," he went on, voice full of pure tragedy, "when I even try to get close to someone, like—" he clumsily held up two fingers so close they were practically touching, "—this close—"

He wobbled dramatically, almost smacking himself in the face.

"—I start transforming! Not into anything cool like a wolf or a bull or whatever gods usually pick," he groaned. "Nooo. Hermes cursed me to start rotting like a flesh puppet!" He jabbed at his own face wildly. "Skin starts sagging, eyes go bloodshot, my nose droops—droops!—like some cursed melon!"

You sat there, cup frozen halfway to your mouth, just staring.

"Every. Single. Time," Nico moaned, slumping down, banging his forehead against the edge of the table. "Every time, the poor woman screams bloody murder and thinks I've turned into a plague ghost!"

He dramatically slid further down the booth, eventually ending up sprawled on his back like a defeated lizard.

You just stared at him.

Then, you slowly—so slowly—rolled your eyes, and grabbed your drink, taking the longest, most resigned sip of your life.

Apparently, you were now the proud, unwilling owner of a drunk, immortal, touch-starved ex-innkeeper for the evening.

Great.

Fantastic.

Just what you needed.

You knocked back another swallow of wine and resigned yourself to being Nico's personal therapy sponge for the rest of the night.

But before you could even finish drinking, Thyessa reached across the table and grabbed Nico cleanly by the ear.

He yelped, flailing like a hooked fish as she dragged him upright by nothing but sheer spite and knuckles.

"Pull yourself together!" she barked, yanking him forward until his nose almost smashed into his own half-empty pint.

"You don't understand!" Nico howled, clutching at the table for balance. "I was this close!" He jammed his two fingers together again in front of her face for emphasis, looking one heartbreak away from sobbing anew. "This close! And then—then the lady I was with last week shrieked that I looked like a rotted ham hock and ran out the window!"

He actually sniffled.

"Out the window," he repeated mournfully.

You rubbed your temples, already feeling the secondhand shame soaking into your pores.

Thyessa just rolled her eyes so hard you thought they might pop out of her skull. "Zeus save me," she muttered, shoving him backward until he flopped bonelessly into his seat again, sulking like an overgrown child.

You sighed again and leaned back against the booth, staring up at the smoke-dark ceiling. The wood beams overhead looked like they might collapse from the collective weight of too many bad decisions made under them.

You were halfway to daydreaming about faking a faint just to escape when Thyessa slammed her cup down onto the table, sloshing a bit of wine onto the wood.

"Gods above, shut up already!" she barked at Nico, voice rough and impatient. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaned over the table, and shot him a look so sharp you half-expected him to vaporize.

"I swear," she grumbled, grabbing her cup again, "if it'll get you to stop crying, I'll even sleep with you myself."

You choked mid-breath.

Nico's head snapped up so fast you thought he might actually throw something out of place. His eyes went wide—huge, stunned, like someone had just dropped an amphora on his foot.

"R-Really?!" he squeaked, clutching the table with both hands like it might start flying away without him.

Thyessa just hummed, leaning back with a lazy smirk, her gaze lidded and gleaming with pure, evil amusement. She squinted one eye at him like she was trying to guess how much fun it would be to ruin him. "Mmm, sure," she purred. "I'd give you a good, what... ten minutes?"

Nico's face turned a shade of red you hadn't seen since Eben's earlier squeak-fest.

You tried—and failed—not to burst out laughing into your own cup.

"But," Thyessa went on sweetly, dragging the word out like honey and knives, "you wipe out my entire tab at the inn. Full. Erased. Clean slate."

Nico didn't even hesitate. He slapped his palm down on the table, making the empty cups jump. "Done!" he cried desperately throwing himself across the table, scrambling to sit beside her. "Gone! It's gone! Consider it gone already!"

Thyessa just cackled—low and wicked—and leaned back into her seat, swirling the last dregs of her drink around with lazy satisfaction.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, shaking your head slowly as Nico practically beamed across the table like he'd just won the lottery.

Gods.

You were surrounded by idiots.

And yet... you couldn't help the small, tired grin tugging at your mouth.

Because somehow?

This—this absolute mess of a night—felt a little like home.

Then—a yawn broke free from your mouth before you could catch it, long and dragging. Your eyes watered traitorously at the corners as you stretched, arms raising stiff and slow above your head until your back gave a satisfying little pop.

"Gods," you muttered under your breath, blinking blearily at the spinning tavern lights.

You pushed yourself up from the booth, wobbly but steady enough, tossing your cloak back around your shoulders. "Alright," you said, yawning again, "I'm turning in. Ship's supposed to be ready by morning, and I am not missing it because I was drooling into a barstool."

Nico barely looked up from where he was sat, halfway draped over Thyessa, his elbow propped against the table, a stupid, dreamy smirk on his face. "Go on without us, princess," he said, voice thick with smugness. He tossed something underhand toward you—it clinked against your palm—and you realized it was a small ring of brass keys.

You arched a brow at him.

"Don't wait up," he added with a wink, already curling closer to Thyessa, who was absolutely not discouraging him. She had her boots up on the bench now, one leg thrown lazily over his lap, sipping at her drink like royalty.

You scoffed, tucking the keys into your belt. "What happened to you sobbing into my shirt two hours ago?"

Nico grinned, wide and cocky now, like he'd forgotten how to spell the word sadness. "How could I stay sad," he said brightly, "when I'm about to get laid?"

You barked out a startled laugh, half covering your mouth, half staggering backward from the sheer boldness of it.

Before you could even reply, Thyessa slammed her pint down on the table hard enough to rattle every empty cup nearby. "Barmaid!" she bellowed across the room, startling half the patrons. "Another round—and take your time! I'll be out by then!"

You snorted so hard you almost choked, dragging your hand down your face as the barmaid gave a startled little squeak and rushed to comply.

And then, true to her word, Thyessa grabbed Nico by the scruff of his shirt, hauled him half over the table like a sack of grain, and started dragging him toward the back hallway—toward the kitchens and the bathroom doors beyond.

Nico stumbled after her eagerly, tossing a wink and a sloppy finger-gun at you like he was off to war.

You could only shake your head and laugh.

You turned, weaving a little as you made your way through the now-even-louder bar. The floor felt a little uneven under your boots—tipsy, not drunk, but definitely feeling it. 

A/N: i just wanted to say real quick — THANK YOU to everyone who's been so sweet about my updates 😭😭 fr i appreciate y'all so much. but tbh, i feel like i should clear it up a little lol: i don't actually update fast 😭 the only reason Godly Things has been dropping chapters back to back is because i've been working on this fic since like...december 2022?? and i actually just finished writing the final chapters a couple weeks ago. so i'm basically posting something that's already done (or mostly done) lol. most of the time when i'm not posting, i'm either working on different projects behind the scenes, or just being held hostage by whatever my latest hyperfixation is 💀 right now it's Epic: The Musical (greek myths + singing?? yeah i didn't stand a chance lol). i just wanted to put this out there because the new isekai fic i'm planning won't update as quickly, since i'll be actively writing it at the same time i'm posting. (aka: it'll be more of a normal update pace, not this chaos lmao.) anyway love y'all 🫶 and again, thank you for being so kind and excited about my work!! it means more than you know 🥹💖 aslo! though i've said before in passing, whenever fanart is sent to my email, i'll 1000000% ALWAYS use an alias, so no worries my babies, i won't reveal your legal names etc, might give you a nickname if one isnt given though 🤣❤️❤️ also, also (lol) AHHH im so happy you guys like nico! though i planned on holding out, he's actually one of the isekai!reader's love interests hahah like i said last chappie, a lot of characters i described here yet weren't given too much book time/dialogue is cuz they'll be showing up in the isekai book...

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog trashcannotbealive idkanyonealrr

[ajremix]

so i saw u write heatwave & chase and rescue bots stuff

i dont know if u do anymore but if ya do and are okay with promts I would love a heatwave comforting chase maybe like after he got squeezed by the boa constritor?

Apologies for the taking a while to get to this. I wrote this in a notebook about a week back and almost immediately misplaced said notebook when I got home. It was, in fact, still in the bag I'd placed it in, who woulda thunk.

Title: The Little Things Fandom: Transformers: Rescue Bots Rating: G Word Count: 746 Characters: Heatwave, Chase Summary: Set after 1x06. Sometimes it's the little things you need help with.

The chief was certainly taking his sweet time with his impromptu second hike and, though he was good at hiding it from the other humans, Chase was starting to fret while pretending he wasn't fretting. He'd pick up a couple books only to put them down some time later without hardly reading a page. Boulder and Blades tried to take his mind off things with protocol quizes and mindless television respectively but Chase's attention kept wandering until they gave up. Heatwave eventually found him sitting at the Sigma's main database, adding pointless metatags to old reports.

"He's fine." Chase jolted at Heatwave's words, a testament to his state of mind. "Chief called in a minute ago, told the kids he'd be eating out tonight." Kade had cheerfully speculated they may not see him until morning. Dani and Graham seemed happy Charlie was open to dating again and Cody was trying to take advantage by weasel an extra hour on his curfew.

Chase hmmed quietly, running his hands over the console and turning back to the monitor in an attempt to appear normal. "Emergencies can happen at any time, Heatwave, I know you're aware of that. Griffon Rock has a fairly large amount of them given population size."

"So what are you worried about? Being called out while Chief is gone or that something might happen to him while you're not there?"

One of Chase's hands ran over the door panel on his arm. It was subtle, something Heatwave only noticed because he knew Chase's habits so well, the way his servos lingered over a dent that shouldn't have been there. Carefully, giving Chase ample time to notice and stop him if needed, Heatwave grabbed Chase's wrist, turning the arm so he could see the damage more clearly. It was a superficial flaw, a couple of shallow divots that crumpled the edge of the door. In most cases Heatwave wouldn't have brought it up but there had only been once incident that could've caused that. "Why did you let that snake damage you? You could've gotten out the its hold easy."

"Indeed I could have," Chase said coolly, allowing Heatwave to continue his inspection, "but doing so would have risked the creature's welfare. I did not want to kill it."

Heatwave wanted to say that Chase's safety was more important than an Earth animal's life but Chase would have argued the point and something that would easily be fixed by his self-repair wasn't worth the fight. Instead he let the arm go and started looking over Chase's frame more closely. "Any other damage?"

Chase may have gotten away with hiding his injuries from Blades but he knew better than to attempt the same with Heatwave when he already knew something was wrong. "There is nothing that my self-repair can't handle. But," he admitted somewhat reluctantly, "I think the snake may have damaged my light structure."

He stood, silently allowing the other mech to study his back. A finger traced along the struts connecting the lights to Chase's roof. "Yeah, I see it. Brackets are misaligned, the entire rack is crooked." He pushed on Chase's shoulder until he started toward the recharge berths. "Lay down, I'll straighten it out for you."

"That's not necessary," Chase protested though, tellingly, he made no move to struggle, "it'll likely be fixed in the next day or so."

"Yeah, probably. But I doubt that <i>and</i> all those dents will be fixed by the time you next patrol tomorrow. And if they're not I know it'll bother you. You're very particular about your appearance."

That got him an indignant sound. "It's unbecoming of an officer of the law to allow themself to fall into disrepair," came the tart reply. "Obviously physical appearance falls under that criteria."

"Exactly," Heatwave gave him a playful but insistent shove. "So shut up and let me do this for you."

Chase exvented, shoulders falling. "Heatwave," he started in a tone the larger mech knew all too well, his heavy engine revving in warning. Chase paused before an apology could leave his vocalizer and Heatwave hated that, of all the emotions Chase had become familiar with, guilt for a perceived inconveniencing of others into caring for him happened to be one of them. But, sensing the old argument looming at his next choice of words, Chase said, "I appreciate you looking out for me."

Rumbling in satisfaction at the change of tact, Heatwave patted Chase's back. "Any time, partner."

[antispopausandstuff]

y'know, it's kinda funny that Catra did the "3 times" trope ( or whatever it's called, idk ) before Adora was done with her.

i don't share the opinion that Catra could've been redeemed pre-s3, especially with White Out, but there's 3 pivotal moments where she could've had a "i fucked up" moment.

s1 ep 2

Catra could've made her life a whole lot easier by just going with Adora and not taking it as a slight against her when Adora was a good person and not wanting to be a fascist.

2. s1 ep 11

through the simulations ( though, we know the writers just veiled 'Promise' as a Catra and Adora episode when it was really just a Catra trauma episode ), Catra could've realized that she made her own decisions, that Shadow Weaver traumatized and abused both of them, that Adora was just a child too and shouldn't have suffered so much, especially in silence, and broke off her connections with the Horde, instead of pinning every single thing on Adora just because it was easier than Shadow Weaver ( who would deny, reverse, etc. ).

3. s3 ep 5

i don't know why the hell the writers included the promise scene and somehow make Catra come to the conclusion that she was slighted again, but that memory could've served as her realizing that she broke the promise long before Adora supposedly did.

so, like, she's had three chances to do the right and healthy thing, but she just didn't because she was petty, spiteful, and a bi-

that's one of the reasons why s4 is so exhausting, because it's just a pitying, bitching, moaning arc for Catra, once again, ruining her own life and pushing people away for no goddamn reason and then suffering the consequences because, oh, who woulda thunk it, Scorpia's done with your ass, too!

literally the same thing happened in s3, what is the reason for this.

she had no reason to come back after s3. she just didn't.

[caelyne]

clunk-clunk-clunk. the skies overhead were grey, and there was a slight chill in the air. clunk-clunk-clunk, went the crumpled soda can along the pavement that lied between the sparse highway and a dried up riverbed.

fuck this can in particular, the blue-furred feline thought as she sauntered up the path, rearing her leg up for another kick.

THUNK!! she watched it go flying into the nearby bushes. it was a little more excessive than she intended, but she wasn't about to go fishing through all those branches to find it again. she shrugged and kept moving. she figured some good samaritan would come along and clean up her mess at some point. regardless, the real problem at hand now being that she had nothing to vent her frustrations on. she plopped down on the curb.. not a soul in sight, save for the occasional vehicle that zoomed past. as a line of cars began to form in the distance, she couldn't help but eye the couple of rocks at her side. it was… tempting. but the idea of dealing with someone who cared a little too much about their expensive hunk of metal didn't seem worth the trouble.

she fell onto her back and gazed up at the sky. she needed… someone. or someTHING to yell at. just any way she could exorcise this demonic frustration that welled within her. the faces of her fr- "Friends" flashed into her mind again and her vision went red. with a yell, she stood up and hurled one of those rocks into the dead river behind her. she watched its arc with fury until it disappeared with a puff of sand and a satisfying thud. she breathed heavily through her teeth as she fixated on the spot where it landed. a moment passed before she remembered that she was a person, and that there was more to the world than the white hot fury that she felt. she wiped her eyes and continued onward.

that's why she was out here. away from everyone else. it was honestly such a dumb thing to be this mad over, but she remembered hearing that a walk will fix these kinds of moods.

so here she was. again. she wasn't sure if it was helping really, but it kept her from lashing out at the people around her. that were still around her. she stopped herself before she thought about them again.

the trail eventually opened up into a small park. there wasn't much to it really; a gazebo, a small playground, all while the trail continued along before looping back in on itself. this place was super out of the way and didn't really see much attention, especially not with the weather being this chilly. with a sigh, she let herself sprawl on top of one the picnic tables and listened to the cold air flow around her.

the soft winds tickled her ears as she hanged her head over the edge. she knew her anger would be back, but all she felt in this moment was emptiness. she shook her head at herself. "friends." she scoffed. was she mad because they left? or was she mad that they left this place behind before she could?

are you trying to be charitable to them? rye could've asked you to come with, she thought.

i could've just gone with him anyway, she retorted.

still, Fuck him for leaving, after everything that happened?

i don't blame him. there's nothing for any of us here.

so what's stopping you?

she paused. what WAS stopping her? if rye and ocelot could leave this place behind so easily.. then why is it so hard for her? why does it feel so impossible to set out on her own? her thoughts went to her friends.. to patience, niles, and jayde. her parents.

she didn't know what to do.. but what she did know is that she didn't want to be here. she turned herself over and rested her head against her paws. in the distance, past the mountains, she could just barely make out the hazy silhouettes of the distant skyscrapers that made up lux sidera's iconic skyline. as she wondered if she could make it on her own, rye's dumb face flashed in her mind again. he wanted to go out and protect the people who needed saving. and she knew he believed in himself. as for ocelot.. well. anyone with ocelot's smug confidence could go far. she snickered at how much that cat pissed her off sometimes.

she sat up, and decided then and there that she had had enough of her own moping. after all, she could definitely kick both their asses at ONCE. if they were gonna run away, she was gonna go after them. she Refused to be left behind in this nowhere town.

sinclaire pulled out her phone from her sweater pocket and began to look up train tickets. 'look out, you two. look out, WORLD. i'm on my way.'