#(like if they guilted him they would probably succeed)

[radiance1]

Vlad has wanted Danny to be his son for a while now, and he did, indeed, get what he wanted.

Not in the way he expected, however.

What was given was attached to the arms of tragedy, that fated day, in which the subject of his love and obsession, the man that was the focused point of his hatred, anger, and jealousy.

Died.

That day, marked in tragedy.

It was a rough time for Daniel as well, his friends, family, and teacher all died, and by his own hand yet not at the same time.

If Vlad wasn't feeling like he did, he would probably think it to be poetic in some way.

Yet, not even a full week later, when he was still processing his grief and whatever other feelings he felt, the boy in his care, who full of bite, snark, and ever increasingly growing hatred and helplessness.

Turned into a child.

This, was a chance.

A chance for him to mold and shape Daniel into his perfect, idealized version of himself.

A perfect boy.

A perfect halfa.

A perfect son.

He knew this, and yet... he couldn't bring himself to do so. He didn't know why, but as he stared at the child, not looking even a day over 8, staring back at him full of curiosity, and an oh so painful lack of recognition, he couldn't go through with it.

It just... didn't feel right.

As wishy washy as that reasoning would be.

So he kept the boy in his care, and left Amity Park behind.

Being a father was... far harder than he expected, if he were to be honest. Yet he couldn't find himself hating it, perhaps it was the guilt, in not being there to prevent the accident, perhaps some kind of feeling to repay a debt to Maddie, or doing what she wanted, or perhaps, even to succeed where Jack Fenton failed.

Maybe even all four.

He tried his best to treat the boy as his own flesh and blood, giving him as much care as he was able to while also balancing work and trying to plan out a solid plan for Danny's education when he's older.

Though, that plan would perhaps be a backup plan, if Danny finds himself liking something... different.

One of these days, Vlad had to leave Daniel behind with a babysitter to attend a Gala held by one Bruice Wayne, and as much as he wanted to show Daniel off to the world he... wasn't ready yet.

He would need at least a few more years before making his official debut.

It was a fine party, in Vlad's opinion, though Brucie Wayne did arrive late to his own event, but he digresses.

It was while talking to said man, that he heard gasps behind him, and he was curious about it, going to turn around until he felt a few tugs at his leg, that he looked down.

Only to see Daniel, hovering off the ground with a leg that shouldn't be bent the way it was, blood leaking from it and onto the floor, with tears streaming down his face.

It was only after grabbing the boy into his chest, making sure he didn't do anything more against the wound, and a butler- Alfred he thinks the name was - appearing at his side and quickly leading him out of the room towards where they kept one of their medical equipment, that he questioned what happened, why was his leg broken, and where was his babysitter?

Distantly, in the back of his mind he went "Oh, his powers came in."

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

Evil or redemption, I can’t get over the idea that Gortash was the first person Durge ever loved and it inevitably triggers the demise of the Dead Three.

Just based on how Bhaal treats redemption Durge, it seems likely he made Durge kill anyone he had soft feelings for. It started with his foster family when he came of age, and it probably never stopped. In an almost Pavlovian way, Durge eventually must have felt revulsion, anger at himself for caring about anyone and letting them live. Bhaal had him well-trained. But then Enver Gortash came along.

He saw Durge— he liked Durge, and Durge clearly liked him back. Normally Durge would have killed him for that without Bhaal even having to tell him to, but he couldn’t, and Bhaal knew he couldn’t. Not this time. Gortash was protected. He was the Chosen of Bane; he was necessary for the Absolute hoax to succeed so Durge could usurp it and end the world. Cue the overwhelming guilt and shame from Durge that gave us the miserable ‘prayer for forgiveness.’

Sarevok says Durge got cocky and that’s why he didn’t see Orin’s betrayal coming. I think he got distracted. He was really happy, for the first time since the Urge awoke, but the source of his happiness was also something he had to struggle with constantly. A knife to the brain was probably a fitting punishment for loving someone other than daddy, something other than murder and fear and blood.

But then Durge gets a second chance. He’s literally taken apart and put back together again, born anew out of his own ashes. With absolutely nothing in his head, Bhaal has the perfect chance to rebuild his Chosen exactly as he wishes from an utter tabula rasa… and yet. And yet.

Durge does it again. His body may remember—the body always does—but he doesn’t, and he lets himself fall in love again. He just can’t help himself. And this time, without the fear and obligation and guilt conditioned into him over decades, he doesn’t even try to escape it. Instead, he fights to overcome what his body is telling him, what Sceleritas is trying to remind him of, just to hold onto this precious thing he’s found.

He was crafted from Bhaal’s own gore to be the perfect, heartless murder machine, but even a god can’t stamp out a mortal’s propensity for love. And it’s such a tiny thing. Such a petty, common emotion. It shouldn’t matter.

But it does. There’s no way around it. The murder god’s favourite bespoke weapon will fall in love again and again and again, even across a thousand different universes.

And so it all unravels.

[cemeterything]

PLEASE elaborate on “davidelizabeth in alien covenant if i wrote it” they squandered her potential so bad !

okay so first all i have already talked about how i feel that covenant should have built on the sticky psychosexual gothic horror tension between david and shaw and developed it into a toxic codependent dynamic (that predictably ends poorly due to their fundamentally opposing ideological stances as well as one-sided obsession on david's side), so i'm going to attach that rather than rehash it.

but honestly if i'd written covenant i would have had elizabeth survive david long enough to establish herself on the engineer planet in hiding from him (following a "breakup" caused by his act of genocide), and have the arrival of the colonists in covenant be the catalyst that forces them to confront each other again and finish what they started. i'm not entirely certain of the specifics, but i think there's a lot you could do with the central themes of alien as a cosmic/existential horror (a story about horrifying revelations, terrible change and progress/evolution that is unrecognisable as anything but nightmarish to the human minds bearing witness), a body horror narrative focused on sexual assault, pregnancy and childbirth/parenthood, and an examination of extraterrestrial horror as this colonial mindset - the fear of being violently replaced by something that deems itself better than you and works ruthlessly to eradicate you from your places of safety which it has taken for its own - as well as the more prometheus-specific themes of parental trauma and religion (mostly christianity) by making the core conflict between david and his xenomorphs and elizabeth and humanity, like a sort of fucked up retelling of adam and eve in the garden of eden.

to tie up loose ends, since prometheus and covenant are meant to be prequels to the original alien films, i'd probably have elizabeth succeed in being the final girl (a parallel to ripley in the original franchise) but tragically go into self-imposed exile/die alone in an attempt to prevent the xenomorphs from being stumbled across by future explorers and becoming a threat again, as well as possibly out of some warped sense of guilt, both for having allowed herself to ever love david and believe him capable of change, and for failing to save him ("save" very much in the biblical sense, as in persuade him to share her point of view and abandon his descent down a dark path). needless to say, she doesn't succeed, making her "victory" all the more phyrric.

[tossawary]

I may never get over the parallels between Emily Kaldwin and the Outsider in the Dishonored series, specifically the parallels created/revealed by Daud's games (The Knife of Dunwall and The Brigmore Witches) and Billie Lurk's game (Death of the Outsider). (Spoilers for the entire series if you haven't played the main games and companion games.)

The Outsider claims at one point that he doesn't play favorites. I think he's a fucking liar. Because in The Knife of Dunwall, he sets the story off by giving Daud a name, Delilah. He did not have to do that, just as he didn't have to give his Mark to any of the people he gave it to. He is constantly putting his hand on the scales.

Moving simultaneously to the events of Dishonored, Delilah was going to possess Emily and NO ONE saw her coming. She had everything ready in secret. She was going to win.

(Side note: I think Delilah originally developed this plan because she wanted to possess Jessamine, but her half-sister's death at Daud's hands caused Delilah to scrap whatever painting she'd originally been working on. And no one would have foreseen THAT coming either. Nightmare scenario AU for Corvo Attano.)

Corvo, Emily, and the conspirators of Dishonored didn't even know that Delilah Copperspoon existed. A guilt-stricken Daud sliding in at the last moment is the ONLY reason that Delilah didn't succeed in taking over Dunwall in Dishonored instead of Dishonored 2. And Daud only caught the impending murder of a second Empress because the Outsider gave Delilah's name to him directly.

The Outsider's favor came down on the side of Corvo and Daud, rather than Delilah, even before Delilah started doing weird shit to the Void and he took offense. Or rather: the Outsider came down on Emily's side, even before potentially Marking her. And... why?

In Death of the Outsider, it is revealed to Billie Lurk that the Outsider used to be an ordinary person. He is not infallible. He is not objective. He knows a lot, but he's probably not actually fully omniscient. An ancient cult took an ordinary young man, slit his throat, and turned him into a god against his will. And the theming surrounding eyes is not in the least bit subtle.

The vibe that I personally got while playing Death of the Outsider (interpreting only from the canon of the games, rather than any additional material) is that the Eyeless cult greedily looked upon the incredible but unpredictable power of the Void, then they made a human sacrifice and gave it a face, so that they could look upon the new avatar of its power without going insane. (At least, without going insane nearly so quickly.) They turned a person into a focus, a lens, in the hope that they could use him like a corpse puppet for their own ambitions and become powerful through him.

But the Outsider has never cooperated. Personally, I don't think that he has much power of his own, honestly, at least by what he's shown doing in the games. I think that he can only really act as a focusing lens, a pathway, through which other people can touch and use the Void. All he can really do is offer people the Mark, the ability to use him, and then watch them go. (The Heart, he manipulated Piero Joplin to make, I think. I don't know where he got the Time Piece, but I assume it was made in a similar way, taking advantage of the Crack In The Slab that Delilah made. When he "took" Billie's eye and arm in Death of the Outsider, it was only because he opened a connection to the Void in Billie Lurk that was already there.)

I think he can probably use this to make people go insane, obliterating their minds by opening the lens to the Void too far, but... I think there's a vulnerability to him making connections, temporary or permanent ones. It can be dangerous for him. In Dishonored 2, when Delilah is doing whatever she's doing with the Void, the Outsider says, "Delilah is a part of me now. And I don't like it." Delilah appears to use her own Mark to reach out to Corvo or Emily's Mark, so that she can talk to them in the Void, and she's probably doing it by reaching through the Outsider somehow.

I don't think that the Outsider can control what powers his Marked get from the Void or how deeply they reach into it (thank you, game mechanics of giving different characters different powers), which is possibly what he meant when he said that he didn't play favorites. Once he gives them access to the lens into the Void, I don't think that he can take it away or control it, only give his Marked the cold shoulder and stop talking to them. (His role in Dishonored is definitely to give you cool powers and then step back so that you can do your thing.) The game mechanic of collecting runes to increase powers suggests that it's up to the Marked to improve their powers and practice them. (See... everything with Granny Rags.)

The Outsider in Dishonored 2 struck me as... kind of helpless in some ways, confirmed by Death of the Outsider. When Billie Lurk finally finds his body in the Void, there's no fight. He can't do anything to defend himself. (I don't think he wants to defend himself.)

Somewhere in The Brigmore Witches, the Outsider says something about Delilah looking out through Emily's eyes. Emily is in some ways the avatar of Dunwall. She's the focus point of imperial power, the figure supporting the mythology of royal right and privilege, the legal means through which people can seize social, military, economic, etc. control. The Royal Spymaster tried to use Emily. The conspirators tried to use her too. And Delilah tried to trap her own niece in (I think I'm paraphrasing something else that the Outsider says) an invisible prison, screaming inside her own head while someone else takes control, to take this power for herself.

Delilah tries to do to a little girl what the Eyeless cult tried to do to the Outsider. And I think the Outsider went, "Hm, don't like that."

So, the Outsider gives a would-be Empress's name to the man who just killed the last one and is desperate for a release from guilt, even if that means covering up blood with more blood. He gives Delilah's name to DAUD, an assassin, the fucking Knife of Dunwall.

(Or maybe the Outsider could foresee the chaotic wreck that Delilah was going to make of Dunwall, when it turns out that her schemes don't "fix" everything for her like her fantasies, like she does in Dishonored 2. And the Outsider decided that Delilah's future was just too boring to let happen. That's also possible.)

And sure, Delilah comes back years later in Dishonored 2, more powerful than ever, semi-immortal, pushing back against the Outsider within the Void itself, and no one saw her coming this time either. Possibly not even the Outsider. (When the Outsider makes fun of Corvo for not seeing Delilah coming, for losing another Empress, for not stopping to talk to Daud so that Daud could warn Corvo about her, it can read as a genuine admonishment of sorts. I think the Outsider is honestly frustrated.) But if the Outsider hadn't decided to play favorites in the background of Dishonored, if he hadn't decided to set Daud on her, then Delilah would have won before anyone even knew that she was playing the game.

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 13

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: After been kidnapped by Diego, Javier is desperate to find you. And he’s willing to give his own life if that mean you’ll be safe.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3.4k

Warnings: +18 THIS A HEAVY CHAPTER

Violence typical of the series. Gunfire. Wounds. Blood. Kidnapping. Swearing (slut, bitch to refer at Reader). Mentions of sexual assault, but nothing graphic. Mentions of death and dead bodies.

A/N: Hello! First of all I wanna apologize for taking me so long to bring you this chapter🥺 But I was struggling with my personal life and I wanted to do this chapter as well as possible. It was very difficult to write, to be honest😩 However, here it is! Hope you like it!

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"Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

As soon as you asked, Javi furrowed his brow, giving you a mock-serious look as if you had just transformed into an actual worm. There was a smile on his lips, though, and a sparkle in his softened eyes just for you.

"A what?" He couldn't contain the humor in his tone. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer," you insisted, shifting on the bed to face him, playing with the bare skin of his chest. "Yes or no?"

He let out a smile and a laugh, his hand now caressing the soft skin of your arm, "I guess I would have to learn to love worms then," he teased, his eyes filled with affection. "But luckily for me, you're not a worm. You're the most gorgeous woman I know."

You chuckled at his response, enjoying the playful banter. His hand continued its gentle exploration on your skin and the flower patterns adorning your pijama.

"You know," he said, his voice taking a more suggestive tone, "even if you were a worm, I'd probably still find you irresistibly charming."

You blushed at his comment, the mix of humor and sweetness making the moment even more special.

"Wow, smooth talker," you teased back, grateful for the lightheartedness in the air.

Javi grinned, pulling you a bit closer. "What can I say? I'm just being honest."

He leaned on your body, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. His arms rounded your torso, pulling you impossibly closer to him, absorbing your natural scent and relishing in the little sounds you made when he kissed you, when he touched you.

As Javier's fingers ran through the silk fabric of your pajama, he couldn't help but wonder if you were fine, if you were cold or harmed. The unsettling thought lingered in his mind, imagining you in a place only God knew, possibly frightened and alone.

He couldn't help but feel a deep guilt for everything that had happen to you.

It had been two days since Steve entered his hospital room and told him you had been kidnapped by Diego Ibarra. He thought he would die of a heart attack right there, but he used all the strength he could find to get up and look for you.

"You need to calm down, Javi," his partner had told him as Javier managed to get out of bed and rid himself of the intravenous on the back of his hand.

"I have to find her," he repeated like a chant for the millionth time as he moved around the hospital room, trying to reach his clothes.

Messina had assigned a team to help Javier and Steve to find you, but they hadn't succeed yet.

"Are you ready?" asked Steve from Javi's bedroom door, bringing him out of his musings.

Javier nodded reluctantly, grabbing his jacket and heading to the main door, the internal struggle evident on his face. The worry for your well-being weighed heavily on him, yet he knew Steve was right. Going headfirst into the situation without a plan could jeopardize everything.

As they drove through the raining streets of Medellín, each passing second intensified the anxiety that gripped Javier's chest.

Then, at the base, minutes felt like hours, the room seemed to close in on Javier, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The constant ringing of the phone became a haunting sound, each call bringing a surge of hope followed by crushing disappointment.

It wasn't just about finding you; it was about unraveling the complex web of danger that surrounded your lives. Javier couldn't escape the nagging thought that your safety rested precariously on the decisions he had made, the choices he had yet to make.

As Steve continued coordinating with the team and the authorities, Javier drifted his eyes to the framed picture on his desk—a moment of love from the fair's photobooth. Your first kiss, on your birthday, when you accepted him as your boyfriend. He couldn't have been happier that day and since then.

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Javier felt like he was about to throw up, just hearing his personal cellphone ringing. He knew who it was.

Steve, Messina, and a couple of officers followed Javier as he answered and put it on speaker, ignoring the sharp pain in his side, where he had been shot.

"Peña," he couldn't contain the quiver in his voice as he answered.

"Ja... Javi?"

His heart stopped for a second, just to restart its pulse so fast it could make a hole in his chest. It was your voice, it was you. It was the first time in three days that he knew something about you.

He called your name softly, a mix of worry and relief flooding his tone. "Are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

"I'm..." you began, but your voice was abruptly cut off by someone else.

"Hola, Peñita," Diego's voice pierced through the line. Everyone around the phone got tense. His voice echoed through the speaker, a sinister undertone sending shivers down Javier's spine. "Don't worry, I've been taking good care of your girl."

Javier clenched his fists, struggling to maintain his composure. "Let her go, Diego. This is between us. Don't involve her."

"Oh, but she's quite involved, isn't she?" Diego chuckled, the sound dripping with malice. "Little fuckin' slut." Javier's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and desperation. "Listen, you're going to follow my instructions if you want her to stay in one piece."

Javier's mind raced, searching for a way out of this nightmarish situation. "You see, I know all about your little dance with Los Pepes. Quite the federal crime, isn't it? I've got some juicy details that might interest the DEA, amigo."

Javier could feel everyone's eyes on him, shocked by the revelation. Agent Peña leaking to Los Pepes? He was fucked. However, he couldn't care less about his job in that moment. He was focused on you and bringing you back.

"What do you want?" he demanded, a mixture of anger and desperation in his voice.

Diego chuckled, relishing the upper hand. "Simple, Peñita. You go to your DEA pals and tell them about your new friends in Cali, about Don Berna and sweet Judy Moncada."

Diego continued, his voice dripping with malice, "And you tell them everything. I want you to spill the beans on your cozy little collaboration with Los Pepes. I'm gonna ruin your life like you ruined mine. Staring with your career."

And he hung up the phone.

Before anyone, even Javier, could say anything, Messina, visibly concerned, asked him, "What was all that about Los Pepes?"

Javier shared a look with Steve and took a deep breath before responding, "I'll explain later. Right now, we need to focus on tracking down Diego and saving her."

Messina nodded, not fully convinced, but she knew the urgency in finding you. For her, you weren't just Javier's girlfriend; you were her responsibility on the DEA administrative side. By kidnapping you, Diego had committed a federal crime just as Peña did by leaking information to Los Pepes. Eventually, both men had to pay for what they did, but in that very moment, your life was the main priority.

Trujillo, joining the conversation, added, "We've located the source of the call. It's a warehouse on the outskirts of Medellín. We should move quickly."

The urgency in the room escalated as the team prepared to mobilize.

Javier jumped into the passenger seat of Murphy's truck, who knew that recommending Javi to stay in the base because of his wound would be in vain. As they followed Trujillo, Javier spoke.

"If they ask you, you didn't know anything about Los Pepes," he reminded his partner.

"Fuck you, Javi," Steve answered. He was pissed at him for being so stupid to do such a thing as to form a kind of alliance with the enemies.

"It's all on me, Steve," Javi ended, acknowledging the weight of his actions.

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As soon as Diego ended the phone call, he grabbed you by the hairs behind your head, pulling back so you faced him. You cried out, tear falling down your cheeks, the burn of every bruise and scratch on your body remembering you your vulnerability. You were cold and starving, very scared. You had spend days and nights thinking about your abuelo, your sisters, your nephews and nieces... in Javi. They won't see you again. You were sure Diego was going to kill you as soon as Javi crossed that damn door.

Diego leaned in, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a sinister satisfaction. "That little call was just a taste, sweetheart. I've set up a nice little surprise for Peñita and his pals. A warm welcome, you know?"

Fear tightened its grip on you as you processed his words. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

Diego's cruel smile widened, pleased with the terror he was instilling in you. "You should pray for your man, darling. Things are about to get messy."

You were too scared to said something, you were tired of the blows and screams, you knew there was nothing you could do to make him change his plans. On the other hand, you could make him more angry and then Javier and Steve would be dead before they even got out of the truck.

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It must have been an hour or so when the door cracked open again. Before you could react, Diego's hands gripped around your arm, pulling you up and forcing you to walk through the dim light of the corridor.

You felt very weak, but the urgency of the moment made you follow him. It was the first time you had left that room since he brought you here.

Two men were waiting for you in the living room of the house. They held guns and wore sinister looks on their ugly faces. Diego threw your body onto a couch and ordered the men to keep an eye on you.

Your captor opened the door, and then, you saw him. Javier entered the room, and when he looked at you, a mix of relief and anguish flashed across his face. You locked eyes with him, your heart pounding in your chest. He tried to walk towards you, but Diego stopped him and made one of his men search him to verify that he was disarmed.

As soon as the man confirmed Javi hadn't had any weapons, Diego allowed him to approach you. Javi knelt down and squeezed you so hard you thought he could break a rib. However, you didn't mind that at all. Just the warmth of Javier's presence offered a comforting reassurance. You cried on his shoulder as his hand gently brushed your disheveled hair. "Te voy a sacar de aquí, te lo juro," he promised in a whisper.

"A-are you okay?" You asked him, taking his head between your shaking hands. The last thing you knew about him was that he had been shot.

Javier felt a lump in his throat. You were freezing, scared, seemingly beaten – which made his blood boil – and yet you asked for him, your eyes truly concerned for his well-being. He doesn't deserve you.

"Don't worry about me, baby, I'm good," he promised.

On the other side of the room, Diego grew impatient. "Enough of this touching reunion," he sneered, gesturing Javier to stand up.

"You want me. Let her go," your boyfriend pleaded, a mix of frustration and rage in his voice. He looked more violent and aggressive than ever.

Diego laughed sarcastically, and before you knew it, he smashed his fist into Javi's face.

Javier staggered back from the force of the blow, blood trickling from a cut on his lip. You gasped, fear gripping your heart as you watched the brutality unfold.

"You think you can make demands here, Peña? You're in no position to negotiate," Diego taunted. "Besides, she's the reason for all of this shit," he crossed the room towards you in just a few steps. His hands gripped around your head violently, making you gasp and cry louder. It hurt so bad, and you were so scared.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Javier bellowed, attempting to reach you. From the look in his brown eyes, he was about to kill Diego.

However, the two men pounced on Javier to stop him, and despite his efforts, they overpower him, keeping him at a distance. Javier's struggles intensified, his frustration and desperation evident. Diego reveled in the chaos he had created, enjoying the power he held over both of you.

"This little teasing bitch thought she could mess with me and then play like a fuckin' saint and accuse me to Messina?" Diego continued, his voice full of resentment and anger. "I'm telling you, Peña, you shouldn't have put her pretty tight pussy over your career. You might regret it."

Javier's gaze burned with a fiery determination as he continued to fight against the men restraining him. Each muscle in his body strained, fueled by the need to protect you.

"I swear you are a dead man," Javier snapped, without a drop of doubt or fear. He was dead serious, ready to take matters into his own hands.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about how I can make you pay for what you did to me," your captor proceeded, as if discussing events from yesterday. "And, as you might know, I came to the conclusion that none of us is clean, so you have to have some tail that I can step on. I did a little research, and that's how I know about your friendship with Los Pepes," he explained. For a moment, you tried to process what you were hearing. Javier working with Los Pepes?

Of course, you knew about them. They were famous for assassinating several of Escobar's men to send a message of fear and overpowering. But Javier somehow working with them? How? Since when? And if Diego knew it, who else? Javi could go to prison for a federal crime or get killed by Los Pepes themselves.

"So, at first, I planned to reveal all the details directly to the Embassy and watch you lose not only your career but your freedom," Diego mused, his eyes narrowing on you, "when I realized that I could do so much more. And I thought about your little girlfriend. I could use her to hurt you, too." He smirked, tightening his grip on your jaw and your hair. The pain shot through you, but you bit your lip to stifle the cries, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "It's killing two birds with one stone. I kill her in front of you, and then he threw you to the gringo wolves."

Javier's face contorted with anger, "You're a coward, Diego! Let her go, and we settle this man to man."

Diego sneered, "Oh, but she's the sweetest part of this revenge, Peña. I won't let her go that easily," he chuckled, enjoying the torment he was causing. "Plus, It would be a shame if I let her go without having a piece of her," he added, taking your face to made you look at him, his eyes darkened. "What about that, mamacita? Wanna know what you've been missing?"

You swore you were about to throw up when you realized what he was planning. You went pale, shaking as if you wouldn't been shaking enough.

And then, he pulled you off the couch and started dragging you upstairs again.

"NO, PLEASE," you cried, trying to trying to break free from his grip. But he was stronger.

"DIEGO LET HER GO!" Javier, fueled by desperation and anger, launched himself at the two men holding him back. His movements were fierce, a surge of adrenaline pushing him beyond the pain of his recent injuries. He fought with the strength of a man whose sole focus was freeing the person he loved.

You saw as the fist of one of them connected with Javi's stomach, taking his breath out.

"JAVI! NO, JAVI... PLEASE," you kicked and fought, but Diego was stronger and dragged you up the stairs.

You didn't know exactly how things happened, but next thing you knew you were face down on the bed, feeling him behind you, struggling as you cried Javier's name out loud.

"Yes, baby, I want you to scream as loud as you can," he said, "I want Javier Peña to hear everything about his little girl and me..."

Then, the gunfire rained down, echoing through the air like a thunderclap from downstairs. Diego freeze  for a moment, and then he unfolded his gun with one hand as the other gripped around your arm again.

Downstairs, Javier seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength and determination, he broke free from the men holding him back. His movements were fueled by a raw mix of anger, fear, and desperation.

Diego, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, struggled to regain control. As Javier charged up the stairs, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The once confident captor now faced a furious agent on a mission to save you.

"Let her go, Diego!" Javier's voice boomed through the room, carrying the weight of an unwavering resolve.

Diego, realizing he was losing his grip on the situation, attempted to raise his gun, but Javier's adrenaline-fueled assault was too swift. In a moment of sheer determination, Javier lunged at Diego, knocking the gun out of his hand and pinning him against the wall.

The room became a battleground, a collision of two men with everything to lose. Javier fought with a primal intensity; and you, still pinned to the bed, watched the chaotic scene unfold, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, another round of gunfire erupted from downstairs. The sound reverberated through the building, adding to the chaos. Downstairs, the house became a battleground between new Diego's man and the team that had stormed the building, led by Steve. Both of them came from nowhere, for as much as you knew. In the momentary distraction, Diego landed a powerful blow on Javier, causing him to stagger back.

You gazed at the gun lying in a corner of the room, so you didn't think twice and reached for it. The metallic coolness felt unfamiliar in your trembling hands. Clutching the gun, uncertainty gripped you as you realized you were no expert in handling firearms.

Considering shooting into the air to capture Diego's attention, you hesitated. Amidst the chaos downstairs, you knew it might go unnoticed. Instead, you aimed the gun at Diego, but his movements were erratic, and the fear of accidentally hitting Javier paralyzed you.

But you had to do something, or Diego could kill your Javi. So you did it. You pulled the trigger, and fortunately, you hit the target.

The gunshot echoed through the room as Diego howled in pain, clutching his leg. The sudden turn of events shifted the power dynamics in the room. Javier, momentarily free from Diego's grip, seized the opportunity to tackle him to the ground.

Javier stood up immediately and took the gun from you. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face as he scanned you for any signs of harm.

"S-si," you mumbled, eyes staring into his, full of tears and fear. You wanted to put your arms around his neck, to have him pick you up and reassure you.

However, Trujillo and Steve appeared through the door. It was then that you realized that the gunshots below had also stopped.

"Go with him," Javier ordered, pointing at Trujillo.

You didn't understand what was happening. "I'm not going anywhere without you," you said, your fists clenched around his shirt.

"Please, baby, I need to protect you," he insisted.

So you obeyed, leaving Steve and Javier alone with Diego.

As you stepped outside the house, you came across an entire crime scene. There were bodies lying around, Colombian police cars, and a couple of ambulances waiting for you.

Javier and Steve must have been locked in with Diego for about fifteen minutes when a final shot pierced through the midnight air. Through Trujillo's radio, Murphy confirmed that Javier had made Diego no longer a menace.

NEXT CHAPTER

[purposefully-lost]

He only thought of Buster after he'd started the engine. Charlie's hand had already fallen away from the ignition, and a deep, heavy sort of guilt settled on top of his chest. That poor dog had always deserved a better home than the one he gave him. He'd been too distant for too often, and he'd always sort of known that he should've found him somewhere else to go. Left alone like he would be for a few days now, he'd probably try to chew through the doors. Hell, there was a chance he'd succeed, as stubborn as he was.

Leaning back against the driver's seat, Charlie frowned to himself, then lifted a hand to scrub a stray tear away from his cheek. It wasn't as if he'd exactly planned on this. There wasn't anyone who'd think to go checking on his dog until someone found him, or until his mother happened to stop by the house again. He hadn't left anyone any notes to tell them that he was planning on disappearing. It'd been sort of an accident, really. He'd closed up early, after he'd spent two hours staring at the engine of a toyota and failing to make sense of something that was usually so familiar. Then he'd gotten into the driver's seat to drive the damn thing out into the parking lot only to remember he'd already closed the garage doors and shut off all the lights. And then he'd wondered if this wasn't what he'd wanted, anyway.

His mother would probably just take Buster to the shelter. Which wasn't horrible, but he deserved better prospects than that. Vi would give him a good chance. It was just that Vi never wanted to hear from him again and Charlie would respect that.

He tilted his head against the headrest and took in a soft breath, tasting nothing and wondering idly how long this would take. He knew it wasn't instant, but he knew it wasn't too slow, either. Not when done this way.

Buster was gonna be waiting on him. Chewing down on his lip, Charlie suppressed a shaky sound and reached out to find his phone where he'd dropped it on the passenger seat. He couldn't talk directly to Vi, but he could find someone close enough. He just had to hope he'd be receptive, after he'd gotten Vi hurt and left him behind those weeks ago.

[To: Nick] hey, you dont owe me any favors but I kind of need one

[To: Nick] would you mind checking in on the dog for me? spare key is under the rug. Id appreciate it

[To: Nick] thanks in advance

The phone was turned off and set to the side. There was every chance Nick wouldn't go, but he sort of hoped he would. Better for him to find Buster than his mom.

Charlie rested back against the seat and let his eyes fall shut. He'd thought of writing to Vi, but that would just break his heart, and he couldn't do that to him. The best he could do, he thought, was go quietly. And maybe it'd just feel like falling asleep.

@unwillingprince

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Battery Anon---

What if MC (Yandere Apocalypse) had gone into hiding//seclusion shortly after the disease started to spread (before anyone, themselves included, had caught onto what was happing) - we'll assume they hid for a secondary reason like research, or safety from DE etc

Cue 1 year-1.5 year time skip, everyone trying to find them, but they just can't because everyone lost track of MC such a long time ago.

MC finds out what is happening, which causes them to try and take up new identities, and generally sneak around so they can develop a cure.

If MC succeeds, they probably end the yandere apocalypse before it did any extreme damage. But god forbid they get found out, which is significantly more likely, it would be immeasurably difficult to slip away again.

[Ahem ahem- I wanted to do a little bit of his good sir Dark Cacao brainrot so don't mind me]

In this scenario, MC was an ex-physician at the citadel-

Tw: role-forcing, guilt tripping maybe?

"I can't believe it. All this time of suffering, trying to search for you. Do you know how much burden my hearts holds from not being able to see you every day?" Dark Cacao quietly stated, his grip around their waist tight, as if trying not to crush them into little crumbs. He buried his head into their shoulder, sighing. His crown left on the nearby cushion, forgotten.

MC cookie had no choice but to keep sitting there, next to his majesty Dark Cacao. They responded, "My king I left to focus on my research-"

"Research? Were you not happy as head physician? I would have given you everything if you so much just asked." The king cut off, his voice more silent than before, now a mere whisper.

"No, no, I was content with my position. It's just that I wanted to focus on my personal research."

"Why did you leave me? I already had lost my son, and losing you was too much to bare!" He exclaimed, holding them tighter to himself.

They were stunned. What had happened to their king? He was never like this, he wasn't one to be sentimental. They were never particularly close. Had something happened to him? "I apologize your majesty...But may I ask, are you feeling alright? It's unusual for you to act like this."

"I feel better than ever, especially now that I have you." He then grabbed a box off the side table, opening it. The sight it beheld made MC cookie's eyes widen in surprise. It was a crown: similar to his, but smaller.

"...Whose crown is that?"

He broke a little smile, taking out the crown and carefully placing it on their head.

"Yours."

In that moment, the scientist knew they needed to run. They had to. That look in his eyes held something crazy, a never ending darkness.

(Ok I know I'm a little bit guilty for brainrotting about him but- but- hear me out-)

- Celina

[maliciousblog]

NCT Dream as your saesangs +

SungTaro / NCT U

Jeno (Bodyguard) 🎀

He would be your manager or your bodyguard that way he could always be by your side and keep an eye on you.

Each time you tried to interact with someone he would stop you.

Each time you tried to go out alone he would accompany you. He never left you alone.

It started to get on your nerve, one day you snapped when he insisted on accompanying you to the clothing store, you told him that you could take care of yourself and didn't have to be babysitted you could tell that he was taken aback by what you said.

To which he replied that he was only trying to keep you safe and was just doing his best to make sure nothing bad happened to you.

You started to feel guilty as he started to guilt trip you, which was exactly what he wanted.

You gave into whatever he wanted as he started to manipulate you and each time you questioned him he would guilt trip you into being the bad guy.

Jaemin ( the problematic fansite)💝

He was a well known fansite. He would always take the best pictures, he would always be the first one to reach events, the first to take pictures. At first it was just pictures of you at concerts or fansigns.

Soon it became pictures of you at private schedule's or of you in front of your dorm or of you on the way to the company. Then it became pictures of you when you hung out with your family or friends. Then it became pictures of you going about your life whether it be of you on a grocery run or of you walking your dog.

What alarmed you the most was a picture of you in your room you never took a picture like this, you soon started to get paranoid.

He loved the look of terror on your face as you saw the pictures he took.

He would edit the pictures he took of you with himself to make it seem like both of you were a couple, he would even make the occasional deepfake.

Renjun (fatal)💓

No one would possibly suspect him. He would show up everywhere you went.

He would run a fan account dedicated to you. He would constantly defend you, no matter what.

Once he happened to catch an a well known anti that always spread false rumors about you a couple of days later no one heard of the anti ever again. No matter who the problem was it just magically dissapeared. A staff member that was a little rude to you the next day they didn't come. A choreographer that got a little too touchy magically dissapeared. When one of your group members got more lines than you they "accidentally" fell down the stairs.

It had become a hobby for him now, in the end he didn't know if he was doing it for you or for his own sick pleasure.

Chenle(fan boy)💖

Would also be a singer and would probably be your friend.

He would try his hardest to get collab stages with you.

He was a true fanboy he would promote you more than he would promote himself.

He would secretly enjoy the fans shipping both of you. In fact he would go out of his way to make it happen by trying to maintain eye contact with you during shows, or buying the same things you did to make it seem as if you were a couple, even go as far as to start rumors himself and leak pictures of you.

He would eventually ask you out, but when you rejected him that was the last anyone ever saw of you.

Jisung (puppy)💕

Would be a love sick puppy. Heart eyes , he would mostly be harmless a total shy fan boy.

Would be obsessed with you would do everything in his power to make sure you succeed.

It would start out as an innocent little crush would slowly turn into a dangerous obsession.

His walls would be filled with posters of you. To you he only seemed like a harmless fanboy but the more you saw him around the more uneasy you felt. No one would  believe you, cause everyone only saw him as a cute harmless fanboy.

Sungchan (delusional)🎀

Would have you as his lock wallpaper. Would never miss a live.

Would be extremely delusional.

In his mind you and him were already dating and nothing or no one could change his mind.

He would get angry any time someone mentioned the fact that you were an idol and he was just a fan and there is no way that you two could be together and at the end of the day that's all he would ever be he would just be one  among the millions of fans you had.

Unfortunately he would refuse to accept this fact and would live in the delusion that you were his. When news broke out that you were dating a fellow idol, all hell broke loose. That would be his breaking point. He would make you his whether you liked it or not.

Shotaro (dancer)💖

He would be a popular dancer who would cover popular songs that's how he came across you.

He would watch one of your dance practice videos and would be enamored by your grace and skill.

From being an occasional listener to a fan his obsession would steadily grow.

He would dance cover every single one of your songs and would even make choreo to the ones that didn't have it. On many occasions you would notice him and would be impressed with his skill.

He would find a way for your company to hire him as your new choreographer as your last one got into a nasty accident.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hello! Been reading your twilight posts recentlt and was wondering what you think might have happened if James had killed Emmett in the ballet studio, particularly how it would have affected Rosalie/her dynamic with the Cullens?

Bella feels horribly guilty to learn that her stupid plan to save her mother (who had not been kidnapped) as well as the fact that she drew James's attention in the first place (which would not have happened had she not intruded in the Cullen's world where she feels she doesn't belong) got someone killed. Not just someone, either, but one of the Cullens, Edward's beloved brother, and Emmett who seemed so nice for all she didn't know him that well.

Bella is devastated and feels increadibly guilty and horrible.

This is made worse by Rosalie's (understandable if not ideal) reaction where I imagine she blames Bella to her face. This never would have happened if Bella had not been involved in their lives, not come to that baseball game, or if they hadn't saved her from that stupid van/killed her the night after like Rosalie wanted to. Rosalie feels as if she's traded Emmett for Bella and she hates that.

Edward of course blames Rosalie for having the worst reaction possible and actively driving Bella into a depression.

I imagine Rosalie leaves, Edward clearly isn't leaving Bella (as I imagine he'd want to hold on a little longer/this wouldn't be the New Moon wakeup call for him) and she wants time on her own to grieve/not get into fights with Edward over whose fault it is that Emmett died. No doubt Rosalie also blames the family somewhat as if they had sided with her and chosen not to protect Bella, Emmett would be alive. It's understandable why they wanted to protect Bella but it also was dangerous and risked someone dying for what. Rosalie needs some time to process alone.

Bella now feels she's driven Rosalie out of the family, this makes her guilt even worse.

I imagine Bella actively tries to avoid the Cullen household that summer (unlike canon) as being there reminds Bella of what happened/she believes it reminds the Cullens of what happened...

Honestly, I think Bella dumps Edward. She tries to hang on to him but as the weeks go by and his family is clearly falling apart, and it's all her fault, and he's sitting there being so sweet when she just effectively murdered his brother...

I don't think Bella could do it, it'd be too much and she'd double down on "Edward deserves better than me". Especially when she can justify that Edward can't read her thoughts, he's clearly too good to ever blame her when she deserves it, and she can say to herself "Edward doesn't realize how awful of a person I am."

So, Bella breaks up with him so that he can have someone better, his family can move, and they can heal. Edward is shocked and horrified but in the midst of his despair and depression remembers that this was what he wanted, he wanted to leave Bella eventually and her doing it versus him might be better. So, Edward leaves immediately and steals all her pictures/every gift he ever gave her.

Bella sinks into her New Moon depression immediately (made worse by Emmett's death and the fact that Bella did this herself and now is weak for wanting to take back her decision and oh god she's the worst person on the planet).

The Hallucination Edward times are even more fraught as Bella feels doubly guilty in that she shouldn't want to summon Edward and yet she can't live without him. I imagine this results in even riskier behavior as Bella genuinely thinks she should die and gets closer and closer to actively wanting it.

Bella probably succeeds in killing herself.

(The Jacob thing here... I don't know if he could help because the thing is Bella despises herself so much/feels so guilty and Jacob has no context for understanding this even if he becomes a wolf (added that Bella now is responsible for people dying because Victoria is actively hunting her) that I don't think Bella can use her friendship with him to claw her way out of depression.

He'd probably just make her feel worse given he shifted because of Victoria which is because of her and have we mentioned Emmett is dead?)

I imagine Alice does not tell Rosalie in part because Rosalie's not near her when it happens also because... well... bad history and Alice blames Rosalie for this mess.

This means no one tells Edward.

Edward's suicide is thus put off for as long as he feels he can live without Bella. When he breaks and goes to check on her, he discovers she's died and goes to Volterra to kill himself where no one is able to stop him from breaking the law.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

When you touch me, I am where love is born

Young!Mihawk x reader.

Prequel of the short series that began with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart). Title taken from yet another song by Beast in Black, One night in Tokyo.

*****

The man is attractive, if you like the burly type, with rough features and a full beard - which you occasionally do, even though you are slightly put off by the fact that your would-be victim, a former pirate who is now working solo as a robber, has killed twelve people, all of them but one defenseless civilians and including four children, to steal their valuables. Your grandfather, who put your first gun in your hand when you were only nine and taught you to use it, and a number of other firearms, to perfection, told you emotions are often a shooter's worst enemy, a cause of confusion and inaccuracy and worst of all hesitation, especially when the target you are shooting at has a weapon of their own; still, in your heart you feel satisfaction, even joy, and not guilt, at the thought that you will rid the world of this lowlife and protect his future potential victims.

Your target has no permanent residence and is notoriously proficient at putting pursuers off his tracks, but you were able to track down an accomplice of his who, for a small price, told you he would be in a certain island, on a particular day.

He is, and you are as well, having reached the island yesterday by ferry under the guise of a normal, innocuous tourist eager to enjoy the island's luxurious beaches and night-life. The truth couldn't be more different, and as you check for the twelfth time your gun is loaded and ready to shoot, you order yourself to keep your cool and stop your heart from beating twice as fast as normal. Yes, this is your first assignment as a mercenary; yes, you are still very young, and a woman, which would lead many of your fellow killers for hire to look down on you and doubt your ability; yes, you have never killed anyone before, which could make you hesitate once you will have to actually pull the trigger, not at a clay pigeon or another target prepared by your grandfather for your training, but at a living, real person.

But you can do it. You want to do it, because you have trained so much and so long for this, and that man does deserve to pay for what he has done, and you want to prove, to the world and more importantly to yourself, what you are worth, how strong and clever and resilient you are, beyond the family you were born in and the role you will take on one day. Your grandfather, an excellent gunslinger who had been a mercenary himself in his youth, expects you to put to good use everything he taught you and succeed, and your mother, while naturally worried for your safety, raised no objections and allowed you to begin a career as a killer for hire, knowing you felt the need to put yourself to the test beyond the comfortable, tranquil borders of your island. They both count on you, and you'd rather eat glass than disappoint them… and yourself, the harshest, least forgiving judge of all.

Also, if I don't kill that guy, he will probably kill me. That's also something I should keep in mind.

Having kept watch on the old barn, in the middle of the countryside, your target had spent the night in, you have seen him leave soon after dawn, the long sword he used to kill most of his victims as usual by his side, and set out towards an uninhabited corner of the island. You followed closely, careful not to lose him and, at the same time, not to be spotted, and three miles later you saw him reach an old abandoned mine; there is no sign of life for miles all around, which makes you suspect that, more than preparing an heist in a bank or a shop, or to attack an unsuspecting traveller to rob and then kill them, the man is meeting with an accomplice to organize an hit, or perhaps he has chosen the mine as his new hideout, to lay low for a while.

But all things being equal, the reason that has brought him here doesn't really matter; he might be looking for a safe place to store his stamp collection, or planning to transform the place in an ice cream shop for all you care. The only thing that counts is that you will kill him today, provide justice for all the people he has murdered, and begin making a name for yourself as a mercenary. You don't care about the bounty money, that you plan to donate to the less affluent families of your island (after, perhaps, you have treated yourself to a good dinner) and even becoming famous as a killer for hire is a side issue; you only want to do what is right, and prove yourself you are more than a privileged young woman, born with a silver spoon in her mouth and destined to a life of tranquility and power.

Even if it means risking your life.

Your target has reached the entrance of the mine, securely boarded up and surmounted by a large KEEP OUT sign; he walks back and forth, clearly nervous as he smokes a cigarette, fingering the hilt of his sword. Hidden in a small ramshackle building, perhaps the old foreman's office, no more than ten paces away, you look at him through a crack in the door, kneeling on the dirty floor; your heart is pounding, a feeling of tightness constricting your stomach, the hand grasping your gun (a good, reliable and lethal model; not the derringer you will one day receive as a gift from your father and that you will treasure for the rest of your days, but still perfectly up to the task) sweating. Despite all the time and effort you dedicated to prepare for this moment, you are a nervous wreck, which is not completely a bad thing, since the last thing you should do is underestimate the danger you are in. Your target is still alone, busy smoking and apparently unaware of your presence, but any moment you waste could be the one he decides to leave, or he is joined by someone else; after all he does look as if he is waiting for someone. You can't hesitate any longer.

You stand slowly, grimacing at the pain in your knees, retrieve a second gun from the bag you have left on the floor, to use should the first one jam, and slide it in the holster hanging from your waist; you have chosen comfortable clothing, for obvious reason, and soft-soled boots, that allow you to walk as noiselessly as possible… and, in turn, to make it harder for your target to hear you approach.

The man has turned his back to the shack, busy lighting another cigarette after the one he has just put out under his foot; it's your moment, you decide, and you waste no time in slipping out of the splintered door and take one step, and then another, towards him.

Years and even decades later, as the list of your victims grows longer and you get used to the tension and the danger your job entails, you will still remember this moment as clear and vivid as if it had taken place yesterday, down to the smallest detail. The glowing yellow-red of the sun barely raised above the horizon; the natural vegetation rustling in the gentle wind; the russet colour of the unsown earth under your feet; the expectant, charged silence broken only by the distant call of a carrion crow. You are only partially aware of your actions, your instinct and training taking over, as you take a third step, which brings you at maybe six from your target - more than close enough for a clean shot. Your gun is aimed, your finger already brushing against the trigger. You are about to talk, but the man, still turned the other way, anticipates you.

"I was waiting for you." he says, tense but calm, and the shock is almost enough to make the gun slip from your hand; you have been very careful to remain hidden, making sure he had no idea you were keeping a close eye on him, and you were absolutely sure you had succeeded, and would easily sneak up on your target. Apparently the truth is different… or at least so it seems for a moment, before the man finally turns, sees you, and goggles.

"What the… who the hell are you?!"

"I…"

"Where is Mihawk?" he insists, which is a question you have no answer for, but that at the same time is enough to dispel your doubts: he had no idea you were coming, and was actually waiting for someone else - perhaps an ally or an accomplice.

It takes your target half a second to notice the gun you are aiming at him. "What the…?!" he exclaims, letting his second cigarette fall to the floor and grabbing his sword.

It is already a full second to late.

"Jack 'The Tiger' Vespertine." you begin, mimicking the formal tone you heard your mother use so many times; you will decide to do away with the declaration of intents by your third assignment, like virtually all World Government-sanctioned mercenaries and killers for hire do, especially when the target is already aware of the danger they are in and armed, but since this is your first time you deem appropriate to follow the rules to the letter "You have been found guilty of twelve counts of murder…"

Vespertine's sword is drawn with a movement too fast for your eyes to follow, but thank all the Gods you are fast as well, and ready; a battle-cry fills the air, and half a second later, when the man has barely had the time to raise his blade above his head, your finger pulls the trigger, and the bullet explodes out of the gun's barrel, opening a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Vespertine is not an heavy man, but the thud of his body hitting the ground is deafening, the ground shaking under your feet. He doesn't move, and for a full minute you don't either; you stare at the body in front of you, your gun still pointed at him even though you know he is most likely already dead, as you push his sword away with your boot. You can't see his face, since he has fallen on his belly, so, for safety's sake, you shoot him again, in the back; the man doesn't move, which is proof enough for you.

Somewhere in the distance, the carrion crow cries again, a sound vaguely similar to an acid laugh; you glance all around you, making sure you are still alone and no one witnessed your actions, and then cautiously crouch down, using your free hand to turn the body on his back and look at it -at him- in the face.

This moment is the reason why you decided to do it like this. Up close, looking at him in the face and making sure he saw you and, within reason, knew you were going to kill him, instead of finding a safer way, hidden among the shrubs or from a moving vehicle or even at the third floor of a building, so that your target would have no way to know what was going to happen, and to defend himself. You had to let him know; not because you owed him (he was a killer, scum like that was entitled to nothing) but because you needed it.

"There is nothing wrong with aiming from a distance, and shooting at someone who doesn't expect it, at least if you're a mercenary and chasing a certain sort of people; in a fair duel, or when the person you are shooting at deserves to know what is going to happen to them, different rules apply." your grandfather told you one day, as you walked together in the fortress' gardens, at the end of yet another training session; he was an honourable man, your grandfather, but he was also smart and pragmatic, and he knew honour was something a person could not always afford to care for, and that when you didn't leave someone else to pay for your actions there was nothing wrong with running away to fight another day "We are not swordfighters; we don't duel for supremacy, for a grandiose title or so that everyone in the world knows our name. The gun is a weapon; if you want to kill someone, use it and it will do its work. It's not your friend, or a talisman that endows you with some arcane power; it is a tool that you need to learn to use, otherwise you will be the one getting hurt. It is a bloody business, a raw and practical one, devoid of heroics and ethics, but it can protect you and help you make your way in the world. It all depends on you. Just..."

"Just?"

Your grandfather had stopped, contemplating the rose bushes your mother tended to personally, and that ran all around a tiny plot of grass, where your family had enjoyed so many outdoor breakfasts.

"What I'm trying to say is that using firearms, especially for a deadly purpose like you mean to, is something you mustn't take lightly." he continued as he looked at you; he loved you dearly, but in that moment there was sternness in him, as if he were warning you against a terrible danger, or a grave crime you were about to commit. You liked it; he was the first person to treat you like an adult, years before you could even vaguely call yourself that "It... goes to your head; the power to kill with a simple press of your finger can make even the most rational and moderate person feel all-powerful. And the risk of forgetting it is people you are shooting at and killing, not clay pigeons or game to serve at dinner, is high."

You looked at him; he was probably the person you loved the most in the world behind your mother, and he was wiser than even her. You trusted him completely, and you knew he only wanted what was best for you; had he said bathing every day in olive oil would make you immortal, you would have believed him.

"And you think this could happen to me?" you asked, afraid of hearing his answer; evening was approaching, flames of red and purple painting the darkening sky above your heads "I... I don't want it to, grandfather; I only want to kill bad people, like you did. I don't want to become bad myself."

Suddenly he smiled, as he took your hand in his like he did when you were still so young you needed to be guided as you walked. "I have faith in you, (name); I know there is no kinder girl in all the four seas, and I am sure you will one day rule over our island with justice and mercy." he told you "But if you really want to become a gunslinger... you have to promise me something: when you kill a man, you have to look at him in the eyes; not necessarily before, as I told you, but at least after. Take responsibility for what you have done, and face the consequence of your actions. Especially the first time."

A sudden gust of wind passed over you; the evening was warm, but you suddenly felt chilled.

"Promise me, (name)."

"I promise, grandfather. I will do as you said."

And you do, contemplating the body of the man in front of you, now truly alone in that isolated corner of the world. You feel no guilt; rather, you are proud of yourself, and you know your grandfather will be as well, when you'll call home to reassure him and your mother you are all right. You have proved yourself, punished a vicious murderer, and given justice to his victims. All in all, a good day... even though you do feel a bit upset, even if you couldn't exactly say why.

You can't tear your eyes away from Vespertine -or rather, from his mortal remains- even longer than what your grandfather would deem necessary. The bullet you have killed him with went right through his cranium, but the hole it created is no bigger than a bean at the centre of his forehead, and his face is still perfectly recognizable... which is good, since you wouldn't be able to collect the bounty if you can't prove you killed the right man. You saw another body once, an inexperienced guard on your island, who had shot himself in the face with his service pistol as he cleaned it, and the bullet had completely erased his features, so much that even his parents couldn't formally recognize him...

Vespertine's old bounty poster, from the time he was still part of his old pirate crew, is folded in the inside pocket of your jacket; you take it out, open it, observe it carefully comparing the man in the picture with the one lying on the ground in front of you, and finally sigh, relieved. You had already checked it for the third time twenty minutes ago, as you waited for the right moment in the foreman's office, to make sure you had actually found the right man and were not about to kill an innocent who simply resembled him, but this is obviously the first time you can examine him up close and yes, this is undoubtedly Vespertine himself. You killed him... but your work is not over yet.

Still, you can't stop looking at him. His eyes, of the same colour of your mother's, are still open, a single drop of blood that slid down from the wound leaving a tiny blood trail along the side of his nose. He had had time to realize you were attempting to kill him, but his expression betrays neither fear, nor rage, nor the pain he must have felt as he died; rather, he seems... surprised, as if he really hadn't expected to see you, to be attacked, and that that quiet, still morning would be the last of his life.

I'm doing it, grandfather, you think; you will make sure to tell him in person once you're back home, to let him know you haven't forgotten what he had taught you, but for now, mentally addressing him is the best you can do. Just like you told me to. And now I know what you meant; I feel exactly as you thought I would. I killed him; and all it took was pulling a trigger. He wasn't a good man, and he deserved this and even more. But still... But still...

It is sudden and violent, like a punch (or a bullet) to the stomach; the bounty poster falls from your fingers, and you fall to your knees, your legs unable to support you. Your head swims; your heart beats fast enough to hurt; cold sweat covers your back, your arms, your whole body...

A disgusting sound (bleeeaarrggghh) escapes your lips, followed by everything you had eaten in the last twelve hours.

*****

You start feeling a little better fifteen minutes later, and thank all the Gods you have water and paper towels in your bag, which allows you to clean yourself at least a little bit.

After a brief rest, you get to work, retrieving other tools from your bag: a knife, a sturdy sack, the sort you use to store grain or flour, and a tinderbox. You bit your lip, ordering yourself not to feel sick again, as you cut Vespertine's head, sawing through skin and tendons and bone and separating it from his body; consequently, you put it in the sack. Collecting wood takes you only a few minutes, since the countryside abounds with fallen branches and twigs; lighting a fire is equally easy, since you have been taught to use flint and steel since you were a little girl. Dragging your victim's body over the (still unlit) pyre is the hardest part, since he must be twice as heavy as you, but in the end you succeed, and soon Vespertine's remains are burning and then reduced to ashes, leaving no trace of his passing that an eventual friend or ally could trace back to you. Unsure of what to do with it, you finally bury the man's sword near the entrance of the mine, digging with your bare hands since you don't have a shovel at hand and making sure it cannot be found.

You then place the sack containing your victim's head in your bag; the idea of carrying that thing around is more than a little disgusting, but doing the same with the entire body would be much more tiring, and your grandfather said it will be more than enough to claim the bounty, since a severed head is clear proof of a person's death.

Soon after, you set off. You haven't lowered your guard yet, in case Vespertine hadn't come alone or had friends and allies nearby, not to mention that watching your back will now have to become the norm, but you feel relieved you have completed your task, and you can't wait to reward yourself with a good meal, cash the bounty and return home to tell your mother and grandfather about your first success as a mercenary.

You have started whistling a popular song of your island, the warmth of the blooming day kissing your skin, when suddenly you are not alone on the road anymore; a tall man is walking purposefully towards you, and towards the mine... a man with a large sword hanging from his belt.

Shit. Vespertine did say he was expecting someone, and while you cannot be sure this guy is (was) a friend of your victim and would want to avenge his death, the best, safest thing you can do is to get away as quickly as you can, before he realizes what has happened and that you must be responsible for it. Is it cowardly? Perhaps - no, it surely is, and your grandfather did tell you the honourable man is very often the dead man as well, and you are a mercenary, not a warrior, you are not bound by a code of conduct and it would be very stupid to risk your life when you have nothing to gain from it, but...

But...

"Excuse me." you call to the man who has by now walked five or six steps behind you, turning to look at him and thinking back to your brief conversation with Vespertine "Is your name... Mihawk?"

The man turns, clearly surprised to hear a stranger mention his name. He is very tall, slim but strong, dark-haired, practically but elegantly dressed.

"Do I know you?" he asks after a moment he has spent observing you.

"No, but perhaps we have a mutual acquaintance. Did you know Jack "The Tiger" Vespertine? Were you meant to meet him today?"

You grimace, realizing you have used the past tense when this man -Mihawk- still has no idea Vespertine is dead. This is probably the stupidest, most dangerous thing you have ever done, a leap in the dark, because your gun is still charged and nothing would stop you from at least trying to kill your second swordsman of the day, but you could simply keep walking, and he would have no way to know what has happened, since there is no trace of Vespertine's remains and by the time Mihawk may suspect he had been killed, you would be long gone.

Still. Something in your heart tells you you are doing the right thing, because you are not a coward, and because this man will not prove to be a danger for you. You don't know why, but you are sure.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

Mihawk brings his arms to his chest; he is still staring, and there is something in his gaze that makes you squirm - in his gaze, or perhaps in his eyes, which are of a very unusual colour...

"Why should I tell you?" he asks in the end.

"No reason, actually." you admit "It's just... well, I hope you were not close friends, or related, because he is dead."

Silence. You tense, ready for whatever his reaction will be, but the man lets his arms fall to his sides, without touching his sword - a good blade, he will tell you in time, but still largely inferior to Yoru, that will not come into his possession for a few years still.

"You killed him?"

"I did. Less than an hour ago, at the mine he was waiting for you at."

"Are you a pirate?"

No, just the daughter of one, you are for a moment about to answer, before quickly stopping yourself. You have been sworn to silence regarding the identity of your father, for the safety of your family and your own, and you have never been tempted to break that promise until now. What is happening to you?, you wonder, feeling strangely numbed all of a sudden, why do you instinctively feel able, or even eager, to share your secrets with a man you had never met before...?

(You will understand it; in time. And you will be happy of it.)

"No; I'm a mercenary working for the World Government." you answer in the end, trying to pull yourself together; it is technically not the truth, at least until you cash your first bounty, but the Marines do have a number of killers for hire on call, and who knows, perhaps one day you will be part of that selected circle... "Vespertine left a long list of victims behind him, there is a bounty on his head."

"I see."

You wait for him to elaborate, to express rage or regret or joy at the news of Vespertine's death, but Mihawk is clearly not the loquacious sort, because he keeps his emotions for himself, and "Thanks for telling me." he simply says.

"No problem. Why was he waiting for you?" you ask again, cocking your head; you have no idea of how dangerous he is, even now that he is little more than a boy, but even if you knew, you wouldn't be deterred. You are curious... and fascinated, somehow, by this stern and hermetic young man.

Mihawk looks at you, clearly disapproving of your curiosity, but in the end he sighs, and finally gives you the explanation you wanted. "We were meant to duel, Vespertine and I. He had challenged me a month ago, and we were meant to meet this morning at the mine. I... am running late, unfortunately, because the ship I took to reach this island clashed against a larger one and for a while it seemed it would go under."

"Oh, that's... scary."

He shrugs, clearly unconcerned. "I would have managed, I am a capable swimmer. I was just afraid Vespertine thought I had decided not to meet him because I was afraid."

"He... was a capable swordsman?" you ask again, still eager to learn more; the only bladed weapon you have ever handled is the knife you use at the table and, now, the larger one you took with you from home to separate your victim's head from his body, but you have always been fascinated by the world of the swordfighters, bound by a strict code of behaviour, who often have to prove themselves before a more experienced fighter accepts to train them and among whom most serious duels end with the death of one of the two opponents. For them, the weapon is not a tool, of defense and offense; it is... an art. A cult, almost.

"Above average, from what I saw, which is not saying much. But he had challenged me, and refusing would have been a stain upon my honour."

Just like you expected. "I see. Well." you add, suddenly embarrassed "I'm sorry I took your opponent away from you."

Mihawk shrugs, marginally more inclined to chat. "If he let you kill him, it means he wasn't a worthy opponent." he reasons; he has no facial hair, but his sideburns are long and neatly trimmed, and while already tall he's still a few inches away from his full stature "I should thank you for saving me a futile effort."

You cock your head, an eyebrow raised. "Are you saying I am less capable a markswoman than you are a swordsman?" you inquire; you don't care if Mihawk will propose to see for yourselves and challenge you, forgotten is the guilt you felt for ruining his morning. Who the hell this smart-ass thinks he is, especially considering you must be the same age? You don't care how actually powerful he is, you wouldn't even care if he were the world's strongest swordsman, no one can insult you and get away with it "Is it because I am a woman? Or because I use a gun and not a sword?"

"No, I..."

"I'll have you know I've been trained by one of the most capable former mercenaries of the four seas, and that Vespertine didn't even have the time to attack me before I put a bullet through his head."

"I'm sure you are more than capable." Mihawk says, clearly aiming to pacify you but, fortunately, without sounding patronizing "Forgive me; I meant no disrespect."

He seems sincere - he is, he will confess to you years later, and deeply embarrassed for the gaffe he just made; it is rare for him to admit he had erred... but, he will confide you with the shadow of a smile, he is happy those words didn't make you hate him, then and in the years to come. Because of this you decide to forgive him, and

"If you want we can split the bounty." you propose, feeling generous; you intended to donate the money to someone who needed it on your island, but you can take another assignment soon "Or, you know, there is Verspertine's sword, I can tell you where I buried it..."

Mihawk shakes his head. "I can only take another swordsman's blade if I am the one who bested them; in any case, I doubt a man like Vespertine owned a blade I could be interested in." he points out "And I don't need compensation; you killed him, you deserve to keep the money. Well, I... I suppose I should go back."

"Right..."

Silently, you both set off once more, walking side by side along the only path towards the nearest village. You are still on edge, both happy for your first success and shaken by the fact that you have, after all, just killed a man, but soon you find yourself focusing on something else... namely, on the young man walking next to you. He is undoubtedly handsome, but it's something else that piques your curiosity... a depth, and complexity, unusual for one so young, and that you can perceive behind his apparently impassible façade.

"So." you begin conversationally after a while; you have almost a mile to walk to the village, and maybe chatting will make you reach your destination faster "Are you any good with that sword?"

Mihawk grunts, the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice. "I like to think I am more than good."

"Really? Are you famous?"

"I am... becoming famous. This is why Vespertine wanted to duel me."

"And you think you would have beaten him?"

"I know I would have."

He speaks matter-of-factly, as if describing an undeniable truth and without the slightest hint of arrogance or overconfidence; you usually appreciate humility, and you have no way to know whether he is as good as he thinks he is, but you like the self-assurance he carries himself with.

"So this is what you do? Go around, duel other swordsmen so that you make a name for yourself as a powerful fighter?"

"I do." Mihawk easily acknowledges "When I'm not too busy fighting the Marines and looking for a loot or another."

"You're a pirate."

"I am. A wanted one, in case you were thinking of claiming my bounty as well."

You smile, aware you are both involved in a game whose rules are still undecided. "Is that a challenge?" you inquire, and Mihawk shrugs, looking straight in front of him.

"If you want to consider it as such."

"I see. Luckily for you, I intend to cash Vespertine's bounty before looking for another assignment, so I will not challenge you today."

"Luckily for me..."

Silence falls between you, an unexpectedly companionable one considering you have known each other only for a few minutes. As you glance sideways at Mihawk, you can't help noticing his eyes, yellow like the ones of a hawk; you have never seen anything of the sort, but there is beauty in his gaze.

"What about you?" Mihawk asks "What has brought you to become a mercenary?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Women are a minority in the trade, those as young as you even more so. You are wearing clothes of good quality, which means you are probably not doing it for the money. Am I right?"

"You are."

Mihawk grins. "As I thought. So what? Are you following in a relative's footsteps? Or were you simply bored?"

"Both things, in a sense." you admit, walking leisurely along the mud-smeared path; the fact that a virtual stranger is able to read you so easily should upset you, but it doesn't, maybe because you can perceive Mihawk poses no danger to you, or maybe not "I... simply needed to test myself. Growing up, I never had to worry about money, or fear for my safety; I'm not saying I was spoiled, or that I spend my days idling without duties and responsibilities, but I feared letting things go like they were meant to, I would become indolent, content with what I had but unable to aim higher. I never needed to prove I was strong, and clever, and capable of taking care of myself; but I wanted to make sure I was anyway."

You are not sure your reasoning makes sense, especially to someone who barely knows you, but Mihawk nods in understanding - in approval, even. "That was brave of you. And clever."

"I just wanted to do what I thought was right."

Twenty minutes of sporadic but pleasant conversation later, you have reached the village, actually little more than a handful of houses and little shops and a tiny harbour, connected by a regular ferry service to a larger island from where you can easily catch another boat to return home. Perhaps, you reflect, you should think about buying a small ship of your own; experienced sailors are not lacking on your island, and you could ask someone to teach you...

"You want to join me for a meal?" you propose as you walk past a tavern; you know you and Mihawk are destined to part soon anyway and will probably never meet again, but he is the most interesting person you have met in a long while, and you like talking to him "After all it's breakfast time..."

Mihawk hesitates for a moment, taken aback by your offer. "I'd... like that." he answers, and you could swear that surprises him as well "But I need to depart soon."

"I see. Well..."

You are both standing in the village's tiny, almost empty square. This is good-bye, then, you're about to say, but impulsively you step closer to the man in front of you, who tenses. "What...?"

"Your eyes." you murmur without realizing. You were right, they are yellow, their gaze piercing and deep, intense albeit not necessarily cruel "They are... beautiful."

"... you think?"

"Of course; I had never seen anyone with eyes like yours! They make you look like a bird of prey. Like an hawk."

Something in your words makes the man in front of you smile; he is flattered, and still not as good at hiding his emotions as he will be in twenty years. "I've been told that before."

"Is it hereditary? Do you have a particularly sharp vision or...?"

"I... don't think so; no one I have ever met has them, and I see normally."

"Amazing..."

Silence again; you face each other, both still so young, full of dreams and ambition, unaware of what the future has in store for you - individually and not. Neither has any idea you will meet again, and how your relationship will change and grow, but in that moment, both of you are sure, a sort of quiet, clear certitude: you will remember that brief encounter forever.

In the end Mihawk takes a step back, both literally and metaphorically. "I should go." he softly points out nodding in the direction of the village's harbour "So... good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mihawk." you answer, intimately saddened for reasons you can't fully explain even to yourself; it is not like you to get attached to people you barely know, but there is something interesting in this young swordsman, something special, and you wouldn't mind having the time to discover exactly what...

A nod, the hint of a smile, and he's walking away. You look at his retreating figure for a minute, his dark hair gently swaying in the breeze, his hand elegantly resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Maybe one day we'll meet again." you call out to him, making Mihawk turn "Maybe I'll be asked to bring you in to the Marines."

He smiles; once again, amused, but not patronizing. "I look forward to it." he answers, raising an hand in farewell "What is your name?"

"It's (name). (full name)."

"I'll be seeing you then, (full name)."

A minute later he has disappeared, hidden by the buildings across the square. You smile to yourself; something tells you Mihawk is destined to make a name for himself, as a pirate and even more as a swordsman, and you can only hope that, by your next meeting, you will have done the same.

Still, that could take years, and in the meantime you have a couple of more pressing matters to attend to: breakfast, since your stomach has started growling, and calling both your family, to let her know you're all right, and the Marines.

You decide to take care of that first, to get it over with. You glance once more at the tavern, hoping the coffee they offer is better than the one you drank on the ferry, retrieve your transponder snail from a side pocket of your bag, and dial the number you had learnt by heart before setting off from home. You could technically cash Vespertine's bounty in any Marine base of the world, but you decided to do it at their HQ, especially since it's your first time; you hope it will be easier to get noticed, and make a name for yourself as a capable mercenary.

"Good morning. Who do I have to talk to in order to claim a bounty? Vice-Admiral Garp? Yes, put me through to him, please..."

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

hi angel! i see your requests are open and if you’re up for it, i’d love to request an older!sinclair sister w our lover boy eddie? :) some angst for character development LOL and fluff? ♥️♥️♥️ thank u pookie

Mistakes were made but atleast we fixed them, sort of…

Eddie Munson x Fem!OlderSinclaire reader

[a/n] sorry this took longer than I’d hoped, I really tried to make it a balance between angst and fluff so I hope I did your request justice! Feel free to send more asks in the future, I’ve never written for Sinclair reader before this so it was definitely new to me, but I had fun! <3

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

Request a Valen-Cries fic here!

Eddie had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, practically joined at the hip, so much so that it was uncommon to see you apart, until recently. With the cracks of your steadily crumbling friendship beginning to show, questions naturally arose from both your parents and peers. 

What you refused to tell anyone was the real reason behind this break, constantly spewing excuse after excuse when anyone broached the topic. It was unlikely anyone would hear what actually went down, with Eddie probably far too embarrassed to explain that you, his best friend was in love with him, and you mortified for even thinking he could feel the same.

In fact just thinking about it months later, your cheeks still burned with a mixture of hurt and rage, picturing the night you’d all but spilled your guts while he sat there half heartedly shrugging at your confession like you meant nothing to him at all. 

Poor Lucas had attempted to console you but was met with a cold pillow to the face the moment he entered your bedroom, quickly deciding it wasn’t worth possibly losing his head over some ‘girl drama’, or so he thought. However, it was also just your luck that the following morning he’d not only told Mike and Dustin but the entire Hellfire group, Eddie included.

For a while after the whole debacle you’d tried to remain just best friends with Eddie, truly believing that if he wasn’t interested in you romantically you could still salvage the friendship although, that proved more difficult than ever.

Which led you to now where you were stuck between the awkward and depressing limbo of wanting more but trying desperately to get over you know who, in an effort to go back to how it was before, if that was even possible. 

Poking around at the food in front of you as your family chatted happily about their day, zoning in and out of conversation had become the new norm. The numbness taking over once more until Lucas had let it slip that Eddie had a date with none other than Chrissy Cunningham, Hawkin’s princess. 

Of course he did, you’d thought. The bitterness beginning to take over as you thought of the numerous reasons Eddie would never be attracted to you and how you’d ruined everything. Excusing yourself from the table and going straight to bed, not that you’d be getting any sleep.

If only you’d kept your stupid mouth shut.

You weren’t sure how long had passed until the faint knock of the door echoed through the room, followed by the creak of the worn down door. “Hey y/n, I was thinking we could have a spa night this weekend if you’re up for it? You know how mom used to do when we were younger?” Erica shifted somewhat nervously. It was clear she didn’t want to anger you, with your mood changing faster than the wether nowadays, likely confused how the once close family dynamic had become to distant. 

Guilt weighed heavy against your chest, the urge to decline and simply wallow, outweighing a possibly fun and equally horrendous sister night. Desperate to think of an excuse but deciding to agree anyway for her sake. It wasn’t like you had anything planned either way, with Lucas and your parents going on date. 

The bonus was she might actually succeed with killing you this time, if her cooking was the still as you remembered.

—- 

Eddie knew it was wrong as soon as the thought entered his head, he just couldn’t understand how you could tolerate let alone be in love with him. Hell he’d be lying if he tried to deny the feelings he felt, yet he still choose to play the fool. He hadn’t anticipated the fallout would be quite this bad, with you avoiding him for the most part or pretending for his sake the confession was in the past and to be forgotten, and his conflicted feelings making him temperamental, for lack of a better word he well and truly was fucked.

How was he supposed to rely on you to protect his heart if he couldn’t do the same for you? So used to being the other person in any given situation, this was all new. Hell he’d have studied for this moment if it meant he’d have an answer with how to move forward, alas that wasn’t coming anytime soon.

Trudging up to the van like usual unaware that someone was following him until the crinkle of a snack wrapper sounded from behind, stopping him in his tracks.

 “Sinclair I know you’re there” Eddie had called before turning around to meet the sheepish grin on Lucas’ face.

“How did you know it was me?” The boy had sighed, munching away on his favourite snack bar which coincidentally was also yours. 

“Well apart from the obnoxiously loud noise you made opening that.” He’d pointed at the half eaten food “I also happen to know there y/n’s favourite and they’re the most annoying thing ever, especially when trying to plan a campaign.”

“Well anyway I need you to come to my house tomorrow evening.” Ignoring Eddie and continuing “and before you ask she’s not going to be home so don’t worry about that, she’s got a date.” He trailed off, watching something in the distance

“I wasn’t worried but okay…” Eddie muttered watching as Lucas suddenly ran off shouting at what he assumed to be the others to wait up for him

—-

Getting into your pyjamas and heading downstairs to see what chaos Erica was cooking up, literally, you hadn’t expected to be met with the person you’d been trying to forget, or at least just for one evening. 

“What are you doing here?” Looking around the otherwise empty kitchen confused “you’re supposed to be on a date?” You questioned

“No you’re supposed to be on a date.” Eddie echoed back as the sound of chairs dragging against the hardwood floor grew closer. 

“Neither of you are on a date but you are locked in, so sort whatever it is going on between you out now!” Your younger siblings shouted, clearly having planned tonight.

“By the way I know you both love each other so just admit it already.” Erica added, earning a thump before it grew quiet again. 

Unsure of how to comprehend her words, you simply pulled up a chair and sat down. You definitely weren’t going to start the conversation, hurt enough over the first time you’d talked argued about ‘this’.

“Look I’m just going to get straight to the point. I lied.” Eddie started, pulling up a chair near you and sitting “I do love-” the hesitation was enough to send you reeling, the urge to simply run, scratching away at your insides. 

“Fuck” he was pacing now “I’ve never said these words to anyone but I love you.” Breathing out without hesitation this time. “I know I’ve been shit at showing it and I don’t expect you to forgive me for lying and hurting you but when I heard you were going on a date something changed.” Now still and silent once again as he got down and looked at you for real this time.

“I lied because I thought you could do better than me. I mean I’m still in high school, barley passing and you’re in college with your whole life ahead of you. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hold you back, you know that.” 

“Eddie what the hell?!” You weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or cry at how dense he could be, you’d probably end up doing both “I don’t care about that shit, we’ve been friends for years and you didn’t think to at least talk to me about this?”

“You know I love you and you let me think you were basically disgusted at me?” Pausing as you pondered on your next words. “Don’t answer that.” 

Where words failed, actions came into hand. Leaning over and pressing your lips against his, savouring the faint taste of mint and tobacco that lingered, while cupping his cheeks between your hands. Now that you’d started you weren’t sure you could stop, understanding now what it means to be intoxicated by someone. 

Gasping for breath between kisses and hands grabbing at each other while the room grew hotter until you were startled by a bang.

“Hey! We’re still here you know.” Lucas shouted “also I’m still mad that you like him” It was now Erica’s turn to slap him playfully, prompting a spat between the two over who’d genius plan this was. Honestly you couldn’t care less now that you had Eddie back.

Little did you know that it was thanks to both Lucas and Erica meddling for this Valentine’s miracle. Although, that was an argument for another day. Erica insisting she knew was the head of operation Valentines.

[waterlilyrose]

Please could I make a fic request!

A kanthony fic about how with each pregnancy, anthony desperately wants a girl, a mini-kate, and his joy and happineess when he finally gets one (not that he is unhappy with sons or anything)

It made no sense really. Nonsensical to some, actually.

But it was a truth that Anthony couldn't deny - he wanted a daughter.

The members of the ton would probably look at him with non-comprehension if they knew; why on Earth would a powerful Viscount who needed a son to succeed him desire a girl? Yes, a daughter could be married off to secure an allegiance with a neighbouring lord or to climb the social ladder but the Bridgertons were notorious for only marrying for love. He had an heir and a spare; did he even require any more children at all?

There was a reason Anthony kept the ton at arms length. Because you couldn't reason with stupidity.

No more children meant ceasing to visit his wife at night and refraining from love making. As they shared the same bed and Kate was as delicious as ever, that was almost laughable. And Ned and Miles weren't simply an heir and a spare - they were his sons. His boys.

And he wanted to complete his little family with a mini Kate.

From the moment that Kate had vomited her previously favourite pudding up and they knew another child was imminent, Anthony hadn't been able to stop imagining the child being a daughter. He could already see her in his mind's eye - a tiny little thing who was Kate's double with maybe his eyes to showcase his paternity. A little girl with Kate's spirit and intelligence, running around the garden with her big brothers and army of cousins but who would love her Papa and knew he loved her more than words. Anthony had experience with girls (he'd raised Hyacinth from the birthing chamber and knew the joys and hardships of being a father figure to an inquisitive little girl) so he was confident he could do it again.

The hope was beautiful but it also followed another feeling: guilt.

Was he being selfish? Surely the only thing to truly pray for was a healthy child and a healthy delivery with no complications. He knew, all too well, the dangers of childbearing. Sometimes he tied himself up in knots with worry - if anything happened to Kate or the child, it would be his punishment for being too demanding. All his fault… how would he be able to live with that? And it also made him almost overcompensate with Ned and Miles - he felt he needed to prove that he didn't love them any less for wanting a daughter. Then he would become conscious of spoiling his sons and making Kate cross when she was carrying their baby.

He tried not to think about how much he wanted a girl. He didn't even tell Kate - he kept repeating how he only wanted a safe delivery and a healthy child. He wasn't sure that Kate quite believed him but she did not argue with him - for once.

The pregnancy advanced to nine months and the labour began. Anthony insisted on being by Kate's side throughout and even the doctors were used to Lord Bridgerton's insistence of being in the delivery room by now (he might have threatened to break the jaw of anyone who tried to keep him away when Ned was born). It was quite a straightforward delivery (apparently) and within six hours, the baby slid out of its mother and screamed its presence to the room.

The doctor wiped the baby down before handing the baby to Kate in a blanket.

"A girl, My Lord." The doctor said in a tone that sounded almost regretful.

A girl. A girl. Anthony had a girl. A daughter.

"Anthony?" Anthony looked from the doctor to Kate who was holding the newborn still having a good cry at her entrance into the world.

Anthony looked from her to the little girl. She looked like her mother - he could see it already.

"A baby girl." He whispered, reaching out a trembling finger to touch her soft cheek. "And she's so beautiful. Oh I'll love her so much, Kate! I'll be the best father. I promise!"

"You already are!" Kate promised, apparently torn between relief that he wasn't disappointed to not have another son and also wonder at just how happy her husband was to have a girl. "The boys adore you. I adore you. And she will adore you."

"I adore every single one of you. My perfect wife, my gorgeous sons and now my beautiful little daughter. God help her when she debuts - no man will ever be good enough for her!"

[f0point5]

whenever i hear about ocon's parents selling their house and living in a caravan (iirc) i just feel so bad for him. it really reminds me of all those traumatised child actors whose parents quit their job because the child can now be the breadwinner. obvs it's two complete opposite sides of the spectrum but both are such unfair sitautions to be put in as a child! esteban needing to succeed because otherwise his family would be broke forever?? (also i know that these decisions are often mentioned in a heart warming "oh look at how much my parents sacrificed for my dream" -way, but i find it so hard to look at it from a positive light. i'm sure they did it all out of love but i just can't imagine putting your child in such a tough position and putting that much pressure on them. i guess i just lack that top performance athlete mentality lol.) not to mention that most of these racing children hardly have a plan b career plan since they usually drop out of school. so now you have a kid who single handedly has to save the family from financial ruin AND has no safety net or plan b whatsoever. that's just insane and it's no wonder esteban is like that. he really has the ultimate rags to riches back story but his history gave him such a massive chip on his shoulder that he's just become unlikeable, which sucks!!! wish someone would grab his shoulders and shake him around a little and say: estieee!! youve made it!! stop driving like losing would full on kill you and just focus on getting the best out of the car and be the best you can be!! you'd think that someone with his backstory would be the last person who'd need to be humbled, but fucking hell he acts so smug and can be so delusional it's exhausting.

anyyyyways, apologies for dropping a full essay in your askbox, i don't even care about esteban lmao. it's just that whenever i do happen to think about him i just get so frustrated 🤷🏼‍♀️😬

have a lovely evening!! 💞

This.

I remember reading that once when I didn’t know too much about him and thinking, okay that’s a bit extreme. And then I thought about how much pressure that must have put on him. Pressure to succeed, but also just pressure in terms of that being not an ideal quality of life for a teenage boy. His parents made his life exponentially harder in every single way to support his hobby in the hopes that he could turn it into a career to support them. And then I thought about the fact that if he hadn’t been that 0.00001% that makes it, how much harder his life would have got, and how much guilt he would have lived with. They set him up to live with constant insecurity and instability, and to shoulder the burden of making that all worth it for them. Who does that to their child? I don’t care how talented you think they are, betting you’re financial security on that is imbecile behaviour. Even Esteban said if he were in his parents’ position he wouldn’t do it. Poor guy knows what it does to child.

It’s exactly like moving your kids to LA to be the breadwinner, except it’s worse because the amount of kids able to support a family on acting work is probably 10,000 times the the amount of drivers making enough money to support a family from driving alone. Statistically, there was a 0% chance that that gamble would pay off for them but they did it anyway. That’s worse odds than a slot machine. And they bet the house their son was living in?! Ew. Just ew.

And yeah, people say “look what my parents sacrificed for my dream” with affection when that dream has come true. But what would have happened if he hadn’t made it. “Look what my parents destroyed because they bet my future and theirs on my childhood hobby”. What in the damn hell. These stories are not in any way endearing to me - they’re just examples of narcissistic and irresponsible parenting.

And now I’ve just seen clips of a podcast he did talking about his childhood and I was almost tearing up for him. How he and his dad used to take tyres from the other kids’ karts out of the bins and reuse them because he didn’t have enough sets over a weekend, and how he didn’t go to birthday parties or on holiday because it was all focused on his racing. That’s a CHILD. And he was talking about how he and his dad would see Max and Jos and how everyone was intimidated by them but he and his dad weren’t…because they had literally bet their shirts on his career and couldn’t afford to be scared. That. Is. A. Child. What if he woke up one day and didn’t want to do it anymore? What if he wanted a life beyond what his parents chose for him by putting their lives on the line? Would he have been allowed to? I mean. No bloody words.

Again, anyone who says Jos is a problem father better be coming for the Ocons (and Anthony Hamilton).

The way he is is so clearly connected to the fact that he lived his whole life in survival mode. That guy moves through the world like the last meal he had was one he had to fight for in an abandoned warehouse. And fair enough it got him where he needed to go, but once you’ve made it, It’s the most unpalatable energy to be around, and it no longer serves you. And it also makes you look like an ass because how can you be a whole f1 driver and stink of desperation. Logically it’s clear why but it’s still just not a likeable combination. He probably knows that, but doesn’t know any other way to be. That’s why he has such an issue with teammates - he can’t not fight for things because he’s always scared someone is going to take something from him. He’s like a stray dog that you take in and they hide food in their bed because they think you might not ever feed them again.

I really hope he’s getting some therapy because the childhood is trauma-ing out in the open.

I think of everyone on the grid he’s the one I feel most sorry for, because of all the backstories that you hear, he seems the most unhealed.

But the levels of delulu is something else. That f3 season where he beat Max (racing for a top team while Max was in one that I don’t think had even won a race until Max won 10 in one season) really got him thinking they were on a level and he hasn’t let go of it since. He’s like “oh I look at it like I’ve never had the opportunity to go against Max because we’ve always been in different leagues of car”…as if there’s not a REASON. You’re out here like “he’s in a red bull” well why aren’t you? By your own admission you were on the same f3 track…helmut wasn’t looking for you bro.

Hope you don’t mind my essay back lol. I’m low-key obsessed with him because I find him so annoying but at the same time he’s like literary gold dust. He has such Main Character backstory. It’s just a pity he comes across so unlikeable to me. And the thing is, I genuinely think underneath it all he is a sweet person (delulu still, but sweet), but it just comes secondary to his survival mode personality.

[thelunarfairy]

So i read abt your theory of hanako before he was sealed, we know that merely dying doesnt make a soul a supernatural, and in the event of one did, we wouldn't have known how much of their human soul remains. Yugi amane died and became a supernatural because the god gave him a chance to erase his guilt if he managed to perform the duty of the seventh mystery.

He died along with his family in the red house, do you think amane made the wish to be a supernatural to the thing inside tsukasa? And as the price for it was his family? That would make a connection with why tsukasa can grant the wishes of the dead while hanako grant the wishes of the living, its like they are sharing the power of one being? And the panel where we see a dark hole in hanako's body the same as tsukasa's, but behind hanako was a lot of creatures, and the hole seemed to spread to his chest like its taking over himself:

Also when i say they share the power of one being it made me think of the ending:

What i think is that, after amane gave up on everything, he made the wish to be the host of the thing in return for his younger brother's old self, the one he remembered before he disappeared. And so he became a powerful supernatural, and couldnt control the power.

Somehow minamoto grandma came to the house and sealed him. It's getting absurd because i cant think how to link the sealed hanako from the red house to the school,Maybe its like how the old misaki shrine was at a different location but yako still got one of the seven mysteries positions. I really think its there, because teru said the link between the red house and the seven mysteries should be sufficiently strong.

Thats all my rambling😂 looking forward for your opinion on this. Have a nice day/night!

Hoooo you got it right!

The two share a part of this God, really, the big question is how did this happen?

I've seen theories talking about the possibility that Amane ate a part of Tsukasa's heart, or some supernatural, because that's one of the ways to become one of them.

Amane may have become a supernatural before or after death, we don't know yet, but according to the evidence we have, they both have this "God" inside them. Even Hanako has dark eyes.

Furthermore, it may also be linked to Tsukasa's wish. We don't know how the God's wish fulfillment works, but because Tsukasa wanted to give Amane health, the creature may have created a bond with him as well.

The other hypothesis is what you said, he may have made a wish to this God.

Regarding the issue of wishes, Tsukasa classifies him and Amane as "opposites" they are opposites in everything, this includes their work, in any case, the way Hanako fulfills wishes is not the same as God's, it is not instantaneous, he tries by more "common" means and does not always succeed in carrying them out.

Perhaps this is related to the fact that he is sealed, or that he does not have the full power to grant wishes in the same way as the creature. Tsukasa seems to have more freedom about this than Hanako, but it follows a similar logic.

The connection between the house and the school, in fact I think that the entire location is on top of the old village, not just the school, and that somehow the creature manages to change the location of some things. For example, that place where the Kannagis were sacrificed was connected to the red house, and Teru thought it was strange, it should probably be somewhere else.

You can see that Tsukasa is in that room full of toys, with Mitsuba, that is a classroom, but it looks a lot like the red house, see that the strange setting is very reminiscent of the house, and besides, the room is also there's that hole.

It's as if the house connects to everywhere, like nowhere. The house was closed, and the Minamotos were there.

So the secret must be in the house.

So yes, the twins seem to be linked to the same God, we don't know how Amane created the link with him, but he has the same mark on his chest and dark eyes.

He was sealed because he was very dangerous, he probably had no control over himself, Kou's grandmother sealed him in school, that's because he can't get out of it, which means he was probably in school at the time he became a dangerous supernatural.

Hanako is afraid of losing control, he never asked Nene to remove the seal from him. I still have doubts about the union of the twins, will they be able to become one?

By removing the seals, this God grows more within the two and when everything is removed, will they unite?

Hmm…..lots of questions…

And I always feel like something is missing….

[tvckerwash]

okay so idk how popular "other freelancers get epsilon and take wash's place" au's are these days but one problem I've always had with them is that I feel like people don't understand that wash is so perfect for taking down the meta and pfl that I honestly don't think anyone but him could succeed in the way he did. (utc again because it's kind of long)

the other freelancers (imo) lack the same 'wait and see' calculated nature and skilled subtlety to play the director and the counselor's waiting game like wash did, because while they always knew wash was going to betray them, they didn't know when he would betray them, or what he even knew in the first place. wash's long memory and his ability to hold a grudge is his greatest strength, he will remember what you've done long after you've yourself forgotten, and that's when he'll strike.

wash going around collecting the blues (and the reds) in s6 was more than him just trying to find people with experience with project freelancer to help him take down the meta—I mean at first that's all it was, but by the time he comes across church with caboose he definitely started to piece together the whole alpha puzzle, and at that point is when he switched gears and he was now looking at the blues (and reds) as people he could trust with his insurance policy when shit finally went down.

wash gave epsilon to the reds and blues for the same reason that ct gave tex a copy of her data in pfl, that being of course because he knew that there was a good chance he wasn't going to make it out alive, but he still wanted the director to pay for what he did even if he wasn't the one to put him behind bars. wash decided that the simulation troopers were the safest place to hide epsilon until they could get the chance to turn him in to the unsc—if it was good enough for the director to hide alpha, then it was good enough for wash to hide epsilon.

but back to the meta, wash was the ideal freelancer to take him down because wash had an advantage with the meta that no other freelancer did. wash was the only freelancer who understood maine even after he lost his voice, and it's heavily implied that they were fairly close going by the like 1.5 interactions they had in pfl and all of s8. wash's advantage of being able to read maine—and subsequently the meta—in ways no other freelancer ever could, meant that he could predict the actions the meta would take and plan accordingly.

wash also wasn't dumb enough to think he could take the meta head on with no tricks and live, and I personally think that's exactly what happened with north and south—they were so confident in their skills and abilities that they thought they could beat the meta, but they were wrong and they both paid the price. north with his life, and south who was stuck with the guilt of knowing that she inadvertently got her brother killed (and whether she did so intentionally or not is debatable and up to interpretation, I personally don't think it was intentional and I think wash believed the same thing, but he decided to use it as one of the many excuses given by delta to shoot her anyway because the guy is PettyTM and he didn't want to have to worry about her shooting him in the back again and ruining his plans).

another advantage wash has is his ability to (mostly) remove his feelings from the situation at hand ("I said that I didn't like it, not that I wouldn't do it."). wash and maine formerly being close friends did not change what he needed to do, wash and south being former teammates did not change what he needed to do, alpha having a life as away from project freelancer as he could did not change what he had to do, caboose just wanting his friend back did not change what he had to do, carolina being his former leader did not change what he had to do, etc etc.

slightly off topic but the above is probably where locus got his idea of wash being some perfect soldier who always follows orders from. he misconstrued wash's ability to push his emotions and morals aside in order to get a job done (something that is admittedly seen as an ideal trait in a soldier or anyone who is in a position in which you shouldn't question authority), as a point of similarity between them without recognizing that the reasons why wash did that are totally different from locus' own. wash's definition of what it means to be a soldier is of someone who is fighting for the sake of something bigger than themselves, someone who is fighting to protect and preserve humanity and ensure the survival of their species. locus was using his identity as a soldier to justify the atrocities he not only committed himself, but to justify the atrocities of others as nothing more than "just following orders". that is why wash is a true soldier, and locus is just someone who had been indoctrinated.

that aside, if we compare wash and carolina for example, I don't see her being able to take down the meta, and it has nothing to do with skill or even any of the above reasons, carolina is characterized as having waaaay more emotional baggage when it comes to pfl than wash does, and considering how she reacted to epsilon bringing up the meta in s13 ("don't you dare talk about maine like you knew him.") even if she was at the peak of her revenge quest I think she's too emotionally attached to the other freelancers to do what wash did.

south, north, and york all feel a bit too....self centered? to care about bringing pfl to justice, like yeah north and york had that "we're the good guys, right?" conversation and they both helped tex during the break in but it's pretty obvious york's main priority was to try and convince carolina to come with him, and north really only cared about south and theta. south based on what little we know of her really doesn't come across as a justice seeking type, wyoming and florida were still working with the director and pfl, maine is very difficult to say anything for certain because we know very little about him prior to becoming the meta, and while I think there's a chance for beta tex I think she really only cared about alpha (I didn't watch s1-5 on my rewatch though so maybe I just don't remember shit lol. I'll have to watch those seasons and come back), e!tex wanted to find the director, but I think her want to do so is because epsilon himself wanted answers only the director could provide.

[cosmicjoke]

I totally get that Levi kept Erwin's true motivations to himself out of respect for him, but at the same time it saddens me that he kept it from Hange (someone else he was close to) and he sort of sat back and watched her suffer under the weight of a false legacy for four years. Hanji's term as commander was going to be challenging no matter what, but it's messed up to me that she had to hold herself and is held by the a lot of the fandom to a standard that didn't exist, at least not in the way they thought. I'm not good at wording things so if it sounds like I'm going after Levi I'm not trying to

I don't think it's fair to say Levi "sat back and watched Hange suffer", he was there for them and acted as basically their right hand-man, the same way he did Erwin. He never abandoned Hange. Erwin was the one who handed down the commandership to Hange, and Erwin was the one who chose to go to Shinganshina, knowing there was a high probability that he wouldn't survive it. And I don't think Erwin's legacy was false, in the end. As Levi tells him, it was because of Erwin that the Survey Corps reached as far as they did. It was his vision and his skill as a leader that enabled them to succeed for so long and so beyond what they ever had before. None of that was false. None of that was a lie. Whether Erwin's own, personal motivation in bearing the burden of the commandership was for humanity or a personal dream didn't really matter in the end, because he still lead the SC admirably and effectively. So I think Levi keeping Erwin's secret was his attempt to save Erwin from unfair and unjust criticism. People thinking less of Erwin for not being perfect and not being entirely selfless would have been a travesty, because they would have used that to discredit his own sacrifices for the SC and for humanity.

I understand what you mean, that it was unfair to Hange to have to bear the burden of the commandership for Erwin's sake. But it could easily be turned around and said that it would have been equally unfair, or more unfair, to continue to saddle Erwin with that burden, simply to spare Hange. It was really a catch-22 situation, and that's the nature of the Survey Corps and their mission, in which sacrifices have to be made for humanity's victory. Hange signed up for the SC, like everyone else, and they knew what that meant, they knew the risk involved, and what was expected of them all in their mission to free humanity. In the end, for Levi, it came down to a choice in which someone was going to have to bear the burden of the commandership. There wasn't any option in which that wasn't a reality. And he chose to let the man who had held that burden for years, and who had already sacrificed his own mental health to it, finally rest, and to save him from the possibility of losing his humanity entirely. What people don't always want to acknowledge about Levi's choice is that Erwin's guilt was eating him alive, a guilt unique to his realization of what was truly motivating him, and that without the possibility of his dream on the horizon to distract him from that guilt, with the realization of that dream, there would have been nothing acting as a buffer between Erwin and that guilt. It would have consumed him. When Levi says Erwin would have had to become a devil if he'd continued on as the commander, I think he meant that literally. He knew Erwin was in danger of losing his humanity, because of his guilt. Hange was in no such danger, because Hange wasn't weighed down by guilt, at least, not guilt associated with them harboring a secret motivation. Hange's burden and exhaustion, and eventually, sense of guilt, came about because of their inability to find any, real solution to the hostility facing Paradis from the rest of the world. It wasn't the same as Erwin's guilt. It wasn't rooted in secrecy or even in the sacrifice of lives to further the SC goal. The titan threat was more or less eliminated for them after they retook Maria, and there were no more deaths of soldiers until the Yeagerists overthrew the government, essentially. Hange's guilt was rooted in their sense of failure as a commander. It's important to understand this distinction, because while Hange's guilt and burden was heavy, it was never a threat to their humanity. It never threatened to consume them the way it did Erwin, it never threatened to turn Hange into a "devil", because it had nothing to do with Hange harboring a secret that threw into question their altruistic intentions.

Levi was forced into choosing then between letting Erwin lose himself entirely, losing his humanity, or Hange enduring the weight of the commandership. He can't be held responsible for Hange, or Armin, for that matter, holding themselves, unfairly or not, to Erwin's standard. Erwin was a great commander, regardless of what his true motivation was. It wouldn't have been fair to him to sully that objective truth by exposing a secret told to Levi in confidence. When Levi tells Armin "Nobody could replace Erwin", it shows he still believed in Erwin as a truly great leader, worthy of the respect and admiration of his soldiers. He still saw Erwin as a great man, despite his faults. Hange failing, in their own eyes, to live up to Erwin's legacy, and allowing that supposed failure to drive them toward a sense of guilt, isn't Levi's fault. Levi never told anyone they should compare themselves to Erwin. Levi never told anyone they should try to be Erwin, or emulate him. He told Armin the exact opposite, in fact, and if Hange ever expressed to him their own feelings of not being worthy of Erwin's legacy, Levi would have told them the same. That they brought their own strengths and their own worth to the role, and there was no point in beating themselves up over not being what Erwin was. And again, that's sort of the point. Erwin was a great leader, regardless of his personal motivations, and he was a great leader for his own, unique qualities, his vision and intelligence and determination. No one could or should have ever tried to replace that. It wouldn't have been right for Levi to besmirch Erwin's legacy or call into question the respect he was entitled to, just to help Hange, or Armin, or anyone else stop being so hard on themselves by comparing themselves to a man no one ever asked them to.