#(At this point I gotta start adding like /heavy hearted. I am bleeding out on the streat because of this bestie) /j

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

My posts in a nutshell, sorry guys

[daddykohli]

say you’ll remember me

okay so this is me coming out as sending an ask to @groovyreid​ about bruising matthew gray gubler’s lip and him not being able to hide it from his co-workers and it was just...Too Much to not write so ya here it is!! i’ve written fic for years but never for this guy so be gentle!

warnings: not really smutty just kissing but reference to sex that’ll be happening later, a tiny bit of blood, bruises, daddy kink, dom mgg

matthew gray gubler x fem reader

1.6k words

sometimes you’re a bit of a brat and sometimes Matthew even allows it

You’d already kept Matthew in bed far longer than he had the time for. He woke up soft this morning, pulling you onto his chest the moment his alarm went off and smiled at you, eyes still heavy with sleep. He’d wisely set the alarm earlier than need be to allow for cuddle time (you always insisted when he had an early shoot), but you two had pushed it to the point where he was in danger of being late to set. 

Matthew had been making moves to get up for roughly ten minutes and when he finally began making reluctant noises that indicated he was going to get up whether you both wanted him to or not, you became huffy and decided to take drastic measures.

“I gotta go, princess, really, I’m directing today and everyone is counting on me,” he insisted, beginning to sit up in bed, honey eyes looking sorry to leave, but determined. You bolted up, quickly and pulled him in for a kiss, fingers threaded through the back of his hair to keep him in place.

He made a surprised noise against your mouth, but melted into it. He may be in charge but you both knew who was truly in control at the end of the day. “Baby,” he mumbled against your mouth, a warning coloring his tone.

When he opened his mouth to speak, however, you took advantage of the moment to slip your tongue in, and he groaned in response, hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise. 

You had him for the moment; much like his fictional counterpart, Spencer Reid, pretty girls cut his IQ by at least 80% and you were his pretty little girl. Shortly, however, he reached up and yanked your head back by your hair, determined to put a stop to this before it went too far and he was well and truly late to work.

“I have to go,” he enunciated, making intense eye contact with you, satisfied that his tone and actions would put you in your place.

You pouted, glaring at him. You knew, realistically, that it was unprofessional for him to arrive late to work, that his job (especially when he got the opportunity to direct!) was extremely important to him. The irrational side of your brain, however, the bratty, subby side wanted him to stay in bed with you all morning, kissing you until you were dizzy.

“No,” you said shortly, boldly, arms crossed over your chest.

Matthew stared, the dom side of his brain alight with the urge to bend you over and turn your cheeks red and remind you that talking back wasn’t an option. “I’m sorry?” he sputtered, not able to believe your audacity.

“One more kiss, Daddy?” you simpered, turning your glare into puppy dog eyes to match your pout. You were playing mind games with him, a little, to stall and to get what you wanted. If it wasn’t stupidly early in the morning, this definitely wouldn’t be working.

Matthew sighed, silently agreeing to the compromise, the one he believed would get him out of the house the fastest, because the alternative was punishing you until tears were streaming down your face. He leaned in for a final kiss, cupping your face a little harder than need be, thumb pressing into your cheek.

You decided that if he wanted to leave so badly, you’d give him something to remember you by. You also knew that the consequences for this action later would be dire, but so much fun.

Right as Matthew began to pull away, you took his bottom lip between your teeth and bit, hard. He grunted immediately in response, a noise of genuine surprise just below the surface. You both had a high tolerance for pain so you knew he’d be fine but you wanted him to be thinking about it for the rest of the day. As it happened, your actions made it so he would have no choice. 

As you let go, Matthew’s lip was bleeding and he was staring at you with a mix of pure dom anger and lust. It was intoxicating and you felt your core throb just from the look alone. “How am I supposed to hide this at work? Did you think about what kind of comments I’m going to have to listen to all day, you spoiled little brat?”

Your eyes downcast, you did feel a bit bad about the ribbing he would get from his coworkers but you just wanted physical reassurance that he was thinking about you all day.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you said softly, hands folded in your lap, but then absentmindedly allowing one to run down his chest like you couldn’t help but touch him even if you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

You heard Matthew sigh and felt him lift your chin, big fingers spanning your face. He gave a tiny smile and immediately winced, a little bit of silly Matthew shining through in that moment. “I’m not answering any questions about this today. If Shemar or Kirsten start giving me the third degree, I’m telling them to text you,” he laughs, finally, a drop of blood running down his chin, “and you’re lucky I’m not on camera today,” he added, face becoming a mockery of seriousness. A nasty bruise was already beginning to blossom on his lip and the two sides of your brain warred between feeling guilty and feeling like your panties were soaked through at the sight.

You giggle as well, shaking your head and wiping the blood off his chin with your thumb, cleaning it off with a tissue from the nightstand. “I won’t be answering my phone today then, I suppose,” you lied, as if you didn’t spend the days you were off and he was working, ears perked for a notification that Matthew was reaching out to you.

His eyebrows raised, challenging without saying a word, knowing this was utter bullshit. You blushed, shoving his chest a little in your rare moment of shyness. 

“I’m leaving now,” he stated, getting up, and you let him this time. He would probably be on time if traffic wasn’t utterly horrific and you genuinely hoped he would. You watched from the comfort of the bed as he quickly pulled on jeans, a t-shirt and his directing scarf. He ducked his head to quickly check his hair in the mirror and whistled when he saw the damage you’d done on his mouth.

“You’re going to pay for this later, little girl,” he promised, wheeling around to wag his finger at you. You bit your own bottom lip and nodded. It had been worth the price. Without wasting another second, Matthew grab his bag, strode over, kissed your forehead and headed toward the door.

He turned around at the last second, beaming at the sight of you curled up in the sheets, wearing one of his old t-shirts. His heart jumped and butterflies filled his stomach. He used a second to wonder if you would ever stop making him feel this way.

“I love you, princess,” he told you, blowing a kiss your way, one foot out the bedroom door.

“I love you more, Gube,” you replied, pretending to catch the kiss and waving as he sped out of the room and out the front door, his laughter ringing through the house as he went.

-------

You were laying on a beach chair by the pool, reading a book after lunch when you realized that you were receiving a FaceTime call from Matthew. You giggled nervously; you had a good idea of the reason for his call. 

When the call connected, you heard a flurry of voices and Matthew louder than all of them, telling them to shut the hell up. 

“Baby,” he greeted, eyes taking in the sight of you in a bikini. You smirked, adjusting so he could see more of you and you saw his face redden and the phone move as the flurry of voices grew loud again. “Everyone’s here!” he warned as you saw multiple hands trying to grab the phone from him.

Laughing, you moved the phone back up to show only your face. “What’s up, Matthew,” you asked innocently, as if you didn’t know exactly why he was calling. 

Finally, it was Shemar who managed to wrestle the phone out of Matthew’s hand, grabbing his chin and zooming in closely on his mouth. You winced; the bruise was dark purple and his bottom lip was slightly swollen. It looked worse than it probably was but you felt bad about him likely being in pain.

“What did you do to our boy?” Shemar demanded, twisting Matthew’s chin this way and that, showing you multiple angles. You had to admit, it was supremely satisfying to see someone else manhandling the man you called Daddy.

“Just wanted to give him a little reminder of what’s waiting for him at home,” you stated plainly, smirking into the camera. Matthew’s coworkers exploded with noise, teasing him and cat-calling, and both of you laughed, reveling in the warm glow of attention from your friends. 

“Alright alright,” Matthew pretended to groan, pulling his chin out of Shemar’s grip and snatching the phone back, “we’ve gotta get back on set, but I’ll see you in a few hours. Be ready for me,” he said vaguely.

You knew that meant on the bed, naked and waiting to be tied up and punished, which is exactly what you’d hope for. You could hardly wait.

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, causing another round of hooting and hollering from the other cast members.

“I love you,” you told him, and raising your voice slightly, “love you all too,” you told the rest of the cast.

A chorus of “love you”s filled the room as they began to file out and softer, gentler, Matthew said, “love you too, baby”. You both smiled at each other until he finally waved and ended the call. You went inside a couple of hours later to shower and to get ready. Daddy would be home soon.

[tragedy-for-sale]

Prisoner

The boys have been watching their Commander all morning, they can tell Fox is in pain, but they can't bring themselves to ask, so they try something other than asking. @flashthescalesian-art is the one to blame for this idea and whatever happens. Okay this is soft? Huh. How'd that happen? Maybe I'm sick.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The Commander was very good at hiding his pain, but everynow and then, he slipped. The pain because too much, the heart and chains around his heart held him too tight that he suffocated. It was then, when he felt his bleeding heart become too swollen for the chains he placed; it was then, they broke, and so did he.

One would have to have spent hours upon hours to notice a difference of course, but once one did notice, it was so obvious that he was suffering. It was the little things, Thorn seeing Fox stop in the hall, leaning against the wall to catch his breath, it was Stone noticing him sneak heavy heaves of air because Fox had been holding his breath. It was Fox, noticing that he world was spinning, his gut twisted and turned, doing backflips inside him. The misery he was going through started to leak out, and once the helmet was off, once his helmet was off, it was clear as day.

There were heavy bags under his eyes, his usual scowl of disgust was replaced with a small frown of discomfort. His eyebrows, usually sharp, were now softer, gentle. His face danced with exhaustion and pain. All his men noticed, but only once his helmet was off. Fox looked liked a child, sick and being kept up from sleep. All his men found it curious that he got sick, for all clones were engineered to near perfect immune systems. So naturally, it didn't take the men long to realize he wasn't sick, he was hurt.

But everytime he was confronted, Fox shoved them away. Fox lied through his teeth, and he was believable. He'd disappear deep in the Guard buildings for hours, and everyone knew not to bother him, for he'd always be at the mess at eighteen hundred sharp. So when he wasn't, his men worried. Instantly, the men broke protocol, their Commander's protocols, to fan out of the building in search of him. The other Commanders cleared the thought that he was out on a mission. He had to be in the Guard building. The men searched for hours and at long last, four hours later, Thorn finally found him.

Commander Fox had been sleeping soundly in his quarters, but not on his bed of course, no, the Commander was asleep in the closet. Thorn commed the boys to let them know Fox was alright before going into the room, taking off his helmet before slowly walking towards his brother. He kneeled down, sitting next to his sleeping brother, Thorn let out a sigh, "Y'know, everyone is looking for you" he mumbled and didn't jump when Fox did, he woke up easily.

"Thorn?" Fox looked up, instantly feeling his aching body due to the position he was sleeping in. Fox tried to pull himself up but the pain was too much, so he laid there, feeling paralyzed, "Can you help me up?" Holding out his arm. Thorn grabbed Fox's arm in turn, but didn't help him up, instead, he held his brother's arm tightly.

Thorn let a heavy sigh escape his lips, "No," clearing his throat, Thorn looked to Fox, who looked upset that Thorn wouldn't help him up, "You gotta start telling up when you plan on disappearing for a while. Olly and Rye took two groups to the senate building to look for your ass." Thorn added, pulling out a bag of chips seemingly out of no where. That was his super power, to pull food out of what Fox called 'another dimension.'

Fox slowly sat up, his head falling on Thorn's shoulder, "Stars, don't you open-"

"-Too late."

Fox let out a groan as he smelt the aroma of the chips. He stared blankly at the wall, trying to gather enough strength to get up, but the rancid smell of Thorn's chips made him want to vomit. He knew what Thorn wanted, Fox also knew his brother wouldn't leave until he did. "Can you take me to the medbay?" Fox gave in, he then closedl his eyes.

Thorn nodded as he chewed, "Sure buddy," he spoke in between chews, "Can ya stand or am I stuck carrying your stinky ass?" He asked, continuing to eat. Thorn didn't react right away when Fox didn't answer, he just continued eating and it wasn't until he'd dumped the rest of the chips in his mouth that he turned to his brother, "Fox-" Thorn mumbled as he poked Fox's cheek. "Well damn, that's rude." He stated, shaking his head at the fact that Fox had fallen asleep. "Guess I'm carrying you," he told himself, tossing the bag out of his hand.

He got up very slowly and very quietly before picking up Fox and headed towards the door. In his head, Thorn came up with a couple of rather smug remarks he would say if Fox was awake. As he walked, he tried not to shift too much, rolling his feet to prevent him from waking Fox up. But, of course, Fox was a light sleeper so he realized there was no point. He'd do it anyway though, he was just that good of a brother. "Mm, medbay?" Thorn looked down and saw Fox, barely conscious. Oh, he better not be bleeding out somewhere.

"Yeah, where else? Chili's?" Thorn snarked as he scanned Fox's face curiously. Was he in pain? Fox rolled his eyes, bringing his arm up to very weakly, pat Thorn's face.

"I hate chili's." Fox mumbled, repeatedly patting his face. Thorn rolled his eyes as the lift opened and he stepped out. There was never a moment that Thorn didn't worry about Fox, he was so afraid that Fox wasn't taking care of himself. So Thorn always made sure he was, "Do you know how good a brother you are?" Fox asked, as if he was thinking the same thing his brother was, and Thorn had only one response,

"I mean, obviously,"

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

|| Tag List ||

@ct7567329 @a-lil-perspective @mageofcole @advcntura @crying-at-ikea @stuckyjacos @crahsystor @obiorbenkenobi @satan-incarnate-666 @kalm421 @passionofthesith @mackstrut @flyingfreeyt @jonathananubian @kamino-mermaid @hotnthorny

[lilianaswhatever]

A place in the sun

Oh well, here is my contribution to the Tyler Rake fandom. Thanks to @givemeabite​ for the inspiration! I also listened to “A place in the sun” by Engelbert Humperdinck which gave me major Tyler vibes.

Tag list: @alievans007​

Summary: You broke up with Tyler because of his reckless behavior but you just couldn’t get over him.

Warning: Mentions of blood, swearing (it’s just one word but still), and angst.

Pairing: Tyler Rake x Reader

Word Count: 3013

You were in the line at immigration and had your passport in your hands, ready to be next in line. When it was your turn, you stepped to the counter. The question that you thought about the whole flight then came: “What is the purpose of your trip?” The answer you gave to the immigration officer was simple: “I am here on vacation.” A smile rounded up your appearance as a normal tourist. The truth was you didn’t know why you were here. A part of you wanted to turn around and take the next flight home but the stamp came into your passport as if it sealed the deal. You had spent the whole day in an airplane just to get to Sydney. So instead of getting a ticket back home, you proceeded to board your connection flight to Broome International Airport, located in the Kimberley. After finally arriving at your destination, you were just happy to have solid ground under your feet. You got your luggage and went on to search for a cab. During all the time you had alone with your thoughts you came to the conclusion that you would make it your purpose to at least have some kind of vacation no matter if you would see him or not. But as soon as you stepped outside the airport into the dry heat of Australia your phone buzzed. ‘Nik’ was all you read on your screen, which caused you to sigh. You looked around to see if you could make out someone suspicious watching you -she had her tipsters everywhere- before you answered the call. “Hello Nik.” “(y/l/n). Where are you?” “I am pretty sure you already know, or you wouldn’t have called.” “Alright, I knew as soon as you stepped foot on the ground in Sydney, but I thought I would grant you some time to get settled.” You shook your head at that, waiting for a cab with your luggage in hand could hardly be classified as getting settled. “What do you want, Nik?” You opened your handbag searching for a pair of sunglasses to shield your eyes from the afternoon sun. “Are you up to work?” “Depends, I am technically here on vacation.” “And you picked Australia? More specific the Kimberly region?” “It is as good a place in the sun as others. Look, Nik, I gotta get going. Call me again in case you got something. Bye.” But before you could hang up you heard her say: “He is at home,” followed by the silence of the disconnected line.

- Time skip -

You spent three days in a hotel before you decided you needed to see him. So, you rented a Jeep and started navigation to the middle of nowhere. You carefully folded the small piece of paper with his scribbled address and put it into your jeans pocket. The paper showed clear signs of having been crumbled up and thrown away many times before, but you always fished it back out of the wastebasket and kept it after all. It had been almost a year since your last mission together, which ended with you leaving him in the rain at a small private airport near Tijuana. You had always asked yourself if you wanted to see him again, but the question which nobody could answer for you was if he wanted to see you. It was hard not to enjoy the beautiful landscape that passed by although your thoughts were racing, and your heart was restless. Back then you let your head rule thinking it would shield your heart from greater pain. But it never healed. Tyler was the ghost that haunted you wherever you went, no matter where you had run to, emerged in gun fire or sitting tight in a stake out somewhere in the harsh winter of Russia, he was always there with you – at least in your thoughts. You turned into an unpaved road which lead you to a small settlement. You passed by small houses, a bar and a store until you left the village behind. You had debated with yourself to stop at the bar to get a drink thinking the alcohol might soothe your nerves, but you needed to keep a clear head. You reached the coordinates as you pulled up in front of a little house secluded from the rest of civilization. Your heartbeat was fastening as you turned off the motor. It was almost dark now and a part of you still doubted if this was the right choice. It wasn’t too late to turn around and your hands were still on the steering wheel, grabbing it hard enough for the white in your knuckles to show. But you came all the way and you would not pull out now although you weren’t even sure what you expected from your visit. The only thing you knew was that you couldn’t get Tyler out of your head. You got out of your car and walked towards the small home, which was a nice way of saying a pile of wood and metal. You came to a stop on his front porch and closed your eyes while taking a deep breath before you eventually knocked on the door. But nothing happened, not even the slightest sound could be heard from the inside. A nudge on your leg ripped you out of your sudden sadness and you looked down to see a dog. “Hey there, little buddy. Do you know if Tyler is home?” You asked while leaning down to pet the doggo. And as if he had understood you, he raised his paw to scratch at the door. “Ohh, you live here?” You made the decision to not give up now and almost on an instinct you begin lifting up every flowerpot in hopes to find a key. You knew that Tyler had a habit of drinking a little too much, and you were right, under one of the pots was a key. He had probably left it there in case he forgot where his own was. You shook your head at this careless behavior by the mercenary but that was typical of him. You opened the door, letting the dog in, before stepping into the darkness of the house. “Tyler?” You called out his name to announce your presence. But only silence answered you. The thought that Nik might have been wrong crossed your mind before you quickly discarded it. If someone knew his whereabouts, it would be her. Maybe it just shouldn’t be. You turned around again, ready to leave, but in this moment the door opened, and Tyler appeared. Just like that he stood there. You haltered in your movement and for a moment the two of you just looked at each other. “Tyler, I…” But you got stuck with your explanation because he suddenly collapsed onto the ground. You and the dog were by his side in an instant. “Tyler, are you alright?” A grunt was his only answer as he tried to get up, but he immediately needed to lean against the wall to remain standing. “Come here, you have to sit down.” You wrapped an arm around his torso and pulled him off the wall. His heavy weight rested on you and you had trouble even getting him to his bed, which was the closest thing you could find to let him rest on. This reminded you so much of the past, only this time he was not nearly bleeding to death. You tried to gently place him on the bed, but he plopped down like a sack of potatoes. You went back to the door and found the light switch. You could only hear a groan in the back as a reaction to the sudden brightness. You then filled a glass with water and brought it to his side. Tyler had already sunken into his bed and had his eyes closed. Now the light laid bare the reason for his current state. He had a cut on his right eyebrow and his nose was bloody and his shirt was torn. But what concerned you way more was that blood now stained his sheets. So, scratch what you thought before, this definitely was a lot like some of your last encounters. You grabbed his hand, the source of the blood flow and looked at his palm. A gaping wound greeted you. “This needs stitches,” you concluded. “I’m fine.” An annoyed sigh escaped your lips. “Where is your emergency kit?” and before he could even start to debate with you, you added: “Tell me now or I will turn your house upside down.” “Nightstand.” He vaguely pointed in the direction beside his bed and you went over there and opened the drawers. At first you couldn’t find anything despite some pill bottles and other things. Only at the last drawer you finally laid eyes on the emergency kit, which turned out to be an oversized yellow lunchbox container. You opened it up and relief washed over you as you saw that most of the things you needed were still there. As you lifted the kit out and wanted to close the drawer a familiar picture caused you to pause. Your fingers gently picked it up and you stared at the faces of Tyler and you. He had his arm slung around your shoulder and was grinning at the camera while you looked at him with a loving expression. A pain went through your heart not only at the sight of how happy you once were but also as you saw that the side of the picture was burnt away and a black ruffled edge replaced what had once been the view over the mountains of Mexico. Tyler turned on the bed and you quickly put the picture on the bed before coming back to his side. You needed to tend to his hand first and then you would take care of his face. “Can you sit up?” He did as he was told for once and you went to his sink to fill a bowl with water. You cleaned his hand and disinfected the wound. But the blood was still flowing so you needed to work quickly. You sat down beside him and placed a cloth on your leg. You grabbed his hand and got to work, carefully stitching him up. Once in a while you looked at his face. His eyes were pressed shut and his jaw was clenched but these were the only signs of his pain. Now that you were so close to him you could clearly smell that whatever had caused his injury was probably to blame on alcohol and a bar fight. But the alcohol in his blood would at least numb most of the pain. “What are you doing here?” he mumbled as you cleaned off the blood from the now closed wound. “I am on vacation.” Despite not really answering his question it was also a lie. “Looking for a place in the sun, ey?” Another of those countless sighs left your lips. “She told you.” “I thought you wouldn’t come.” Now you looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a year. His eyes were still bright blue but to your disdain they still carried the same amount of pain as the last time you looked into them. You turned your gaze toward the emergency kit and drenched some cotton balls with disinfectant and dabbed them onto the cuts on his face which caused him to close his eyes again. You slowly placed your free hand on his cheek to support his head as the last blotches of blood disappeared. Nonetheless, he would have a black eye in the morning, you were sure of it. His skin was hot under your touch and his stubble scratched your palm. You brushed your fingers past the scar he had above his eyebrow and a nameless dread filled you deep inside. You let your hand linger a little longer than necessary. Suddenly you felt like you were back in a shabby motel somewhere in the middle East, patching him up as one of your missions turned out badly. It was a habit even before the two of you became involved with each other. How often you had been in these situations you couldn’t say. You physically shook your head, trying to rid yourself of those sentimental thoughts. “So, I am finished,” you stated before you distanced yourself while grabbing all the blood-stained utensils. You stood up and looked for a trash can in his kitchen. “Thank you.” “No worries, that’s what friends…” you stopped yourself mid-sentence. Did you really just want to say that’s what friends are for? You had been something more than friends before but now you weren’t even friends. You just let it go and left the sentence unfinished and washed your hands. The blood was slowly running down the drain. “I should go,” you uttered. “You just came.” He sounded exhausted and it almost pained you to disappoint him, but you just couldn’t relive the past. “I know but this was a mistake. I am sorry.” “So, you are just leaving? What were you doing here in the first place? And I don’t buy the ‘place in the sun’ bullshit, in case you haven’t noticed.” His voice was strained with anger and it sounded like he had regained his strength just to confront you. “You haven’t changed at all, Tyler.” You started to dry your hands with a kitchen towel, rubbing harder than necessary. You fixed your gaze on the darkness outside the window. You couldn’t look at him for what you wanted to say, afraid that otherwise you couldn’t pull through. “You know this is why I left. You just throw yourself in some situation that could get you killed. You don’t even care. I love you but apparently that was never enough for you. You still threw yourself in front of every bullet that came flying your way. And every time we were not together, I feared that I would get a call from Nik saying that you are dead in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I don’t know what I am doing here, I don’t know why I came. I just…for some fucked up reason I can’t let you go. But I also can’t live with the thought that you go off on a mission and decide that that’s it.” Your chest was rising and falling as you tried to compose yourself again. “I am still here, am I not?” his voice was so near, and you turned around only to find him standing right behind you. You leaned against the counter to have some space, but you imagined that you could still feel the heat of his body radiating off him. You realized that what he said was true. He was still here, and that years’ time was lost. Time you could have spent with him. You were so afraid to lose him that you hadn’t realized that by pushing him away you lost him. “I think I need a drink now.” You brushed past him to his table where you poured yourself a drink, not caring what it even was. You walked back to the bed, not sure of what to do next. “Quit walking away from me, would you.” He exclaimed before heaving himself back to the bed. “Hmm.” Was all you had to say to that, but you still went to sit next him, turning around to grab the picture of the two of you that was laying on the bed behind you. You placed it on your lap and proceeded to pull the piece of paper with his address out of your pants to place it beside the picture. “Guess we both couldn’t bury the past.” A sad smile rested on your lips as you looked at the two remnants of your love. “You love me?” he suddenly asked. “What?” Now you were confused. “Earlier, you said you love me and not loved.” Realization hit you. You couldn’t believe that he caught that out of everything while being drunk. “That doesn’t matter.” You glanced down at your beverage, rotating the glass in your hand. “It does because I love you, too, (y/n).” Your eyes began burning from tears you couldn’t spill. This whole time you thought that love just wasn’t enough. But it had to be enough, at least for the night. “Did anybody ever tell you that you think too much?” You huffed out a quiet laugh at his question “Yeah, you, many times. And you…” you looked at him, the words being stuck in your throat at the sight of him. You couldn’t imagine being separated again. You felt too weak to run away again, the strength you had minutes ago had left you as soon as you sat down. He chimed in, placing a hand on your cheek: “... and I don’t think things through, I know. That’s why I need you.” His eyes travelled from your lips and you caught your breath for a moment. He leaned down to kiss you, but he paused just before your lips could meet and asked: “Will you stay?” You nodded your head slightly. It was all you were capable of before you closed your eyes and welcomed his lips pressing against yours. As you two separated he raised his fingers, tracing the side of your face. A smile lit up his face and the pain in his eyes seemed to have subsided, at least a little bit. You always loved his smile, which was a stark contrast to his usual brooding expression. You knew that when he looked at you like that you would fall for him over and over again. His smile turned into a grin before he said: “I think I sobered up quite a bit but tell me you love me again in the morning.” Maybe you found your place in the sun.

[ragingbookdragon]

Fistfights On Tavern Nights

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,570 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: I kept thinking about this scene and I had to write it out. Hey, two stories in one day, who am I! Enjoy! -Thorne

“We could always climb the wall?” He hummed as she suggested it, eyes shifting between the doors and the side wall. “C’mon Ratonhnhaké:ton, it’d be easier than barging in through the front doors.” Again, he hummed, still deciding and she let out a groan, propping her chin on his bicep. “Fine…take forever.” Connor snorted, glancing down at her.

           “You do not want to fight (Y/N)?” She glared up at him, countering,

           “Considering the fact that the last time I got involved in a head-on fight, I got shot? No. No I don’t want to fight.” Connor crossed his arms over his chest, asking,

           “What if we get inside and then we have to fight?”

           “What if we get inside and we don’t have to fight?”

           “What if we get inside and there are more soldiers than we realize are inside?”

           “What if we get inside and there aren’t more soldiers inside?”

           “What if-” An annoyed voice cut them off, scoffing,

           “Oh, dear god! Save the lover’s miff for another time! We’re on a mission that requires your full attentions!” The two assassins tipped their heads, catching sight of the older templar standing behind them, a look of irritation on his face. (Y/N) narrowed her gaze, ordering,

           “Hey, old man, shut it, or I’ll shut it for you. If we want your opinion, we’ll ask for it.” Haytham’s eyes went wide at her words, and for a moment, he seemed to be stunned silent. This prompted Connor to bark a laugh, quipping,

           “Well, well, Mister-Smart-Mouth is rendered speechless?” He glanced down at (Y/N), acknowledging, “Well done otsi'tsa.” She furrowed her brows, thrusting a thumb back at Haytham, who had a mixture of anger and hurt crossing his face.

           “What like it’s hard? He’s old. All you gotta do to make men feel bad about themselves is point out things they try to ignore. His knees pop when he tries to sneak.”

           “That is not true.” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, taunting,

           “You sure this is the game you wanna play old man?” She smirked, sweetly adding, “I really don’t wanna hurt your feelings.” Haytham took a step towards her, ignoring how Connor turned fully to him, soldiers squared and ready to defend her if the situation arose.

           “Try me.” She shrugged then pressed the back of her hand to Connor’s chest, directing,

           “Go fight without me, this’ll take a while.” He frowned, looking at her.

           “I do not want to leave you alone with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, meeting Haytham’s gaze.

           “Haytham’s not gonna kill me, are you Haytham?” The templar shook his head and she looked back at Connor. “We might get into a fistfight, but nothing serious.” She nodded to the fort. “Go.” The other assassin stayed a moment, before staring at his father, hissing,

           “If you start anything serious with her, I will finish it.” Haytham merely rolled his eyes but nodded and Connor placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear before taking off. Once he’d made it to the fort, she reached her weapons belt, undoing it before tossing it aside. After, she undid the hidden blades at her wrists, adding them to the pile. She raised her fists, challenging,

           “Alright, let’s go old man.” An eyebrow arched on his face and he inquired,

           “You’re serious about fighting me?” (Y/N) dropped her fists, deadpanning,

           “No, I’ve just got my weapons belt thrown aside and my arms raised because I enjoy looking like an absolute fucking idiot.” Haytham chuckled as he undid his hidden blade, stowing it in his tricorn before placing it on the ground.

           “You said it, not me.” She huffed, grinning as he pulled off his sword and pistol belts.

           “Okay, now I’m really gonna kick your ass.” He matched her grin, and she could see the seething anger stirring in his steel eyes. Stepping forward, she dared, “May the best fighter win.”

An Hour Later:

           Holding his arm, he trekked back up the hill. Clearing the fort had given the patriots new supplies, but he’d taken a few wounds of his own, meaning he’d be out of the fight for a week or two. He’d managed to stop the bleeding in his arm, but the cut still stung, and he bit the inside of his cheek at the pain. As he neared the top, he caught sight of (Y/N) and his father sitting side by side, passing a bottle back and forth. He’d never been one to eavesdrop unless necessary, but the way they laughed made him wonder what had occurred in the mere hour he’d been gone, and before he could stop himself, he started creeping behind them, silently listening.

           “Do you ever think Connor’s hard to understand at times?” (Y/N) hummed as she took a sip from the bottle.

           “When we first met, sure, but now? Nah. He’s pretty easy to read.” Haytham scoffed as she handed it over.

           “You’re joking?” She huffed a laugh, countering,

           “Pot meet kettle.”

           “I am not like him.” (Y/N) pulled a solemn face, nodding her head.

           “Yes, you are. The two of you are as stubborn as mules.”

           “That doesn’t mean I act like him, or vice versa.”

           “Haytham, you do realize you’re his father, right? Like half of that boy comes from you.” His face pinched and he raised a hand to his mouth, massaging his cheek.

           “You have a good left hook.” (Y/N) grinned as she took the bottle back.

           “Don’t change the subject.”

           “I’m not.”

           “Yes, you are.” She observed him a moment, then surmised, “You’re afraid to get closer to him because you’re scared it’ll cloud your judgment.” Haytham said nothing and she turned her attention to the street. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s scared too.” (Y/N) could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. “I can tell that he wants to know you…wants to have that connection to you…but he’s scared to put anything into the relationship because the future is uncertain.” He didn’t need to say anything, but he did anyway.

           “Uncertain? He is afraid we’ll end up facing one another.” She nodded, muttering,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton is stronger than you. His convictions and will are too. If the two of you came to blows…I’ve no illusions that you’ll walk away from that fight alive.” She handed him the bottle and Haytham stared into the whiskey before murmuring,

           “Why are you telling me this (Y/N)?” She took a deep breath before looking at him, staring into his eyes as she declared,

           “Because you gave my father a second chance to do the right thing.” At the mention of her father, Haytham’s eyes went wide and she continued, “I’m giving you the same chance. To be a better man, a better father to your son. To change what could happen for something better.” Connor, who’d been silent up until now, decided to stop eavesdropping, stepping forward.

           “The fort has been cleared.” The two turned to look at him from their spots, and he immediately glared at Haytham, condemning, “What did you do!” Connor started towards (Y/N) who grinned as he knelt beside her, gently taking her face in his hands. He tilted her head up, examining her. “Are you alright otsi'tsa?” She nodded, reaching up to grab his hand; pressing a kiss to his palm, she replied,

           “Honestly Ratonhnhaké:ton, if you think this is bad, you should’ve seen the time I came out of the barfight back in Saint Augustine.” She tipped her head towards Haytham. “Besides, I handed your dad his ass.”

           “You did not.” (Y/N) snorted, but it dissolved into a hiss as Connor dabbed at her bloodied lip.

           “Ow.” He frowned at her then turned his attention to his father.

           “You should not have aimed for the face.” Haytham pointed to his eyebrow.

           “She hit me in the face first. I was getting even.” (Y/N) glanced at him, wondering aloud,

           “I wonder how my dad would feel about his dear old friend beating up his innocent daughter.” She chuckled. “Hey, maybe I should send the old bastard a letter and tell him!” Connor’s lips tugged down, and he whispered,

           “Do not make light of what makes your heart heavy otsi‘tsa.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but he had a good point, and she sighed,

           “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He pulled away, holding out his hand to her. (Y/N) took it, letting him pull her to his feet before he turned away, offering it to Haytham. His father seemed surprised, but took it and as they all stood, (Y/N) offered, “Say…since we’re all tired and hungry, why don’t we get something to eat?” Connor dropped his gaze and Haytham said,

           “It’s getting late. I should get back to file reports-” She sent him a look then looked between Connor and him, and he followed, “I suppose the reports can wait until tomorrow.” Awkwardly, he gestured to the street. “Connor, (Y/N), would you like to eat dinner with me?” She nudged Connor in the side, and he looked over at her. Smiling, she nodded, and he sighed before agreeing,

           “Dinner sounds good.” (Y/N) took Connor’s hand and they started towards the tavern. Haytham followed close behind, watching the way they joked and laughed, and, for once in many years, he felt like his heart wasn’t on the verge of breaking. Perhaps (Y/N) was right…maybe there was still a chance to change.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Worst joke yet // J x Lilith x Pat.

Summary: Self-loathing is creeping in and making itself known. You feel sick, heavy. Disgusting. Your feelings are real and valid and important and they carry as much weight as something tangible and real. J and Pat love jokes and anecdotes as much as you, but there’s one topic which they do not find funny; and that’s the topic of your self-perception.

A/N: Darling, I am so, so sorry. You are so beautiful, inside and out. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened and everything that you’ve ever gone through. You’re so strong and so brave and I just know that J, Pat, Loki, Eric and Heath love you so, so much and they’re so very proud of you, just as I am.

Unedited because I saw your post and I had to do something. My heart’s bleeding for you. I love you.

Word count: 2, 470. (Don’t you dare tell me off or feel guilty; you deserve all of this and more).

You woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

You felt heavy, weighed down by your own existence. Most days was it just your mind which you had troubles dealing with; traumas, pains, worries, fears, anxieties, doubts, mental illnesses... all these and more threatened to poison you against yourself each and every day, and though you struggled silently, you still lived. You still exerted an extreme effort to get through every day as best as you could and though you never felt like it was enough for anyone, including yourself, you still fell into bed for brief naps at various points of the day knowing that you had tried. 

Sometimes was it more than enough to just try. Sometimes was trying the bravest, most selfless thing you could do. You could admit to yourself that you weren’t trying for you, but rather were you trying for your two greatest loves: Patrick Verona and J. You lived every single day for them, your daily goal was to make them proud of you. You knew, somewhere deep within yourself, that you never had to try to make them proud of you, that they simply and most naturally were just because you were you, but even still did you push yourself, to do more and to be more. You could also admit, even to yourself, that you never felt like you were enough.

But today... oh, today you had woken up hating your body. Your entire body was just... too much. You lay under the bedsheets, intensely aware of the material against your bare legs. Even laying down you just felt so heavy. You were so painfully aware of every single part of you which was resting against the mattress. Ugh, you felt so disgusting and awful. Inside your head did you murmur an apology to J and to Pat... why did they put up with you? You couldn’t even offer them your body as compensation for who you were, hell, even for who you weren’t. You just weren’t ever enough no matter how hard you tried; no one was ever satisfied with you, least of all you, and your body was supposed to be the highlight of your existence, the very best of you... 

And you couldn’t even do that.

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes and you sighed, rolled over and burrowed your face into Pat’s section of your pillow. There were two pillows; yours and J’s. Pat never used his and it often got chucked to the end of the bed at night; so close to the both of you did Pat lay that his head rested on your pillow and on J’s. The scents of apples, of stale cigarette smoke, of cheap but spicy cologne, of Pat, and then of gasoline, gunpowder, greasepaint and of an undertone of sweat, of J, all came together into one heady scent and you pushed your face into the crease where the two pillows met so that you could feel both of your loves all at the same time.

Oh, how desperately you wanted them with you. You knew not where either of them were. Of course they’re gone when I need them most, you thought bitterly. You felt so badly within yourself that you couldn’t bring yourself to even let yourself think of your loves. What was the point? There was nothing good about you, physically or mentally. So, then why - 

“Well, good morn-ing, beautiful.” You almost jumped as J spoke from the doorway, his head tilted at such an angle that his ear was almost touching his shoulder as he walked over to you with careful, measured steps. As he reached you, a hand came to brush errant strands of dark hair away from your face, “And you are... beautiful.”

“Hi, J.” You smiled as best as you could for J, you did, but he squinted at you, disbelieving. So well did he know you that he knew even without you saying anything that you weren’t okay, that you needed him. You rolled closer to J, wanting more of all of him, and J grunted as his hand curved to the shape of your cheek, his gloved finger stroking soothingly. His movements were as calculated as his steps had been, making a concerted effort to be gentle to you. If only he knew that he already was gentle with you; he had some innate softness, especially when it came to you. It was so special just how deeply he loved you and Pat.

“What’s bitin’ ya, doll? Ya’ just woke up. C’mon, scooch over, and - Minty!” J got underneath the duvet with you as he called for Pat, making sure to not be too loud, his arms immediately encircling your waist. You sighed, both wanting to move away from J’s touch and wanting to sink into it, and almost as soon as he had been called, the younger man came barreling into the room, dark curls flying. He had been waiting. For you. Pat would always be there for you when you needed him, no matter what.

“What? What’d I miss? Ah - hey, sleeping beauty.” Pat winked at you and you smiled, you smiled, feeling some of that heaviness leave you soul as you took in Pat’s echoing smile. J growled lightly; pleased was he that you had actually smiled. It meant that you weren’t too far down the rabbit hole of your own mind.

“We got a, uh - situation with our hyena. She’s not, ah - not good.”

Immediately did Pat’s bright eyes hone in on you, a look of tender love and understanding in his eyes. “What is it, love?” As he spoke did he make his way over to the bed, climbing in on the other side of you so that you were safely and perfectly cushioned between your two greatest loves. Their fingers were interlocked over your waist, Pat’s leg between yours and J’s chest firmly pressed to your back. All of Pat was aligned to your front and all of J was aligned to your back. You were sandwiched in the best way between your koala and your clown.

Pat tipped his head so that he could press a firm, loving kiss to the very centre of your forehead, right between your eyebrows, and J mumbled something as he kissed the back of your head, leaning forward slightly so that he could nuzzle his face into your neck, his full lips pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. There was nothing sexual in this, but it was reassuring; J was telling you that he was there with you, that he was right beside you, that he wasn’t going anywhere. And though he didn’t say those three words, spoken too little and yet not enough, you knew, you knew what J was saying to you.

“Talk to us, babydoll. Tell daddy what’s wrong, hm?”

“I hate myself.” Those three words, like venom, dripped off the end of your tongue and shocked both Pat and J. 

Pat inhaled sharply and mumbled a truly heartbroken “no” as he started to slowly pepper your face with kisses, and J’s fingers tightened on your skin as he growled lowly. “That is a ba-ad joke, Lilith.” The way J drew out the word immediately told you that he knew how serious this was.

You shook your head, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes both at the gentleness from Pat and the roughness from J; so similar yet so contrasting were they. “I’m not joking.” Your tears fell hot and fast down your face but they never poured further down your cheeks than the end of your nose, so attentive and so efficient was Pat at catching those tears. “I mean it. I hate everything. I hate my voice... it’s not pretty like other girls. My gross stomach, ugh I just want to use your knife and cut it all off.” Insecurity after insecurity poured from your lips and your boys listened in silence, their bodies too still against yours, their faces too composed. “And I’m not even anything special, my hair is such a bad colour and I just - “

“Enough.” J growled the word through almost gritted teeth as he moved so that he was kneeling beside you on the bed. Pat remained closed with you, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss to your face, his lips replacing those salty tear streaks with marks of real love. “Look, listen, - “ J reached down and patted the top of your head, his gloved fingers smoothing your hair away from your face, “It ain’t easy having what you have and doing what ya’ do. And to top it all off, your body - “ his eyes moved appreciatively over your body, a gleam in his dark eyes which you had seen many a time since you had become involved with him, “gets ya through it all. Ya’ don’t gotta eat less, that’s stupid. Ya’ll just feel worse. Ya’ gotta eat, doll, so enjoy one of life’s many pleasures, hm? And - the makeup? Babydoll, you. are. beautiful. You don’t need that on ya face. Unless you want to.” J shrugged easily, “Telling ya’ to diet, too, is also stupid. Your body is clever, hm? It knows what it needs and when... so give it what it wants. Don’t deny yourself anything. Your body is yours and you’re mine - so take care of you. All of you.” J began to click his ‘T’s towards the end of his speech, truly angered was he by the way you were talking about yourself, even though he didn’t understand why. He cared nothing for physical appearance and he didn’t see why you did, either, but he would be there for you. It was the least he could do.

While J was making his point, kneeling on the bed beside you, almost looming over you - he needed to see your face, he needed to see that you understood -  Pat was still pressing kisses to your face, your neck... anywhere and everywhere he could reach did Pat leave kisses. As Pat continued to kiss you, J laid back down beside you, the moment of Absolute Attention acquired, and bit off his gloves one by one, peeling them off and leaving his hands bare. Fingers splayed so that he could touch as much of you as he could in one go did J’s hands travel up and down your body like the well known, beloved terrain that it was, fingers squeezing your thighs, rubbing at your stomach; avoiding, of course, all those areas you didn’t want to be touched, couldn’t be touched for reasons better left unsaid. He loved on you with just his hands, appreciating, while Pat whispered compliments which contradicted every negative thing you had just said.

“You’re beautiful, Lilith.” A kiss to the centre of your forehead. “Intelligent.” A kiss to your right temple. “Funny.” A kiss to your right cheek. “Compassionate.” A kiss to the right corner of your mouth. You tilted your face to the side, wanting, but Pat was determined to finish making his own point, outspoken was he. “Generous.” A kiss to your left temple. “Hardworking.” A kiss to your left cheek. “Kind.” A kiss to the tip of your nose. “Stubborn - not a bad thing, you know. Sometimes it’s important to stick to your truth.” A kiss to the left corner of your mouth. “Ours.” Finally, finally, did Pat claim your lips with his in a fiery kiss which left your head spinning, unable to think of your own name were you.

J’s hands finally stilled on your body but he didn’t let you go. J would never let you go, especially if he knew that you were feeling the way that you were. “My turn.” As Pat pulled away, J’s hand slid gracefully up your arm, fitted to the curve of your shoulder and then up, skipping your neck entirely before he cupped your chin in one hand and turned you around to face him completely so that he could kiss you, your toes curling into the duvet.

As he pulled away, the tip of his painted nose brushing against yours, J said, “Stop tearin’ yourself down, would ya? Life’s much easier when ya’ on your own side, Lil.” 

You weren’t entirely convinced and you did still feel bad, but you trusted J and Pat. They’d never lie to you, not ever.

“We love you, Lilith.” Pat glared playfully at J when the older man grunted and rolled his eyes. “You’ve never disappointed me and I’ve never not been proud of you, and I know it’s the same for that grumpy man over there.” His smirk was positively dazzling and though J grumbled and burrowed into your back, J let it slide. This wasn’t about him, this was about you and you needed the both of them so badly. “Don’t ever let anyone, ever, make you feel like you don’t deserve to feel good about yourself, about your body. You are... wow.”

J scoffed at Pat’s lack of articulation but you all knew what he meant.

“Thank you, Peppermint.” You kissed him tenderly, affectionately, and you felt Pat smile against your lips, your own curving upwards in response. “And you -” You reached a hand back, fingers sliding into slightly greasy hair. You’d get him into the shower later, no matter what he said, “Thank you.” J’s arms only tightened around you.

“We got’cha. You’re not something we put up with or something to deal with or any of that other stuff ya’ thinkin’. You’re you and you have us because of that.” His inflexions suggested offense, insulted was he by the way you were insulting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” Despite J’s words, you were feeling that way, and J shushed you roughly, the harsh sound almost drowned out Pat’s coo of love and of understanding. You hadn’t said much, not really, and though they had listened to what you said, they responded to what you hadn’t, so emotionally intuitive were they and so intimately did they know you.

You weren’t okay, and you wouldn’t be for a while, but that was okay. For the hyena had her koala and her clown, and that was the way it was always meant to be. The three of you were soulmates, for better or for worse, and through it all would you stand tall with each other, safe in the knowledge that you were enough just because you were you. You were safe, in this moment, safe and protected and loved. You were always, always enough, for the simple fact that you were you. And you, dearest Lilith, are beautiful inside and out in every single way.

[twinkledadwa]

Home is Where (a ghost nest #1)

 november 7th, 4:47 am pst.

 in all sincerity;

 this interview was birthed from the innate fear of death. for what it is to ‘be a ghost’, beyond having the ability to slam doors after your passing, isn’t truly defined. a trait consistent throughout the many interpretations of angels, spirits, paranormal and such is the presence felt being an essence lost in time. ‘who’ a person is stops at their death. all human aspects stripped, ghosts work as an echo of a fading past; something more akin to a message in a bottle than an entity still living.

 so, in our lives, do we strive to create essences that continue to build after our deaths? or do we attempt to capture our essences well enough at the moment to make our ghosts stronger? the latter has been adopted for ‘a ghost nest’. i hope, for everybody’s sake, that it isn't explained again. context felt necessary to clear up why these interviews are in a hybrid, ‘Dear Sally’-esque format. what this should be considered, at most, is an exercise in essence on a minuscule scale.

 and on november 7th, at approximately 5:10 am pst, brandon macdonald expressed a similar sentiment. ‘tantrum provider’ for Palm Coast-based emo band Home is Where, they noted the name’s function as a subliminal advertisement; so that whenever the proverb it takes from is used, listeners at any moment in time will harken back to sound bleeding with vibrancy. ‘the scientific classification of stingrays’ (topical cover art) carries an urgency somehow familiar, symptomatic of the band stretching their foundations into their own monument. for ninety minutes, unknowingly breaths away from a new president-elect, we had a conversation.

 this is Home is Where’s ghost nest.

  So, how long is too long for us not to have a presidential assassination?

  Brandon: Um, that’s a good question. I was on a local podcast recently and, funny enough, I didn’t know going into it that they’re sponsored by a financial magazine?  I lost my shit finding that out. I was laughing my ass off. I was like, “your financial magazine, right now, is supporting an artist who is a dedicated Marxist. A communist who sees these people on the street and knows that I represent exactly what they’re against”. The song isn’t meant to be about an actual assassination or about Orange Man himself. I wanted it to be a comment on the structure itself, you know, how long living within it does it take before everything builds up and we eventually bite the hand that feeds us?

  Protest music that names specific presidents does not age well. Look at 80s punk, besides Dead Kennedys, mentioning Reagan. You know, what was the name of that compilation against Bush? The intention was to write a protest song that lasts longer than a presidency. Also, it was easier from a lyric-writing perspective, although there are plenty of words that rhyme with Trump. I don’t know about McConnell [laughs]. 

    Videos of ‘stingrays’ live date back to January. Was all the material off the next record written pre-quarantine?

    All of it. We were sitting on this material for a while, and we went into the studio in early April. We wanted to pump something out before, you know, the end of the world happened. So we got those done, it was mastered around May, and now we are waiting for a few more parts to be sent in. That’s no worries, it’s been a difficult time for all of us. The original plan wasn’t even to drop a single for ‘i became birds’. 2021 was coming up and we hadn’t released anything this year, so ‘stingrays’ felt like the most direct and obvious choice.

   In the world, how do you see both your personal presence & Home is Where’s presence?

   You know, I don’t leave the house much. If I do, I wear a mask. I go to work. I spend time with my cat. I hang out with my girlfriend when I can, as we’re pretty much on opposite schedules. The band hasn’t been up to much. We haven’t met since May and we’ve all faced changes in our individual lives, but at some point, when or if the chaos comes to an end, we’ll be playing together again.    In terms of Home is Where? We’re an emo band from Florida. There’s plenty of those. This might be a pretty trash take, but a lot of the bands in the scene comment on liberalism, and you can only gain so much by listening to it. You should spend your time reading theory, doing something actually important, so you’d be able to make a change in the world. So, in the grand scheme of things, Home is Where is not important. However, it is something I love and am fortunate enough to do. 

  Dear Brandon, of Home is Where.   I’m having trouble finding my own space when stuck home with my family. What should I do?

  Charley, in Pennsylvania.

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

  Brandon: Is this referring to COVID?

  I’m pretty sure it is.

. Okay, I think I have an answer for this.

  In terms of finding your own space, just find something you’re passionate about and, fucking, dive headfirst into it. A few years back, around the time we started to get serious with the band, I was in a position where I didn’t have a job but I had enough saved up so that it was a few months until I had to worry about rent. With all the time I had, I wanted to buckle down and get really into something I wanted to learn everything about emo. You know, I knew Rites of Spring were the ones who started the genre and some of the stuff about the 90s, but I wanted to know all of it. There were 2000 emo albums that I downloaded and I listened through all of them. Everyone inspired me. Not all of them were good, no. Some were bad, but by listening to them, I knew exactly what I didn’t want to do. It helped clarify what I wanted Home is Where to sound like.

  Find something you’re passionate about. You know, reading theory, making art, do something that makes at home in your home. You can do so many great things.

  Do you have any song recommendations for this situation?

  I have two! The first is, well, you can never go wrong with Cap’n Jazz. Pioneers, truly some of the greats. Tim Kinsella is a genius; I do my best to take what I can from him. It’s him and Bob Dylan. The song is We Are Scientists! (by Cap’n Jazz). I believe some of the lyrics do touch upon that feeling of being stuck around other people. Like, “starchy product scripted people I never asked to care about”? “you can’t look at the sky without looking right through it”? Those lines are, mwah, chef’s kiss!

  The second is H.S. by Plunger. Let me pull up the lyrics to this. It’s another one that comments directly on feeling isolated from those around you. Here it is; “All these old faces/Smiling and laughing/But you’ll never leave fourteen”. Yeah, that seems to sum up the emotion this person expressed.

  Dear Brandon, of Home is Where.   Things recently ended with a person I had been seeing. I hurt them, didn’t communicate my feelings properly, and I feel like garbage for it. I leave the continent for 5 months in a few weeks, and I want to reach out before I leave, but also I want to give her space? Should I wait and see if she reaches out? I’m a dumb stupid idiot.   Dumb stupid idiot, in Maine.

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

  ‘Dumb stupid idiot’ [laughs]. That truly is an emo question. I am sorry to hear that you’re going through that. That sucks, man. Heartbreak sucks. I wish you the best in leaving the country during COVID times, seeing as that might be difficult, and hopefully, it opens your eyes to new things.

 My one piece of advice is to give it time. I know a few years seems like a lot of time, but it really isn’t. There are moments where I, too, indulge in being derogatory towards myself. Home is Where has lyrics about feeling alienated, being hard on yourself. A few years ago, I moved back to the town I grew up in, and even though it was considered ‘home’, I didn’t feel that. It was tough. Eventually, over time, everything came together. You just gotta wait and look back when you’re in a better headspace,

  You’re going overseas, you have so many new experiences ahead of you. Who knows, maybe you two will end up working out, we’ll see. You got this. I’m rooting for ya.

   Do you have any song recommendations?

    I came up with three, actually. One isn’t emo or anything close to adjacent, so I added another to compensate.

   I Love You Too by Rainer Maria is the first one. It’s hard to find emo that deals straight up with a break-up, there isn’t much out there, but Rainer Maria stuck out. This song is killer. That entire EP is killer. One of the best emo bands ever.

   Idiot Wind by Bob Dylan is my second recommendation. Which is not emo, but in terms of break-up songs, it doesn’t get much better than this. Blood on the Tracks is fucking brutal; Dylan puts blame on pretty much everything.

  The other emo song is from, I want to say, around 2000 or 2001? Near the end of that 90s, ‘second wave’ emo, whatever it is considered. The song is For Meg by On the Might of Princes. It’s about Meg Griffin from Family Guy. No, it’s not. Actually, I am not sure, but this track has just about everything; it’s lo-fi, has some screams, and the lyrics seem to discuss a heartbreak;

 ”This is for you. to hold you close, to keep you Close to my heart. I'll scream it til your ears bleed You'll always have a friend in me”

 Great, great emo that gets heavy. They’re the only emo band that Brave Little Abacus cited as an influence on their sound. You should definitely check them out.

 Home is Where’s visual ghost nest (collages & mixtape visualizer) consists of: Modern Times//Halloween: Resurrection (”Busta Rhymes beating the shit out of Michael Myers is a 10/10 for me”)//Blood Diner//Simpsons: Hit & Run//City Lights//Woody Guthrie: Hard Travelin’//The Horror of Party Beach//Peanuts//Zippy the Pinhead//Fritz the Cat//The Enfield Haunting//Twin Peaks//Wayne’s World 2//Synecdoche, New York//Japanese Woodblock Prints

  Home is Where can be found on twitter, facebook, and bandcamp. ‘i became birds’ out 2021 on Knifepunch Records. 

 their ghost nest is on spotify. questions for future ‘episodes’ can be asked under the advice tab.

  this now exists. bless to brandon, Home is Where, and you all.

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 31

First day back after a trying weekend, I chose to work on the personal report that I wanted to compile to keep track of Homelander’s current misdeeds. Billy was still pecking away at the reports from meetings with supes that I barely recalled beside me. Between our steady typing, and the quiet conversations we had back and forth about what we wanted in each report (more, more, more details where Homelander was concerned, thorough, but less where the lesser known supes were concerned) the office was quieter than usual.

I was typing in the doctor’s information when Billy asked me what I wanted for lunch. I squinted in thought and then asked for burgers from our favorite spot, but only if we could eat in the office. Standing meant I felt like I was wearing a diaper, and sitting kept that feeling at bay at least a tiny shred.

“Anything for you, love.” He leaned over and kissed me before hitting the number on his phone and ordering our regular orders. After confirming he’d be picking them up, since they didn’t have delivery, he hung up and checked his messages. “MM tells me that they’ve had more confirmed dead whereabouts unknown.” I groaned. “Yeah, this V shit don’t seem worth it, does it?”

I shook my head and kept working. Billy typed a response to MM and went back to his reports until he decided enough time had passed for the food to be ready without a wait. Another kiss and he was gone.

I was lost in the work in front of me, ignoring the tugging cramps and the feeling of more blood leaving my body. I felt warm, too warm for the jacket I’d kept on when I arrived at the office. Tugging it off, a glance at my arm told me I still wasn’t steaming so I felt sure that the fetal tissue was the cause of my former embarrassing side effect. Blinking past a few dots that seemed to float into my vision, I stopped typing for a moment. Eye strain, I told myself, from staring at the laptop screen for hours now. Sitting back, I felt the cramping harder and fought against the worry building. The doctor said cramping was normal. That the bleeding was normal. And since I had a slightly more aggressive removal than normal, this all was normal.

Thinking that my diaper might need changing, I stood and felt a wave of vertigo hit me so hard that I wondered if I was hungrier than I thought. Holding myself steady with both hands on my desk, I willed the dizziness away as I felt a gush run down my legs. Shit. Before I could move to sit back down, or grab the phone, the dizziness grew into a full blown faint and I hit the floor as the darkness descended.

  Snippets. That’s what I heard. Pressure. That’s what I felt. But the weight of the darkness was overwhelming and I couldn’t, no matter how hard I fought, break free.

“Is it a complication?” Billy’s voice, I would know it anywhere, even from my grave or heaven. Wait, was I dead? I felt a pulling sensation. A tug and a yank. Did that negate the dead idea? “The test results, they don’t make sense.” A new voice, foreign to me, but concerned. That’s good, concerned meant that they were at least trying to help me break free, right?

I couldn’t really focus to keep track of time. The next time I heard Billy’s voice he was closer. “Ronnie, you gotta fight this, sweetheart, you gotta open those gorgeous fucking eyes of yours and tell me to calm my fucking tits, because I tell you what, I’m gonna go fucking ballistic on his fucking ass.” I tried, God did I try, to open my eyes and work my mouth to tell him to be smart, to not start a war until we had all our soldiers in line.

The next voice was another strange one. It was telling someone that a variant was used and until they found the right one, who knew what would happen? That sounded shitty as fuck. Noises that I couldn’t place, more tugging and pulling, and then more nothing.

  At some point, don’t ask me for particulars, I managed to blink my eyes open. The glare of the lights overhead, the steady sound of machines working to do God knew what, and the steady beep of a heart monitor. That seemed like a good sign, the steadiness of the sound. I couldn’t move, since I was hooked up to so much hardware that I wasn’t entirely sure where it ended and I began.

“You’re awake,” I tried to smile at the sound of his voice, but I wasn’t sure I managed, I felt so wrong. Then his face was above me and my breath caught, causing that steady beep to hiccup. “Calm down, Ronnie,” his smile played on his lips and I knew he was touching my cheek even if I couldn’t feel it. “Scared the fucking daylights out of me, becoming a habit, love.”

I sighed, but couldn’t think of what to say. What could I say? I had a million questions and I wanted to assure him I was fine, but was I? I couldn’t move, I couldn’t feel his hand on my face. What did that mean?

“They got you full of numbing shit,” he offered, his eyes tight. “Got to keep you still while they work on-” he stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Not supposed to boggle you down with all that, Veronica.” I think my mouth opened, it must have because he shushed me before I could try to make a noise. “Your only job is to lay here and let the good doctors work. I love you, and-” he looked to the side, where I felt like someone was waiting, but I couldn’t see them. “Yeah, I know.” His eyes were on me again. “You’re gonna go under again, love, best to keep you as-” I felt the tug off something pulling me away from him, my eyes heavy again, I missed whatever he said after, because the darkness covered me again.

  The next time I heard anything it was a familiar if strange in the circumstances. “Dr. Taylor is extremely important, do you understand that?” A murmured affirmative came through over the ever constant beeping and machine noise that seemed as familiar as the voice. Mallory kept going, telling whomever she was speaking to that she wanted hourly reports on my progress, that she wanted to know how far they’d gotten and how much further they needed to go. Then the darkness pressed down again and I lost the world.

  Blinking awake, who knew how long after the Monday that I spectacularly passed out, I heard Billy’s voice but it wasn’t next to me. And it sounded oddly confident and professional. Dear God, I was fucking dead! I looked up at the television that hung close to the bed, for who’s enjoyment I didn’t fucking know, but there he was. Wearing a plain white button down shirt, smirk nowhere to be found, he was speaking calmly to what I imagined was a bank of cameras and news reporters.

“The Office of Supe Affairs would like to confirm that one of our own, our head actually, is currently in an undisclosed medical center being treated for an attack by an as now unnamed superhuman being. Dr. Veronica Taylor, after being treated for the first attack, a violation that no woman should ever have the misfortune to experience, had complications brought about because of a second attack that was perpetuated by this suspect.” I was impressed, he hadn’t said ‘fuck’ once. And not a ‘twat’ or ‘cunt’ to be had. “This case is open and I will remind everyone that it is an attack on the very foundation of what created this office. A supe that will not play by the rules is a supe that will be punished to the fullest extent-” The television clicked off and I blinked.

“He sounds impressive doesn’t he?” Mallory moved closer and smiled down at me. “Billy hated that I asked him to do that. But he did it after I told him that it would piss Homelander off so badly that he’d make another mistake, a bigger one.” I wanted to speak but my mouth was so dry that I couldn’t swallow. “Allow me.” She grabbed a plastic pitcher and poured some water into a cup and added a bendy straw. “Take it slow, even with the feeding tube and the intravenous fluids, you still haven’t had anything for days.” I tilted my head to show her I understood and she placed the straw on my lips.

Taking careful, small sips, I waited until I knew I had enough moisture to speak. I swallowed carefully and took a breath. “Where am I?” I’d heard Billy’s comment about an ‘undisclosed location’ and was curious.

“A private Vought lab.” I nodded, happy that I had some movement. “Whatever it was that Homelander had that doctor give you, it wasn’t normal Compound V.” My eyes widened, but the conversation about ‘variants’ made more sense now. “They have access to the variations of the compound and could work on an antidote.” Another nod from me and she held the straw to my lips again.

Once I was sufficiently moist again, I cleared my throat. “And have they? Have they found an antidote?” Mallory sighed and I felt a twist of fear.

“The machine you hear, the one that’s driving me mad with the constant noise?” I smirked. “You’re being given constant dialysis for now. Ronnie, they’re cleaning your blood repeatedly while they try to figure out which ‘variant’ he chose.” I sighed. “Progress has been made, but you’re not in the clear yet.”

“She’s awake,” Billy’s voice was hushed, but then he was beside Mallory and his eyes were twinkling. “There you are, beautiful.” When his fingers brushed against my cheek this time, I felt it, the warmth of him. “I missed the color of your eyes, Ronnie.” He leaned over the side of the bed and kissed my forehead. “Til they remove that fucking tube, I think I’ll leave your mouth alone.” My hand raised, and I was happy with the ability to move, touching my nose I sighed again. “It’s necessary, love, keeps you fed.”

Mallory said her goodbyes, telling us both she’d be in touch. “She was giving me the bare bones.” I offered, as Billy pulled up a chair and took a seat so he could hold my hand through the grated bed guard. “Saw part of your press conference, Mr. Butcher.” I bit my lip as his dimples came out beside his smirk. “I’m impressed, and to be honest, that shirt you were wearing?” He’d changed back into the printed shirt I was used to seeing him in. “I think if you wear that, I’ll be more inclined to wear that dress you want on me so badly.”

“Deal.” He kissed my knuckles. “Bare bones? What’d she tell you?” I filled him in on the minimal information she gave me. He nodded, and I watched as he worked on ordering his thoughts. “From what the quacks are telling us,” I shook my head. “When we evicted wee Homelander spawn from your innards, we took away the stabilizing agent that held the side effects of whatever shit he had that fucking imbecile shoot you up with.” The steaming? I was trying to make sense of it. “When you steamed, it was based on how you were feeling, right?” I nodded, still trying to figure it out. “‘Parently, the little genetic invader was acting as a stunting mechanism. We dug it out, your body tried to heal, and instead it unleashed the shit that the nugget was holding in check. The bleeding alone was enough to scare everyone, Ronnie, but the temperature? Inside and out, it was like you were going nuclear.” Shit. “Took a bit of talking to me to get me to agree to allow these twats near you, but they seem to know at least a little worth knowing.” He shook his head, his eyes looking haunted. “Found you in that puddle of fucking blood and-”

“Told you not until I’m sick of you, Billy Butcher.” I offered, trying to smile, but fuck was it hard. “So how long have I been here and how long do I have to stay?”

  The truth was I had been in the care of Vought for over a week. As for how long I had to stay? That was tougher to gauge. The doctors and scientists were working their asses off, but even with the intel that I’d gathered, they had their work cut out for them. Apparently, and this was completely confidence instilling, there were so many variations of failed Compound V formulas, forever tweaking the mix they might have lost count, that narrowing down which one Homelander had pocketed was next to impossible. And so, they continued to churn my blood in and out of my body, trying to keep the formula from regenerating, telling me that my levels looked good, but for now leaving was out of the question.

Dr. Veronica Taylor, ladies and gentlemen, newly diagnosed guinea pig.

[emotionalsupportfiction]

Oh anon... I do WANT angst~ So much delicious angst~ I went overboard with this... HEH.

Forsyth

Air was thick with the smell of smoke and blood, the cacophony of battle was disorienting. One couldn’t pick apart the sounds around them, whether they belonged to enemy or ally. But Forsyth steeled himself, eyes fixed on one cantor that summoned an unending stream of foes and commanded them to attack the Deliverance. The nuisance had been heavily guarded by its thralls, leaving no opening for a huge portion of the battle. Everyone had been worn down, killing the cantor would turn the tides of battle in their favor. The thought of it made him restless, Forsyth itched to charge straight towards the cantor.

Suddenly the air picked up and grew hot, Luthier and Delthea had combined forces to deal with the growing swarm of terrors. ‘At last an opening.’ Forsyth thought as he gripped his lance and  shield tightly. An awesome display of power and technique right before him, an angry flurry of flames thrashed through the terrors, clearing a path for the charge. Forsyth breathed deeply, his focus fixed on the cantor, with tunnel vision and no hesitation he charged forward.

Forsyth was so close to the cantor then he felt all the hairs behind his neck stand on alert followed by laughter and the crackle of lightning. He whipped his head back to see a witch had teleported right behind him, light crackling at her finger tips, hastily creeping towards him. He’d be hit point-blank and he was sure that’d be the end of him. He could almost hear Python cursing him for being so fool-hardy as he squeezed his eyes shut and whispered a prayer to the Earth Mother.

“FORSYTH!!!”

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. You took the bolt of lightning for him and Forsyth had the displeasure of watching you get electrocuted on his behalf. The overflow of lightning arcing away from your body as you crashed into the ground.

CLANG! He dropped his shield and lance, his legs gave out as he watched you twitch uncontrollably  but your eyes were glossed over and empty. His surroundings spun out of control, as if whirling and mixing into a chaotic murk. Forsyth weakly called out to you, he reached out to you but you didn’t respond.

Lukas

Far too many battles had chipped away your supplies, desperate times called for desperate measures. Alm opted to enter some mysterious ruin in the hopes of scavenging for weapons and provisions. Of course, he wasn’t the only one who thought of that but no one anticipated a large group of brigands within the ruins. To complicate things further, a few spectres roamed the abandoned halls.

You and Lukas had the misfortune of running into one particularly strong spectre, there was no glory dying in a forgotten ruin, better to flee and live another day. Both your laboured breaths and frantic footsteps echoed through the halls though the ungodly sound of the spectre’s pursuit grew more distant. “I think…” Lukas panted “It would be best if we go back to the entrance…” he took a quick glance back “… and wait for the rest there.” Then looked back at you for your approval. A sound idea indeed, you’d actually forgotten how expedition group had been separated. As you were about to agree, you caught some movement from an opening behind Lukas. You had only a few seconds to decide if it was friend of foe as both of you made your approach, could it have been Gray? Maybe Tobin? The movement seemed cautious but whoever they were they could’ve been injured. Lukas was quick to notice your distraction and followed your line of sight.

A glint of an axe, that was neither Gray nor Tobin, you pushed Lukas away. A sickening “THUNK” soon followed and your right shoulder grew heavy and limp, the impact knocking you off your feet. Pain and warmth followed as you lay flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you. You took a tentative glance to your right shoulder, registering an axe buried into your flesh.

The brigand yelled as he charged towards you but his battle cry turned into a yelp of pain. Lukas blocking him with the length of his lance, and with all his might, pushed the brigand back and sent him crashing against the wall. He rushed to your side, in the dim light of the ruins, checking on your wound. Blood, so much blood had pooled around you, your breathing laboured. You did your best to hide the panic in your eyes from Lukas, you forced yourself to smile as you looked up to him.

Blank, stiff, cold, and terrifying. Those are the words you would use to describe the look Lukas had on his face. His gazed trailed from axe then to the blood, his jaw set and his whole body shivered tensely. You swore you could hear him grinding his teeth. Lukas snapped his attention to the man who had injured you and slowly made his way towards him, dragging the tip of his lance against the floor ominously. His target picked himself up, yelling curses as he pulled out a dagger. Lukas swiftly disarmed him, a deft spin of his lance smacking hard against the brigand’s arm. He spun it one more time and impaled his foe right through the chest, pushing with all his strength once more, smashing the brigand against the wall.

Wounded and without any options left, the brigand pointlessly begged for mercy but Lukas remained quiet as he ripped his lance out from the wounded man’s body. He howled in pain as he clutched the gaping bleeding hole, desperately begging for mercy but Lukas would have none of it, the knight in red possessed with bloodlust and rage. Lukas gripped his lance tightly and started stabbing the brigand repeatedly. The sickening sounds of flesh being punctured repeatedly, a dying man’s pleas, and Lukas’ angry grunts bounced through the halls.

The body was indistinguishable once Lukas was done taking out all his frustrations, he was splattered with blood, an eerie accessory to his cold expression. He made his way towards you, picking you up, registering how cold you had become. “Worry not my love… nothing will hurt you. Not anymore, I’ll make sure of it.” Lukas made his way back to the entrance with you in his arms, an unearthly calm enveloped him. “You won’t hurt anymore, I promise. Nothing can hurt you. No one will hurt you. They can’t hurt you. I won’t let them.” He muttered as he walked.

Python

Python cursed his damn luck, a sword blow to the shoulder rendered him incapable of drawing his bow and being useful out in the field. You and Python made a mad dash towards one of the trenches for some cover. Once you thought you both were secure, you started patching up his wound. A warm green glow radiated from your hands and Python felt the sting of the wound dull slowly. He noticed how your brows were furrowed and how nervous you looked. He tilted your head to meet his gaze and gave you a playful wink. “You’ll get wrinkles worrying too much about little ol’me sunshine. I’ll be alright, wound’s far from the heart and the guts.” He chuckled. You let out an exasperated huff before pinching his cheeks. “Perhaps this will motivate you to miss less mister-I-can’t-aim-for-shit.” Python loved your feistiness, he feigned surprise “Mila’s knickers! You’ve got quite the mouth young lady!” You lightly flicked at the wound on his shoulder “If you can joke around then you’re well enough to fight.” You planted a quick kiss on his forehead.

He’d be lying if that little gesture didn’t make his insides melt a bit, he wanted to return the show of affection but noticed how your eyes had grown as wide as saucers. “Py-Python! Behind!” You managed to stammer out, the archer fluidly loaded his bow, drew it and turned his body around. One of the enemy grunts had managed to follow and sneak up on the both of you, his javelin  primed to be thrown. Python fired one shot, the arrow sinking into the enemy’s arm but they were undeterred. The grunt threw his weapon while Python’s body dodged instinctively, the archer quickly firing two more shots. One landing on the grunt’s neck and the other burying into his eye, they falling to the ground with a loud thud. Python was impressed with himself and pridefully turned towards you “How’s that for ‘can’t-shoot-for-shit’”.

He didn’t hear you laugh, you couldn’t, not with a javelin impaled on your stomach. “SHIT!” Python stumbled as he made his way towards you and cradled your form in his arms. “Py… it hurts…” you clutched at the fastening of his armor. “He… got me in … the guts…” “SHH! Don’t talk! Save your strength!” Python whipped his head around looking for any of the other healers. “I… I’m sorry…” panic began to overtake Python “I gotta…” he gently pressed around the javelin “St-Stop the bleeding! Mila help us, please hold on!” He saw you squirm in pain from the added pressure.

Should he leave you and look for one of the healers? Not an option, he’d never leave you, not like this. “SILQUE!!!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. “FORSYTH!? LUKAS!?” He frantically looked around him, hoping to spot one of his allies who could help you or call for help at least. Python’s heart dropped when he felt your grasp loosen “No! No! NONONONONONO! You! You stay with me!” He clutched you closer to him and angled your face so he could look into your eyes “Look at me! Please look at me!” He saw you blink, albeit weakly. “I.. am…” you croaked then your faced twisted into pain and anguish “Py…thon... I’m c-cold…”

Python let out a long frustrated shout then proceeded to yell the name of every member of the Deliverance repeatedly till his voice grew hoarse. “SIIIIILQUE!!!” He lost count of how many times he’d circled through his ally’s names, he bit his lip in frustration. “TA-“ he couldn’t get her name out through his tears. “TATI-“ his voice broke again “TATIANA! ANYONE!?” He pressed his forehead against your “please… help.” Python’s tears dripped onto your face. “Sunshine… I ain’t gonna leave you here…” he sobbed “So please… don’t you leave me.”

[onwesterlywinds]

The Worst-Case Scenario

After waking from her disconnect from Shemhazai, A'zaela was determined, if not a bit angry. Once she pushed through her grogginess, she said to the others, "We need to go." And without so much as waiting to be given back her weapons, she started off up the stairs, in the direction her group had come from, away from the corpses and the swords of the Subterra.

"A'zaela...!" Nive hissed after her, pausing only to gather the late king’s sword and to make sure Tai followed behind them. Alaq'it, too, seemed startled by A'zaela's sudden rise, but she rushed up the stairs after her friends as best as she could, taking faster strides to keep up.

And the darkness in the Subterra no longer seemed as oppressive as it did before: together, the four of them were able to find their way back to ground level without problems.

Tai hurried at the rear, having created a makeshift sling to keep his currently useless arm at his chest. "Glad you're awake now, at least." His eyes traveled upwards, up toward where something was certainly happening.

"When we tell this to the others," said A'zaela, "can we leave out the part where I passed out? I would like that." Still, she kept her voice low: though her eyes had adjusted to the dark of the Subterra long ago, she couldn't fully pierce the darkness still. "And we will be telling this to the others," she continued, quieter, as though trying to convince herself they were going to make it out all right.

"Only if we can leave out any reference to me crying like a child," Alaq'it piped up, still taking the steps two at a time.

"I think we've all had things happened that we don't want to talk about," Nive added. "You know what they say, what happens in the Gold Saucer..."

Alaq'it gave Nive a very confused look at this idiom, but clearly decided to ask for clarification later.

"...Stays in the Subterra," A'zaela clarified begrudgingly.

Akhutai Urit chuckled. "Certainly the others don't need the *details* of it all, anyway."

As soon as some light appeared at the top of the stairs, A'zaela stuffed her linkpearl into her ear to try to get a signal. Her haste made her reckless, made her forget for a moment that the Garlean troops could definitely try and hack into it.

"Hello?" she called. "Is anyone using this line? Gods, I'd even take Fawn and Bull right about now. Riskbreakers, come in - what's the status report?"

But no Garlean interference came through - either on the linkpearl connection, or on the nearest landing. All the while, Akhutai Urit kept looking upward.

"Something is definitely happening up there," he murmured. "...And no doubt the Garleans will be standing in the way. We won't be able to avoid a fight this time, I'm betting."

---

With the echoes on combat from within the tower and the manifestation of a beacon on top, Priscilla's heart sank to her stomach. "We can't sit here forever, can we?" she said to Orella.

Orella shrugged, and winced, still not used to the extent of her injury yet. She'd sat in silence for the most part, ignoring Pris, occasionally looking out of the window of the airship at the tower. Always frowning. "...Did you ever have any of the stones?" she asked Pris.

"I did not, and would rather keep it that way," Priscilla replied as she started readying herself.

As soon as those words left her lips, a small unit of Garlean troops arrived - presumably to investigate the Prima Vista's shuttle.

"I had one," Orella continued, as though unbothered by their new arrivals. She did, however, stand to mirror Pris' movements. Strapping her gauntlets on was no easy task with only one working arm, but she forced herself through the motions, panting by the end from the effort. "It was taken. It's here, too."

"Then we'd better take it," said Priscilla. "We've got company."

"Company..." And, peering out of the window, Orella recognized the uniforms. "Well, shit. Think we can make it inside without a fight?"

"We can distract them with one of my turrets," Priscilla offered.

Orella considered this, then nodded. "Ladies first, then."

---

After Hashmal's manifestation, Sylvan and the others had done what they could to fight him off. The battle had ended with Hinako using her abilities to bind Hashmal so Sylvan could deliver the final blow. Hinako had been left behind, drained from the strain her body had endured from the battle and over the course of the mission. Though wounded and drained of nearly all her power, Sylvan came stumbling into the room grasping the now dormant Leo auracite with Ivaan Arkwright at her side.

She sat on the ground to take a breather. She looked to the Leo auracite, wondering if Hashmal was truly dormant within - and wondering how she would even get rid of the thing. Meanwhile, Ivaan stood with one of Sylvan's arms slung over his shoulder, helping her down as they stopped for a quick rest.

"I just need a minute," she breathed. "Possibly a healer." Though she managed a chuckle, her breathing pained her; while she wasn't bleeding profusely, she bore visible wounds.

"Catch your breath, but we cannot stay long." Ivaan nodded, continuing to support her despite his words. "Let me know if that bleeding does not stop; we may have think of something else if not. I am afraid I have little in the way of first aid on me."

But of course they would not make it very far the longer she leaned on him. With a soft groan, she stood, and was pleased to find her own balance. "Right. We must meet with the others. Something is happening. The aether here is stirring."

"Even I can feel it now," Ivaan confirmed.

Sylvan Rain glanced upward, toward where the aether gathered. "Let's hurry to the top. We're almost there."

Before they could take a step forward, her linkpearl went off - bearing the sound of A'zaela's voice. She activated it without a second thought.

"I'm here! Ivaan and I are on the way up. Though I am... not one hundred percent."

"Where are you?" Ivaan added.

"We're ascending up from the Subterra." That was Nive's voice, somewhat staticky but still audible. "We found a sword that can destroy the auracite."

"Our four auracite have been shattered," said A'zaela. "A-And I don't know much, but we need to find Ashelia and shatter Ultima's stone."

"Tell Fawn we are sorry!" Alaq'it hoarsely whispered near A'zaela's linkpearl.

---

They stood in the center of a gray stone courtyard, an open level of the Ridorana Lighthouse devoid of Garleans. Around them on all sides stood the wreckage of other ancient dwellings; between them, Bull could look out at the sea and the horizon beyond. And yet the courtyard did not mark the end of their journey: at the northern end of the platform, a yalms-wide aetheric pillar beckoned them upwards.

For a moment, it was enough for him to lean against the railing and stare out at the fragments of sea in his view, and at the gaping cataract from which the lighthouse had earned its name. He had to fight to keep his panic from rising up, or to keep his nerves from sinking straight to the pit of his stomach. Every time he felt like he might lose it completely, he had only to turn around and find Timid Fawn where she stood off to the side, out of sight but not so far away. This was, he supposed, as good a place as any for them to reclaim their bearings, especially since Hinako and Linini had departed to do some extra patrols.

He listened in to the company linkpearl transmissions, fighting the tides of his anxiety all the while, until he heard Fawn's name mentioned. He put a finger to his own pearl, all thoughts of his surroundings gone at once. "Sorry about what?" he demanded.

"Fawn, if you can hear me," A'zaela wailed, "I'm REALLY SORRY."

Bull shook his head before realizing the others wouldn't be able to see the motion through the linkpearl. "Not important right now. We found somethin' at the top of the tower. That's the meeting point. Find your way up."

"Garleans are here in force," came Akhutai’s voice. "Everyone, watch yourselves."

Bull glanced over at Timid Fawn to see what she thought of this news, but she had made her way closer to the aetheric pillar in the midst of her pacing. She didn't even appear to be listening to the chatter on the linkpearl; instead, she stared upwards, her brow knit into a heavy scowl.

And then, after what felt like no more than a few minutes, the others arrived: first Sylvan Rain and Ivaan, the latter watching the former carefully and even supporting her steps with a steady hand. Then, somewhat to his surprise, Priscilla and Orella rounded the stairs, though Bull had thought they were supposed to be busy watching the Prima Vista's shuttle. Priscilla's rifle was drawn, and it shook slightly in her hand.

The first of them all to speak was Orella. "Rhalgr's low-sagging ballsack," she wheezed, doubling over from the exertion of climbing what could easily have been a hundred flights of stairs. "It's- sure been a while since I had to- do anything like that."

"Well," Bull chuckled. "You're all a sight for sore eyes."

Sylvan hurried over to them as fast as she could, presumably without exerting herself. "It's good to see you as well."

"How are you two faring?" Ivaan asked as Orella leaned against a nearby railing to breathe and cradle her arm.

"As well as ya can when everything's a pain in the arse." Bull shrugged, motioning to Fawn. "She's fine, I'm sure."

And Fawn, to his relief, nodded beside him.

Sylvan held out the Leo auracite for the group at large to survey. There came no hint of a glow from the stone; instead, the woman's eyes shone with unforeseen determination. "Hashmal manifested itself in order to overtake my will. We subdued it though. Let's destroy this damned thing."

Bull nodded in agreement. He pulled the Pisces stone from his own pocket, watching only for a moment as it glinted feebly. "This one's gotta go, too."

"Perhaps we can help with that.”

The voice was one Bull had not counted on hearing, at least not with his own ears: A'zaela's. He spun around to find all four of the missing Riskbreakers, each of them looking as though they had dragged themselves out of the seventh hell. Nivelth, grimacing, had strapped to her back an intricate greatsword much too big for her.

Relieved though he was to see them, Bull could only frown at A'zaela. "What did you find?"

Nive swung the sword around off of her back and planted it point-first into the marble tile, surveying all those assembled. "This can destroy the stones."

"Would you? Please," Sylvan quipped. "I'm tired of our friend Hashmal here. He plays a bit rough for even me."

Before anyone else could speak, Priscilla regained her breath enough to pose a new question. "Where's Ashe...?"

Bull shrugged. He still could scarcely explain to himself what had happened to her in the hall of the Sun-Cryst, let alone the rest of the company. "We were with her, then she got all... wingy, and disappeared."

Sylvan blinked. "Wingy?"

"...Wingy," said Orella blankly.

"Oh." Nive whispered. "Oh no."

"Yeah, y'know." At a loss for how else to explain all that had transpired, Bull made a butterfly with his hands. "Wingy."

Ivaan only sighed. "I think Ashelia may not be home anymore." He tapped a finger to his armored head to illustrate his point.

Akhutai huffed, seemingly in impatience, but Alaq'it whispered up to him. "What is a wingy?"

"It's Ultima," said A'zaela, her eyes wide. Then- "Shit. Shit! Ultima is... the High Seraph. The queen. She's..." She looked over to Nive. "We destroy the auracite first. Sever all our connections to them, then we move on her."

Nive nodded. "Agreed."

"Does that mean I'm going to have to fight my friend?" Sylvan mused.

A’zaela bit her lip. "...I-I hate to think it, but we might not be fighting Ashelia. We may be fighting Ultima."

"We need to get that stone from her," Bull said. "It's all eight of us against her. How hard could it be?"

"Hard," Alaq'it confirmed. "This has all been very hard."

"She's had a stone longer than any of us, Bull," Nive pointed out. "At this rate, she could be even more powerful than all of us combined."

Sylvan then did something Bull had never seen her do before, at least not to his knowledge: she cursed. "Fuck."

"...Indeed," Ivaan echoed.

Alaq'it squinted at Sylvan, mouthing out the syllable before shaking her head in confusion.

But Bull shook his head, in part to dislodge the doubts already beginning to take root in his mind. "She might be a goddess, or a queen, or whatever. I don't care. We have to do this."

"So you know that that sword can break the stones?" Priscilla confirmed, gesturing to Nive’s greatsword.

"Does anyone else here have a stone?" asked A'zaela of the group at large. "Sylvan, Bull?"

Orella shook her head first. "...The Lalafell - Linini - she has mine." She winced. "The stone. It's not mine."

But he and Sylvan held out their stones: he Pisces, she Leo. A'zaela took one and Nive the other, and Nive readied her greatsword for use.

"We destroyed four, in the basement," Alaq'it confirmed. "Or rather, Akhutai destroyed three, and then Nive and I destroyed a fourth, because the sword is very heavy." She pantomimed lifting half of the sword.

"Destroy this goddamned thing," said Sylvan.

"This one's a bit odd," said Bull, pointing at the Pisces stone with his free hand. He didn't know how else to describe the fact that it didn't seem to want to possess him, or even tempt him in any way. "But it's gotta go too."

Nive placed Sylvan's stone on the ground first, then took the sword down from her back. She swung it around, sending it whistling through the air to crack open the stone. The moment the blade touched its surface, the Leo stone exploded in a burst of heat and sound - and then it turned to sand, its shards crumbling into nothingness.

Bull flinched before he could help himself, covering his face out of instinct. "Damn! Were they all like that?!"

"Yes, yes, you're very scary," Nive muttered to the stone bits. To Bull, she nodded, then motioned for him to place his stone down as well. He did so without further hesitation.

"Wait..." Timid Fawn spoke for the first time since they all had gathered. "Didn't Linini mention one being taken...?" She looked to Bull for affirmation, and he nodded.

Nive swung the sword again, with much more ease than before. The Pisces stone dissolved into cool water across the floor. In the moments before its aether dissipated, Bull might have sworn he heard a voice - a voice he mistook only for a moment as Rosenheim's. The stone whispered "Thank you" - and then it was gone.

"You're welcome, strange man," he replied into the thin air.

The others all stood around, with all among them except Nive, A'zaela, Alaq'it and Akhutai sporting looks of varying confusion on their own faces. The first to move was Priscilla, who brought out a small journal and began scribbling notes.

Nivelth Ajuyn grimaced as the silence lengthened, until at last she saw fit to explain what had happened to them. "...We found four skeletons in the underground, all of which held stones before us. It's likely they were the previous holder of our stones."

"After this," A'zaela added, "we'll need to find the others. But now we find Ashelia, without the risk of the auracite taking over us."

"Maybe if we kill the head the body will die with it?" Bull mused, stroking his chin.

Nive nodded. "I'd like to destroy the stone Ultima's in."

Still staring into space, Orella at last spoke up again. "... Everyone." Her tone commanded attention, and the others all looked up. "I know no one wants to think about it. But if the worst comes to pass - which of us is most able to kill her?"

Silence reigned again. Orella made an awkward gesture which Bull could not immediately interpret, then continued her point. "Not Ultima. If the worst happens, if Ashelia needs to..."

The others shuffled around for a bit - most notably Akhutai, though that might have been due to his relative conspicuousness amongst the much shorter women in his company. Then, several mouths opened at once - but it was A'zaela who spoke first. "...Me."

Orella nodded. Alaq'it merely sighed. Priscilla, tearing up, began scribbling in her notebook even faster.

"Ideally it ain't gonna come to that," said Bull.

"Ideally, no," Orella agreed. "But we must be prepared for the worst."

"I won't let you do it alone," said Sylvan. "You and I are among those who have been with her the longest."

Akhutai grunted. "It won't come to that, but one must always plan contingencies."

"It is a real possibility," argued Ivaan. "Obviously not one we want to think about, but we must be prepared."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, if need be. Not like she's just gonna let you do it."

"...I always think of the worst-case scenario. My mind won't let me do anything else." A'zaela sighed. "But you're right. I'd rather die myself than let Ashelia go. I hope Ultima's prepared for us."

Alaq'it began fiddling with her star globe. "I think if we all put our heads together-" Her gaze swept over the others, lingering noticeably on those whose heads towered over hers. "-we will figure out how to do this with the least amount of permanent damage."

Bull nodded. "Regardless, Ashe is still in there. We just gotta beat whatever else is in there out."

"...Though if this goes off without a hitch," said Ivaan, "perhaps we will not tell her of who was picked to kill her."

This comment elicited some few chuckles, from Orella first and foremost. Alaq'it said, "Yes. One idea."

Bull smirked. "I'll tell her it was Orella. She'll like that."

Orella only offered up a shrug, and a quiet "Sure." After a moment of thought- "Ashelia knows what I'm capable of."

"Now," said Sylvan, "we just have to find her."

Priscilla finished her writing with a final flourish and began to ready the gun at her hip. Ivaan turned, looking over his shoulder at the pillar of light behind them all - the beacon that would carry them to where the Seraph undoubtedly lay in wait.

"Before we go," Nive asked, "are there any other stones that need to be destroyed?"

Bull shook his head, but Orella spoke up. "Unless you came across Linini. Both mine and hers remain."

With that, Nive returned the sword to her back and made to ready her grimoire.

Orella Steelhand winced as she steps forward to look at the pillar of light. Following her gaze, Bull mused, "I guess there's only one way to go."

"Always something glowing," Sylv muttered under her breath.

Bull nudged his former mentor with his elbow. "Beats the stairs though huh?"

"Could be worse." Sylv paused for a moment. "I'm definitely going to regret saying that."

Akhutai snorted. "I've learned to do my best to never say it."

The others fell into silence, staring upward at their destination. Then it occurred to him that they were waiting for his cue. "Well," he said, his voice much more decisive and certain than he felt, "let's get to it!"

With a running start, he leaped into the pillar of light and was thrown upward toward where their strongest foe yet lay in wait.

[mizmahlia]

I am damaged at best (like you’ve already figured out)

Summary: Between Bruce's insane training drills and his on-the-job experience, Jason could get out of just about any kind of restraint. Cuffs, rope, zip ties, packing twine, electrical cord- you name it. But after he’s rescued, it's proven to be much harder to break free from Slade's hold over him and he's not sure if he can get away this time.

He’s not sure if he even wants to, if returning to a team that hates him is his only option.

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

This is the Titans version of Jason Todd. Post 2x05.

TW: Be warned- this chapter contains some heavy stuff such as suicidal ideation, mentions of physical and psychological torture, and other serious mental health concerns. If you've seen the episode, you've seen how emotionally wrecked and traumatized Jason is, so tread carefully.

AO3

Jason takes pride in his ability to hide how he really feels, only allowing the world to see what it wants to so he can go on pretending he’s fine. If acting the part of a scared child got food on the table, then that’s exactly what he did. In front of a social worker, it’s the kicked-puppy act. With teachers, it’s striking the balance between being a smartass and actually using the intelligence they both know he has.

With Bruce, it’s acknowledging he’s a bit of a troublemaker, while staying just this side of the brutality/justice line. As long as his homework is done and he follows the rules of the Batcave, he can patrol. He bullshitted his way through Bruce’s psychological exam, manipulating his answers enough to appear like he was being honest, but he really only said what he needed to pass it. If Bruce noticed, he never said anything.

Jason never thinks too much about the possibility Bruce saw right through his act, but chose not to do anything about it. If he spends too much time obsessing over that, he spirals down too far, and it takes a week or more for him to claw his way back up to the surface, on his way back to ‘barely-functioning’.

Slade, however, is different.

In the time he’s been down here, Jason’s insults and threats have had no effect. And since his escape attempt earlier, Slade tightened the restraints and tied him to a chair, so he had no way to gather any momentum to break free. He’s stuck until Slade moves him to another location, which seems likely at this point. Jason is out of his element and Bruce never prepared him for dealing with a situation like this. Being in uncharted territory, he goes back to what he knows, what he’s familiar with. 

He leans into the restraints, getting as close to Slade as possible.

“Fuck you, you pretentious asshole. Hey, look at me. I’m not scared of you.”

He gets no reaction from Slade as he simply stares back at Jason, holding a whetstone and his sword. He sits at the table to Jason’s left and begins sharpening the blade with long, slow strokes. He doesn’t say a word for a few minutes, leaving Jason in tense silence.

Jason isn’t sure if it’s the sleep deprivation, the throb of the wound in his thigh where his tracker was previously embedded, or the fact Slade hasn’t laid a hand on him since the phone call to Dick and the others hours ago. Granted, he's grateful for that because while he can certainly take a beating, Slade hits harder than most. But he can feel terror creeping into his head and down the back of his neck when he realizes he has no idea what’s going to happen. He listens to Slade begin to talk about Dick, picking up on the way rage bleeds into Slade’s voice as he does so, telling Jason he’s being used for bait.

When Slade stops talking and waits for a smartass retort from Jason, he gets nothing, and Jason knows he’s smiling behind the mask. Slade leaves the room and cuts the lights, leaving him in total darkness to think about the possibilities of what’s coming. Jason knows there’s a meeting at three a.m., but he has no way of knowing what time it is. It could be twenty minutes or five hours until the meet.

He can’t take the ‘wait and see’ approach that Dick is so fond of- he doesn’t have the time or patience. Bruce operates much the same way and it drives Jason crazy. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree where Dick and Bruce are concerned, but Jason knows he’s different. He’s the rotten, worm-filled apple on the diseased tree that’s on top of the burn pile.

After all- you gotta get rid of the disease before it spreads to the rest of the orchard.

That thought is pushed to the back of his mind along with everything else he can’t let himself dwell on right now.

After waiting a few minutes to see if Slade is coming back, he goes to work on the restraints. He pops his other thumb out of joint and tries to wriggle his hand out of his glove, but it won’t budge. The cuffs are loose enough to prevent a loss of circulation, but tight enough he can’t slide his hand out. Short of having someone actually amputate his thumb, he isn’t getting out of them.

He sighs in defeat and leans his head back against the rock wall behind him. The silence in the room is complete enough he swears he can hear his own heartbeat, and he starts tapping his boot on the floor. It’s the bass line to his favorite song, one he listens to when he needs a distraction from the dumpster fire his life has seemingly turned into.

The tapping gets faster as he realizes Batman isn’t coming this time, and neither is Dick. The Titans likely aren’t, either. Not like he expects they would- it’s not as if they like him all that much. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. It appears there’s one thing he and Slade agree on.

He’s on his own.

Like he’s always been.

It shouldn’t comfort him, but it does. Just a little bit.

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

He doesn’t remember how he got to the top of a skyscraper or how Slade sedated him, but he sure as hell feels the backhanded slap as Slade tries to wake him up. He winces before spewing a string of colorful profanity, letting Slade know exactly what he thinks of him, before Slade slaps him again. There’s blood on his lip this time and Jason spits it to the floor, keenly aware Slade isn’t hitting as hard as he had previously. He says something Jason can’t hear over the wind and disappears back inside, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts again.

It’s a place he tries hard not to be, inside his own head. It’s a dark place full of blame and anger and guilt. And no matter what he does or how hard he tries to keep them at bay, the darkest of his thoughts always manage to bubble to the surface and threaten to pull him back under. It used to be his own voice, telling himself he’s nothing more than a harbinger of violence, bad luck and chaos- that the world is better off without him. And it’s hard to ignore the voice in your head telling you how much of a failure you are when the voice sounds just like you.

But now the voice sounds like Slade and it’s telling him all the same things, but with an added twist. Now he hears Slade’s voice telling him he made the mistake of trusting Dick and believing himself to be some kind of hero, when he’s nothing more than a punching bag- something for Slade to beat on and torture just to get someone else’s attention. A pleasant distraction.

He pleads with the voice to stop, to leave him alone, but his voice is lost on the wind and he continues to replay the awful things Slade said to him earlier.

“You’re Robin two-point-oh, and you’re just as replaceable as Dick was. Batman will find a third one, but this time, let’s hope he finds someone who can actually do the job.”

“How does it feel to know I’m only doing this to you to get someone else’s attention? To be used for spite?”

“Do any of them know how much you hate yourself? Do they even care?”

“I know Gotham is a fucked up city, but for it to have spit you out... that’s impressive.”

Before he realizes it, the tears are falling and his legs threaten to give out from under him. He shakes his head and tells himself to focus. But as he gets a hand free, the shutter opens and he sees Dick and Kori fighting with Slade, which sends his heart soaring.

They came. They’re here to save him.

Then Slade raises the hand with the detonator in it and presses the button. Dick screams and Jason drops, reaching out to grab the ledge. There’s a hand out the window and Dick’s panicked face appears, and for the briefest of moments, Dick has him. But their grip isn’t strong enough and Jason falls.

He has no choice but to look at Dick as he falls, the wind whipping through his hair and drowning out the sound of Dick’s scream. He knows he’s also screaming, but it’s an automatic thing- his body’s response to fear that he can’t control. But underneath the terror he feels, he senses relief, too.

It’s better this way, he thinks as the space grows between them. No more feeling alone, like he didn’t belong anywhere. No more having to pretend he was fine.

And no more having to fight Slade’s voice in his head.

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

The first day back, he gets hugs from Hank and Dawn, with Hank giving him a high-five for talking shit to Deathstroke. Gar gives him the biggest hug known to man, apologizing repeatedly in Jason’s ear and telling him he’s glad they found him. Rachel’s reaction is hard to read, as is Donna’s, but Kori seems genuinely happy to see him.

Rose stands back and gives him a sarcastic salute, clapping her hands, but the smirk she wears softens enough to tell him she’s glad he’s back.

Dick hardly leaves his side and Jason has to tell him to give him some space, something he’s never had to say to anyone before.

It’s a nice feeling, for people to want him around.

But it doesn’t last.

It never does.

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

A few days later and Jason begins to think Conner catching him was a mistake.

He can’t sleep. He doesn’t eat. And he can’t even carry on a conversation without losing grip on what’s real and what’s only in his head. He’s taken to pushing on his bruised ribs to remind him the pain is real and Slade’s voice isn’t. Most of his time is spent in front of the window in his room, replaying his fall over and over again.

After their impromptu dance “lesson”, Rose tells him he’s the only one worth talking to and that sparks something in Jason’s chest- hope that he was supposed to survive after all, that people really do care about him. It’s something he holds onto with everything he has. It’s the only thing he’s had to lean into, to fight for.

He’s starting to think he and Rose could be really good friends, or perhaps more down the line. The constant worry he’ll infect her with whatever curse he’s got is always present in the back of his mind, but when he hears her say he’s fucked up, but that she understands? Jason almost cries in relief. The smile he wears is genuine- the first one in a long time.

Then she finds the record, her brother’s record- a dead brother Jason doesn’t even know she had, and shit hits the fan. Once again, the fingers point to him first, just like Slade said they would.

Next it’s Rachel.

Then Hank, Dawn, and Donna.

His world begins to implode for what feels like the twelfth time in less than a week, and he doesn’t even bother trying to quiet Slade’s voice this time.

When he manages to speak loudly enough, the words tumble out before he even has the chance to consider how it sounds.

“You people are insane. I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes. You think everything is my fault.”

In the midst of their arguing, Jason disappears and decides not to take the elevator. Lately, the only place that brings him any comfort at all is the roof. Being up that high might get rid of the awful feeling that he’s falling, and he wishes he would have thought of it sooner.

As he climbs the stairs, he rubs the red, raw skin at his wrists from the restraints. His thumbs are both bruised from when he dislocated them, and he absently wonders if that’s why he couldn’t grab Dick’s hand tight enough that night. In his attempts to free himself, he nearly died because he couldn’t hold on.

But he’s tired of holding on, and if what happened downstairs is any indication, he shouldn’t bother.

The sun is bright up on the roof and he knows he should feel warm on his skin, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t felt warm in forever, not really. There’s a moment of hesitation and he wonders if he should barricade the door so no one can get up here. In the end, he decides they probably don’t know he’s gone, anyway, or are glad he left.

He gets closer to the edge and looks down again at his wrists, running his fingers over the tender skin, one question he hasn’t been able to answer rushing to the forefront.

If he really got away from Slade, if the shackles really are gone, then why does he still feel so trapped?

[pinksparklyshampain-blog]

Heaven - Oneshot

Word Count: 2,210

Pairing: Ryden (Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie)

Category: Fluff. Like LOTS of fluff.

Brendon was a sinner and he couldn't deny it. Whenever people told him that "He was going to Hell" he couldn't help but to agree. It was, after all, the truth.

So when one day, as he peacefully walked through the small woods near his home, he heard thunder and loud crashing sounds, it was either: A- All a dream, made up by his sick mind or;

B- The time of his death. It was today he was visiting Hell and he was not ready for it.

Brendon heard something heavy falling from the branches, as the leaves crackled, adding onto the sound of snaps and tumbling.

And then it all stopped with a loud thud, as he finally saw what caused all of it. There was a man. There was a body, who had fallen off… wait where did he fall off from? Well, obviously the trees, but why? How?

The state he was in clearly didn't help. Everything was exposed, his lower half only hidden by silk, who now looked all wrinkled and rough. It stopped above the knees and fit him like a skirt. It had a peachy pink color, now covered in mud, dirt, and plants.

His curly hair had a chestnut color and a certain shine to it. Twigs and leaves were stuck in it as it glued to his face.

That's when it hit him. His back was tinting the ground in a deep crimson color. He was bleeding. Oh no. What if someone found him here and arrested him by mistake? What if he was hallucinating all of this?

And so forth the thoughts continued. They were only interrupted by faint breathing and coughing. He looked over at the pale man who was gracefully laying down on the grass. His chest grew, his body trembling from the action. He released the air irregularly.

Somehow, he had survived the fall. There was no way. That was it. He was hallucinating.

The man slowly opened his lids, revealing beautiful hazel eyes. As he saw Brendon, the injured man started breathing at a quicker pace. The before peaceful look turned into one of horror and pleading mercy.

"Please demon, don't hurt me" - The man said, pausing ever so slightly as it was clearly too much effort for him. His voice sounded raspy. At the same time, he lifted up his torso a bit, then proceeding to use his weak, trembling elbows to try and get away from Brendon.

Brendon couldn't say he wasn't insulted before. He had heard a lot from his family and strangers. But they were usually related to his sexuality. Never had he ever heard someone call him a 'demon'.

"I am not a demon. I'm human, like you...?" Brendon said trying to get closer. He noticed feathers in the mix of blood and dirt.

The pale man, who looked more like a boy now, mumbled something, then raised his voice.

"If not in" His voice failed multiple times, as if saying that word would hurt him more than he already is. "Hell," he spat out "where am I?"

"Welcome to earth," Brendon said in a tone of irony, expecting a roll of eyes or an irritated comeback. Instead, he received a look of pure shock.

"Here, I need to take care of your wounds" Brendon said while trying to get close to the hazel-eyed man.

The man fought with all of his strength until his exhaustion took over and he passed out.

Brendon grabbed him by his arms, laying him over his shoulder. While doing so, he noticed something unusual on the man's back.

-/-

When Ryan woke up he was in a strange place. Laying on his back, wearing a T-shirt that looked more like a dress with holes unsymmetrically cut onto it, over his tunic. Everything was clean and he was fully wrapped in bandages. Ryan tried to move, only to be interrupted by a voice. "No! Don't move yet, it will hurt" - He recognized it as the same voice of the person he had encountered earlier.

He struggled to get out of the man's grip, soon after giving up. He played with his curls until he inhaled a sharp breath, pain spreading through his whole body as he jolted up.

"Please…. Please stop." Ryan paused at the end, as he wanted to add in a name. Yet he didn't know the man's name. "Brendon." He quickly said "And if you want to fly again birdie, I gotta fix your wings" "I'm Ryan" The angel murmured while he slightly moved around "But you do understand how it works right?" Brendon held the wet cloth he was using to clean the wound up, his brows lifted in an expression of interest. "You waste your time helping a bird for it only to fly away from you and never to be seen again."

Brendon chuckled, going back to cleaning the wound. "Yet it still needs help to fly, doesn't it?"

Ryan sighed going back to playing with his hair, as he jolted up when the human beside him touched a sensitive spot. He made a small noise, as would a child when their parent tries to clean a small wound they got while playing.

"Sorry." - Now he was sure, God was testing his virtues. 'Stay patient' was what he told himself every time Brendon did something wrong or touched a sensitive place.

"Fuck!" Brendon screamed, dropping the wet cloth in anger as he brought a hand to his head. The angel, scared, turned his head, brown eyes meeting hazel ones. "What? Never heard anyone swear?"

Ryan slowly shook his head sideways. "Sorry, forgot you're a 'heavenly creature' "

"Don't say it like that it sounds weird." - He said turning back around, trying to hide his smile

"Whatever you say birdie." Brendon cleaned around the wings for a few more minutes before placing the damp cloth on his nightstand.

"Alright Ryan, think you can get up?" The angel sighed, using his hands to support his weight, his arms trembling as he slowly got on his knees. After that he flung himself forward. Just as soon as his feet touched the ground, he dropped forward, his heart skipping a beat before Brendon caught him.

"Maybe you'll need some help," He said, flinging the other's arm over his neck while placing his other arm around Ryan's waist. Then, he helped him step into and then sit, on the already full (and almost overfilled) tub. At first, the water burned his body, but soon it turned into warm and welcoming.

"You can take your clothes off there and throw them on the sink, I'll be back in 30 minutes" Brendon said before leaving, not completely closing the door.

20 minutes had passed and Brendon started hearing singing. Being curious, as always, he decided to peek through the small gap. Turns out the angel decided to have a bubble bath. His legs rested on the edge, his feet outside, while he played with the foam giggling and singing. Were those birds on the window stool? Ryan picked up some foam and blew it away. It turned into little pieces before falling into the pile of foam again. The birds sang. His hair was completely wet with foam on it. Brendon couldn't believe the stubborn creature actually had a Disney Princess side. This whole thing seemed like a Disney movie, just a darker and weirder version. He turned around, waited a little bit before knocking on the door. He entered, collected the clothes and left new dry ones next to him. "Change in there, when you're done just call me." "Sure." - He said, clearly annoyed. The raven-head left and waited to be called. After that he repeated what he did to bring him to the bathroom, sitting him down on the bed. "So!"- Brendon paused to breath "Can we eat pizza today?" "What's that?"- He said shifting a little to feel more comfortable. "The best food to be ever created! You have to try it!" He grabbed a weird object from his pocket, touched it a few times before bringing it to his ear and speaking. After some minutes he put it back on his pocket, leaving a confused Ryan.

-/-

He was brushing his chestnut locks when Brendon arrived with a box and sat across from him with his legs crossed (was he copying him?). He opened the box and took out a slice for him and another for Ryan. The angel didn't hesitate to take a bite and pouted when a string of cheese connected his lips to the slice. Suddenly Brendon broke that with his index finger. "There you go."

-/-

Day 5 Chores. How he hated them. There was just this sense of boredom as he dusted everything and tried to make his house not look like a complete mess. When he passed by his closed bedroom door (one of Ryan's many preferences) Brendon heard muffled talking and, being the nosy bitch he was, placed his ear against the wood as a cartoon character would. "You know, I miss the feeling of flying" Silence. Was he talking to himself? Maybe his girlfriend or a spirit? He knocked twice before saying "Can I come in or are you busy?" He would never forget the sight of him trying on skirts (which was what he decided to do once his legs started to get better). "Yeah" Came out the muffled sound from the other side. Brendon slowly opened the door. The angel was sitting in a W position, the old skirt being used once again. "Who… Who were you talking to?" Ryan pointed at his houseplant who looked very overgrown. "Can I cut that? It has gotten a little overgrown" "Would you like it if I cut your friends?" An awkward silence. "So you miss flying huh?" "If you think you can make fun of me because of that -" "Here, get on my back" Brendon positioned himself in front of Ryan and lowered himself. It took a few seconds until Ryan finally wrapped his arms around Brendon's neck and his legs around his body. Brendon held the angel's legs with his arms and started running around his house, trying to not break anything. Ryan started giggling and laughing, his wings jolting up. The sound was enough to make the energy of the room lighten up. So it was true that whenever angels laughed miracles happened. Brendon started to play Vivaldi's Spring on his phone and with the flow of the music, started to spin around. The piggyback ride turned into more of a dance. Brendon felt a weird feeling in his stomach at that moment. Ryan giggled again and the world completely stopped, his heart beating faster. 'Oh fuck.' - Brendon thought. No. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Brendon knew his love life was completely fucked up, his last relationship lasted at least a week with a boy from his hometown. That was when his parents found out about his "preferences" and very kindly asked him to go burn and rot in hell. After that little case he swore to himself he would never feel anything for anyone. And yet he fell again. Better yet, he fell for an angel. A sassy, moody angel. "Hey, you ok?" -Ryan said still slightly smiling. "Yeah, it's nothing."-He smiled back, now with a weird feeling in his stomach. "So… Um… Now that my wings are healing I"- He paused for a second sorting his thoughts- "We need to talk." Hearing that Brendon went cold. Maybe Ryan was finally going to fly away. He walked back to the room setting the angel back on the bed and awkwardly sitting beside him. "What do you want to tell me birdie?"

"What do you want to tell me birdie?"- The man in front of him said, making him shiver and his breath became uneven. Ryan had had enough hiding and fooling around. He needed to tell him. It didn't matter now if he felt the same or if he kicked him out of this house forever. The angel opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Blood flowed to his cheeks. "I…I don't really know how to phrase this but"- He paused. Maybe he could change the focus and say "sorry for getting feathers all over your couch yesterday" or "sorry for worrying you when that cat attacked me and I cried like a child" "I have no idea how, but I think I like you"- He said very fast and all at once. He noticed Brendon took a while to process it all which made Ryan's heart beat even faster. All he saw then was the other man lean in and place a soft kiss to his lips "I love you too birdie"

[penny4yourthot]

Broken Stranger Part-12

Summary: Torri (O/C) needs to escape her life in Seattle because of her abusive husband. When she ends up in Charming things don’t go as planned.

part-1/ part-2 / part-3/ part-4 /part-5/ part-6 / part-7 / part-8 / part-9/ part-10 / part-11

The week went by relatively fast. It was hard for me to do nothing but rest for seven straight days, but Chibs made sure to come home early on the days he had to work to keep me company. It definitely made my days more enjoyable. He was also making me three meals a day and making sure the fridge was stocked with tons of healthy fruits and vegetables. One day this week while he was at work he had a pizza delivered here for me for lunch as a surprise.

When Chibs wasn't home, there was always a prospect with me. He made sure to stay in the house and stay close to where I was. It was awkward at first but after talking to Rat we actually became friends.

Today was finally the day I get to go back for my check up with Tara to make sure the babies are doing well. Chibs was driving me there and I had already called Gemma to let her know I may be able to come to work later today. Thank god because I'm sick of being stuck in the house.

Arriving at the hospital we made the familiar walk to Tara’s office. The nerves set in as the three of us walked down to the exam room. These ultrasounds made me so nervous. I’m terrified to find out that something is wrong with one or both of the babies. I laid down on the exam table and lifted my shirt up.

“Any bleeding or cramping this week?” Tara questioned as she squeezed to cool gel on my abdomen.

“Nope, everything has been pretty good.” I felt her push the probe on my stomach so I instantly looked at the screen. She moved the probe around a bit and I could see both the babies. They were tiny but they were moving around a bit.

“They both look great, they are both measuring to be 11 weeks which is what we want,” she said as she moved the prob around a bit more. She clicked a button to turn the sound on and the quick thumping brought tears to my eyes.

“Ye okay, lass?” Chibs asked as he wiped away a tear and then held my hand.

“Yeah. It’s just the best noise in the world, I was so worried something was going to happen to them and to see and hear they are okay is just overwhelming in a good way.” Tara moved the probe and the sound stopped but then started again.

“Yer going te be such a good mom,” he whispered then kissed my cheek.

“Both have normal heart rates as well,” she said with a smile before printing a couple of pictures.

“Does this mean I can go back to work?” I eagerly asked.

“As ye can tell she has been having a hard time staying home not doing shite,” Chibs said with a laugh.

“Yes, but you need to take it easy. No lifting anything heavy and make sure you are not on your feet the whole time you are at the bar,” Tara said as she put the probe back and grabbed a towel to wipe the gel off my stomach. “I’ll let Gemma know your limitations so she can make sure you really are taking it easy” she laughed as I pulled my shirt down and handed me the pictures with a smile.

“Aye Gemma will be on yer ass if yer no’ resting” Chibs chuckled as he helped me off the table.

“I bet she will. Thanks, Tara for all this.” I pointed towards the ultrasound machine.

“No problem. Call me if you have any problems.” She smiled as she headed towards the door.  

“Oh one more question, can we have sex?” I asked quietly, I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I blushed.

“Yeah, just nothing crazy.” She looked over at Chibs with a laugh and then back at me, “and if it hurts at all or causes you to bleed then stop,” she added.

“Okay, thanks,” I said with a smile then looked over at chibs as Tara walked out the room.

“Guess we gotta be really vanilla for a while. Can’t go at it for too long,” I joked as we walked out of the room.

“Aye bu’ that’s okay, we don’t wan’ te hurt the babies.”

“Look how big they are getting.” I handed the ultrasound picture’s to Chibs as we walked down the hall. I put my hand on the slight bump that recently grew.

“Won't be long till they are ‘ere with us,” He said with a smile as he studied the pictures.

“I can’t wait. Can we go to TM? I want to get things ready for tonight I’m not sure who has been bartending so I want to make sure everything is good for the party and go over the orders. Plus the distributor should have dropped off the order this morning since it’s Friday.”

“Aye, I have a shift at the garage in an hour anyway.” Chibs grabbed my hand and held it all the way out to the car.

“Eager te stay ou’ the house?” he laughed as he started the car.

“Oh yeah, don't get me wrong I love sitting around watching Freinds, but after seven days of it I'm ready to get back to work.” I buckled my seat belt in the passager seat and Chibs took off driving down the street.

We arrived at TM quickly. It was a wonderful site, getting to see everyone outside of the house.

“Take it easy lass. I'll be in te check on ye in a little bit.” He kissed me on my lips with a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Gemma will be on my ass about being careful anyway,” I laughed before walking into the clubhouse.

“Tara called and said you would be coming back. How are you feeling baby?” Gemma asked as she rose from her seat at the bar.

“Excited to be out of the house,” I laughed as I walked over to her. She drew me in for a quick hug.

“Just wanted to tell you to take it easy. I got Rat in here to stock the shelves with the booze, you just tell him where to put it. You know how he is, he will just put it where ever,” she let out a laugh as she pulled out her cigarettes and lit one up.

“Got it, thanks,” I said as I made my way to the bar.

“Rat, make sure she isn't lifting any heavy boxes of booze,” Gemma said as she walked out and headed back to the garage office.

Rat picked the boxes off the floor and put them on the bar while we were catching up. I started opening the boxes and took inventory on the TM inventory sheet. After we put the booze away, I noticed some things were missing.

“We are missing two bottles of rum and a keg. Last week the distributor called me because they messed the order up and gave us extra for free, so they should be calling soon. the damn guy delivering seemed to be half drunk,” I laughed as I sat down to fill out more order forms. Rat grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the bar.

“So are you feeling better?” Rat asked as he watched me go over order forms.

“Yeah, just having some nausea and fun pregnancy stuff,” I chuckled, “ya know constipation, bloating all that shit.”

“Sounds like fun,” he joked as he sipped his beer. The bar phone started to ring

“That must be the liquor distributor, called the same time last week after dropping the order off.” I walked over to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Torri?”

“Yeah, who is this?” I couldn’t recognize the voice on the phone considering the phone in the bar is like ten years old.

“You don’t even recognize your husband's voice anymore?” My stomach instantly twisted as fear ran through my body.

“How did you get this number?”

“I got promoted to detective. I find missing people every day, there's no hiding from me. You need to come home or I will come there and take you home myself.”

“No! Stop calling me, leave me alone,” I yelled into the phone. I heard Rat get off his chair. I turned around and mouthed ‘go get Chibs’ to him and he ran out the door.  

“Baby, I love you. I can't live without you. You need to come home and take care of your husband like a good wife would.” I could hear the bullshit coming from his voice.

“So you can beat the shit out of me and kill me? No. I swear to God Mike If you come here you will be killed!” tears started streaming down my face. I was too afraid to hang up. Anytime I used to disobey him, I would get beat up. I don’t know how he still had this hold on me but he did.

“Bitch If you think you can kill me, you are dumber then I thought,” he screamed. There was the man I knew. The one who would blow up at me and treated me like shit.

I started to shake, and almost fell to the floor but I felt hands on my waist and I turned around and saw it was Chibs. He took the phone out of my hand and put it to his ear.

“Leave her alone! Don’ ever call ‘ere again and don’t try te come ‘ere cause you will be dead. We will no’ hesitate te kill ye!” Chibs yelled into the phone before slamming the phone down, hanging up. I couldn't control the tears that fell down like a waterfall or the way my body shook. Mike knows exactly where I am and he could be here at any time.

Tag List: @gemini0410 @utterlyhopeful @rebelwriter95 @genius2050

SOA tag list: @answer-the-sirens @i-am-sarah

[ellie-bee242]

My Heart Bleeds For You-Epilogue

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING MY STORY TO THE END, I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!

I set up a survey to get your guys’ feedback on what you wanted to see for the epilogue and it was pretty close (out of 11 votes lol) but I have to go with the majority vote.

THIS CHAPTER IS SET FOUR YEARS AFTER THE EVENTS OF LAST CHAPTER!!

Also this chapter shows the more fluffy marshmallow Mitch Rapp that we see in the trailer before Katrina died. Admit it, he was a total cheese ball.

Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: All Of Me (epilogue)

Song rec: All Of Me by John Legend

Tagged: @iknowisoundcrazy, @confidentrose, @amethystmerm4id, @iloveteenwolf24

Word count: 2,566 words.

Warnings: light swearing (of course), talks of sex/sex acts, overwhelming amounts of cotton candy (my term for that sweet, sweet fluff), 

“(Y/N) please don’t do this. I thought you loved me. I thought we were a team.” Mitch said, staring at her as she held the pistol up to him, aimed at his head.

“I guess you were wrong.”

She squeezed the trigger and Mitch flinched as he got sprayed with a blast of water.

“That’s it! You’re going in the pool for that!” He decided and she screamed before dropping the empty water gun and running from the back yard towards the front. “Come back here! You betrayed me and you have to pay for it!” He called.

She got the gate open and raced into the front yard of the house, shouting “NOW NOW NOW!” as she went. Mitch came through the gate and immediately got soaked by the spray of a hose, held by a little dark haired girl who was giggling like a maniac.

“Got you daddy!” She shouted happily as (Y/N) turned off the hose.

“Yeah you sure did, Lilly petal.” He laughed as he wiped water from his eyes. He looked down at his dripping t-shirt and swim trunks and shook his head. “And now I’m gonna return the favor!” He growled in a monster-like voice. Lilly squealed and ran towards (Y/N).

“Mommy is the safe zone!” She declared.

“Mommy is no such thing, you are my sacrifice so he doesn’t come after me!” She laughed, stepping back so Mitch could scoop her up and give her a big bear hug, transferring the water that was on his shirt to hers. She squealed and shoved against his shoulders.

“Daddy! Let me go!” She demanded.

“Not until you give me a kiss!” He grinned and she immediately smacked a loud, exaggerated, kiss to his cheek. He set her down and she ran away to a safe distance.

“You still gotta toss mommy in the pool!” She told him. He grinned and turned to (Y/N). She lifted her hands to ward him off, her wedding band glinting in the afternoon sun.

“You do it and you’re sleeping on the couch for a week!” She warned.

“You were on my team, but you shot me in the face!” He snorted. “If anyone’s getting sofa city, it’s gonna be you sweetheart.” He taunted as he stalked towards her.

“I’m not afraid to drop you in front of your own daughter, Mitch Rapp!” She warned, pointing a motherly finger at him.

“I doubt you’ll have the time, (Y/N) Rapp.” He teased before lunging for her. She screamed as he lifted her princess style in his arms and started carrying her towards the the back yard.

“Mitch, please, please don’t! It’s cold!” She begged.

“What do I get if I listen?” He asked, pausing to talk to her.

“A happy wife?” She offered. He started walking again. “Okay, okay!” She shouted quickly, squirming frantically in his arms. He paused and rose a questioning brow. “A verbal coupon for a blowjob, redeemable whenever.” She whispered to him. He grinned and set her on her feet.

“Sorry kiddo, no tossing mommy in the pool today. She’s not feeling good.” He excused.

“Awwww.” She whined and stamped her foot. When that response didn’t get her anywhere she kicked at the grass grumpily.

“Lillian Katrina Rapp.... No tantrums.” (Y/N) warned, stopping it before it started. “Otherwise daddy’s gonna toss you in.” She added teasingly.

“I hope you’re talking about him tossing her in the dryer, your kid looks soaked.” Elle’s voice piped up from the sidewalk. Mitch hurried over to take the cooler from her hands. “Oh c’mon, it was empty.” She complained.

“Yeah, but you’re already carrying precious cargo.” He gave a pointed look to her stomach. She grinned and rested a hand over the growing bump.

“Okay true. I guess I’ll just laze about while you and Maria do all the heavy lifting.” She joked.

“(Y/N) will help too.” He chuckled.

“She will not.” The blonde huffed.

“Why not?”

“Because someone has to keep me company.” She said like it was obvious as she grabbed her friend’s arm and started walking with her towards the back yard. Mitch watched them walk away with a grin as they started chatting about how Elle was started to feel the baby kick and how it was keeping her up at night.

“Lilly, you wanna help me carry some stuff?” He asked and watched his daughter skip forward to take the small cooler from him to drag it to the back yard.

“I can’t believe she’s already four.” A short brunette said as she came up next to him.

“I know, it’s crazy. By the way, hey Maria.” He greeted offering up an arm for a hug. She looked at his wet clothes and rose an eyebrow. “Right.” He chuckled. She piled things into his arms and then grabbed a couple bags herself.

“This is a lot of food for a five person barbecue.” He quipped.

“I will not sleep on the couch because I did not bring enough food for Elle.” She snorted.

“Okay, point taken.” He agreed. “Is that everything or do we need an actual fork lift?”

“That’s everything.” She closed the trunk and grabbed a few things that were threatening to topple off the top of her own pile. “Now, if you drop anything I’m telling Elle.”

“That’s cold.” He accused.

“I’m not taking the fall for you! I’m the one that has to live with her! You get to send her away.” She laughed.

“Yeah after we all eat. Until then I get to deal with her complaining, ‘I can’t believe you dropped my chips’.” He mimicked.

“You dropped my chips?!” Elle’s voice shouted.

“No! They’re fine!” He promised with a laugh as he carefully opened the gate for Maria. They made it to the back yard without incident and set everything out on the table.

“Who’s cooking?” Maria asked.

“Not you.” Mitch and Elle said in unison.

“Rude.” She laughed.

“Babe, I love you, but the baby and I can’t eat charcoal.” Elle teased. Maria pouted and Elle got up to give her a kiss. “It’s okay. I do the cooking and you give the massages.” She reminded.

“Is this you saying you want a massage?”

“Yep.” She grinned and sat back down.

“Hey, where’d (Y/N) go?” Mitch asked.

“She said she had to go to the bathroom...” Elle frowned.

“I figured that’s where she was, but she would’ve come back out by now.” He frowned. Elle looked at his face and sighed before getting to her feet.

“I’ll cook, Maria will watch Lilly, you go look for your wife.” She smiled.

“Thank you.” He left her to the grill and walked inside. “(Y/N)?” He called once he was inside. “Sweetheart, where are you?” He asked.

“Bathroom.” She called as the faucet started running. He made his way down the hall towards her. He reached the door as it opened and (Y/N) stepped out, wiping a hand across the corner of her mouth.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” She promised, smiling.

“(Y/N).” He said seriously. She rolled her eyes and took his hand.

“Fine, I’ve got a surprise for you. I was going to wait until tonight but since you’re pushing...” She said as she led him towards their bedroom.

“Vix, we’ve got guests over.” He reminded her.

“It’s not sex you pervert.” She laughed and he shrugged, leaning against the doorway while she went to the closet and pulled out a small box. She handed it to him. He opened it and frowned in confusion.

“Why am I holding Lilly’s baby shoes?” He asked as he lifted up the pair of knitted shoes they’d put on their daughter to bring her home from the hospital.

“Because in about seven months we’re going to need them again.” (Y/N) admitted. He stared at her in shock as she placed a hand over her stomach and bit her lips together.

“You promise?” He asked and she grinned.

“I went to my OB/GYN two days ago while you were at the park with Lilly. I’m pregnant.” She assured him.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” He rushed forward and wrapped her up in his arms.

“No spinning or super squeezing!” She warned before he could lift her up.

“Morning sickness?” He guessed and she nodded. “Sweetheart this is amazing.” He couldn’t stop grinning as he kissed her. “Holy shit you’re pregnant.” He breathed and she nodded.

“I’m hoping for a boy this time. To even things out.” She decided.

“I’ll be happy as long as-”

“It’s healthy, I know.” She laughed. “Now let’s go back out and tell Elle and Maria.” She smiled as she took his hand and tugged him out of their room.

“You do realize that if it does end up being a boy, Stan is going to demand we name it after him.” Mitch chuckled as he walked over to the bed that night.

“Uugh, I swear he really did end up being a relative.” (Y/N) snorted. She shifted around and got settled, only for her to be displaced when Mitch plopped down at her side, making the bed bounce in the process.

“We should never have given him an invite to our wedding.” He joked.

“I did not need him crashing it and making a big fuss, all ‘I’m the reason you two are even together’.” She said pretending to be surly.

“Okay, I understand why you agreed to invite him-”

“Because he did have a point.” She said quickly.

“But please do not stick our possible son with a name like Stan.” He laughed as he lifted her shirt over her stomach so he could rest his hand against her skin.

“I’d never.” She promised. “But I was thinking Stanley, as a middle name.” She shrugged. “Possibly.” She added.

“It’s decent.” Mitch agreed. “As long as it’s a middle name.” 

“It would be.” She assured him as her hand came to rest over his. They were quiet for a bit.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant again.” He murmured.

“Hey, at least it’s not as strange as it was with Lilly.” She pointed out.

“Yeah, we got back together, had been together for three months and then ‘Hey, so I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant’.” He quoted.

“Okay, you have no idea how worried I was to tell you, and you just frowned so deeply and I thought you were upset!” She pouted.

“I know, but you looked so upset. I thought you weren’t happy about it.” He shrugged.

“And I thought you were going to break up with me.” She explained.

“I’d never.” He swore.

“Well I know that now.” She snorted, lifting her hand to look at her wedding band and engagement ring. “I didn’t know then that you were planning to propose within the month.” She reasoned.

“Yeah.... The plan to get married got pushed back about two years. Happily. We ended up with the cutest flower girl.” He grinned.

“And now I’d like to go to bed, happily.” She joked.

“Can I say hi really fast before you do?” He asked quickly.

“You know I can never say no to that face.” She smiled and he kissed her quickly before moving down the bed so his face was level with her stomach.

“Hey little one, I’m your dad. I wanted to say hello, and let you know that I already love you so much. So spend your time growing big and healthy, and I’ll be here waiting to meet you when you’re ready.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to his wife’s flat stomach before moving back up the bed.

“I love you, so much.” (Y/N) smiled.

“I love you too.” He replied and met her for a soft kiss.

*Seven Months Later*

The process was brutal. Screaming, crying, cursing, and more than a few threats of harming parts near and dear to her husband along with promises to never let him touch her ever again, but it was worth it as she was passed a squirming blue bundle of blankets.

“Mitch... He’s so beautiful.” She cried.

“Just like his mamma.” He agreed, grinning from ear to ear as he stood next to the bed and watched her smile down at their son. She passed the baby to him and he chuckled at the disgruntled expression on his little face at being manhandled.

“Would you two like to allow family up now or later?” The nurse asked a few minutes later. Mitch looked to (Y/N) and she smiled.

“Go get them, they’re probably dying to see him.” She grinned. He kissed her forehead, passing the baby back to her before heading out the door.

Not ten minutes later and she heard a small group of feet bustling down the hall toward her room.

“Let me see my nephew!” Elle whisper-shouted.

“You’re not actually my sister you know.”

“Am too. Via time served, we are now related.” She argued. (Y/N) shook her head but refused to argue as she passed her son to her friend.

“So what’s his name?” Stan Hurley asked as he stepped through the door.

“They haven’t told you either?” The blonde asked.

“Nope. But I’m still holding out for Stan.” He smirked.

“It has Stan in it if that helps?” (Y/N) smiled, taking Mitch’s hand as he came back over.

“His name is Ian Stanley Rapp.” Mitch announced as Elle passed the baby to Stan to hold.

“You did good with this one. He doesn’t look like Mitch at all.” He joked.

“Yup, he’s as beautiful as his mom.” Mitch agreed, not even offended.

“You’re not getting a rise out of him, Stan, he’s way too happy right now.” (Y/N) smiled.

“Damn right I am. I have a son.” He said. “Totally healthy, ten fingers, and ten toes. And he’s here thanks to this amazing woman.” He leaned over and kissed (Y/N)’s forehead again.

“God you turn into such a cheese-ball when there’s a baby.” She smiled affectionately as Mitch took Ian back from Stan.

“Speaking of cheese balls, Maria is watching Lilly and Skye, and I have to go call her and tell her to go ahead and bring them. Congratulations guys.” Elle smiled. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of (Y/N)’s head before stepping out of the room.

(Y/N) yawned and Stan stood up from the chair he’d sat in.

“I’ll step out too, looks like you could use some sleep.” He pat her blanket covered foot as a goodbye.

“Bye, Stan.” She mumbled, carefully readjusting in the bed so she could settle down more. Mitch carefully set Ian in his bassinet and walked Stan out of the room.

“Congratulations, kid.” Stan said, sticking his hand out to him.

“Thanks. For everything.” Mitch said sincerely. “I know (Y/N) and I give you shit, and I know you’re joking, but you are part of the reason I was able to find her. To be happy again.” He smiled.

“God, your wife was right. You’re a cheese ball.” Stan grumbled. “Get back to them before I puke.” He joked.

“See you later Stan.” He smiled before walking back into the room. (Y/N) had settled down in her bed and was already asleep, exhausted from the exertion of labor. He didn’t want to disturb her so he picked up Ian and went to sit in the rocking chair beside her bed.

“Hi, Ian. I’m you dad.” He whispered.

Hey guys.

I want to thank you for sticking with me through the story. I hope you liked the ending.

[fangirlandtheories]

Can you write a fic where something makes Eve start being cold and mean to Ezekiel?

I am so sorry. A. For being the worst ever and taking months to complete this, but B. For this fic in general. Note: I cried while writing it. 

She didn’t mean it. It had just slipped out in a moment of irritation. She felt horrible. His face! He trusted her and she betrayed him. Eve released a shaky breath as she raised a hand to the door in front of her. She gave a quick, hard knock, rattling the light door beneath her fist.

“Go away.” The voice inside groaned.

“You don’t even know who it is!” Eve answered, furrowing her brow. The door swung open, revealing an annoyed Ezekiel.

“Oh, Baird, what a surprise.” He gave a wide, fake smile. “Go away.” With that he slammed the door shut. Eve gasped lightly, before huffing and began knocking again. That’s when she heard multiple locks slide into place. Naturally he would have a million and a half locks to keep his competition from breaking in.

“Look, Ezekiel, you know I didn’t mean it. It just slipped out and I’m sorry! Just let me in so we can talk.” She practically begged.

“Eve, please. Just go.” Ezekiel said quietly through the crack of the door. Eve felt numb as she heard his steps lead away from the door. She had no choice but to go.

Stupid.

She had no idea where it came from but it did. It had happened during their last mission. It wasn’t even that difficult of a task, but none of them had gotten much sleep so they were all vaguely annoyed to begin with. Ezekiel with his never-ending energy seemed to be perfectly alright, even a bit too hyper. Turns out he had a double shot of espresso before joining them. Ezekiel on his own was hyper enough, but with added caffeine he was going off like a rocket. That’s not good when you’re around three other people who are very tired. They were trying to sneak through the Victoria & Albert Museum in London so that they could find Da Vinci’s notebooks. This was case more built for Jake and Cassandra’s caliber. That’s the only sensible reasoning she could come up with.  Essentially, Ezekiel was there to get them through the door and to grab the notebooks out of the display.

It had happened at the notebooks. He had the case opened and they were looking at Da Vinci’s drawing of attachable wings. Jake was completely engulfed in the artistry of the sketch, while Cassandra concentrated on the science behind making the wings work. Ezekiel… well he was bored.

“I don’t get it. Why would he write backwards?” He asked, leaning over Jake’s shoulder.

“Because, Jones,” Jake huffed in irritation. “He didn’t want people to steal his ideas. If they couldn’t read it, they couldn’t understand it.”

“Maybe he should’ve locked it up tighter.” Ezekiel shrugged.

“Locked it up tig- Baird! Why is he still here?” Jake turned to Eve in frustration.

“We wouldn’t have the notebooks without him.” Eve reminded, trying to amend the situation. “Even if he doesn’t understand the importance of them.”

“Woah woah woah…” Ezekiel turned around to her quickly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well I just mean… This isn’t really your thing. You’re more modern so in comparison to Jake, Flynn, or Cassandra you’re kinda stupid with the historical stuff.” There it went. Flying out of her mouth faster than her brain could process the thought. The room suddenly turned tense and silent. Ezekiel’s eyes fell to the floor as Cassandra and Jake watched cautiously.

“Oh…” Ezekiel mumbled. “I see.”

“Ezekiel I didn’t mean it like-” Eve began but was cut off.

“It’s fine. No harm done.” He faked a smile. “If you all will excuse me, I just remembered I made plans for tonight so I gotta jet. Enjoy the notebooks.” With his hands in his pockets and his head down, he began to walk towards the door.

“Ezekiel, wait.” Cassandra sighed, beginning to walk after him, but he was already gone. He had gone back through the backdoor and was probably headed home by that point.

“Baird… That wasn’t…” Jake started, unable to even finish his thought.

“I know. I’ll talk to him later. Right now let’s just finish this case.” She sighed, still staring at the door that he had quickly walked out of. She needed to set this right.

That’s why she was standing outside of his apartment. Her heart felt heavy as she thought about the fact that if he had so many locks to only open his front door, how many would he have to have to open his heart? She saw the sliver of light extinguish from the door crack and she knew she wasn’t going to get to speak with him that night. Still, she was going to press her luck.

“Ezekiel? If you can still hear me, I’m going to come back tomorrow, except I’ll ask Jenkins to make your front door the destination for the back door so you can’t lock me out. I’ll be here at 8 am sharp. If you come see me before that, however, we won’t need to go through the trouble of invading your privacy.” She sighed softly. “I really am sorry.” Then she left.

Ezekiel stood on the other side of the door, listening intently. “They always are.” He mumbled as he drove the heels of his hands into his eyes. It sounded like he was going to need to wake up early tomorrow. It was 7:45. His plan was to leave just before she got there, just to make it more frustrating for her to return to the Annex and find him there. He drove across town to a building under the bridge, and waited.

“Ezekiel?!” Eve yelled, back at his apartment. “That little son of a-” She stopped her sudden realization as she looked around. He had a pretty nice house. It was very cozy. A little unexpected actually. She walked into his kitchen and smiled. On the refrigerator was pictures of him as a child, hugging who she presumed was his mother. There was another picture of him with other kids, some older, some younger. She knew some of them had to be siblings based on the drawings, or scribbles really, that also hung on the doors. They were addressed very lovingly to “Uncle Zeke” with little hearts and rainbows drawn around them.

Her heart lurched a bit when she turned to the table to find a college level history book open on the table, turned to a page about the Renaissance. She knew that he had only looked at it that night, because the first article on the page it was open to was about Da Vinci. She sighed, pulling out her phone and dialing his number.

“Where are you?” She asked when she heard him pick up the other line.

“I’m at the Annex.” She could hear a smug smile forming on his face. “Where are you?”

“I’m at your house.” She deadpanned.

“Now what would you be doing there?” He asked with fake sweetness. She could hear the anger he still felt bubbling deep down.

“Looking through your pictures, Uncle Zeke.” Suddenly his end got silent.

“Yeah well… A mission just popped up for me. So sorry to cut this conversation short but I really must go and save the world. Ta ta.” He ended the call quickly.

“Ezekiel, no! I need to come with you.” She yelled back, but he was already gone. Anytime a Librarian performed a mission without a guardian, the likelihood of death increased exponentially.  Baird ran back towards the door, hoping to get there before he used the backdoor. She ripped open the door, only to find the hallway staring back at her. She was too late.

When she finally got back to the Annex she was greeted by a grave sight. She had gotten back as quickly as possible, but it still took her about 30 minutes to make it back. That was, apparently, enough time for Ezekiel to get himself into huge trouble. She was greeted by a teary Cassandra and a stressed looking Jake, Jenkins nowhere in sight.

“What’s going on?” She asked. “What happened.” Then she noticed the blood on the floor, on the table, everywhere.

“Ezekiel… he-” Cassandra began before choking on her own tears.

“He doesn’t look so good Baird. Jenkins was worried. This doesn’t sound like it’s going to end well for him.” Jake told her solemnly.

“No. You’re Librarians. You don’t think like that. You have hope where there is none. What exactly happened?” She asked shakily.

“He was shot by a poisonous arrow. He was bleeding really heavily and he was kinda green. He’s back there with Jenkins.” Cassandra whispered, fearing that if she spoke too loudly, something awful might happen to her favorite thief. Eve heard the word shot and poison and began racing towards Jenkins’ lab.

“Jenkins! Is he going to be okay? What can I do?” She asked as she ripped open the door. Ezekiel lay on the cot, whiter than she had ever seen him. His eyes were sunken and she could hear his shallow, labored breaths. His side was red and sticky with blood. Fear ran through Eve’s thoughts. He was shot in his abdomen, which is a. The most painful place to be shot but also B. The area that is most likely to become infected.

“Colonel, it’s… it’s not looking good. I’ve done everything I can to turn the effects of the poison but nothing is working. I fear the worst.” He gave her the most honest answer, yet she refused to accept it.

“No… there has to be something… anything. Don’t we have any magical healing juice?” She asked frantically.

“I’ve tried everything we have. It’s too powerful.” He answered quietly. He had always hated being the bearer of the news but it was worse because this was Ezekiel. Everyone’s immature little brother so to speak. He was quick, uncatchable, nothing like this should’ve ever happened to him.

“What about the ‘break the glass only in emergency’ potion. You said it heals everything.” She turned, with tears in her eyes.

“Colonel…” Jenkins whispered. “I couldn’t subject him to that. You know the side effects of that potion. He’d be alive, yes, but he’d be paralyzed for the rest of his life. That’s not Ezekiel.”

“Dying isn’t Ezekiel either! I am the Guardian and it is my duty to keep him alive.” She argued.

“He wouldn’t be alive!” Jenkins snapped. “Don’t you understand? He’d be breathing and living but he’d never be the Ezekiel we all know and love. He’d be miserable and depressed and I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, let alone someone who we all care so much about.” Jenkins’ yelling was cut off by a beep. A long, hard beep, coming from the heart monitor. Ezekiel was gone. They whipped their heads around to him to find his pale skin to have sunken to an off grayish color, his chest no longer rising and falling.

“Nonononono.” Eve said quickly through tears. “We have to do something! CPR! Defibrillate him! Anything!”

“Colonel.” Jenkins waited, but he could tell she didn’t hear him. “Eve.” Her head snapped up at him. “We’d be prolonging the inevitable. He’s gone. I’m so sorry I failed. I wish I could’ve done more.” He spoke calmly and gently, face full of emotion, but no tears. He couldn’t cry over death anymore, it had become the only constant in the immortal’s life.

“Will you… tell the others? I don’t think I can and I need a moment to myself.” She sighed, wiping away some of her tears. Jenkins nodded before exiting the room, leaving her alone with Ezekiel. Their annoying, cocky, sweet, selfless thief was dead. Their was nothing she could do. As she thought back on their time, she remembered the immense pride she felt for him. He always managed to make her smile and amaze her with his vast knowledge. He’s the nicest criminal she knows. Knew.  Her latest memory wasn’t so great. She called him stupid. He was so hurt and now he was gone. She’ll never get him to forgive her. No matter how many times she apologizes, it’ll never be enough because it was all her fault. He looked at her like a mother and she directly insulted him and put no faith into him.  A new thought spiked through her like a dagger made of ice.

Oh God, His family.

Uncle Zeke.

His mother… his actual mother.

She had to tell them. Face to face. It was the only way. She stood slowly, moving towards the door, before pausing and looking back at Ezekiel. It felt so wrong to leave him so vulnerable, so exposed, so she covered him with his blanket. As she fired up the door for a small town in Australia, she heard the sobs of Jake and Cassandra and knew that Jenkins had to have given the news. It was her job to tell his family.

She walked though the door to a small trailer park on the bad side of a small town. Windchimes clanged against themselves, breaking the eerie silence. A place like this wasn’t for Ezekiel. The people in places like these tended to stay safe in their one spot forever. Ezekiel couldn’t be placed in a box like that. She glanced down at the file she had brought with her that told her all she needed to know about his previous life and found his house number. She searched around until she found a broken down mobile home with the paint chipping off. She knocked and a heavily pregnant woman answered the door.

“Hi, I’m Colonel Baird, I’m looking for the family of Ezekiel Jones…” She asked.

“Oh… a colonel. Mama!” She had a thick Australian accent as she yelled into the home. “There’s a soldier from the States looking to talk to us about Zeke.” Eve heard a fork drop onto a plate before seeing the same woman from Ezekiel’s photo appear.

“Now you listen here, Missy, I don’t care who you are or where you’re from, but you are not getting my son involved in any more of those missions.” She spoke before Eve could even open her mouth. “He’s just a child! Have some humanity! Wait… Aren’t MI6 operatives meant to be British?”

“You must be his mother. Please, allow me to explain. I’m Colonel Eve Baird and I work alongside Ezekiel at his current job and-” She began.

“You’re Eve?” His mother beamed. “Well why didn’t you say so? He talks about you all the time.” She pulled Eve into a tight embrace. “Thank you for taking care of my son.” It was like a punch to the stomach. How could she tell her after that?

“Can we sit down and chat? I have some news for you.” So Eve sat down and explained. She’d never seen anyone so brokenhearted in her entire life.

“You know,” His mother sniffled. “He never knew that I knew he was a thief. He always made up some story about where all the money he was giving us had come from, so I played along, for his sake. He was such a good kid.”

“I know, I only wish I had gotten to know him more.” Baird told her sincerely.

“Was he happy around you?” She asked.

“He seemed to be, yes.” Colonel answered.

“Cherish that smile. The mischievous glint in his eye. You gave him everything he wanted out of this world: The opportunity to use his gift to make a difference, to save the world every week, twice before friday.” Eve turned to the woman in shock and smiled when she winked at her. “He was never good at keeping secrets from me.”

Eve spent the rest of the night with Ezekiel’s family, crying and laughing and reminiscing. As night fell, she felt that it was time to return home to see how the others were coping. She exchanged numbers with his mother and promised to keep in touch about all the arrangements.

She walked into an empty Annex, her own footsteps the only sound. She walked across the room, about to head upstairs, when she heard a voice.

“So… you talked to my mother.” It was cocky and arrogant and smug and Eve burst into tears immediately as she ran down the staircase, to the mirror in the middle of the room. His face was splayed across the surface, eating pizza. Of course.

“You… you…” She stuttered.

“Yeah.” He smirked. “If Judson can do it, why can’t I?”

“Ezekiel… I’m so sorry. I never ever meant a word of what I said.” She cried into his reflection.

“I should be pissed, but the first thing you did after I died was go see my family, so I guess you’re evened out.” He smiled a real smile. They spent the rest of the evening talking. About love, life, everything. It was almost as though he was alive again. As the years went by, he was always there. He laughed alongside Eve and Flynn’s kids, helped Cassandra pick out the perfect outfit for a date with her girlfriends, Lucy and Estrella, and of course, pranked Jake. His life left a permanent mark on the Library and on everyone’s lives. He was the only Librarian besides Judson to become one with the Library. Despite not being able to leave the Annex, he still helped save the world every week, and twice before Friday.