#BUT that my brain had used the very real sense memory of hugging you to produce that dream sensation

[dear-eli]

That moment when you have a dream about somebody and it feels so real that your brain legitimately has to take a moment to grieve its loss when you wake up and realize it isn't

[itsclydebitches]

Though I adore the dynamic myself, it struck me as odd a few months back that fans were taking a "Monster loved for the first time" approach to Astarion. Part of the allure of a vampire (for me anyway) is the act of transformation; the horror and tragedy of having lost who you were before—including all those everyday, human experiences. There were debates about precisely how old Astarion was when he died and at the same time fans were screaming over him having his first hug, his first real romance, this is the first time someone has helped him without ulterior motives, etc. and I'm going, "How is that possible?" This is an elf who lived a life before being turned, even if it was short compared to what his race would normally experience. Astarion had a family. He had a job! Yet the fandom (and to an extent the game as well) treats Astarion as more of a Phantom-esque character: deemed monstrous from birth and blindsided by the simplest acts of love because he was denied them from the get-go.

Of course, it's easy enough to read everything through the lens of slavery and torture. Sure, Astarion had all this at one point but it's been so long and his life as a vampire has been so unimaginably torturous that it's eclipsed those earlier experiences. I get that... but time as the answer still didn't fully convince me.

Not until I started romancing him and hit this line:

"I... I don't know. I can't remember."

This is in response to asking Astarion what color his eyes were before they turned red. Can we just sit with that for a moment? He doesn't remember the color of his eyes. This line was a game changer for me because I can't even CONCEPTUALIZE that. Mirrors appear to be pretty common in Faerûn—it's not like this is a setting devoid of all modern inventions and Astarion, as a member of the upper class, absolutely would have had access to various ornate mirrors like the one he starts this scene with—so what does it take to make you completely forget such an ingrained bit of knowledge about yourself? 200 years as a dehumanized slave, obviously. Still, my mind continues to trip over the idea. I have blue eyes. That's a fact I've known since I had any real sense of self. If my eyes were to suddenly change tomorrow I can't imagine forgetting that they were originally blue. Even if I'd put it from my mind for an extended period of time I'd expect the very pointed question, "What color were they before?" would fire some old synapses and drag the information back. Obviously none of us have any idea what 200 years would do to a human brain (or, you know, an elf's) but it still feels firmly in the real of impossibility that I could ever completely forget something like that.

Yet Astarion has and this line more than anything else has sold me on his Baby Monster Loved For The First Time characterization, both in-game and in the fandom. He acts like he's never been hugged before? Of course he does! The guy can't remember his eye color and you think he's going to recall any probably-treated-as-casual-and-thus-didn't-solidify-as-significant-memories hugs while alive? When was the last time you were hugged? I'm not sure. I know I HAVE hugged recently but was the last one with family over Thanksgiving? Did I give my friend a brief side-hug before we parted? I'm lucky in that hugs are such a normalized part of my life that I don't give them much thought... which means that if you were to suddenly enslave me and keep me isolated for 200 years, yeah, I'd probably forget what they feel like too. Or that I ever had any at all.

(Self-hatred is going to play hell with memory too. Once you feel like you don't deserve something and it's continually denied to you it's easier to convince yourself you never had it to begin with.)

So yeah, Astarion acts like someone who was always the monster because he has, on a literal canonical level, forgotten what it was like to be anything else. Which just sets his relationship with Tav into such angsty, terrifying focus. Here's someone who has lost his previous identity. He (rightfully) despises the identity Cazador forced on him. Even if he didn't, Astarion is now miles away, the tattered remains of his self threatened by ceremorphosis. He stares into a mirror knowing he'll never see anything, but doing it anyway because he needs to figure out who he is—and that's precisely where most of us would start. What do I look like? What do others see when they see me? Is that the person I want to be?

Then Tav offers to be his mirror, just like they offered to sketch out the poem on his back. How exquisitely horrible for Astarion. He's being given precisely what he wants but he's in NO position to take it. All his sense of self placed in the hands of another? Asking, "Who am I?" and hearing, "I'll tell you. I'll be the keeper of that knowledge"? That's a far more intimate, potentially destructive power than anything else Astarion is looking to get his hands on AND he's trying to manipulate YOU at this point in the story! It just makes me crazy because Astarion is desperate to figure out who he is, but circumstances have ensured that, at this point in time, he needs to put his trust in someone else to begin answering that question... and the one thing he does know about himself is that he's a manipulative, mistrustful rogue who's only out to keep himself safe. Allowing someone else to take the reins with his identity (again) is probably the least safe thing he could possibly think of.

It's this messy tragic loop that yes, Astarion is working to break by the end of the game (depending on your choices) but in Act 1? Goddamn. No wonder he's trying desperately to maintain control of this relationship. No wonder—despite his best efforts—he's still undone by the simplest acts of kindness.

[aelitaslittlereminders]

Was it a Trap? - An Aelita fanfic

I did not rewatch the episode this is based on so went off of several years old memory. Why did I feel compelled to write this? Will I post it on Ao3? Dunno. Anyway, enjoy!

Was it a trap? Probably. 

In fact I was 90% certain this was a trap. But just in case we were in the universe that fell into that 10% I had to check.

“See you in a minute, my dear.” The last words he spoke to me on Earth. They stared back at me as text on a now glitching screen.

90% chance Xana was using my emotions to manipulate me.

10% chance I got to see my father again.

I got up and walked to the factory. 

It was cold out. I didn’t really get where the idea of cold being “biting” came from but it sure did sting a little. I realized, partway out the door, that I forgot my coat in my hurry. Oops. It was fine. I could deal with it.

Everyone was going to have such a nice time on their winter breaks, with their families, and… Well, anyways, it made the campus very quiet. I could hear my footsteps echoing out, like I was doing something wrong and I was going to get caught. I actually looked over my shoulder a few times to make sure Jim, or, for some reason, Jeremie, wasn’t around to catch me.

I could handle myself. I could do things on my own. I wasn’t going to bother them.

If that message was the real deal, there wasn’t much time. It was risky to send a communication like that. That was the sort of thing Xana would find and use to track dad down. Into the sewer, into the factory, delayed virtualization and into the inviting scanner.

This was a bad idea. This was probably a trap. I had to do it anyway.

I landed on Lyoko. Ice sector. It had been…quite a while since I’d been here alone. The time I called this place my one and only home felt so far away. As I approached the coordinates I was given, nostalgia of things both remembered and not wracked my brain.

Any second, I expected Jeremie to get on his headset and tell me to turn back, that I was being stupid. I found myself looking over my shoulders more than usual, in case any of the others virtualized here to come after me. And to see if any monsters were around, of course.

No monsters, no friends.

But just ahead, the simulation bubble. I slowed to a stop just short of the bubble’s threshold. There was a lot of vulnerability in stepping into a simulation bubble. You let someone else hijack your senses and decide what it is you experience.

It was ok. I had my wits. I had my exit strategy. It was going to be ok. It was going to really be him.

A new sensation of anxiety. I’d been thinking so hard about “what if it isn’t really him” that I didn’t consider “what if it actually is him?” The idea of my father, the memories of him…what I saw in his video diary. They painted a very strange picture. Of course I wanted to see him…I wanted to see who I remembered. Would he be that? Was I the person he wanted to see?

Would we both just end up disappointed?

I stepped inside.

Snow. The cabin in the mountains where I grew up, before mom…yeah. I looked behind me. I knew there was a wall, but right now it just looked like a continuation of a snowy path. Ahead was the cabin. The snow crunched under my feet with uncomfortable accuracy, and my footprints stayed put as I plodded on toward the cabin.

The music floated toward me, the same song that played on my computer, along with the message to come here. My heart rate spiked, why could I feel my heart here? I broke into a run and flung the door open. I couldn’t help myself. Daddy!

He sat at the piano, back to me, like in so many of my nightmares. He finished the measure and turned, disturbed by the noise. We looked at each other for a moment, and then a warm smile spread across his face and he crossed the room to embrace me.

I froze, for a moment, my breath caught in my throat. Then I melted, I hugged him back and felt tears streaming down my face. That was being simulated, too? After what felt like a long time, but not long enough, he pulled back, hands on my shoulders, and took a long look at me.

“We have much to discuss, my dear.”

“We do.” Of course. This was. We had to discuss strategy while the opportunity presented itself. We couldn’t just. We couldn’t just spend time together.

“Please, take a seat. I made some hot chocolate. Your favorite, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, that’s right. Thank you.” I managed a smile and sat on the soft white couch where she once sat, and flashes of memory lit up my synapses. Christmas presents, playing the piano, late nights waiting up for dad to come home, early mornings seeing him off with a hug and a cup of coffee and…

Well.

There weren’t a lot of good memories to remember. The ones that really stood out were the bad ones, the big dramatic ones. Most of the other stuff was just…gone.

“Aelita?” dad asked, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“You seemed distracted.” He handed me a mug of hot chocolate. I took a sip. It was strange, it wasn’t the taste of hot chocolate, but the memory of the taste. I guessed it was too hard to simulate taste dynamically.

“There’s a lot. Do you mind if I ask before we…talk strategy, are you alright?”

Daddy took a pause, holding his own mug in his hands. Like he was trying to decide how he wanted to answer that question.

“Xana is a dangerous and crafty enemy. It takes all of my intellect just to stay alive. I’m as alright as one can be in that situation. But seeing you, in front of me, alive and safe, is a weight off my shoulders.” I shifted my weight uncomfortably. “Are you alright?”

“I’m about the same.” I said, but then perked up a little. “But! I have my friends. We help each other a lot. Oh, speaking of friends. William-”

“Yes, your friend William. It’s a real shame, what happened to him. How goes your progress in recovering him?”

“Well, right now we’re using our virtual submarine the Skidbladnir to try and track down his location in the digital sea.” I smiled, I was sure he would appreciate that we named the ship after a precious memory.

“The Skidbladnir. What a strange name.” he mused. My heart sank.

“It’s the name of the mythical ship you used to read me stories about.”

“Ah, yes, of course. I must have just forgotten.”

95% chance Xana was using my emotions to manipulate me.

5% chance this was my father.

I had to think and had to think quick. There had to be a way I could check. What was something my dad would know that Xana would not? It would have to be something from before Xana was created that wasn’t in the diary.

Then it came to me! My mother. He avoided talking about her in his video diary. It was probably too much for him. I took in a deep breath, and noticed that there was no scent.

“You know…everything here is perfect, down to the last detail.” I started.

“Why, thank you, I made this all for you.” He gestured around.

“Except for one thing.” I cut him off. He furrowed his brow.

“What would that be?”

“My mother.” That gave him pause, so I continued. “You should know better than anyone how much I want to see her again.” There. If this was Xana, it would back him into a corner, he would make some sort of mistake. Franz frowned, was it really? I didn’t want to be right about it being a trap, but-

“Aelita. You’re asking me to puppet around a hollow image of my wife? Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”

Oh.

“I’m sorry…” I said, without thinking. I looked over at him. Maybe he really did just forget about the Skidbladnir. It had been a long time since those bedtime stories. I really wanted him to be the real deal. But before I could relax, before I could really and truly talk to him, I had to be sure.

“...Then maybe, instead, you could let me see my big pink teddy bear? You know, the one I always slept with and greeted you at the door with and had tea parties with?”

Another slight hesitation before he spoke,

“Yes. Of course, if that would make you happy. Forgive me if some of the details are incorrect. It has been quite some time.” And he pulled a big pink stuffed teddy bear out from behind the chair he was sitting on and he smiled, satisfied. “There. Now, if we could talk about-”

But there never was a pink teddy bear, and there never were any tea parties. I made it up.

99% chance this was Xana’s trap.

1% chance this was still my father…

“There never was a pink teddy bear.” I said, standing up. “I think I should go.”

I rushed over to the door, and opened it. On the other side, William was waiting. He smirked, grabbing my wrist. From behind, I could hear distorted laughter.

0% chance.

[plural-culture-is]

hello, i saw that you take asks asking for advice? sorry this is gonna be kind of long-

so at some point (i have no idea when, i've always had a really bad sense of time lol. i think it was maybe almost exactly last year? idk lol) i started talking with a voice in my head (which i passed off as an imaginary friend), but over time they kind of. multiplied. and then i kinda went 'ah shittake mushrooms am i plural??'

initially i kinda went 'oh whatever' and didn't end up interacting much with (what i believe to be) my system for a while. if it's relevant, i ended up getting a concussion at the end of july and before that i was not having a funky fresh time in school so i kind of shoved plurality onto the back burner

then in december, my director made a passing joke about the possibility of me being plural during a rehearsal, and someone in the system (who doesn't wish to be named) said something to the effect of 'he doesn't know there's (i forget the number) of us' and i ended up spending the weekend obssessively researching plurality.

anyway- i've been treating it as if i was system for the past little while bc i'd rather be wrong than y'know. accidentally ignore real people that happen to share my brain. (when i don't accidentally think to myself that i'm probably not plural while talking to them-). and i guess i kinda want an external opinion?

-i do experience a lot of dissociation, and often don't feel like i'm me or that these hands are not mine, or that i'm not controlling myself and it's just some autopilot being on. this has been happening for as long as i remember. i also seem to have two handwritings, and have communicated with members of the system via journalling

-i did use to do competitive sports from a young age, which i hear can potentially cause undue stress/trauma to a child, so that could also be something?

-some of them (members of the system, we haven't decided on a term bc communication is spotty) do fit classic roles of a system. most notably is there's one that continually keeps me from doing things that could harm myself and helps 'protect' me from intrusive thoughts

-when i discovered apparently people remember shit and the brain doesn't just dump it like an hour later, that surprised me. i'm still in my teens, but i genuinely do not remember much about... anything tbh. the term 'gray out' honestly explained a lot for me

-i have aphantasia, but the system insists there's a headspace. some of them make fun of me for 'being blind in headspace', but i think they're also helping?? me with the aphantasia, since recently i've been able to see shadowy outlines of stuff they 'airdrop' to me. this includes waking me up by bombarding me with the word 'boo' zooming at my face when i was half asleep.

-sometimes i can feel them like, hugging me or comforting me

-i also do feel some sort of presence in there, and can sometimes pinpoint where certain members are. i also seem to be unable to access the 'back half' which is apparently intentional so.

i mean there's probably more but my memory is not great lol. typing this out does make me feel a bit more like this is real and i'm not misinterpreting things (i do have a very active imagination, hence why i initially went 'ah late imaginary friend having'). but i'd still like an external opinion, so thanks for taking the time to read this half rant that is way longer than it should be haha

yes, i do think you're plural. i have nothing else to say lol, all of that sounds very plural and it seems like you already know that anyway

[rainytomorrows]

Raphael x Reader | You free?

EXTREMELY quick one shot because I just got off work and I don't have any willpower but I need to write something cheesy. I'm so nauseous and I can't feel my brain. Lets go brother __________________________

He wasn't familiar with this feeling. It tore him open, you seemed to just dig and dig at him.

The two of you were hanging out but, he couldn't bring himself to pay attention. He could see that you were getting annoyed, but, you had a way of being patient with him. Just another vegetable in the pot.

It was some random ass Tuesday. You'd gotten off work, battered and tired from the day. As you often did, to wind down, you texted Raph. "You free?" was all you needed to send before he was already on his way to your place. Jumping across rooftops, the thought of your smile permeates his mind and the very air around him. It was a deep fog, he couldn't see through it.

Before he knows it he's in your room, sitting against the edge of your bed. You're on the floor, your music playing somewhere far off. He commits it to memory, surely later he'd give some lame re-enactment of the song to Mikey and Donnie in hopes one of them knew it. Maybe he'd be able to collect all of the artists you liked, without having to tell you. He'd have some dumb, stupid voice stopping him from simply asking you. He wanted to know everything, he wanted to be able to read you. But, what was he? What real right did he have to be the one who knew you best? It was dumb and stupid, but it was you. Whatever sense he had left never made it past the thought of you. You lay on the floor, ranting about whatever happened at work.

Every time you brushed against him, it almost burned. The way you looked at him could stop him at any moment. He could swear there was nothing he wanted more than to be sure you were happy.

A silence hung in the air again, he missed another question you'd asked.

"Raph, is everything ok?" he can't help but feel the concern in your voice carries a sort of annoyance. He knows it doesn't, but it creeps into his ears. He looks up, finally making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, I'm alright," "No you aren't." you deadpan, interrupting him before he can finish. It churned in his stomach, there was a mix of emotions on your face. A little bit teasing him, a little seemed genuinely concerned. You scoot to where he is on the floor, leaning against the bed beside him. You never bothered to turn the lights on, by now all that lit you up was the light of the moon. Nothing compared to the sight of you next to him, he'd see how the backlight of the moon illuminates you. Your eyes just seem to glow more.

"Y/N," He struggles against his own words, they don't want to come out. He strangles them out of himself, wrestling with his own tongue. Your eyes are trained on him, with all the stupid attention you normally give him.

"I like you" It comes up choked, like bad food coming back up. You hug him, and excuses flow out of his mouth until you cover it with your hand. "I'm not mad, come on, calm down a little" you coo, your voice as gentle as the patter of rain. It always fucking was, wasn't it? He wasn't mad at you, he wasn't sure if it was just something in his nature, he loved you so much the energy pent up. He was used to punching everything out of his system, he couldn't punch this. Not if he tried. It wrung him out and battered him, he had no way to deal with it.

Eventually, the night turns out, and everything is fine.

______________________

That's all from me tonigt. HAve a good day/night, and a great life!

[dimonds456]

holy shit.

(FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT)

THAT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD HOLY SHIIIIIIIT

This isn't going to be coherent this is going to be me shouting excitedly into the void for a while

As an average movie: 7/10. Good film, solid, good characters and stuff, very well done.

As a FNaF movie: 10/10 this is everything I could have hoped for a more.

The characters. The setting. The designs. The deaths. But ESPECIALLY the animatronics. HOLY SHIT that was EASILY the best part was how they were handled.

I'm talking about the puppet effects, yeah, ofc, but I'm also talking about their characters and motivations. They don't just kill indiscriminately- they only target bad guys. That, and whoever William asks them to kill because Willy's their friend :)

So we just get so many scenes of the animatronics like, existing?? Having fun, chilling, being themselves, we get to see Freddy sing several times, he gives Abbey a hug, they interact with each other in robotic but oh, so humanly too! I didn't know I needed a scene of the animatronics laying with the human characters on the floor under a blanket tent until I had it, and I will never recover.

They were just kids. Of course they're not murder machines.

The scenes where they do kill, though... holy shit. Like, it's not gonna be super gorey or anything, but the shit they did do was SO well done. Not counting the last one (because duh), my favorite kill in the movie had to be the closet. The sound design leaves everything up to the imagination and hooooo boy.

William was fucking awesome, I loved every scene he was in.

Mike's character, and his whole thing about memories and dreams was really interesting, too. Cuz it's at least partly true! Every face we see in dreams, we've seen somewhere in real life. Our brains didn't just come up with them, which adds to that idea that you COULD go back and find something you hadn't.

And that reveal with the kids? Damn.

I'm pleasently surprised that they unveiled the spirits so early. Like, they didn't tell us ofc, but we saw them within the first, like 10 minutes. And as a FNaF fan I knew exactly what was going on, but for a newbie I bet that must have been intriguing. Like, who are these kids? Why do they look and act like that? And then it's revealed that those are the animatronics and it makes PERFECT sense.

I need to rewatch this one again. Just- man. GG Scott.

Also the running gag with Balloon Boy was great fgdhsakj

[berrizzesworld]

Radical Sincerity

What growing up means?

It is not about the age on the passport, when suddenly you turn out to be 18, which means that it is already a stage of being adult and now you have to take risk and be responsible for your life. It doesn't necessary mean that you have grown up. Some people haven't gone throw this process of 'coming out of age' even if they are already 40 or 50. It doesn't mean that you are bad or good. It's just a different personality or mentality.

What I know is that you grow up only when you break down your own boundaries, step out of your comfort zone and forced to change your life radically. You grow up only when you break yourself.

That's what happened to me in 2022. I had to leave the place I love the most: my home, my hometown, my homeland. I went through a lot of difficulties of the war. I had to leave my parents on 27 February and have only seen them twice since. I had to start my life from the very beginning.

I think it is worth mentioning, that I am such a kind of person who gets attached to places, people, memories and some small things like a teddy bear which I've been sleeping with since I was 5. So when I had to leave all that behind in one day and go away to the unknown direction...oh. I have to say it wasn't easy at all. Even more it totally broke me inside.

Before February 2022 I never left my parents or my flat for more than 2 weeks in a row. NEVER. I always knew that there is such a place called: Home, where I can always come, where people Love me and are always ready to listen to or hug me. Since the day when war stared I've lost this feeling. I can't go home anytime now. There is only me and a big dangerous world, which I never faced before.

That was the moment when I really had to become honest with myself and start trusting my intuition, heart or brain (at least something inside me because there was nobody else to share thoughts with). But only when our the most wonderful English teacher in the world showed us (I say so because I don't know how, but her words, eyes and even smile always have answers to all your questions and confusion, every lesson she gives us a new life lesson. Sometimes I even envy myself that I have such an amazing teacher). So...what was I talking about? Oh, yes. Only when we were shown a TedTalk given by Cheryl Strayed talking about radical sincerity and she said there: "Finding in ourselves that voice that we know to be true that we recognize as the voice that makes the most sense" I finally realized what I dug into myself, in that difficult moment. The voice, which helps me to take decisions. The voice which I can trust.

I still try to build good relationships with my new friend, because sometimes this voice is not comparable to real life or my brain, but what I want to tell you is that all of us have to start trusting ourselves, without that there will be no bright future. It's challenging to realize, but the way you treat yourself, and the way you listen to yourself are directly connected with what happening in your life.

According to the theory of existentialism each action has consequences and only you are responsible for your life: "Not making a choice is also a choice", so to live this life you have to be ready to take risks and need absolutely, 100% percent, be true to yourself. Everything begin with that.

Also since the new chapter of my life started I realized that many qualities and characteristics were hidden in me, there just wasn't a moment or time before that could help me to open them and the phrase I heard in that video corresponds to my feelings: "Our deepest treasured are buried in the crappy detritus in our lifes". They just need to be dug out. Don't be afraid of searching for them, of challenging yourself, of suffering. New YOU will appear only after all these hardships.

And always remember: No matter what happens, no matter how difficult it is - "Keep walking" and it will lead you to a new level, new accomplishments and great success.

With Love, your Berrizze's World

[treesah]

It’s funny how becoming a mother literally installed empathy into my brain, but only for one person. I thought I felt empathy before, but now I’m realizing that what I thought were emotions may have just been me thinking about what it would be like to feel things in a particular moment. When my son is having a bad time or feeling bad, I feel literal physical pain. I want to fix everything for him. I want to cry with him. I want to grab the other three-year-old who pushed him off the swings and tear that kid apart. We hug it out instead and I say some bland platitudes about ignoring people who are mean.

When people who aren’t my son tell me about how they’re having a bad time or feeling bad, mainly what’s happening for me internally is a superficial “That’s rough, buddy,” or maybe a vaguely concerned “You should definitely repeat this to your therapist, or get a therapist if you don’t have one.” And that’s for people I know and like!

Some people, like my husband, appreciate my unfiltered response. He told me some stuff and I told him that if I ever felt the same way, it either meant that I needed to go touch grass or that I was going through a major depressive episode and needed to go back on real meds instead of taking megadoses of Vitamin D and Omega-3s. He initially seemed taken aback, but then he told me appreciated being dunked on instead of coddled—even though I wasn’t trying to dunk on him, I was genuinely trying to give him a helpful assessment of his undesirable negative feelings and I just didn’t put as much effort into wording it for him as I would for anyone else. (Upon reflection, this is probably why my husband thinks I am unreasonably indulgent towards our son, and sometimes admits to feeling jealous of the way I treat him. But also—our son is a three-year-old child and my husband is an adult. Surely it makes sense that the level of tenderness I exhibit to each one of them is different.)

For everyone else, I’m very good at saying the right things and providing the needed mode of interaction (advice/active assistance or commiseration). Having close bonds with other people is really nice! Being helpful and included gives dopamine!

For things I come across online, I feel mainly amusement, if anything at all. It’s probably fake, and it’s definitely a cry for attention. r/AITA is full of laughs when you don’t feel like watching anything on TV and you’re not in the mood to engage in any meatier reading. It’s always with a sense of prurient interest when I learn that something in a reality TV show or a juicy online post is real. Look at how the other half lives!!! People really are this messy in real life!!! Amazing.

Becoming emotionally activated from experiencing someone else’s unsolicited trauma dumping is very foreign to me. Especially via reading text online. Like, cool story bro, if it’s real talk to a therapist, if it’s not, post your own fic about it. I think I watched what you’re talking about in one of the Saw movies or maybe a hentai, but yours had fewer orcs and tentacle monsters.

Maybe I’m too desensitized from all the violent and gory TV and movies I’ve watched and all the violent and gory video games I’ve played and all the charities I’ve donated to that turned out to be scams (apparently the Red Cross uses your money for more Red Cross advertising and NOT earthquake relief!) and the constant never-ending grind of people dying in horrific ways en masse on the 24-hour news cycle (funny story, my first memory of the United States is eating a bagel with cream cheese upon arrival at JFK International, and my first memory of watching TV in the United States is seeing a pile of dead bodies from the Rwandan genocide on the nine o’clock news).

Sure, human suffering sucks, but it’s not useful to feel anything about it. If it’s some rando online, it’s probably a scam and I hear doxxing them to verify real life details is unethical, so who cares if it’s not a scam (report it to the proper authorities if you’re straight up being sent something illegal like CSAM, or don’t if you hate the cops too much even for that, I guess). If it’s something happening to someone you know or happening out there in the world, do something about it or don’t. Anyone who needs to feel something about human suffering to do something about it is either fake or easily manipulated or both. A nurse providing care and comfort to a wounded soldier doesn’t also have to blow her own leg off with a grenade to understand that having your leg blown off Feels Bad and requires intensive treatment.

[searidings]

this is what happens when @ekingston and i get our hands on the prompt “that's my wife!” and agree that she'll draw my idea for it and i'll write hers (aka hearing kara call it out as she watches lena being wheeled down a hospital corridor)

“Excuse me, you can't go through there!”

Kara growls. The woman blocking her path is short and gently rounded, the kind lines of her face drooping in disapproval above her nurse's scrubs. “No visitor access beyond this point, dear. Immediate family only.”

“Immediate— you're joking, right?” Kara cranes her head, peering through the closing doors to catch a last glimpse of Lena's gurney as it rounds the corner at the end of the hall. “That's my wife!”

The nurse gapes at her. “Your—?”

Kara growls again, louder. It's a good thing she'd blown out her powers twenty minutes ago, or she would not be held responsible for the Kryptonian-shaped hole in NC Memorial Hospital's expensive surgery doors. “Yes, my wi—”

Her snarl is cut off by a hand clamping down firmly over her mouth from behind. Kara's first instinct is to bite it. She resists, narrowly, as the familiar scent of shea butter moisturiser registers in her adrenaline-fogged brain.

“You sure about that?” Alex squeaks around a nervous laugh, voice pitched a half-octave too high. She removes her hand from Kara's mouth, wiping her damp palm on her pants with a wrinkled nose. “Get hit on the head during that fight, did you?”

Kara whirls on her sister, eyes blazing. “Am I sure?” she parrots incredulously. Alex cowers a little beneath the force of her stare. “Unless you're trying to tell me I hallucinated my entire wedding—”

“Supergirl isn't married,” Alex stage-whispers loud enough to be heard in Florida, glancing pointedly down at Kara's ash-caked body and oh yeah, she's still wearing her supersuit.

Right, right.

The nurse – Rosemary, her badge reads – finally picks her jaw up off the floor long enough to speak. Her eyes are wide, sparkling with sudden glee. “So Lena Luthor and Su—”

Kara's hackles rise at the suggestion in her tone. “Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers are happily married,” she interrupts sternly. “You might have seen the wedding photos in last month's Vogue.”

The nurse smirks. At her elbow, Alex drops her head into her hands.

“Kara Danvers, hm? Amazing what a pair of glasses do for you, dear.” Rosemary's brow quirks with impish satisfaction and, oh. Whoops. It would appear that in her haste to quash any potential rumours of Lena's infidelity behind the back of her very recent, very publicly human wife, she'd forgotten about the other delicate matter at hand.

Alex sighs so long and so heavy Kara legitimately marvels that she doesn't pass out from the strain. “I knew keeping a spare NDA in my back pocket would pay off,” her sister groans, thrusting an official-looking, if crumpled, contract beneath the nurse's nose.

“Sorry,” Kara murmurs sheepishly as Rosemary signs away page after page of her right to ever disclose Supergirl's identity in any capacity. “I wasn't thinking, I can't— Alex, it's Lena.”  

“I know, I know,” her sister soothes, frustration dissipating as she reaches out to pull Kara into her side, ignoring the soot and grit that smear across her jacket at the contact. “She's gonna be okay.”

“But what if she's not?” Kara asks and the sobs arrive then, the last remnants of the fight or flight response that had propelled her this far dissipating beneath the weight of her terror. “She stepped right in front of that bullet, Alex! Of all the stupid, reckless—”

“If I recall, she was pushing you back after you shoved her out of the way in the first place,” Alex hums thoughtfully. Kara's tear-filled eyes snap to her face, incredulous, and her sister grimaces. “Right, right. Not the time.”

“She has to be okay,” she gasps, clutching hard at her sister's jacket as her knees threaten to give out beneath her. “She has to, I can't— I feel like I can't breathe. Like my heart's been ripped out.”

Alex clicks her tongue in sympathy, wrapping a firm arm round Kara's waist and guiding her to a nearby row of chairs. Rosemary deposits the signed NDA wordlessly on the hard plastic beside them, reaching into her scrubs to produce a pack of tissues.

Alex accepts, extracting one to dab at Kara's snotty, tear-stained face with her free hand. “Welcome to married life, kid,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to Kara's matted hair. “It can be a real bitch.”

-

It's a long night.  

It's a long night, a night of anxious waiting and barely-restrained nausea and vending machine coffee so bad even Nia won't drink it. Her family, their family, crowd the waiting room, dozing across the rows of seats as the hours drag on and on.

Alex tries her best, at varying intervals, to force her back to the Tower for a stint under the sun lamps. Every time without fail, Kara sets her jaw, then sets her feet in the middle of the surgical wing waiting room and refuses to budge.

This leads to several arguments, and a lot of impassioned shoving.  

“What if she needs me?” Kara laments tearily, pout activated and puppy dog eyes firmly in place. Alex, mid-football tackle with her arms and right shoulder braced against Kara's torso as she attempts to use her entire bodyweight to force her sister toward the exit, only grunts with exertion. Behind them, J’onn dozes in the corner. Brainy and Kelly and Nia continue their conversation without batting an eyelid.

“No, scratch that, she does need me,” Kara corrects, unaffected by her sister's NFL-worthy body slam. “She's been shot. I'm not going anywhere.”

Alex, perhaps finally sensing defeat after her fourth unsuccessful attempt, gives one final shove with all her strength. Kara doesn't so much as wobble, and her sister releases her with a huff. “Fine. But for the love of God, change your clothes before you start shouting about your wife again,” she pants, red-faced and sweating as she collapses into a nearby chair. “That was my last NDA.”

That's a compromise she can make. Kara accepts the bundle of clothes Nia presents her with, stripping out of her dirt-caked suit and re-donning her glasses. Thankfully, the only person around to witness Kara entering the bathroom as a superhero and re-emerging as a Catco reporter is Rosemary.  

The updates on Lena's condition are sporadic at best. By the time the first surgeon emerges to say the bullet has been removed from Lena's chest cavity Kara's accidentally cracked three plastic chairs, advanced all the way to Lollipop Land on Alex's Candy Crush, and worn a groove into the waiting room linoleum with her nervous pacing.

When another doctor emerges three hours later to tell them Lena had developed a tension pneumothorax and needs additional treatment, Kara's made it to Rainbow Reef and chewed her bottom lip bloody.

When, at five in the morning, yet another doctor appears to inform them that Lena is being placed on anti-radiation medication to counter the Kryptonite that had coated the bullet, Kara's finished all nine thousand nine hundred and thirty-five levels of the damn game. The doctor leaves, promising to be back with more news soon, and Kara squeezes her sister's hand so hard poor Nurse Rosemary has to be called to administer an ice pack for the bruising, solar flare be damned.

Dawn breaks to find Kara scratchy-eyed and grumpy, worn ragged with worry. The waiting room begins to fill up around them, new patients and their relatives coming and going, and still there's nothing new on Lena. Every time another scrub-clad surgeon pushes through the doors Kara's heart skips a beat, all of them sitting up straighter in their seats, but every time the doctor passes them by.

Kara's just wolfed down six cold breakfast sandwiches procured by Brainy on his sojourn to the hospital cafeteria and is debating the relative merits of starting Candy Crush over from scratch when another young doctor appears. Her scrub cap has avocados on it. Kara likes her already.

“Family of Ms Luthor?” she calls, looking around, and Kara pushes up hard from her chair to the resounding snap of cracking plastic. Whoops.

“It's Luthor-Danvers,” she gabbles as she bounds over to the surgeon, palms sweating. No matter how many times she hears it, it never loses its thrill. “I'm, I'm her wife.”

The young doctor's features soften. “Of course. I've come to let you know that it looks like Ms Luthor-Danvers is out of the woods. She's sedated and still on an anti-radiation drip, but she's through the worst of it.” She appraises Kara, gaze lingering on her chewed-raw lips and clenching fingers, then leans closer conspiratorially. “It's not general visiting hours yet, but you can see her, if you'd like.”

“Yes!” Kara's shouting almost before the surgeon has finished speaking. “Yes, please, yes.”

She hugs them all, Alex and Brainy and Nia and Kelly and J’onn, and leaves them in the waiting room as she follows the doctor's sunshine-yellow crocs down the hall.

They round corner after corner, an interminable maze. Powerless as she is, she can't hear Lena’s heartbeat, and the absence of the steady beat that has become the soundtrack to her existence sets her even more on edge.  

But at last they turn a corner, and there she is. She's pale and bandaged and her eyes are closed, creamy skin streaked with dirt and bruises, but she's there, she's alive, she's Lena.  

The surgeon holds the door open for her with a smile and Kara's across the room in a heartbeat, smoothing a hand over Lena's warm cheek and pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead and hair.  

“I love you, I love you,” she whisper-cries against Lena's temple, tucking her matted curls behind her ears. The smell of blood and dirt and antiseptic is almost overwhelming, but beneath the dust and debris caught up in her hair Lena's scalp smells the same as always. Kara presses her face to the crown of her head and inhales deeply, soaking it in.  

“Why'd you have to be so damn brave?” she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against silky softness. “I love you so much. Please don't step in front of any more bullets. Please learn to be a coward, occasionally.”

The singular relief of having Lena living and breathing and in her arms again is so complete, so compounded by the fear and the adrenaline and the sleepless night and the solar flare, that she feels suddenly that she may crumple to the ground from the force of it all.

Unwilling to relinquish her hold for even a second she appraises the bandages covering Lena's right side, then crawls onto the hospital bed on her left, careful to avoid her many wires and monitors. She tucks herself in beside her on the wide mattress, chin hooked over Lena's shoulder and face pressed to the side of her neck, and lets the tears that haven't really stopped falling since that bullet had left its chamber fall for just a little longer.

Nothing matters outside of the two of them, outside of the warmth of Lena's body and the softness of her skin beneath Kara's lips and the steady thud of her heart beneath Kara's palm. Nothing else in the world exists, so when an unfamiliar male voice sounds from the doorway it takes her a moment to register the intrusion.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you really can't be on the bed with her,” the strange, disembodied voice calls from behind her and Kara frowns tiredly, unable and unwilling to acknowledge anything outside of the woman in her arms.

But before she's even managed to raise her head another voice sounds, the soft tones of a young surgeon in an avocado scrub cap.  

“Oh, honestly, Peter,” the kindly doctor says with gentle reproach, a quiet calm washing over the room as the door is pulled closed and she and Lena are left alone. “Leave them be. That's her wife.”

[frogtanii]

a roar of competitive cheers burst from your hospital room, the boys all piled up on your bed playing in a smash tournament on bokuto’s switch. it was rather endearing to watch the good and grown men argue about which princess was a better competitor (rosalina, obviously, despite not being an actual princess) and, in sakusa’s case, pouting like a sore loser when his favorite — daisy — wasn’t even regarded as a real threat.

he absolutely dominated the next round in retaliation, to the group’s chagrin.

you eventually decided to take a break, the stuffiness and loudness of the room getting to you. the boys, while giving you a variety of concerned looks, respected your decision, leaving you to wander out of your space, clad in the semi revealing hospital gown and fuzzy yellow socks.

it was less than convenient to trudge around with your iv attached to your arm but you didn’t mind. the struggle kept your mind off of what you dubbed as The Incident™, weird as it sounded.

for some reason, the smallest things helped keep you occupied, thanks to your vigilance. your call with doctor yamada definitely helped, his sarcastic, biting nature criticizing some random kdrama had you cackling in your seat until your throat was (even more) sore.

at first, you felt a bit awkward calling him when you physically couldn’t speak but he took it in stride, filling up the silence with his commentary that was much, much appreciated.

actually, all the boys had been surprisingly good about your predicament. it took a moment for bokuto and suga to get used to your lack of responses but they eventually grew accustomed to it and even relished your minuscule reactions to one of their jokes or funny quips.

you were actually, finally, enjoying your time with your housemates and it felt good.

well, not all of your housemates. daichi was a given. you’d seen very little of him after the dinner, only laying eyes on him when he visited your hospital bed when he thought you were sleeping. the look of remorse and shame written all over his face was burned into your memory and you made a mental note to find a way to have a conversation with him in an attempt to clear the air.

while daichi’s situation at least made sense, kenma’s did not. you missed him deeply, and you had no idea what to do or say to fix what had been broken. apparently, both kuroo and sakusa had attempted to reach out, but they were quickly shut down. you could tell kuroo was more hurt than he let on, occasionally catching the tail-end of intense conversation between him and omi, but they were both quick to slap on a smile and change the subject as not to worry you when you made your presence known.

you appreciated their concern, you did, but kenma was your friend too and you desperately wanted to know what you could do to help.

a deep sigh left your lips, the action only causing a slight twinge in your throat as you meandered through the cold halls. your brain started to hurt as you thought more and more about it, stress climbing up your spine and burrowing at the base of your skull.

annoying, you thought, your eye twitching in irritation. headaches sucked mad ass and you were not looking forward to the hell of the one that was building up as you walked.

turning down another hallway, you abruptly stopped, your iv screeching to halt interrupting the hushed conversation that a certain someone was having at the far end of the corridor.

kenma!

kenma twisted towards you, his feline eyes widening in surprise as he whispered a hushed goodbye to whoever he was speaking to before shoving his phone into his pocket and staring at you in shock, pain, and most prominently,

guilt.

pure, unadulterated guilt permeated from all over him, the stench coming off of him in waves. you nearly flinched at the sight of him, the deep circles under his eyes practically broadcasting his struggle to the whole world.

your name dropped from his lips in a low whisper, his immediate reaction afterwards leading you to believe he hadn’t meant to say it aloud at all.

you chanced a step forward at his utterance, and then another and another until you were face to face with each other. you felt his eyes searching yours but you made sure to keep your face neutral if not for the blatant worry written all over it.

his plush bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth as his hands twitched by his sides as if he wasn’t exactly sure where to put them. you let out a soft breath at the sight, kind of hoping he would just give you a hug like it looked like he wanted to.

but, kenma held back, waiting for you to do something, to say something (not that you could) to absolve this horribly tense silence that the pair of you were now enshrouded in.

gently peeling your fingers from your iv stand, you lifted them to sign in the small space between your chests, in clear view of his observant gaze.

you recalled with fondness when a handful of the house members had decided to learn a bit of sign language, just in case someone was in a panic attack and became nonverbal. the impromptu learning session had been so much fun that the group had began regularly meeting to expand their sign language vocabulary and fluency until you all were at least semi fluent (in all the ways that mattered at least).

kenma was a member of that group and you’d throughly enjoyed his witty remarks throughout the lesson and his occasional cute little giggles that were liberally interspersed into conversation. that kenma was in such stark contrast to this kenma that it was almost jarring as he watched your hands with rapt attention, awaiting anything you had to say.

i missed you, you began slowly, not missing the way his eyes immediately became glassy and his hands tightened to fists by his sides.

“you shouldn’t,” he replied, his voice deep and gritty. “not after what i did.”

you cocked your head in confusion at his words. what he did? you had no idea what he was talking about but you were determined to get to the bottom of it if that was what was making him avoid you like this.

what did you do?

kenma’s jaw clenched, the guilt that had faded away for a moment, coming back full force. “i... i did this to you...” he motioned to the healing bruises on your neck and the iv stand still by your side.

now you were even more perplexed. he wasn’t the one who cornered you in the bathroom so what could he possibly be going on about? unprompted, your mind flashed back to that night, the moment where you were heading off to the bathroom, meeting kenma’s eyes for a second when you did.

oh.

was that what he was feeling so horribly about? that he saw you go into the bathroom? that was hardly news and nothing to be up in arms about unless he also saw meiko go in after you and...

double oh.

suddenly, all his behavior started making sense. kenma felt guilty because he believed he was somehow responsible for allowing this horrible thing to happen to you.

oh, honey, you signed quickly, driven to get your point across without him interrupting. you didn’t do this to me. meiko did.

kenma opened his mouth to protest but you didn’t let him, one of your hands coming up to cover his lips. he let out a muffled protest, his breath hot against your palm, eyes wide in bewilderment.

“listen to me kenma. you are not at fault here,” your voice screamed at you to stop speaking but not yet, not until you were done. “i know for a fact that if you knew what meiko was going to do, you wouldn’t have let me go.... you are good kenma, so good.”

his whole body shuddered at your words, all but collapsing into you, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly.

if you faintly felt the shoulder of your hospital getting damp, you didn’t say anything, content to let him hold onto you and cry it out.

after a minute or two, he sniffled and pulled away from you, his face red and puffy but content. “you shouldn’t have talked idiot,” kenma chided gently, a soft smile on his face.

you just gave him an apologetic shrug and a hastily signed “sorry” before waving him off to your hospital room, sending him a smile as he meandered off in that direction. you didn’t follow, figuring he and the boys needed some time alone to reconnect without your presence there.

taking a hold of your iv pole again, you continued on your way while staring out the window, watching the tiny birds fly by. unfortunately, your little birdwatching stint sent you careening into a hard body, your feet losing their grip on the slippery ground as you stumbled to the floor.

a quick glance up at the perpetrator had your apology dying in your throat. it was osamu, looking every bit as bewildered as you expected him to, a small jello cup in one hand and a spork in the other.

you couldn’t keep your scowl from off your face as you waved away his helpful arm, completely missing the flash of hurt that appeared across his smooth skin. “please, let me help ya,” he tried again, this time earning a physical slap on the arm, visibly recoiling at the contact.

“leave me the fuck alone osamu,” you growled before picking yourself back up and starting to stroll away but you quickly stopped in your tracks, turning your head to give him a menacing grin. “if you fuck with atsumu again, i swear on bokuto jr, i will castrate you and feed you your sorry, wrinkly ballsack on a silver platter.”

with that you were gone, head held high and a wide grin on your face as osamu watched, his heart flipping annoyingly in endearment. he breathed a deep sigh and slid to the floor of the hall before popping open his jello and taking a bite.

your reaction was well deserved but he couldn’t help praying and hoping that things would change between the two of you.

change for the better. change for good.

℗ poker face

change for the better

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - GOLLY GEE THIS WAS A LONG ONE BHT KENMA!!!!!! and samu >:( anYWAYS SLEEP IS CALLING MY NAME, LEMME KNOW WHAT U THINK <3333 don’t forget to feed me :3 also pls kenma’s secret not so secret praise thing :00

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[zoeykallus]

Echo – There For You 14 – A Real Embrace

Echo X Female!Reader

Warnings (more or less): Slightly Suggestive/ Insecure Echo / Overprotective Echo / Hurt Echo / Fluff /Soft Echo

___________

Your wrist has healed, but Echo doesn't have his arm back yet and is still uncomfortable with the way things are right now. He needs your encouragement to lift his head again.

Tech is proving to be a good brother and has not given up on finding the important replacement parts for Echo's arm. The search for those parts sends you on a little journey.

___________

What Happened Before:

There For You 1 - I’ll Stay With you

2. Just You And Me

3. Under Cherry Blossoms

4. I Can’t Lose Her

5. The Scent Of Memories

6. A Little More Time

7. Heat In A Cold Night

8. Traditions

9. Revelations

10. Sweet And Painful

11. Tears In The Dark

12. Guilt

13. Everybody Needs Somebody

14. A Real Embrace

The weather was glorious. The sun was shining, it was pleasantly warm, the birds were chirping, the sun's rays were falling through the canopy of treetops like dreamy little spotlights, illuminating the nature all around you.

You sat with your back leaning against Echo's chest in his arms, between his legs. The two of you had chosen a spot not far from the retreat, a soft patch of moss, under a tree with wide spreading branches from which dark purple leaves hung. You had no idea what this kind of tree was called, thinking about whether you might have heard the name before. But something distracted you.

Echo had begun to radiate a certain restlessness sometime after you had settled down. Every now and then his real fingers slid over your wrist, which had long since healed, while he seemed to keep searching for an adequate position for the scomp link arm.

"Echo my darling, what's wrong?"

He lifted his head and kissed the top of your head before murmuring, "Why? What's supposed to be wrong?"

"I can sense your restlessness. Do you want to tell me what's bothering you? Is it still the arm?"

Echo sighed, nuzzled his cheek against your head and said, "It's just been taking so long, searching for the parts needed to fix my actual arm and make it safe. I knew it would take a while but... it's been five weeks and... I miss touching you properly, holding you properly, like a real man does."

You straightened up and turned to face him, putting your legs over his so you could look directly at each other.

"Echo, stop that" you spoke softly "You're a real man, you always have been and you always will be. I love every moment with you, every heartbeat, it doesn't matter if you hug me now with one arm or two."

You gave him a mischievous smile and added: "Besides, just last night you proved that you know how to touch me with the scomp link, I thought it was pretty hot".

His serious, downcast expression turned into a smirk.

He chuckled, "That really turned you on, huh?

You nodded with a suggestive smile.

"You are very skilled with the scomp link as well."

His smile widened and you could feel the pride your words had inspired.

Later that same day, Tech approached you as you were entering the house.

"Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair are on a little delivery mission, nothing big, but for now we're alone," he said, typing something on his holopad.

He handed the holopad to Echo who had to release his arm from your hip to receive it.

"Wait, is this the missing chip for my arm?" he asked excitedly.

Tech nodded with a mellow smile "Indeed. The same dealer also has the fiber cables for the artificial neural pathways, I could use it to increase the sensation in your arm, you could feel touch properly again, not just process it as data in the artificial part of your brain, it would feel like a real arm and hand"

Echo beamed at you.

"The parts are very expensive, but I'm willing to throw in a decent chunk of my own credits, Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair each left me some of their own credits too before they left" Tech explained.

It was obvious how touched Echo was by this gesture from his brothers. They all knew how much he longed to be able to use that arm properly again, how important it was to him, especially in relation to you.

Echo said a little timidly "I can't possibly accept that".

"Of course you can," Tech said insistently, "Modesty is out of place here, we are family."

You smiled at Tech, pleased that he would not allow Echo to withdraw out of modesty. Once he had that arm, Echo would soon be breathing easy, feeling better, his confidence getting a much needed boost.

"I've already prepared the Serenity".

The Serenity was a small, hyperspace capable, transport shuttle that was used by the Bad Batch every now and then when they needed to split up.

You nudged Echo delightedly, gently with your elbow and pressed a warm kiss to his cheek.

"Let's go!" you exclaimed with a laugh, hurrying ahead of the men out to the shuttle.

Tech smirked, "She's.... cute when she's this enthusiastic."

Echo laughed, "Yes indeed."

The dealer who had the parts was on Batuu, which was a little farther away and the hyperspace trip took a little while. Echo, Tech and you played various card games, but Tech won almost every time. Except for one dice game, Tech was a little unlucky and Echo and you won a few times. Tech strained to find a strategy for the dice game to win, but it was a matter of luck, a concept Tech couldn't do much with.

"You can't always win, Tech," you said with a laugh.

Tech raised his infamous finger and said, "Theoretically you can if there are strategic opportunities, games of chance however, are much harder to control"

Echo smiled and said, "But it's not about control, it's about having fun."

"Winning is fun after all" Tech remarked.

"Yes of course, but there's more than that that's fun about playing, like being with people you like, the conversations you have along the way, the jokes you might exchange, things like that" you explained.

Tech nodded and said, "Well, I'm familiar with that concept too, yet I like it better when I can play strategically."

You smiled knowingly, "You don't like to give up control."

"No one should like to do that" Tech insisted.

The beeping of the console distracted you from your conversation. The next moment, the shuttle exited hyperspace.

"We've reached orbit around Batuu, I guess" Tech said, rising from the console and walking into the cockpit.

"Go with him," you said to Echo "I'll clean up the cards and dice."

By the time you had cleaned everything up, Echo was already calling for you.

"Come on Cyare, we're going in for a landing."

Ever since the day you suffered a small laceration on your head during one of Tech's landing maneuvers, Echo insisted that you strap yourself in for takeoffs and landings. He didn't do it himself, at least not always, and neither did all the others. But for his sake, you buckled up, even if you thought it was excessive. Echo always worried about you, and this had become even more intense since he had accidentally hurt you.

You rolled your eyes, but with a smile. There were worse things than having someone who genuinely cared about you.

By the time you got into the cockpit, Echo was already standing next to one of the passenger seats, tapping the back of the seat with his scomp link arm.

"Sit down."

You suppressed the sigh that wanted to pass your lips and complied with his request.

However, Echo checked three times after you buckled in to make sure the seatbelt was on properly.

Since your patience was wearing thin, you gently but firmly grabbed his hand and said, a little more tensely than you would have liked: "Stop it, you're making me nervous. I already know how to buckle up, Echo."

He paused in his movement in surprise, talking back was not at all something he was used to from you. He blinked, and you could see that your pitch had caught even Tech's attention, and he looked more or less inconspicuously in your direction. Echo blinked, scratched the back of his head uncertainly, and muttered, "Sorry, Mesh'la."

You instantly felt bad about that, you hadn't meant to hurt or upset him, but he sometimes overdid it so much that it did wear on your nerves a bit.

Echo sat down as well, Tech finally initiated the landing, and when the shuttle finally landed in a settlement on Batuu, you hastily unbuckled yourself, pulled the surprised Echo aside, and kissed him intimately.

He was so perplexed at first that he didn't react immediately, but it took only a few heartbeats before he returned the kiss just as intimately, his warm lips parting and his tongue chasing yours.

He automatically pressed against you and you clearly felt his arousal in the air, you knew under his cod piece it was just getting tighter and he seemed to have completely forgotten that they were not alone in the room.

As you pulled away from the kiss, you could tell he was struggling not to pull you into the next bunk with him.

"I'm sorry" you said softly "I didn't mean to snap at you like that, your concern for me, is just a little over the top sometimes."

Echo smiled, kissed your cheek and said "That's okay, I guess my overprotectiveness is exhausting at times"

You laughed and said, "A little bit maybe"

Tech cleared his throat "We should get going, we have an appointment, sort of. Also, I would appreciate it if you would postpone any further intimacies until some time in the future"

Echo swallowed and gave a soft, "Oh," as if he had just realized that you weren't alone.

@uraza24

@mybigfatspoonielife

@brynhildrmimi

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@nunanuggets

@clone-whore-99

@andyoufollowyourheart

[sor-vette]

It’s me again! I’d like to see what happens with reader’s awkward self and joon’s horniness with “I asked if you had to use the bathroom before I got in the shower!”. His dam of desires will break at some point! (Loved the “Your hair’s so soft” Drabble btw, big hugs!)

The Namjoon brainrot is real these days hehehe hmm, okay let's see what the mind can concoct

Pillow Trouble

• type: Namjoon x reader (+ot7 x reader mentioned) • w/c: 2.7k (yeah nah it's a "drabble") • rating: explicit!

• c/w: smut & light angst, shower sex, rough sex but there's like little funny moments in between, thigh riding, finger sucking (oh lord I deserve hell), breast play, marking, teasing and edging, handjob, hair pulling, penetration, protected sex bc this is not a pregnancy fic, my piss poor attempt at dirty talk

• part of: “Life of 27” drabble series set in “The Curious Move-In to Apartment 27”

• set: during "The Tale of Two Sisters (& 8 Uncles & 1 surprise), a future chapter coming hopefully soon

• a/n: had to set this into a future chapter otherwise it would have to be another dream scenario and I feel like some of you'd be hella annoyed. Also, the reader is not as awkward as always, she rode mister Min the whole night, got an ego boost if you will lol. Thanks @introlxv for beta-reading, love you bubs :(

• tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @medicinemybish; @babycoffeefire; @mayla548; @ijustwantawonhobasedurl (hope you don't mind)

1.

"Hey Jungkook, have you seen my-"

A toothbrush is thrown in his direction.

"Get out!"

2.

"Yo, Tae, did you take my sunglasses?"

"FUCK OFF, NAMJOON!"

3.

He only opens the doors this time.

"NAMJOON IF IT'S YOU I'LL CHOKE YOU WITH A TOILET PLUNGER!"

"Who's Namjoon?" he dumbly calls out because he peeked a glimpse of that soft place where your waist meets the curve of your back and his brain is now on factory reset.

"FUCK OFF!"

He's hit with an empty bottle of shower gel.

Sharing one bathroom meant that there will be incidents and mostly it's nothing no one has not seen before. The general protocol was either to join or leave. But as it stood now the protocol was all fucked. Or more specifically you were fucked which in turn fucked the protocol...long story short, there was a simple but rather potent question hanging in the air. Could they make a move?

Yoongi had done it, the surreptitious bastard. Of course, he would be that one asshole who cheated his way through life. What could they do, that was just their beloved Yoongi but it left them questioning these new, breached boundaries. The timing was also somewhat poor. While they very much enjoyed doting on Pauline, it didn't go amiss that every meeting pushed you deeper and deeper into thought. It had become a regular occurrence to repeat things twice if not thrice to garner your attention. Memories were making your days heavy and once Pauline went back home, the apartment fell sombre.

Namjoon's fist tightened on the book he was reading but once it began to dent, he loosened his fist. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't just go back in time and make your life better. Unfortunately, that's not how it worked. He was the only one here to accompany you into the night this day. It was a quiet and grey afternoon and everyone else was busy. First glimpses of snow had just begun to rear their head and the final colours of the Autumn finally brushed away. The world had turned bare. But there was a sense of charm in the dreary landscape. Tranquillity. He sighed to himself and entered the bathroom, automatically slamming the door shut when he saw the steam rise from the shower.

"I asked if you had to use the bathroom before I got in the shower," your monotone voice reached his hearing and with eyes still closed he peeked into the bathroom.

"You didn't. You didn't even say hi when you came back," he reminds you, not out of grudge but more to point out that fact.

"Oh. I must have said it in my head," you conclude lamely and steeling himself, he opened his eyes. The glass was matted so he could see largely just your outline and while it was still too much for him to handle, he zeroed in on the blank expression on your face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm...I'm angry," you answer and he catches onto the tone of tired bitterness. "I'm angry all the time. Yesterday, I spoke with the therapist you all bullied me into -"

"We did not bully!"

"Forcibly manhandled me to," you continue determined. "And she said that the part of me that feels so angry, that feels all this hatred is the part that loves myself the most. Because it's the only part of me that knows that what happened was wrong."

It's hard to say something to that. He should comfort you but he's failing to do so.

"Whatever," you sigh. "I'm too tired to ponder about this any longer. Make yourself useful and wash my back."

His brain errors itself in an endless loop.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said make yourself useful and wash my back. Hoseok broke the backscratcher and I can't reach there."

He closes his eyes. The moral conundrum is back. He shouldn't. He mustn't. You're in a vulnerable emotional position and he should absolutely do the right thing and step away. Naturally, he was already kicking one of his legs out of his pants. Despite the steam of the shower, he shivers wrestling the shirt away and when he reaches for the doors of the shower, his fingers are trembling. You await him there. Body wet and glistening, arms reaching your breasts, hiding them from view and head arched back onto the tile wall. He could cry at this very moment. Surely, this was illegal.

Funny, he reckons, for a moment there he thought you'd gotten over the awful shyness. Maybe, you did, there's a challenge in your eyes but your cheeks are tinted and your lips are swollen already. He approaches you slowly, steam surrounding you both, driving him dizzy. It's not funny anymore. He wants to devour you. Too long he's waited for you. Namjoon reaches and traces your bottom lip with his thumb, stepping closer so that you have to look up at him. It's a power move in a way but it's quickly brushed over by the fact that he loves you. This is not power, this is worship. Fingers shaking he lowers his palm and while lowering himself to kiss you, pushes you into the wall, bracing himself against the wet tiles. You moan into the kiss, tepidly opening your mouth to allow access. Trembling all over, he pulls away, though still lingering near.

"You're not scared, are you?" he asks, voice a deep gravelling sound.

"Depends on what you'll do to me."

Those are not wise words.

"Everything," he growls and kisses you again. Your breath is running out and Namjoon turns on the shower, hot water cascading down on you. When he parts you moan, searching for more. He also wants more.

"Mmm do you want more?" he taunts and you chase his lips but he pulls back, enjoying this small reverie, this small moment of validation that you also wanted him.

"Yes," you whimper.

"Do you need more? How much do you need it?"

You fall silent, face twisted in embarrassment.

"Nah, baby, sorry but I've waited for so long you're going to be a good girl and use your words."

The challenge is back in your gaze.

"And what if I don't?"

Namjoon tightens his jaw, stretching taller.

"You can play with Taehyung and the rest of the dummies, you can play around with anyone else, but you're not going to do that with me."

"Can I play around with Jae?"

Oh, you were just looking for trouble.

Before you can speak anymore, he grips your arms, tight enough so you couldn't move on your own and nudging a thigh between your legs, forces you to grind your pussy against it. Your mouth falls open in surprise and stuttered breaths fall out of it.

"Look at you, trying to seem all tough but you're getting so wet just by this."

"Shut the fuck up," you groan.

"This fucking mouth of yours," he returns his thumb back to your lips, not missing the fact that you rode his thigh well on your own volition. The jealous, petty monster in his chest was glad, was hopping around in vicious glee.

"I should stuff it full if you're going to say shit about other men. About that fucking boy."

"He's not a boy," you counter, smirking despite the fact he was smushing your cheeks by wrapping his fingers around your cheeks.

"Hell no, baby, I'm a man, I'm your man. You belong to me, I belong to you. It's two plus two."

"I don't think that's a government-approved educat- hmppf!"

Without much warning, he pushes two fingers in your mouth and your head hits the tile wall.

"Sorry bout that," Namjoon tosses out casually like he doesn't at all have your pussy twitching on his thigh and your tongue lapping at his fingers. When he feels our hand sneak down to prod at your clit, he forcefully tugs it away.

"Fuck no. I've heard enough of you getting off on your own. You'll take only what I give you, understood?"

You seem to have the incentive to object but he momentarily pushes his fingers deeper down your mouth, making you gag. His dick twitches at the sound. What a lovely sound that was. He removes his saliva coated fingers and you gulp in a large breath, panting in the steam.

"Yes."

"Good. That's what I like to hear," Namjoon purrs and leans in to nibble on your neck, groping one of your breasts. He laughs when he finds out it did in the end fit in his palm if he stretched his fingers wide enough. You throw him a confused glance but he doesn't reveal the private joke just yet. That's for the future.

"Look at how many marks you have," he murmurs letting go of the skin with a quiet popping noise. "No way Yoongi did all of this?"

"No, it was also...Jimin!" you squeal when his index prods at your clit.

"Him only?"

"N-no, also Tae and-and Jungkook!"

He begins to rub circles on your clit and you were rapidly approaching the edge. Your thighs shook in his hold and you clung to his arms for dear life.

"Shit, baby, having fun with the youngest ones?"

"They treat me like a chew toy," you lament and Namjoon laughs in the crook of your neck, leaving soothing kisses to some of the more nastiest bruises. They really did by the looks of it.

"Well, that's because you are," Namjoon pushes you off his thigh just when it felt like you were about to fall over the edge. You claw at his chest in protest but he pays it no attention.

"Oh, does this make you feel annoyed?" he mocks and you throw him a peeved glare. "Does this make you feel desperate? To want something and not have it? To have it dangling in your face and then have it ripped away?"

You shove him away, stomping away but he catches you by the elbow, dragging you back.

"Oh, you're not running away. Never again," he grunts in your ear.

The air is harsh and incredibly cold outside the shower and for a split second, the moment comes to a grinding halt as you both make your shivering way to his room. Since your bed was (again!) broken by one and only Min Yoongi, may he rest in heaven the lucky bastard.

Tugging the towel away from your body in the safe conditions of his room, he's surprised to see that you quickly crossed your arms to cover your chest.

"What's this? Feeling shy all of a sudden?" he teases, careful though not to push you more than necessary.

"You're gawking at them," you mumble. "What, you want to compare sizes?"

"They're beautiful, baby," he gently pries your hand away diving back to lick your cold hardened nipples. You hiss, immediately sinking your fingers into his hair. "I'll write songs for these tits."

You laugh and to much of Namjoon's unvoiced comfort, he feels your back muscles relax once more.

"I'm fairly sure Yoongi has you beat in that too."

"Oh, he just has to be the first in everything," Namjoon rolls his eyes and you put your chin on his head as he continues kissing down your cleavage. For some reason it makes his heart soften, that monster in his chest purrs like a kitten.

"You're absolutely one hell of a woman you know that," he sighs, suddenly wistful. "You're driving me crazy. Driving all of us crazy."

"You're just crazy by default," you deflect and pull back. "I'd like to do something, may I?"

"Baby, you could step on me and I'd thank you for it," Namjoon laughed, unabashedly truthful. Your hands, like his, are trembling but your face is determined and that drives Namjoon into a curious craze. He sits down when you push him and swallows when you crawl on top of him. You dunk your head into his neck and nose against his pulse, gently ever so lightly kiss the column of his throat, while fisting his hair in your hand. He will start to weep at this rate.

"You have such a pretty neck," you whispered and he grips your waist, barely breathing at this point. "I wanted to mark this neck for a long time as well."

"Dummy, you could have done it the first moment when you saw me," he grunts. This is insanity, he'll lose all mental coherence forever should this continue.

"What jump you right then and there?"

"No one, oh shit!" you bit down on his pulse point while gripping his length.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it I took my sweet ass time, now shut up!"

"You shut up," Namjoon breathed a thin little breath as started stroking him up and down.

"Wait, wait, just hold on," he whimpered throwing his head back. Too fast, too good.

"No, I need to - fuck! - I need to stretch you first, I need you!"

"What is my hand not good enough?"

"It's too good, too good, hold on a moment," he shuddered and pulled your hand away. "I did not wait this long to not ruin this pussy the first time we do it."

He didn't even hear what you replied, probably something smart and whatever remaining sanity and restraint he had left it shattered into dust.

"Make her scream, make her cry, make her know who she fucking belongs to," that part of himself whispered and he quickly yanked you on the bed. Rifling through the drawer, he found the last remaining condom (fairly sure someone was going through his stash) and spitting out the plastic he pulled it over his length.

He carefully began to stretch you open, kissing against your nape.

"Just tell me if anything's wrong, okay. Just tell me."

You nodded gripping the pillow and soon enough he closed his eyes and slid into you, with a loud, exuberant groan. He could swear there were stars swimming behind his eyes.

Shivering, he sunk his fingers into the mattress, before thinking of another use.

"Cross your arms behind your back," he ordered and you obeyed. Gripping your wrists in the palm of your hand, he slid further in, enjoying every mewl and whimper the action forced out.

"You're okay?" he asked with the other hand caressing away hair from your face.

"Yeah, it's just you're...you're very big."

He continued to caress your hair, oddly or perhaps not oddly at all - fond.

"Does it feel like I'm splitting you open?"

You nodded, breathless.

"A little bit."

Testing the grounds he thrust forward, crossing fingers to himself that he won't cum in four seconds because right now it loomed all too nearly. Slowly he began to rock your body, squeezing your wrists tighter and tighter. They will bruise but nothing made him more selfishly joyful than the realization that you will waddle into work tomorrow with no way of hiding from anyone that he finally was having you like this. The sounds grew only more obscene and your thighs began to quiver. When Namjoon's fingers reached to prod at your clit, he was all too happy to see you scream into the pillow. He pitied the poor fuckers in whatever number apartment they had above his room.

"Fuck, I'll be ruining this pussy every day starting now," he groaned into your ear, kissing your neck, trying to pull you closer still. He didn't care that it was impossible. More, he needed more. You began to twitch and spasm onto his dick, screams only slightly muffled by the pillow.

"That's it, cum for me," he cooed and released your wrists, which fell limply to your side. Squeezing harshly your hips, he chased his own pleasure until finally, he felt the familiar and much-welcomed coil tether on the very edge of snapping apart.

"Fuck, oh fuck," he panicked, "where do I??"

He ripped the condom off, rolling you over. You seemed to be fucked out of all sense, which he was rather proud of.

"Fuck, can I...on your chest?" he begged, for some reason feeling embarrassed. The moral senses were kicking it seems quite early this night to wail at his own depravity. You gave him a weak shrug.

To say that the dinner was awkward for the six remaining people was the understatement of the century. They sat all red in the face, trying to pretend their hardest that they were not hearing anything.

Jin slurped his noodles, ears threatening to catch his hair on fire.

"Oh, they're both nasty," he sulked.

[misscammiedawn]

"Sense Me stroking my hand across your cheek."

Madison Smith's eyes closed and she accepted the suggestion. With a long distance relationship the pair had to get inventive when it came to sharing connection. On the final day they had together during their last meeting, Belladonna Cooper had taken the time to program a reaction to hearing or reading her (and only her) typing "sense me" before describing the action.

Madison's beautiful brain was able to take the memory of tactile sensation and turn the suggestion into sensation.

"Sense Me gently petting your hair."

Madison's eyes closed and she held her hands close to her chest, savoring the phantom sensation of fingers running through her hair. In moments like this the hundreds of miles between them disappeared.

"Sense Me framing your face and placing my fingertips to your temples, beloved. Sense me drawing slow and delicate spirals on them."

Miss Donna smirked as she witnessed her partner's eyes flicker up towards the webcam, subtly adjusting to the invisible force of hands. A cooing whimper of relaxed relief poured from her lips.

"Is this green, sweetheart? Do you have time to feel me pull you in to trance?"

A smitten grin bubbled to her lips as she nodded the affirmative.

It was then that Miss Donna had a wave of inspiration.

"That's my lovely lass," she purred, shuffling closer to her monitor, wishing she could reach out and touch her in a more real way than their hypnotic connection allowed, "then you can just Sense Me tracing my finger up and down your bicep. That's it. Up and down, so soft and gentle. Your hair may stand on end or you may feel that heightened sensation that follows in to relaxation. Any way you receive my tender touch is just fine as you continue to feel that lulling calm crash through your body."

Madison's chin dipped just a little, the sleepy smile did not fade.

"Sense Me brush gently down your forehead. The way you would pacify a kitty sitting on your lap. Their eyes slowly dipping closed as they start to relax away. No more tension, no more defenses. Just soft calm. Doesn't that sound nice, my sweet?"

"...yes, Miss Donna..." Madison softly whispered. So soft the microphone did not pick it up, but the lip movement was obvious after seeing her say it so many times.

"And as you drift into trance, I wonder what else you can sense me doing. After all. My hypnotic voice and my tender caress can reach you all the way over there. So as you Sense Me wrap my arms around you, as you feel that gentle hug that you do have permission to allow yourself to melt away within, you can think about the way your mind feels as it pulls deeper and deeper still into trance or how your heart feels as it flutters with affection at my words."

Madison's lips parted and her chin sagged further, shoulders drooped entirely. Donna knew that she was already in trance, if she hadn't been before the overt use of permission had allowed her to let go. She rocked gently back and forth like her body had become a leaf on a gentle breeze. Completely charmed by Donna's spell.

"We talk about heart strings so often. You know what it is to have someone pull on your heart strings. Think about that sensation now, how it would look, how it may sound, how it would feel as you Sense Me pluck your heart strings."

Madison let out a moan of delight, shuffling in her seat.

"Oh that looked very nice, lass. Perhaps you should describe it to me after you Sense Me pluck again on those heart strings. Flooding you with love and affection in every way. Tell me, love, how did that feel?"

"Vibrations..." Madison slurred, "Harp string vibration in my chest... soft... warm... making me feel loved... cared for..."

"Sense Me run my fingers across those heart strings again, savor the sensation of those loving vibrations as they tremble through your body."

Madison quaked and squirmed as she mewled out in delight. "...'s Miss Donna..."

"That's my lovely lass, very good. Then maybe you can Sense Me plucking your thoughts out now."

Madison's reverie halted the moment the words hit as she sagged to a stop and let out a single syllable of surprise.

"That's it. Sense Me pulling your thoughts away. One--- by--- one---"

"...oh"

"Sense Me clearing your mind of all thoughts. Sense Me teasing and tempting it towards empty oblivion. Mindless and still. Calm and blank."

"...yes Miss Donna..." Madison softly whispered, her voice reflecting the emptiness that had been gifted to her.

"Sense me gently kissing your forehead as you completely let go now. Sense me stroking your hair as you know how well you're doing. How much of a Good Girl you are being. How much I care for you."

Her gentle blissfully hypnotized smile was worth everything in the universe.

Donna sighed in satisfaction. That was a fun experiment. Likely there were many other conceptual sensations that she could make her partner experience. But for now, she just wanted to enjoy the moment and Madison's lovely gentle expression. Donna would have done anything to have been able to hug her for real.

"Sense Me hold you close, nuzzling affectionately in to you."

But until their next meeting, this would have to suffice.

[nightingaelic]

I have a real depressing request, companions react to the courier telling them that before all the Mojave nonsense they were a parent and for a very brief time a grandparent but now they’re neither

Go ahead make me cry

I'm not crying, you're crying 😭

"They would've loved this."

The words from the courier were soft, barely discernible under the strains of the guitar and harmonica that a pair of caravan drivers were serenading the city limit camps with. The fire was crackling merrily, adding its own light to the light spilling from the gates of Freeside, warm and inviting in a way that only a wood fire in October could look. The logs had come down with the caravan from Jacobstown, and this little concert and bonfire served as their own method of advertising to potential customers. It had certainly worked on the courier, who had edged closer to listen to the alluring sound of the music.

"My daughter," the courier clarified, when their companion looked at them questioningly. "And her little one, for what short time he had. That girl loved getting together with regular folk, sharing what food she could and singing away her worries as nights grew long. She had friends in every territory, every town, even more than me. Didn't matter where she went, she was always welcome."

Their voice cracked. "She was."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade had grown cold and still as soon as the courier had started talking, keenly aware that they were sharing something deep and dark about their own past. He stared into the fire after they had finished, unsure what to say. What to do.

"Did she know you cared about her?" he finally asked, hesitant.

The courier closed their eyes. "God, I hope so."

"Take some comfort in that." Arcade rubbed the back of his neck. "We don't get to choose when we leave this world, but no matter how we go, it's easier if we know we were loved."

Craig Boone: Behind his sunglasses, Boone squeezed his eyes shut, and as always, Carla was there. Slowly, reverently, he took off his beret.

"I know you lost someone, too," the courier said, noticing the movement. "Don't know who, and maybe it's none of my business, but I can see it in you plain as sand. The way you hold your jaw, your gun, your secrets... it's like seeing myself in a mirror."

They put a hand on his shoulder. In an uncharacteristic moment of understanding, Boone chose not to shrug it away.

Lily Bowen: For once, Lily had no words. She simply closed the dark distance and enveloped the courier in a hug. They hung onto her for dear life, shoulders shaking, and Lily looked up at the city-lit sky and felt their pain in her own heart.

"There there, dearie," she murmured as they cried themselves out. "You know they're never really gone from us."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Dios mio, mij@," Raul said mournfully. "You never said anything."

"What could I say?" the courier replied with a sad smile. "That I missed her like the coyote misses the moon? That every day I walk the desert, I see her en espejismos and the faces of strangers? That she was so much more than what I remember her to be? I couldn't capture her in a sentence, let alone the way I feel now she and hers are gone. I used to have a child. I used to have a grandchild. Now all I have are the words 'used to.'"

Raul thought for a moment. "No me atrevo a decir que entiendo tu dolor, pero te acompaño en el sentimiento. You have me, Six, whether you need me or not."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Son of a bitch." Cass cast her eyes around for anything that might help her in this moment. "Six, you can't dump something like that on me when I'm unprepared. Let's get you to the nearest bar, drown the memory a bit."

"Doesn't work like that," the courier murmured. "It's a piece of me, missing. Big chunk, too. Closest I ever got to filling the space was after I took a bullet to the brain."

Cass sighed and pulled them to the outskirts of the camp. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything." Cass fumbled for her canteen and uncorked it before passing it over. "You got pieces missing, I got pieces missing. You helped me fill mine, now it's my turn. We're gonna sit here, drink the last of my whiskey, and share the pain."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica sat in the yawning space of the courier's grief, taking in their painful silence. When she felt enough time had gone by, she put an arm around them. "What happened to them?"

The courier put their head in their hands, but they didn't pull away. "What always happens in the Mojave. The desert swallowed them up."

"Are you saying that because you don't know, or you do know but don't want to talk about it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, I guess." Veronica squeezed them closer to her. "None of my business either way, I just... want to understand."

"Yeah." The courier let their hands fall away, let the flames of the fire dance in their eyes again. "Me too."

ED-E: ED-E beeped sadly and nudged the courier's shoulder. They patted his dome, their fingers making a dull sound against the rusted metal. "Ancient history, now, but it's still there in the back of my mind. That bullet of Benny's couldn't even take that from me."

Rex: The cyberdog, sensing its companion's grief, curled up around their feet protectively and nosed at their boots. He panted when they reached down to pet him and licked their hand affectionately.

"Good boy," they said sadly. "We can stay awhile, I suppose. To honor her."

[elius-learns-to-write]

hi! omg i luv ur blog 💘 can i request/suggest (kinda angsty but then fluffy) where r has trouble sleeping and a lot of nightmares/anxiety & mother!nat is there to comfort her? 🥺 like the whole team is super understanding and comforting but especially nat (bc we love mom nat around here!) anyways thanks so much ily bestie!

Hey Bestie! thank you so much for being patient and for supporting my blog! I know this has been in my inbox for so long but still! here it is. Sending my love to you <3 i have just realised that there is not a lot of comfort in here oops.

warning: this does include details of death and blood so keep that in mind if you read this <3

It’s Okay

You had always gotten nervous in public spaces 

Or at night when you couldn’t sleep

Or when you didn’t know all of the details of a plan 

Or when it was 3am and you were too scared to sleep

The point is you always seemed to have 100 thoughts plaguing your mind 

“Y/n sweetie I’m gonna need you to concentrate on my voice okay?” Wanda's voice waded through the watery noise in your head. You knew she was right and that logically there was no reason to be so upset, but you just couldn’t help it. It had all started after the group had decided to not tell you about the meal they had planned at this fancy restaurant that Tony wanted to try and of course this had sent you into a spiral and you were now very very aware of every possible outcome. “Come on kid, you’re alright, breathe slowly” Tony tried, or was it Steve maybe it was Bruce. When you got like this, voices sounded the same and nothing felt real. You couldn’t breathe and that was your main worry.

The team had gotten used to it and always reassured you that it was okay 

They didn’t mind and would always be there

And no matter how much you appreciated all of the support there was 1 person the team always knew to call

Natasha

Crash, thud, bang. The noise coming from outside the room had woken you from the sleep you had allowed your brain to indulge in for once. Whenever you did this though your mind would be over run with the horrors of life and death. 

Peeling the covers off of you, you slowly crept from out of the bed. Where was the rest of the team? Had they woken up? You hadn’t heard anyone else get up but in your hazy state of mind shrugged it off as them just being deep sleepers. Something you would later regret telling yourself. 

As your hand pulled the handle of your room down to open it you heard another noise. Laughter? Hesitating you looked around in the hope of finding a clock but as your eyes frantically moved in an effort of finding one the floor seemed to start to sway beneath your feet. Soon the darkness engulfed you.

For the second time that night your body jolted forward and you gasped for air, the dryness of your mouth hitting you like a punch to the gut. When was the last time you had a drink? Where did the laughter go? Why had you passed out? So many questions and yet it felt like you were trapped in an endless game of hide and go run with a twist, you didn’t know who you were running from and how much time you had before they found you. 

Before you could even begin to think logically again the loud twang of metal hitting the ground sounded from down the hall. Slowly stepping outside the room you had woken up in which you had realised wasn’t your own, you guessed you had been in Steve’s bedroom which was odd given that he wasn’t in there. Maybe he was out helping Bucky with his nightmares? 

Bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor of the tower you tried to navigate your way through the dark to wherever the team had gone. The sounds of machines whirring stopped you, the lights must be getting turned on. Sure enough, bright white light blinded you, spreading through the faster Pietro could run. Blinking away the pain and blind spots from your eyes you were met with big red letters painted on the floor.

 ‘The crowds will come and flood your world, yet you will remain empty and incomplete’ the red bleeding off into a winding path that would probably lead to whoever had wormed their way here. Even with this in mind the words seemed to swim through your mind; you had always felt empty even when your life was full but you never told anyone but Natasha and she would never tell anyone your secrets she had promised. She wasn’t like that. Repeating that phrase like a prayer that would save you, you followed the red wet paint. 

Red can signify many things: energy, passion, lust and the one you should have paid more attention to. Danger. 

Instead of being faced with some psycho who broke in all you were greeted with was the horrifying image of your family dead on the floor. Blood trickled out of anything it could noses, ears, mouths. Eyes open with a stare of pure terror. A scream tore its way though your throat. The familiar metallic substance flooding your senses. 

Knees crashing to the ground as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because when you have nothing, when all you have is gone, what can you do but cry yourself a river and let your soul float away on the memories of simpler times? 

You knew your knees would bruise from the mpact but you didn’t care. You didn’t deserve to go through this painlessly after what they had gone through in their last moments. 

A creak made itself heard above the sound of your cries, head slowly lifting to see what it was, damaging your throat further when you saw the lifeless bodies of the avengers sitting up and staring back at you. Salty tears streaming even quicker as you tried to scramble away. Slipping on nothing. Suddenly the lights shut off again. You didn’t move. You didn’t scream. You didn’t even breathe. 

“Wake up y/n”. What?

It had been Nat that woke you up from the nightmare

Even though the whole team had been aware of what was happening all they could do was watch in horror as your body writhed in fear

After making your way to Nat’s room where you knew you would spend the night

Unable to brave it alone

You finally found it in yourself to talk

“You were all dead” you croaked from the cocoon of blankets the redhead had wrapped you in. sitting down next to you and wrapping her arms around your body, you found yourself desperate for the comfort of her hugs. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, just know that I will never ever abandon you. How could I leave my little sunflower to fend for themselves? You give me a reason to be better and I will never leave you. Nor will anyone on this team for that matter” she spoke softly, as if cooing a terrified animal out of their hiding spot. You had and always will have a family as long as you have Natasha. She would make sure of it. And soon you drifted off into a peaceful slumber to the sound of her sweet hums. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away”.

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 3.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 3 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

“Calm down, sweetheart.” 

He must’ve noticed you were on the verge of losing your mind. How could you not? You had so many questions. So many things you couldn’t wrap your brain around. What was the meaning of all this? 

“What is this?” you pointed at the painting; scared, nervous and baffled. 

Bucky walked further in, careful as to not make any sudden movement which would make you even more of a nervous wreck than you already were. “I’ll tell you everything, doll. Just calm down, alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here with you.” 

You looked up at him in surprise. “Nothing to be scared of? There’s a painting of me and you dating back to 1872. That was almost a hundred and fifty years ago. But I met you just two days ago. None of this makes sense, none of it adds up. And that doesn’t bother you?” you sounded more sad and confused than scared. This isn’t normal. None of this is. “Who are you?” 

Despite knowing that someone else in your shoes would be screaming bloody murder and running for their lives by now, you stayed put. Despite the confusion, you felt protected. Something inside you knew no harm would come to you while Bucky’s around. But the rational side of you couldn’t afford listening to that side of you right now. Right now your brain needed concrete answers, not reassurance. 

“No. It doesn’t bother me.” He walked over and held you gently by the shoulders. “And if you let me explain, it won’t bother you either.” One look into his eyes and you felt yourself calming down already. 

“Make this make sense.” 

After he got you to sit down, in that very room, he began explaining. 

“I’m not exactly human, Y/N.” His first few words earned him a nod from you. 

“I figured that out a few minutes ago.” 

He continued. “And neither were you, in your previous lifetime.” That sentence shocked you. You didn’t know what was more surprising, learning that there was indeed a lifetime before this one or the fact that in the previous one, you and Bucky knew each other. “We were both vampires.” 

“Oh my God…” 

He paused for a while, trying to be as slow and as careful as he could be with his words. “We were married, you and I. And we were happy.” He said so and waited for your reaction. 

Your eyes watered and he noticed. “I’m… I was your wife?” you asked and he nodded. You thought back on all the things he told you about his wife; those were all about you. Your heart felt like it was being torn in two. “And I died.” he nodded again. “How did I die?” 

He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to the dark carpet beneath his feet, that memory was always the hardest to revisit. “Our families were not exactly… friendly. Yours hated mine, and vice versa so our marriage was not something they could bear.” He let out a dry chuckle. He continued, a strange fire in his eyes; burning hot hatred. “They kept trying to break us apart,” he smiled, sadly, “but we were strong. Together.” He looked back up at you. “Until one day…” 

He stopped talking. He ran his fingers through his hair, he was hurting. You felt the intense need to just get up from the couch you were sat on, and walk over to where he sat and just comfort him. Maybe hug him and tell him it’s all okay now. But you remained seated, you couldn’t move. 

“Bucky… I need to know.” You figured it was a delicate subject but you needed to piece it all together. You were a mess at the moment. 

“We were returning home and we were attacked. By hunters.” 

You sat up straighter. “Hunters?” 

“Vampire hunters. Two different parties. Each anonymously hired and sent by our own families, ordered to have each of us killed. But you know, back then hunters had rivalry against each other as well. And ironically, the groups of hunters our family hired were not exactly seeing eye to eye with each other.” He let out another dry chuckle. “Upon reaching our home, they all forgot their initial purpose for a moment and began butchering one another instead, in the name of looming enmity. And you and I got caught in the crossfire. ” 

He paused. If it were physically possible he would’ve shivered at the memory; so tragically vivid in his mind. You waited for him to continue. “But some of them also remembered that they had been ordered to kill us both, so our front yard quickly became a battlefield.” He sounded bitter, angry. “We fought them off for a while but we were terribly outnumbered. I was wounded, so were you, and I tried to reach you but…” he trailed off, took a deep breath and continued, “they got to you first.” 

You tried to find the right thing to say but got nothing. Bucky spoke up again. “I was helpless. I couldn’t move. I had to watch as they… took you away from me.” He finally looked up at you and you were in shock. “Those sent by your family, what was left of them after the massacre at least, fled. Those sent by mine finished their job.” The look of hurt on his face was unbearable. “And I begged them. I begged them to kill me too but they just left me there.” 

You felt a weight on your chest. That was brutal. 

“You died at our doorstep.” He still remembered the last few moments he held you before you left… 

-

He somehow managed to get up and stumbled on his way to you, bullets and sharp stakes pierced all over his body as well as yours. You weren’t gonna make it, and he knew but he still begged you to stay. 

“You can’t leave me. You promised.” He cried, cradling your head on his lap. “Don’t leave me.” 

He watched how you used the little bit of energy left to choke out a few words. “I’ll find you again. Someday. I promise…” your body was getting heavier and heavier. Bucky felt like he was dying too. “I love you, Buck.” 

And with that, you closed your eyes forever. He sat there, your lifeless body in his arms and he screamed and yelled and cursed the universe. He was wounded, he would be healed by dawn. But you wouldn’t. He survived the attack that day, but part of him died along with you too. 

-

You cleared your throat. “How do you… how did you know it’s me? How can you be sure? What if I just look like her?” you looked up at the painting and he did too. 

He gave you a soft smile. “Chamomile and lavender tea is your favorite. You like red roses. You have a fear of deep water but you love the beach. You have this weird obsession with snakes. You love red wine. You could practically live in a library. Thunderstorms comfort you. You get a lot of déjà-vu, more than anyone you know. Also, you surely have a birthmark on your back, below your left shoulder. It perhaps hurts sometimes and you don’t know why, because regular birthmarks don’t hurt.” 

Your eyes widened more and more as he spoke, but you gasped when he mentioned the birthmark. “How do you know that?” Very few people knew of your rather strange birthmark which tingled, burned and hurt sometimes. 

“You were staked through the heart from the back. It left a mark on you.” He answered. “Forever.” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to soak all this new information in. This was a lot to take in. 

You cleared your throat again. “I was a vampire.” You stated. Bucky nodded. “I married you.” He nodded again. “I can’t- how do I-,” 

“Hey, it’s a lot to take in. Take your time. Go to bed if you wish to.” His voice sounded so soft. 

Oh you couldn’t sleep, not with all this. You shook your head no, you had questions. “How long were we married for?” 

“Almost a century.” His answer made your jaw drop. 

“How old are you?” 

He chuckled. “250. Give or take a few years.” 

“Oh my God,” you sighed, genuinely surprised. You thought back on all that he said earlier, about your families, and asked, “You said our families were against our relationship.” He nodded. “Well, where are they now?” 

“Gone.” 

“What do you mean, gone?” 

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. “After you left, I was unhinged. My memories of the couple of decades after your death is a little blurry. Apparently I went seeking revenge. But our friends found me and brought me back to sanity before I was gone completely and they told me that I had destroyed each and every last member of both our families.” 

“You killed them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“They deserved it. They took you away from me.” He sounded so broken, and hurt that you could feel your heart burn inside your ribcage. 

“When you say ‘our friends’ you mean…” you trailed off not knowing how to put it. 

He nodded. “Other vampires, yes. Most of them at least.” 

“This is so crazy.” You mumbled, looking down at your lap. This was too much to handle all at once. Bucky got up from his seat and walked cautiously over to you. 

He sat down on the edge of the wooden coffee table right in front of you and held his hand out. You placed your hand in his without a second thought. “You always had faith in the universe you know. You used to tell me that one single lifetime isn’t going to be enough for all the love that you and I have for each other. You used to always tell me that you’ll find me in the next one as well. And you did. You kept your promise. You’re home now, to me.” 

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Those words sounded so familiar. Bucky reached out and wiped the tear away. “I… I don’t remember. I mean, I’ve lived a whole life not knowing you were until just a few days ago and now… all this?” 

He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. “It’s almost dawn. You haven’t slept well. Get some rest, we’ll figure it out. We always did.” 

You couldn’t argue. You needed to not think for a while, so you just nodded and got up. He didn’t follow you as you made your way to the bedroom and threw yourself down on the bed. You closed your eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

The next day, you spent most of your morning in the room; unable to leave the bed. Each time you thought back on all that was revealed to you last night, your head hurt. Wanda was kind enough to come in and leave you your meals. She didn’t say a word, just polite smiles. Bucky came by as well, each hour or so to check up on you. You weren’t ready to talk yet. He understood. 

You spent the rest of the day looking out of the window, into the vast backyard. The weather was still gloomy, much like your mood. 

After dinner, Bucky came by again. With tea this time. You gladly accepted the cup, remembering how it helped you sleep better the other night. Bucky was about to walk out but you stopped him. 

“Stay. Please.” You said, your voice a little strained because you had cried earlier, unable to understand the wave of emotion which washed over you. He rushed to sit next to you, on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been having dreams.” you confessed. 

“What kind of dreams?” 

“About you. About us, together. About ballrooms I’ve never been in, about people I haven’t met. And this house, ever since I got here it feels like I’ve... “ you trailed off, unable to find the right words. Or maybe the words were too crazy for you to utter them out loud. 

He finished your sentence. “Like you’ve lived here before?” 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

He smiled. “It’s because you have. This is your home, our home. Those aren’t dreams, they’re your memories.” 

Another tear fell down your cheek. Well, that made sense now. That would explain why your ‘dreams’ were so detailed. 

Bucky stayed and talked to you until you felt sleepy. He kissed you on the forehead, whispering a ‘goodnight’ once you got under the covers and was about to walk out of the room but you stopped him, yet again. 

“There’s something else.” you said. 

He stopped right at the door and turned around to face you, “Yes?” 

“The day I got here, when you opened the door, I…” you reminded yourself that he deserves to know, “I felt this pressing need to tell you that I finally found you. I didn’t understand what that meant then.” 

For the first time in a long time, Bucky genuinely smiled. And it was breathtaking. His smile was gorgeous, contagious. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left. 

You fell asleep rather quickly. And dreamt, again...

Kisses under a grand chandelier. Blue eyes, laughter and wine. Pure bliss. 

“We should get going, sweetheart. It’s late.” Bucky whispered, holding you close. “And I can’t share you any longer. I need you all to myself now.” He kissed along your jaw, making you giggle. 

Home. At last. Only just as you got down from the carriage, you realized something was wrong. Pain, pain everywhere. 

Bullets, stakes, sticks, stones - everything hurt. You heard someone screaming as you were being dragged away from Bucky. It was you. You begged for mercy, but you didn’t receive any. Then suddenly, a spot on your back burned. It hurt more than anything you’ve ever experienced. You realized you were being staked through the heart, and it was too late. You couldn’t fight back. 

The pain, although excruciating, was replaced by fear. Fear of having to leave Bucky behind. Bucky… where was he? 

Your vision got blurry, you fell to the ground. You tried to call out for him but no sound came out of your mouth. You were fading away. But then you saw a pair of dark eyes which slowly turned blue and teary. 

“Don’t leave me…” 

“I’ll find you, I promise.” All the years you spent with him flashed in front of your eyes. Your wedding, and the decades of pure happiness which followed. “I’ll find you…” 

You woke up gasping again, covered in goosebumps. You had a terrible headache as it all came to you at once; memories of a forgotten lifetime. You struggled to breathe; it felt like being hit by a violent wave and being pushed deeper beneath the surface. Your birthmark burned hot. And your lungs felt like they were on fire. 

You sat there in bed, breathing hard and fast as you remembered everything. You realized you had tears streaming down your face. It was all too much, but you kept searching for more. And the more you looked the more you found. You felt like you were about to pass out. 

1802, when you first met Bucky. Married in 1808. You died about 90 years after that. You remembered. You remembered it all now. Your cruel family, and his. The bloodshed of that night. And how you died at the doorstep of this mansion. This mansion… your home. You knew this place like the back of your hand. This is your home. 

You’re home. 

You called out, not too loud, knowing he would hear you still. “Bucky!” you held back sob. How did you survive all these years? Without him? 

“Bucky!” you called out again, crying out loud this time. You heard his footsteps running down the hall. And your heart raced. 

You had been so close to your home this whole time, so close to Bucky, in the same town. You just didn’t know.