#Bridges Dropped Object Protection

[mtandtgroup-blog]

Explore engineered netting solutions like WEB Catch™ for dropped object prevention. Ensure safety with debris protection for bridges, construction, and offshore installations.

[lessersole]

Bridging Boroughs

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Bartender!Reader with a past. Platonic!Matt Murdock

Summary: You and Matt come up with a plan to take on Kingpin politically.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for DD:BA episode 8, (but works if you're not watching). Probably misunderstandings of the US political system.

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

Matt groans as he wakes up. He feels like he got punched in the chest by a truck.

He tries to take in his surroundings - it’s hard over the beeping of the machines, but under the stillness of night he realises someone is sitting beside his hospital bed.

“Heather?” He croaks.

“Nope,” comes the unapologetic answer. He recognises that voice, but hasn’t heard it in a while. Matt frowns - is he wrong?

The pressure of booted feet landing on his bed, one ankle crossing over the other as his guest casually stretches out her legs gives him a better idea who his visitor is. He tries another name.

“You got it," you confirm. Matt can hear the mirthless smile in your voice. “Glad to hear we’re not complete strangers, even if I never would have guessed you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at the Kingpin.”

“I wasn’t-” Matt’s protestations are cut off by a tightness in his chest and he coughs, wincing at the pain, “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”

Your feet leave the bed as you press a plastic cup of water against the back of his hand. Matt takes it as silently as it's offered, a few sips doing little to soothe the roughness of his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reluctantly letting you take the glass from him when the wires tangled around him stop him reaching the sidetable himself.

“Well, that’s rude.” Your tone is more amused than offended.

“I mean it. I haven’t seen you since-” his voice dies in his throat.

“Since the funeral.” You finish for him, voice softer, “But I keep up to date. You’re all over the news. Thought it would be polite to visit an old friend in hospital.”

“We’re barely friends,” there’s a bitterness to Matt’s tone, more from regret than animosity. It’s been a long time since you were close, “And I’m pretty sure visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

“I make my own hours, you know that. And I said old friend.” You pause, continuing when his only objection is an irritated sigh. “Plus I saw a mutual acquaintance of ours recently - he was worried about you.”

Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” your eyes scan over his damaged body, the tubes and machines keeping him alive, “And honestly, when Frank Castle is concerned about your mental health, something’s gotta be pretty wrong.”

“So you’re still in touch with Frank. And you think I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“I drop in on him now and then, make sure he’s not dead. I don’t charge in on him like a madman with a deathwish.”

Matt grimaces.

“So come on, Matt. I’ve seen the other news about you too. The other you. What’s going on?”

In the absence of anyone else to talk to who won’t judge him, Matt reluctantly opens up.

Time passes, and as the sun threatens to break over the horizon, you both sink into thoughtful silence.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need to meet Fisk on his level?” You ask.

“I’d never do what he does,” Matt spits emphatically, “That’s the difference between us-”

“That was the difference between you. The difference now is that he’s the one who’s gone ‘legit’. Officially, at least.”

Matt opens his mouth to object, but you talk over him. “You not changing the city as a lawyer is nothing new. I thought you'd resigned yourself to that after - after Foggy. But Fisk isn’t fighting in the dark any more; you’ve lost your advantage.”

“So what, are you saying I should run for Mayor?”

“God, no. But we need to look in that direction. Maybe someone else, someone who’s pro-enhanced p-”

“Wait,” Matt bolts upright, ignoring the pain that slices through him, “There is someone. We could at least ask for help, while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now?”

Matt grins, “How familiar are you with Brooklyn?”

—

Getting inside the Congressman’s office is easy for you, even in broad daylight. Plenty of people filing in and about, milling around - and you know how to go unnoticed. The bustling space is a much more casual, open place than you'd expected.

Getting access to him directly is more of a challenge.

After holding a store room door open for a smiling volunteer, you duck inside. Spotting a pile of discarded t-shirts from the recent campaign, you grab one and quickly swap it for your own plain top, before adding the casual blazer you'd worn to look appropriately professional on top of it. No need to be too obvious.

You'd spied his private office on your first loop around the floor, and now you make your way indirectly towards it. One well-placed slippery flyer in the path of a rushing intern later, and the woman stationed at the desk outside his door is running to the bathroom to try and soak the hot coffee out of her shirt.

Smiling benignly, you slip unseen into the Congressman’s office. The man you're looking for has his back to the door, standing behind a desk leafing through a file.

You have a moment to admire his broad back, the white shirt straining over strong shoulders, tapering down where it tucks into dark pants over narrow hips.

Forcing your eyes away from where they’ve drifted down, you've barely taken two steps into the room before he speaks.

“Are you one of those people who breaks in to try and sell me extra security?”

You stop abruptly - he hasn’t even turned around.

“No,” you answer casually, continuing to approach, “But maybe I should be, that sounds like a fun job. Do you think it pays well?”

“No idea,” finally Congressman Barnes turns to face you, dropping his papers onto the desk between you.

You let your gaze linger over his torso. He must get those shirts custom made, you think, so they're snug over his flat stomach without bursting the buttons over his chest.

Barnes crosses his arms, and the motion reminds you to look at his face, where he’s quirking an eyebrow at you, unflustered and unamused.

“So what are you doing breaking into my office?”

“Breaking in?” You try to sound offended, “I just wanted to meet the person I’ve been door knocking for-”

“You’re not one of the volunteers,” he interrupts cooly, “And you’re definitely not on the payroll. So now you need to explain why you’re lying as well as breaking in.”

“What, you know every single person who works for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat while you recalculate your approach, then take the last few steps towards him, smiling broadly and holding out your hand, “I just wanted to say hi, have a quick chat.”

Instead of answering or shaking your hand, Barnes narrows his eyes suspiciously at you.

“And there was no breaking anything, so it wasn’t breaking in,” you grumble, lowering your hand.

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

“Okay,” you sigh, presumptuously dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk, “I’ve come to ask what you’re planning to do about Mayor Fisk.”

Bucky’s neutral facade cracks in surprise. “What I'm planning to do about Mayor Fisk?” he repeats.

“His crusade against ‘vigilantes’,” you put air quotes around the loaded term, “His so-called taskforce are breaking every law they come up against to wipe out anyone they decide is suspicious, including everyone with enhanced abilities they can get their hands on. You were elected on a platform of protecting those same people, right? You can’t just do nothing.”

“I ran on more than one issue,” Bucky says, sitting down opposite you, “And Mayor Fisk was also elected by the people - and even if it wasn’t a key part of his campaign, as I understand it his opposition to vigilantes wasn’t exactly a secret.”

“That’s no excuse to just roll over and let him do what he wants!”

Bucky frowns. “No, it’s not,” he muses, “But so far his taskforce have restricted themselves to Manhattan. Unless they cross into Brooklyn, there’s not much I can do about it.”

You're visibly unimpressed at his answer, crossing your arms and glaring at him in place of a response.

After a moment of thought, Bucky’s gaze intensifies, and he leans towards you across the desk, “Do you have a - vested interest - in this?”

Fighting to keep your heart rate steady, you answer him honestly, “I’m here on behalf of a friend. And everyone else who feels hopeless about what the Kingpin is doing to our city. Everyone else who wants to fix it.”

Bucky studies you silently. Your answer was true - and you have no intention of sharing more than you need to about your history, or those nights when it bleeds into your present. Even Fisk never knew about you, and with Karen in California, Matt and Frank are the only people left in the city who have any idea what you've done, and neither of them know you've not given it up as thoroughly as you suggest.

"This friend," Bucky starts, clearly not believing you, "they didn't want to speak to me themselves?"

"They're in hospital." Your answer is more vehement than you intended, and you hope you've not given too much away.

Barnes sits back with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll talk to my team about it. We’ve been considering putting out a statement; a citizen complaint is a good enough reason to push that through. And I’ll look into what else we can do. Encourage an investigation into the taskforce, or some kind of oversight requirements. Legal protections for enhanced people with no record of vigilantism.”

It’s less than you wanted, but more than you'd hoped for from a politician. “Sounds like an okay start,” you allow.

An amused smile flickers across Bucky’s face as he stands up, dismissing you. You mirror him.

“Are you a Brooklyn resident?” He asks.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a no.”

“Compassion doesn’t stop at the East River,” you retort, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I agree. And I give you my word that I’ll do everything I can to rein Fisk in and keep innocent people safe, inside my jurisdiction and out.” He holds his hand out to you.

“Good,” you answer begrudgingly, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he squeezes back, “And your friend - if it’s dangerous for them in Manhattan, there’s a safe place for them this side of the river. Always. If Fisk’s taskforce follows - well, there might be more I can do.”

“Good to know. And if you ever want to update me on your progress - save me trekking all the way out here again - I work at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” You give him the name as you turn to leave. “If you make good on your promise, I might even buy you a drink.”

Bucky smiles. It’s an appealing offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wait,” he nods to your shirt, where Vote Barnes for the 9th District is emblazoned across your chest, “Did you pay for that?”

Rolling your eyes, you slip your jacket from your shoulders, Bucky’s eyes following the smooth motion, “I was going to give it back,” you lie.

“Don’t.” he stops you, a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, “You can keep it. Looks good on you.”

You smile languidly as you pull the jacket back on.

“Thanks, Congressman,” you reach for the door handle, adding over your shoulder, “I’ve been looking for something to wear in bed.”

Once his door has swung shut behind you Bucky lets out a long breath, rubbing his right hand over his face as he sinks into his chair.

He could have handled that more professionally, but something in your fearless attitude and sly smile had intrigued him - and the reason for your questionable visit was smart, principled - and ballsy.

He’ll definitely be stopping by that bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

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

Part two

[inksplit]

some of my personal superstitions/beliefs drawn from nowhere other than "I Just Know"

- Everything has energy and everything absorbs energy. Things that happened in a place never truly go away. There is always something left behind.

- Most hauntings, cursed objects, lucky objects, etc are caused by this. Rarely is it a full, actual ghost, or spirit of other kinds- though those exist, too. But most of the time, it's the manifest energy of Something That Happened. A room where someone lived the unhappiest years of their life may be haunted now, not by their ghost, but by the trauma they left behind. It is possible, even, to haunt yourself.

- The same works for blessed or lucky objects. If someone loved something for many years, and gave it to you because they love you, it will bring good things to you.

- You cannot steal someone's luck, or blessing. A lucky charm that has been stolen can become a curse instead.

- Some things, however, are inherently a little bit lucky. An acorn. A coin. A snail's shell. Serendipitously finding a lucky object is better than buying one; being given a lucky object from someone who has loved it is best of all.

- Anything can become magic; haunted, cursed, blessed, lucky, negative energy, positive energy. It all depends on what happened to it, or what happened around it. If it was loved, if it was hated, if it was important to someone. Grandma's lucky charm is lucky because she loves it and believes it, and has loved and believed it for many many years- not because it inherently always was. A cursed object may not contain a ghost, or have been cursed by a witch, but if it was in your home for 40 years, and every day you looked at it and hated it, it contains that hate now. You've cursed it yourself.

- This also is why old things tend to be more haunted- they've seen more. They've absorbed more. They know more.

- If the same object, the same image, the same figure, continually shows up around you, it means Something. What it means could be different for every person. Maybe to you, an owl was there when your mother died, so an owl means death to you; so if you are suddenly noticing owls all around you, maybe its an omen. Maybe it means you're thinking about your mother. But maybe to me, an owl means protection, an owl means I am safe. These can both be true.

- Stepping on a snail is very bad luck.

- Dropping an acorn into a river is good luck, but even better if dropped from a bridge.

- Dropping a flower into a river is good luck if it lands face up and floats, but bad luck if its just swept away or turns over. If a flower is dropped into a river from a bridge, and you see it float through to the other side (and remains face up) it is the best luck of all.

- Seeing an intact mushroom while out on a walk is good luck. Seeing a broken one is bad luck. Stepping on one and breaking it yourself is the worst luck.

- Breaking a doll's face is horrendously negative. Maybe not 100% always a curse, but it's highly likely. A doll you have broken is your responsibility now.

[honeydippedfiction]

The Edge of Defiance

Chapter 6 of The Game Of Seduction

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Summary: In this chapter, Y/N grows restless in the quiet monotony of recovery at Lando's condo, feeling trapped by her circumstances and eager to regain her autonomy. Despite Lando's protective objections and concerns about her physical readiness and the condition of her apartment, Y/N firmly asserts her independence, leading to a tense confrontation that underscores their conflicting perspectives and the unspoken complexities of their relationship. Their argument is laced with unresolved tension, past trauma, and Y/N’s determination to reclaim control over her life, even as Lando’s care reveals deeper layers of concern and possibly unacknowledged feelings.

WC: 4.9k

Warnings: Mafia Dealings, Emotional Confrontation, References to Violence or Trauma, Injury/Recovery, Conflict in Relationships

Taglist

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It had been nearly a week since the fight with Malik, and the tension in Lando’s condo had finally begun to ease. Y/N was healing, her injuries no longer the sharp reminders they had been but now dull aches she could tolerate.  

The days had fallen into a quiet rhythm: meals shared in silence, brief moments of conversation, and the occasional sharp glance from Lando when she pushed herself too hard.  

But Y/N wasn’t built for stillness, and she could feel the walls closing in on her.  

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, absently picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie. Across the room, Lando was leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on her like he was waiting for her to drop some kind of bombshell.  

“I’m going back to my apartment,” Y/N said abruptly, breaking the silence.  

Lando’s brow furrowed, his posture stiffening. “Excuse me?”  

“You heard me,” she replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I’ve been here long enough. It’s time to go back to my own place.”  

He crossed his arms, his expression darkening. “You’re not ready for that.”  

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Ready? I didn’t realize I needed permission to live in my own damn apartment.”  

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Lando said, his voice dropping. “You’re still recovering, and your place is barely livable. What’s the rush?”  

“The rush,” Y/N said, standing now, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “is that I have my own place. And in case you forgot, I’m not dating you, I haven’t moved in here, and I don’t intend to. This has been... cozy, but I’ve got my own space, and I want it back.”  

--- 

She had a way of making every logical argument sound ridiculous, and it drove me insane.  

“This isn’t about you staying here,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s about making sure you’re safe. You’re still hurt, Y/N. And your apartment isn’t exactly secure.”  

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I appreciate the concern, Norris, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it long before you showed up.”  

Her words stung more than I cared to admit. “You think this is about me wanting to control you?”  

She shot me a pointed look. “You’re blocking the door, aren’t you?”  

I sighed, stepping aside reluctantly. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when you realize this is a mistake.”  

--- 

The ride to Y/N’s apartment was tense, neither of them saying much. Lando drove, his jaw tight as he navigated the city streets. Y/N stared out the window, her fingers tapping against her thigh in an erratic rhythm.  

When they arrived, the building looked the same as always, but Y/N’s stomach twisted as she stepped out of the car.  

Lando followed her to the door, his presence a quiet but heavy reminder of their earlier argument.  

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as she unlocked the door.  

“I know,” she replied without looking back. “But I want to.”  

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.  

--- 

The air inside was heavy, stale, and full of memories I didn’t want to deal with yet.  

The living room was a mess—glass shards still glittered on the floor, and the splintered remains of the doorframe were a stark reminder of what had happened.  

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was my place. My chaos. I could fix it.  

Behind me, Lando lingered in the doorway, his arms crossed as he surveyed the wreckage. “It’s worse than I thought.”  

I glanced back at him, raising a brow. “You should’ve seen it before the first clean-up. It had a certain ‘post-apocalyptic charm.’”  

He didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you sure about this?”  

“Yes,” I said, walking further inside. “This is my space, Lando. I’m not letting Malik—or anyone else—take it away from me.”  

--- 

Lando stepped inside cautiously, watching as Y/N began to pick up the broken pieces of her apartment.  

She moved with purpose, her every action deliberate as she cleared the debris and set things right. But there was a tension in her shoulders, a weight she was trying to hide.  

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Lando said after a while, his voice quieter now.  

Y/N looked at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I know. But I need to. This isn’t your fight, Lando. It never was.”  

“It became my fight the moment you walked into my world,” he replied, his tone firm.  

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.  

--- 

It took hours to clean up the mess, but I felt better with every piece of glass I swept away and every overturned chair I set upright.  

By the time I collapsed onto the couch, the apartment looked almost normal. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine again.  

Lando sat down on the armrest, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the room. “You’ve made progress.”  

“Damn right, I have,” I said, leaning back with a tired smile. “And before you ask—no, I’m not moving back into your condo. This is my space.”  

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re nothing if not stubborn.”  

“Takes one to know one,” I shot back.  

--- 

Lando stood, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at her. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re insane for coming back here so soon.”  

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin.  

“But,” he continued, his voice softening, “I’m glad you’re okay. And for the record, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”  

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, her tone losing its usual edge. “Thanks for helping me, Lando. I mean it.”  

He nodded, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Don’t mention it.”  

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, a faint warmth settling in her chest.  

She wouldn’t admit it to him, but having him there—even for a little while—made her feel less alone. 

--- 

Y/N waited until the sound of Lando’s car faded into the distance before pulling out her phone. She sat cross-legged on her couch, her fingers tapping against the edge of her phone case as she stared at Max’s name on the screen.  

This wasn’t a call she wanted to make, but she didn’t have a choice.  

With a resigned sigh, she tapped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.  

It didn’t take long for Max to pick up.  

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, skipping the pleasantries. “Too quiet.”  

“Yeah, well,” Y/N replied, leaning back against the couch. “I’ve been busy handling my life.”  

“Handling it or running from it?” Max asked, his tone sharp.  

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have a point, or is this just a check-in to see if I’m still breathing?”  

“I have your next mission,” Max said, cutting straight to the point.  

Y/N’s posture stiffened, her fingers tightening around the phone. “Go on.”  

--- 

“Mercedes and McLaren have been getting too cozy,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We’ve been hearing whispers of a potential deal between them, something that could shift the balance in their favor. We need to know what it is.”  

“And let me guess,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You want me to find out.”  

“Correct,” I replied. “There’s a warehouse near the docks, one of McLaren’s quieter operations. Our intel says there’s a file there—something that details the negotiations between McLaren and Mercedes. I need you to get it.”  

She let out a low whistle. “Breaking into a McLaren warehouse? You really don’t like me, do you?”  

“This isn’t personal,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t entirely true. “It’s important. If they finalize this deal, it could set us back significantly.”  

--- 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a slow breath. “And what’s the plan if I get caught? You going to swoop in and save me?”  

“No,” Max said bluntly. “That’s why you’re not getting caught.”  

“Great,” I muttered. “No pressure or anything.”  

“You’re the best we’ve got, Y/N,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “That’s why you’re in this position. I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”  

I didn’t respond right away, my mind already running through the logistics. Breaking into a McLaren warehouse wasn’t just risky—it was reckless. But it was also the job, and I didn’t back down from challenges.  

“Fine,” I said finally. “Send me the details.”  

“You’ll have them within the hour,” Max replied. “And Y/N? Don’t let me down.”  

I hung up without responding, tossing the phone onto the coffee table as I leaned back against the couch.  

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?  

--- 

True to his word, Max sent the details of the mission within the hour. Y/N studied the information carefully, her mind piecing together a plan as she packed a small bag with everything she’d need.  

Her fingers hovered over the knife she’d taken from Lando’s office, the blade still sharp and pristine.  

He’d lose his mind if he knew what I was doing.  

The thought made her smirk, but it quickly faded as the weight of the mission settled over her. This wasn’t just about proving herself to Max or the Redbull family—it was about survival.  

If she failed, it wasn’t just her cover that would be blown.  

It was everything.  

--- 

The warehouse was going to be heavily guarded—that much was obvious. McLaren didn’t do anything halfway, and if this file was as important as Max made it seem, they’d have people watching it.  

I’d need to be fast, quiet, and—above all—careful.  

I double-checked my gear, slipping the knife into its sheath and securing it at my hip. The pistol went into the holster at my back, concealed beneath the loose hoodie I wore.  

The plan was risky, but I’d pulled off worse.  

I just had to hope my luck held out.  

--- 

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the city, Y/N stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the skyline. The city buzzed with life, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath its surface.  

Her phone buzzed again, a final message from Max:  

We’re counting on you.  

She stared at the words for a moment before deleting the message.  

This wasn’t just about the Redbull family or their war with McLaren. This was about proving to herself that she could do this, that she could survive in a world where trust was a liability and weakness was a death sentence.  

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.  

The night was just beginning, and Y/N was ready.  

--- 

The air near the docks was sharp and biting, carrying the distinct tang of salt and oil. The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking steel giant bathed in the glow of scattered floodlights. It was the kind of place that whispered secrets into the dark—if you knew how to listen. 

Y/N crouched behind a stack of rusting shipping containers, her hood drawn low and her fingers gripping the hilt of her knife. Her breath was slow and steady, her eyes scanning the perimeter. Two guards stood by the main entrance, their postures lax, their focus minimal. A third patrolled along the side of the building, his flashlight swinging lazily. 

She smirked to herself. Amateurs. 

Sliding out from behind the container, she moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the damp ground. The side entrance was her target—an unmonitored door just outside the camera’s sweep. 

Reaching the door, she pulled a slim lock-pick from her pocket and got to work. The lock clicked open in seconds, and she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. 

Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of machinery. Rows of crates and pallets stretched out before her like a labyrinth, shadows dancing in the faint glow of overhead lights. 

Y/N crouched, scanning the catwalks above for movement. A guard paced slowly, his flashlight cutting arcs through the shadows. She waited, counting his steps until he turned away, then darted between the crates. 

The office was her destination, tucked into the far corner of the warehouse. Her intel said the file would be there—evidence of McLaren’s dealings with Mercedes. It was the kind of information that could shift the balance of power, and Y/N was here to claim it. 

She moved with purpose, her steps deliberate and silent. Every corner, every sound was measured and assessed, her confidence unwavering. This was her domain—the shadows, the game of cat and mouse. 

What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t alone. 

--- 

The air near the docks was cold, heavy with the tang of salt and diesel. The warehouse loomed in the distance, its steel walls glinting faintly under the glow of scattered floodlights. A symphony of muffled machinery, distant waves, and occasional footsteps filled the silence. 

Y/N crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, her figure hidden by the dark, unassuming clothes she wore—a simple black hoodie, cargo pants, and a mask that covered the lower half of her face. She’d chosen her attire carefully, ensuring that even if someone spotted her, they wouldn’t recognize her. 

Her eyes scanned the perimeter. Two guards at the main entrance, another circling the building’s side, and one stationed near the back. Predictable. Easy. 

She adjusted the strap of her bag, where her tools and a small weapon were tucked securely. This file better be worth it, Max, she thought, slipping into the shadows and toward the side entrance. 

--- 

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me. 

I kept low, my movements silent as I reached the side door. The camera above it swept lazily across the area, its range limited. Timing its arc, I slipped into its blind spot and crouched by the lock. 

Pulling out my lock-picking tools, I worked quickly. The mechanism was cheap—whoever set up security here didn’t expect professionals. Within seconds, the lock clicked open, and I pushed the door ajar, slipping inside. 

The air inside was colder, the faint hum of machinery echoing through the vast space. Crates and pallets were stacked in neat rows, forming a maze that stretched out into the shadows. Overhead, metal catwalks crisscrossed the warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. 

I took a slow breath, letting the shadows settle over me like a second skin. The office was on the far side of the building, a small glass box elevated on a platform. That’s where the file would be. 

--- 

I wasn’t supposed to be here. 

Oscar had flagged the warehouse as a potential weak point in our operations, so I’d decided to check it out personally. It was quiet tonight, just a skeleton crew of guards. Exactly how I liked it—quick, efficient, and private. 

From the catwalk above, I surveyed the floor, noting the layout and the guards’ routes. It all seemed routine until I spotted movement below. 

Someone darted between the crates, their figure quick and silent, dressed in black from head to toe. 

My body tensed, and my instincts kicked in. This wasn’t a worker or a guard. 

An intruder. 

I moved along the catwalk, keeping my distance as I tracked their movements. Whoever they were, they were good—calculated, confident, and precise. 

But not invisible. 

--- 

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me. 

I kept low, my movements silent as I reached the side door. The camera above it swept lazily across the area, its range limited. Timing its arc, I slipped into its blind spot and crouched by the lock. 

Pulling out my lock-picking tools, I worked quickly. The mechanism was cheap—whoever set up security here didn’t expect professionals. Within seconds, the lock clicked open, and I pushed the door ajar, slipping inside. 

The air inside was colder, the faint hum of machinery echoing through the vast space. Crates and pallets were stacked in neat rows, forming a maze that stretched out into the shadows. Overhead, metal catwalks crisscrossed the warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. 

I took a slow breath, letting the shadows settle over me like a second skin. The office was on the far side of the building, a small glass box elevated on a platform. That’s where the file would be. 

--- 

The office door was locked—naturally—but locks were rarely a problem for me. I slipped the pick from my pocket and crouched by the door, working quickly. 

The mechanism clicked, and I eased the door open, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind me. 

The office was cramped, cluttered with papers, folders, and a desk piled high with files. A single computer sat in the corner, its screen locked but still glowing faintly. 

I went straight for the filing cabinets, my hands moving efficiently through the drawers. Pens, invoices, shipment records—nothing useful. 

It wasn’t until I reached the second drawer that I found it: a slim folder labeled with a cryptic code that matched Max’s intel. 

I opened it briefly, my eyes scanning the contents. Negotiation notes. Shipment details. Signatures. Bingo. 

I slipped the file into my bag, zipping it closed. 

And then I heard it. 

A voice crackled over the warehouse intercom, distorted but clear: “Patrol teams to the main office. Possible intruder detected.” 

My stomach dropped. 

--- 

The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears, growing louder with every passing second. Someone was coming—several someones, by the sound of it. 

I cursed under my breath, glancing around the office. There was no back exit, no easy way out. 

I pressed myself into the shadows near the door, my hand hovering over the knife at my hip. 

Stay calm. Think. 

The door opened, and two guards stepped inside, their flashlights cutting through the dim space. 

“Boss said to double-check the office,” one of them muttered. “Could’ve sworn he saw something.” 

I stayed perfectly still, my breath shallow as they scanned the room. 

--- 

From the catwalk, I watched as the guards entered the office. 

The intruder had slipped in just moments earlier, their movements so fluid I almost admired them. Almost. 

I signaled to the guards below, pointing them toward the office. If this was a thief or a spy, they wouldn’t make it out. 

But something about this person gnawed at me. The way they moved, the confidence in their steps—it was... familiar. 

Still, I stayed silent, waiting to see how they’d handle being cornered. 

--- 

The guards moved deeper into the office, their flashlights sweeping across the room. 

Y/N waited, her body tense as they came closer. When one of them turned his back to her, she made her move. 

She struck quickly, her knife pressed against the guard’s throat before he could react. 

“Quiet,” she hissed, her voice low and distorted by the mask. “Or you won’t get a second warning.” 

The second guard froze, his flashlight dropping as he reached for his weapon. 

“Don’t,” Y/N warned, shifting her position so the first guard shielded her. 

The second guard hesitated, his hand hovering over his holster. 

Y/N shoved the first guard into him, knocking them both off balance, and darted out of the office. 

--- 

The intruder burst out of the office, moving faster than I expected. 

The guards scrambled after them, shouting warnings that echoed through the warehouse. 

I followed from above, my eyes locked on their figure as they weaved through the maze of crates. 

Whoever they were, they were good. 

Too good. 

--- 

Y/N was almost at the exit, her heart pounding as she darted between the crates. She felt it before she heard it—someone else was following her. Not the guards, whose footsteps were heavy and clumsy. This was someone quieter, faster, and far more dangerous.  

Her pulse quickened as she glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of a figure descending from the catwalks above.  

Her jaw tightened. Who the hell is that?  

The figure moved with precision, cutting off her path to the side door. Y/N pivoted, ready to change direction, but he was too quick. They collided with force, the impact sending her stumbling back.  

Before she could recover, he lunged, grabbing her wrist as her knife flashed between them. 

--- 

I twisted hard, my free hand striking out as I tried to break his grip. He was strong, stronger than I expected, and every move I made was met with an equally skilled counter.  

His hand clamped around my wrist, forcing my knife away from his body.  

“Not bad,” I muttered under my breath, the words muffled by my mask.  

His eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. “Who are you?”  

I didn’t answer. Instead, I shifted my weight, kicking out hard. My boot caught him in the knee, just enough to throw him off balance.  

He stumbled but didn’t let go, his grip tightening as he spun us around.  

--- 

The intruder wasn’t just good—they were trained. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, and relentless.  

They twisted again, their knife slashing toward my side. I dodged, the blade grazing my jacket, but I managed to shove them back into the crates.  

“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice cold.  

They didn’t respond, their masked face giving nothing away. Instead, they came at me again, their knife flashing in the dim light.  

The fight was fast and brutal, every strike and counterstrike a test of skill. I felt the sting of a cut on my forearm, but I ignored it, focusing on disarming them.  

--- 

The struggle between them was fierce, the clash of steel and the scuffle of boots on concrete echoing through the warehouse.  

Y/N fought with everything she had, her movements fluid and unrelenting. Lando countered with equal ferocity, his instincts honed from years of experience.  

A crate toppled over as Y/N spun, using the environment to her advantage. She lunged, her knife slicing close enough to tear through the fabric of Lando’s shirt.  

He retaliated, his fist catching her shoulder and sending her stumbling back.  

Both of them were breathing hard now, blood staining their clothes from small but deliberate wounds.  

--- 

I had to end this. 

It wasn’t just some guard. I’d realized that the moment he blocked my first strike with precision that no hired muscle could manage. This was Lando. 

His movements were sharp, efficient, and damn near impossible to counter. Every step I took, every calculated strike, was met with an equally brutal response. He wasn’t trying to subdue me—he was trying to figure out who I was. 

That couldn’t happen. 

My mind raced, adrenaline pounding through me as I reassessed. Lando wasn’t a target, and fighting him wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

I needed to move. To escape. 

I feinted left, drawing his attention with a quick flick of my knife. His body shifted instinctively to block, and that was all the opening I needed. Twisting hard, I wrenched myself free of his grip, my feet already moving as I slipped around him. 

For a split second, I hesitated. 

My instincts screamed at me to press the attack, to strike before he could recover. But this wasn’t about taking him down. It was about getting out—alive and unidentified. 

There wasn’t time. 

--- 

Lando cursed, his hand flying out to grab her, but she was already gone, darting between the crates with a speed that left him no time to react.  

Y/N moved like a shadow, her figure barely visible as she disappeared into the maze of the warehouse.  

The guards, alerted by the commotion, converged on her position, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.  

She didn’t slow.  

With calculated precision, she took them down one by one—an elbow to the temple here, a sweep of the leg there. Each move was efficient and brutal, leaving the guards sprawled on the ground as she made her way to the exit.  

By the time she burst through the side door and into the night, her breaths were coming fast and ragged.  

--- 

I reached the exit just in time to see the intruder vanish into the shadows.  

My side ached, and my arm was slick with blood from the cut they’d landed, but that wasn’t what bothered me most.  

Whoever they were, they weren’t just some random thief. They’d known exactly what they were doing, and they’d been after something specific.  

As I stared into the darkness, one thought echoed in my mind.  

Who the hell are you?  

--- 

The docks were silent by the time Y/N made it to the drop-off point. Tucked away between two abandoned warehouses, the location was as unassuming as it was isolated.  

She crouched near a rusted steel container, her movements deliberate as she pulled the file from her bag. The sharp pain in her arm flared as she moved, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.  

Placing the file into the secure lockbox Max had described, she stood and glanced around once more. The faint glow of streetlights in the distance cast eerie shadows across the empty lot.  

No loose ends.  

With the mission complete, Y/N melted into the shadows, vanishing into the night.  

--- 

The McLaren estate was as grand as ever, its sprawling grounds meticulously maintained, and the air buzzing with the quiet efficiency of the staff. Y/N arrived mid-morning, her steps light but her mind heavy.  

She’d wrapped her injured arm carefully, the white bandage hidden beneath the sleeve of a fitted leather jacket. Though the cut wasn’t deep, it was obvious enough to draw attention if someone looked too closely.  

And Lando always looked too closely.  

As she entered the main hall, she spotted him at the far end, leaning against a marble counter in conversation with Oscar. He looked as composed as ever, his signature curls slightly disheveled, a cup of coffee in one hand.  

The sight of him brought back the previous night in an instant—the fight, the way he’d moved, the close call.  

But he didn’t know.  

He couldn’t.  

Y/N squared her shoulders and approached, her usual confidence firmly in place.  

--- 

I noticed her the moment she walked in.  

Y/N had a way of commanding attention without trying—her confidence, the way she moved, like she belonged wherever she chose to be.  

But today, something was different.  

She was holding herself a little too carefully, her posture stiff in a way that most people wouldn’t catch. And then there was her arm.  

The faint bulge of a bandage beneath her jacket sleeve didn’t escape my notice.  

My eyes narrowed slightly as she reached us, a faint smirk playing on her lips.  

“Morning, boys,” she said, her tone casual as she leaned against the counter beside Oscar.  

“You’re in a good mood,” Oscar said, raising a brow.  

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied smoothly.  

--- 

Lando’s gaze lingered on her arm, his mind racing. He didn’t ask about it immediately—he knew Y/N well enough to know she wouldn’t give him a straight answer.  

But something about the timing was off.  

The night before, a skilled intruder had broken into one of McLaren’s key warehouses. The guards’ reports had been vague, but Lando didn’t need details to know whoever it was had been dangerous.  

And now Y/N shows up with a freshly bandaged arm?  

It didn’t sit right.  

“Everything okay?” Lando asked casually, his tone light but probing.  

“Never better,” Y/N said, her smirk widening as she met his gaze.  

He didn’t look away, his eyes darkening as suspicion took root.  

“Funny,” he said after a pause. “I heard there was some trouble at the docks last night.”  

Y/N’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, her laugh light and dismissive. “Trouble at the docks? Sounds like your security needs an upgrade.”  

Lando didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking to her arm again.  

“What happened to your arm?” he asked, his voice sharper now.  

--- 

My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show.  

“Cut myself,” I said easily, gesturing vaguely. “Kitchen accident. You know, knives can be tricky.”  

Lando didn’t look convinced.  

His dark eyes locked onto mine, the intensity in his gaze making my stomach churn. For a moment, I thought he might press further, might connect the dots right there and then.  

But instead, he leaned back, his smirk returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.  

“Be careful,” he said, his tone deceptively smooth. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt again.”  

His words felt like a challenge, and I forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching.  

“I’ll try,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension simmering between us.  

--- 

As Y/N turned to leave, Lando watched her go, his mind racing.  

The timing of her injury, the break-in, and her evasiveness didn’t feel like a coincidence.  

He tapped his fingers against the counter, his jaw tightening as he considered the implications.  

If it was her...  

His thoughts were interrupted by Oscar, who spoke quietly. “Something doesn’t add up, does it?”  

“No,” Lando said, his voice low.  

And not for the first time, doubt crept into his mind—not just about Y/N’s story, but about who she really was.  

To be continued... 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Series Taglist: @laptime-deleted, @planet-faerie, @iloveotters11, @anamiad00msday

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar, @fadingcloudballoon-blog, @same1995, @hinamesgigantica, @laptime-deleted, @planet-faerie, @iloveotters11. @anamiad00msday

[shizuturnspages]

ALSO sorry i forgot to add this to my last ask, but it's weirdly sweet? Because I have to imagine being reprimanded repeatedly for stepping over rules and getting punishments to dissuade the behavior of the yandere would force some self reflection. Well, either that or trying to get better at hiding their tracks but it's funnier if the darling always just *knows*.

"Wait a minute you know?"

"Yeah? And?"

And that moment of realization for the Yandere that the darker parts of them they have tried to keep hidden have not only been seen by their darling but accepted? That their partner saw into them and saw the cruelty they are capable of and don't even flinch? Didn't run away, scared for their life?

"Yeah? And?" = "I saw the darkness in you. I still see it in you. For all the hindrances you may bring, each time I have to correct you for bloody footprints or manipulative behavior, to reprimand you I am not a object to be owned or protected. That I am a individual and I choose you. Even if it may be easier with somebody stable, I don't want easy. I want you in your entirety. I choose you."

BUT it also depends on the behavior of the Yandere, I know some may be more scheming then others, not sure if it would apply to the more upfront ones. TEE HEE

Mhmm this is such a delicious idea to write on. I'm not sure if this is what you wanted, but I've tried my best to write according to your preference

Down, Boy

Synopsis: You’ve long since accepted that your overly devoted, dangerously clever partner isn’t normal. But rather than run, you decided to set rules and boundaries—with consequences. They crave your affection like oxygen, and you’ve turned that hunger into a leash. You don’t want perfection. You want them to try. And if that means treating a yandere like a badly behaved puppy learning manners? So be it.

Your office door shut behind you with a satisfying click, and not two seconds later, the tension hit you—right in the gut.

Your assistant, a usually chipper woman who could handle a crisis with the grace of a diplomat, wouldn’t meet your eyes all day. And your boss? Flinched every time you so much as looked in their direction.

So, naturally, when your not-quite-normal partner was already lounging on your couch when you got home, you didn’t waste time with small talk.

“I noticed my boss flinched today.”

They blinked innocently. “Flinched?”

“Yeah. Flinched. Every time we made eye contact.”

“I mean… maybe they’re just jumpy?” they said, fidgeting slightly.

Your stare didn’t waver. “Fess up.”

“I didn’t—what do you mean? I didn’t do anything.” Their voice had that high-pitched edge to it that always came out when they were lying. The fake casual shrug was just a cherry on top.

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “Don’t pretend I’m stupid. I know you. What did you do.”

They held up both hands as if surrendering. “I never said you were stupid! You aren’t stupid! I swear, you got this raise all on your own. I didn’t do a thing.”

“… I didn’t mention getting a raise.”

Silence.

“I-I meant you were telling me about it—last week, yeah? You mentioned they were considering it—”

“Mm. We talked about this,” you said, voice soft but edged like a razor. “That hurts.”

They paled. “No no no—wait, I didn’t mean to—I am being honest! Completely truthful! One hundred percent!”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I really hoped you wouldn’t say that.”

They flinched for real this time.

“I meant it when I said there would be consequences for subjecting other people to your harmful misbehaviour.”

They dropped to their knees in an instant, practically crawling closer. “Wait—please! We can talk this out—”

“It hurts me when you lie to me.” You knelt too, cupping their chin gently. “How can I trust you when you don’t listen to my boundaries? Even if you meant well, I don’t want you threatening or manipulating people in my life. I don’t want you getting hurt over me, and I don’t want to be the reason someone disappears under suspicious circumstances.”

“I—You—It was just a warning—!”

You reached up to gently, slowly close the space between you. They leaned in instinctively, hopeful—forgiveness? A kiss? Praise?

No.

“You are banned from kisses for a week.”

Devastation.

“Wh—what?”

“Only respectful partners get kisses,” you said firmly. “Take this time to think about how you can apologise properly for hurting me. Not just with words—actions too.”

They dropped to their knees instantly. Full-on collapsed in anguish like you’d shot them in the heart.

“No—nooo, please, not kisses—I'll do anything—I’ll write a letter to your boss. I’ll rehire every assistant I’ve intimidated out of your department. I’ll apologise. I’ll—I’ll join an HR seminar!”

You raised an eyebrow.

“… Voluntarily?”

They whimpered.

“I would do anything and everything for you,” they choked, hands clutching your waist. “Please—please look at me. Choose me. Love me.”

“I do love you.” You tapped their nose. “But I’m not going to let you walk around being a rabid little beast just because your love language is thinly veiled threats and strategic arson.”

Their lips wobbled. “You… think I’m a beast?”

You reached into your pocket, pulled out their little laminated "Affection Token" card (which you definitely made as part of a behavioural incentive system) and held it just out of reach.

“You’re my beast. But even my beast has to learn manners.”

They whimpered.

“… Can I earn a token back if I write an apology letter to your boss?”

“With at least five full sentences and an offer of therapy, yes.”

Their head dropped into your lap, defeated. “You’re so cruel,” they mumbled.

“And yet you keep misbehaving,” you said, gently combing your fingers through their hair.

Their head dropped, forehead pressed to your knee. “I'm trying.”

“You’re better. You are. But when you do things like this, you make me worry you’re only getting better at hiding the blood, not stopping the bleeding.”

They flinched.

“… Wait. You knew?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah? And?”

And in that moment, something shattered and reformed in their mind. That dark part of them—the one they’d tried to keep hidden, the cruel, obsessive corner of their love—wasn’t a secret.

You’d seen it. You still saw it.

And you stayed.

You were the only thing in their life that ever said “No,” that ever set rules and expected them to be better—not out of fear or desperation, but because you loved them.

You didn’t run. Didn’t flinch. You even offered to guide them.

Even if it might be easier with someone stable. Easier with someone softer.

But you chose them.

You leaned down, kissing their forehead. “I saw the darkness in you. I still see it. Every time I clean up after your bloody footprints and lecture you for bribing HR or threatening waitstaff, I remind you that I’m not a toy to be protected or a prize to be hoarded. I’m a person. And I choose you. Even if it would be easier with someone stable—I don’t want easy. I want you. All of you. So long as you listen and try.”

Their eyes glistened, wide and vulnerable. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not. But you’re mine anyway. Now go write your letter. And make it sincere.”

They swallowed hard. “I’ll write a real apology. I’ll tell your boss the truth. I’ll bake that almond tart you like.”

You hummed. “You’re banned from knives this week.”

They opened their mouth. Closed it. Accepted it.

“… I’ll find a plastic one.”

You nodded. “There’s my good boy.”

And for the first time in a long time, they didn’t feel feared. They felt loved.

Corrected. Grounded. Chosen.

As they scrambled to obey, you watched them with a fond sigh.

Training a yandere wasn’t easy.

But damn if it wasn’t the most rewarding work you’d ever done.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

hmmm

I'm only dropping this because I want feedback on how you guys think Asha and Cepheus are both acting.

Pls and thank you.

“Here,” he gestured for her to follow him as he turned down a corner where a pair of doors stood. With a mere flick of his hand, the doors opened themselves as he stepped forward, and turned to her. “Asha…”

“Yes Cepheus?”

“Look….I know that you have a lot on your plate when it comes to astronomy right now…and this might honestly be the last place you’d want to see now…but there’s something here that I think you’d like…if you want to see it.”

“Alright,” she slowly nodded. “Show me…”

He let out a silent sigh of relief before slowly offering her a clawed hand.

Letting him lead her into a dark room hadn’t exactly sounded like a safe plan, but like he said, she did need a distraction, and what better way could she get one than by doing something she’d know she’d never consider doing?

Silently she slipped her hands into his. Feeling the gentle squeeze of his clawed fingers around hers as he pulled her into the darkness that awaited them.

Had it not been for the glow of his eyes or the cape that adorned her shoulders she nearly would’ve considered the darkness to be suffocating. But with a simple wave of his hand, several small candles posted near the entrance ignited, faintly offering her some relief from the overwhelming blackness that had nearly swallowed them both whole.

Unlike the hallways, the ceiling for this room had been spherical, as softly glowing  veins and trees grew along it’s glass like walls. Light from three circular moons illuminated the room’s center, as the sound of the gentle stream filled her ears.

Her eyes traced along the small glowing constellations that had been carved into the dark aegean colored stone floor before settling on the large object that stood in the center of the room.

 “What…what is that?” she whispered, taking in the sight of what appeared to be…a telescope? 

Instinctually she reached for her own telescope within her satchel, silently cursing herself as her hands had come up empty. She must’ve left it at home. Well, telescope or not, she was certain that the instrument before her had easily dwarfed hers and any other she’d seen floating around Rosas. 

“Yep!” the star nodded and confirmed her suspcions as he appeared next to her. An evident note of pride was present in his features. “The royal astronomer’s telescope.”

“So you’re really telling me that this is…a telescope?! Really?!” 

“Of course I am!” He nodded, “The observatory would be quite useless without it….”

“The observatory? So this was the place that the royal astronomers used?”

“Yep…well at least it was until the other castle was built” he nodded as he stepped around her. “But it’s pretty neat, right?” He paused, staring at several of the stone human like statues that stood on the edges of the room, all depicting what she assumed were…astronomers. “Generations upon generations of various astronomers used to work here…each leaving their own distinct mark in their own way.”

“Do you know who was the last royal astronomer? Or…which star they worked for?”

 He tensed as his smile waivered. “Sothis…He was the last member of the royal family to have an astronomer before the bridge was…broken.”

“Do you know Sothis?”

The star frowned, “From what I understand…he met his astronomer through Vitrius…”

Oh…Oh. 

She gulped. Unable to decide if what she was now feeling was horror or a strange sense of pride in her father. He really had taken the job, hadn’t he? Obviously he’d survived his encounter with Polaris… But what choice did he have? As an unintended pawn in the stars’ scheme, he was only trying to protect his family wasn’t he? She took a deep breath, trying to re-focus on her surroundings once more before she asked,  “Did…did his astronomer ever work here?”

“Maybe?” Cepheus frowned as he shrugged. “I wouldn’t know….any mark he’d leave upon this observatory would be far after our story’s happened anyway. So you’re probably not going to find it here.”

“How exactly do you know this place so well?” she whispered as she hesitantly approached the instrument.

“Know it so well?” his laughter was a sharp contrast to the fear she’d felt as she examined the telescope. “Asha this is a vision- everything you see here is what I make it to be.”

 Carefully she reached forward, as her finger grazed the side of the telescope. The feel of cool metal against her fingers left her in awe as she murmured, “And yet it all feels so real…”

Real. It felt real. She wondered before she’d touched it again. Encircling it as her mind took in every single detail and perfection of the instrument’s build. 

Now she could only imagine the the stars she’d be able to see with something like this! All the maps she’d be able to make! They’d be far superior to the ones she’d made with her father… Her chest burned as she paused. 

What was she doing? Her father wouldn’t have wanted her to see this. He’d probably have been horrified if he’d seen the treason she’d committed, both against their people…and his best friend.

How could she have forgotten him?

She shook her head. Probably in the same way he’d deemed her not deserving enough to know, she thought. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about him right now.

After all, she’d come in here to admire the engineering of the place, not the astronomical contents. Yes. That was all, she nodded to herself before looking over the telescope once more, this time taking note of the intricate stone carvings in it’s side. She couldn’t help but trace her finger along it’s patterns, as it trailed from the lens all the way to what she assumed was the power source. 

Had the telescope also needed the spark to work?’ she wondered, and as if sensing her thoughts the star silently reached for the telescope with a glowing hand. His fingertips grazing against it’s surface as the carvings began to glow with a familiar cerulean blue as the sounds of gears turning and shifting filled the air as she stepped back in awe.

“This…this is amazing!” she laughed,  and looked to the star who was also laughing. “What can you see from it?”

“Moons, planets, galaxies…but, if you angle it a certain way,” “You can see earth from here….”

“You’re lying!” she gasped as he shook his head.

“Not this time. Hold on a second-,” his brows furrowed in concentration as he continued to fiddle with the knobs, in a way that seemed…oddly familiar.

Wait a second…why exactly did a star know how to use a telescope? Better yet what had he meant by not this time?!

Had he lied to her before?! She hesitated. Maybe he was just teasing and she, ofcourse was overthinking this…but then again…how coincidential was the star showing her this when she’d been asking him a question about the past? He was the one controlling this vision…so who was to say that he hadn’t done this intentionally?

They both froze as the sounds of something knocking echoed through the air.

“Ah,” Cepheus gasped as he looked away from the telescope and nearly bolted out of the room. “I almost forgot about the rest of the story!”

“The rest of the story? Asha frowned before he took her hand and gently leading her out of the room.

It felt nice to hold hands again. Although she had to admit that it hadn’t felt as…intimate as it had in the bakery…but could she blame him? After all she’d confronted him with earlier, she now suspected that he was only doing this in an attempt to make her happy… And embarrassment aside, she did appreciate it…. 

So why couldn’t she shake the feeling that he was…hiding something from her?

Maybe she was over thinking this. She prayed she was overthinking this. But prayer or not she couldn’t stop herself from frowning as she mulled it over. Wasn’t this exactly what the prince was doing to her? Seeking her help while refusing to be fully transparent? Surely the star wouldn’t be hiding crucial information from her while attempting to give her some sort of closure, right?

She couldn’t find the strength within herself to answer.

‘See?’ she could hear the king’s voice whisper as the star realized she’d stop. He’d turned back for her of course, pointlessly chatting away as he led her down another hallway. ‘He’s no different than your father,’ the king’s voice whispered again. His tone taunting and teasing her as the star smiled. 

No, She clenched her fists. He was different he had to be. He even said so himself. He thought she deserved to know the truth! It was why they were here in the first place!

‘And you’d really take his word for it? Have you learned nothing from your past experiences, Asha?’ the prince laughed.

Oh, she had, she assured herself as she stepped away from Cepheus, watching as his expression changed to curiosity, Which was why she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily, not when she still had questions.

[chaotic-starlight24]

How all the gang went through grief (SPOILERS)

*This is about Johnny and Dally's death, except for them it is about the Curtis Parents* This has been in the works for a while y’all, hope y’all enjoy :D I sure did writing this

Ponyboy We kinda already got a glimpse of this in the book so I won't go super into detail. But as we know he denies it, constantly. He convinces himself that he should be the one that died. Survivor's guilt if you will. He keeps several of their objects, whether he wears them or just keeps them in his room. He was closer to Johnny so he wears his jean jacket a lot and has the note hung up somewhere. He keeps Dally's necklace with him, usually keeping it in his pocket but sometimes wearing it. But that's not until he starts moving on. Him and Two-Bit take the longest in moving on.

Darry When Johnny died, he was badly shaken. He felt horrible because he was supposed to protect him. But something was peaceful inside him that Johnny had died with honor. Died a hero. He still felt bad because Johnny would never live to become an adult, but he still had that. With Dally on the other hand, it was just depressing to see Darry. Rebellious Dallas. Brave Dallas. Young Dally. Dead on the ground, bleeding out. By choice. Darry yelled at the cops and sobbed as he dropped near Dallas' body. No, not Dallas. To the gang, he was Dally. He always told Dally that he was young, always believed he had time to learn from his past. But now he would never have the chance. The young Dally he took care of like a younger brother. The young Dally he talked some sense into after a particularly bad night out. The young Dally who would follow him and Two-Bit around. And Darry had to live with them both like this.

Sodapop He was Johnny's first friend. They were in the same grade. And he was the one to introduce Dally to the gang. So it hurt him deeply. But around the gang he toughed it out. He sobbed with them and everything but he was more stunned if anything. At first he was also more focused on Pony not getting overly sick and making sure Darry had the help he needed. But after a while, he walked to their graves after work. He then kneeled before them and let the weight of the emotions sink in. He sobbed more than he ever had before. He sobbed for the lost memories, for the last encounters. No more talking to Johnny at the DX. No more encouraging Dally at the rodeo. It made it all the worse that he never got to see Johnny again before he died. He never got the peace of “At least I saw him one last time.” The last time he saw Dally was beat-up from the rumble, just giving him a smirk and a laugh and kept on fighting. Soda was convinced everything was gonna be fine. But here he was, sitting at their graves. From that time alone, he was the one who cried the most out of the gang. After a couple months he started sitting at their graves once a week. Updating them on everything. It helped him grieve.

Steve He was mostly in shock the first couple weeks/months. He was in a different kind of denial. He would find himself making an extra sandwich for lunch to bring with him to the DX, only to realize the person he shared it with wasn’t going to be there. He would sit on bridges and watch gangs of socs mess around, wanting to get into the thrill of a skin fight, but remembering his back-up wouldn’t show up. After it really sunk in for him, he began fighting socs at every encounter. The rumble was supposed to be the finish line but now it was only the beginning. He began freezing up at the mentions of the cops and gunshots. One time a group of socs were talking about Johnny being in the papers while at the soda fountain. Steve was listening in a bit once he heard Johnny’s name. They started talking about how it’s a good thing he didn’t survive or else he would’ve gotten a much more painful punishment. Joey had to wrestle a cursing Steve down to make sure he didn’t murder all of them right then and there. Once they left, Steve finally did it. He finally broke down. Things really weren’t ever gonna be the same all because of some socs having fun.

Two-Bit

When they saw Johnny in the hospital, Two-Bit was already barely holding himself together. It was bad enough seeing Johnny in all this pain, but he knew it the most how terrible Johnny’s parents were. So it made it even worse for him knowing that no matter what, Johnny wasn’t going to have a happy ending. When he ran down to grab the book he could feel his eyes getting glassy and when a nurse asked him about it he quickly wiped his eyes and told him it was just some bad news. Seeing Johnny’s mother made it even worse. He recognized the look in Dally’s eyes, the look of rage and sadness. No matter how much Dallas tried to hide it. Once the news came about Johnny, Two-Bit could only stand there. Everything in him wanted to scream and sob and maybe if he just hugged Darry it would be alright. Then the call came in. He was basically tripping over his own feet he was running so fast and he saw Dallas. All he could see was 14 year old Dally as shots rang out in the cold night air. He could only stare as Dally lay still in front of them, red spilling over the wet pavement. Him and Darry were having the same replays. Of young Dally. Except he was also thinking of Johnny. Johnny giving his sassy remarks about things he heard people say. Johnny looking peaceful for the first time in months, resting on his old couch. Johnny before the jumping, with that confident gleam in his eye and shaggy curls. After Pony was taken care of, Two-Bit hugged Darry for most of the night. Soda had also passed out on the couch with exhaustion so it was just him and Darry. Darry had a few tears coming down his face but Two-Bit was straight sobbing into his chest. It made it hit Darry all the harder. Things really weren’t ever going to be the same.

Dallas

When the news came about the Curtis parents, Dally was at Buck’s. He was drunk and playing cards when a call came. Buck walked into the room and asked Dallas to come outside real quick. He sighed deeply and took a hold of Dally’s shoulders and Dally just laughed thinking Buck was just horsing around. But then he looked him in the eyes, “Dallas. You ain’t sober and I know it. But Mr. and Mrs. Curtis we-were hit while in their car.” Dally just laughed again until Buck repeated the news. “Buck this isn’t funny y’know.” “Dallas I’m serious, I wouldn’t joke about such..such lovely people.” Buck’s lip started to tremble and that’s when it really hit Dally. He cleared up a bit and that smirk was wiped off his face real quick. He threw on his jacket and sprinted out the door. He barely knew what he was doing but soon enough he was at the Curtis house’s front door, banging on it. And there he saw Pony and Soda, passed out on the couch with dried tears on their face. Darry and Two-Bit were talking in the kitchen and Johnny was sitting in the armchair with Steve staring at the floor next to him, just an absolutely stunned look on their faces. Dally was told the details by Johnny and he just stood there. Dallas Winston was not one for hugs. He was not one for sympathy that hurt more than did well. He was not one for “it’ll be ok”s. So he just stood there. He just looked at Darry, then Soda and Pony, then Steve and Johnny. Then he sprinted out the door. Steve ran out after him but quickly turned back to the house and Dallas just kept on running. No, no, no, no! This couldn’t be happening again! He couldn’t do this again. But it was all coming back to him. His mother dead on the floor. His father standing with the gun. Him sprinted away from the apartment, Henry yelling to him to come back and Elizabeth standing there sobbing. This wasn’t New York City. So he ran back to Buck’s and locked the door to his room. There for the first time in years, Dallas Winston cried. Silent tears streaming down his face as it all sunk in on him. That night Dallas Winston made his heart colder. The world wasn’t going to get to him again. Never again.

Johnny

When the Curtis parents died, Johnny didn’t really know what to do. He wasn’t exactly close to them like the rest of the gang was. They were a lot like Ms. Mathews. Willing to welcome him into their home and give him a warm meal. But he knew how much it meant to everyone else. And that’s really what hurt him. To see Darry harden and become cold like Dallas did when he first came to Tulsa. To see Pony’s usually bright self become angry at his brother and their circumstances. To see Soda’s joyful smile become a tight line. At the time he was more close to Soda than Pony so he was told more than Pony. Soda told him everything. The details he knew, how Soda was trying to help Darry out, Soda deciding between working and school. He felt so stuck. He felt he could do nothing to help them. He had nothing to give to the family that welcomed him so many times. He had no way to try and repay the favor. All he could do was stand and watch it all go down.

[slut4christopherr]

— THE PARTY —

part four..

other parts are pinned on my blog!

warnings: kinda mentions of smut, dirty talking and thats about it! if there’s any more lmk

summary: you, matt and chris leave the site of the party, walking down the street, the heat inbetween your legs grows unbearable. read to find out why!!

chris talking = orange

matt talking = blue

reader talking = pink

chris leads the way, striding ahead with confidence, while matt follows along behind.

the three of you walk down the quiet street, the only sound coming from your footsteps and the occasional car passing by.

you break the sufferable silence.

“so, where are we headed then? am i allowed to know now?”

chris stops walking for a moment, turning to look at you with a smirk on his face.

“nope, still a surprise. just trust me."

he replies, his eyes sparkling with mischief

matt groans from behind the two of you, clearly not thrilled about the whole situation.

you sigh, putting a hand on the bridge of your nose

“cmon!! not even a hint?”

chris laughs, clearly enjoying making you wait.

"fine, i'll give you a hint. it's somewhere... intimate."

he says, his tone suggestive.

matt's eyes widen at chris's words and he quickly chimes in.

“whoa, whoa! what do you mean, intimate?"

chris rolls his eyes at his brother's question.

“god, matt. get your mind out of the gutter. i just mean it's somewhere quiet and private, away from all the noise of the party."

he explains, a hint of irritation in his voice.

matt still looks suspicious, but he doesn’t press the issue any further.

he clearly doesn’t trust chris not to do something stupid.

“alright, but if you try any anything—”

he starts to say, his voice stern

chris cuts him off with an exasperated sigh.

“relax, matt. i’m not gonna do anything. i just want a bit of alone time with her, that’s all."

your eyes widen, what could he mean by ‘alone time..’

chris catches your reaction and grins, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

matt notices your wide-eyed expression and his protective instincts kick into overdrive.

he steps closer to you, his eyes on his brother.

“alone time?”

he mutters, his voice laced with caution.

“matt it’s—“

before you can finish your sentence, chris interrupts you.

“yeah, matt. alone time. you gonna be a cockblock all night or what?”

he says, his tone a little mocking.

you can’t help but snicker at his comment.

chris smirks at your little snicker, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

matt shoots you both a stern look, his annoyance growing.

“you two are gonna give me a headache.”

you grin, knowing exactly what to say to chris.

“hmm? so that means you wanna fuck me tonight chris? if matt’s being a cockblock?”

chris lets out a bark of laughter, clearly entertained by your bluntness.

“damn, you don’t hold back, do you?”

he grins, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the moon, showing his best features.

matt looks absolutely scandalized at your question, his jaw dropping.

your tone changes from confused to seductive in seconds.

“that didn’t answer my question, christopher”

he blinks for a second longer than usual, a grin lying on his face.

“ooh, using my full name now, hm?”

chris replies, his tone amused

“and to answer your question…”

he continues, leaning in closer to you. you can feel is warm breath on your skin as he speaks.

“let’s just say i wouldn’t object.”

you threaten to clench your thighs together at that given moment.

the proximity between you and him making your legs feel weak, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

you whisper back, your lips brushing his earlobe.

“stop turning me on, we’re in the middle of a fuckin’ street”

a sly smirk spreads across chris’s face as he hears your whispered words.

he seems pleased to know he’s having such an effect on you.

“can’t help it.”

he replies, his voice low and smooth.

“you jus’ make it too easy”

a/n: tysm for reading!! part 5 is in the making and it is getting JUICYYYY 🍑 if u want to then please reblog and like!! it helps sm!

taglist : @ishasturnz @ariastur9z @chr1sslvtt @baileysturns @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @christmastreecake @chrisprettybaby @evie-sturns @freshl6ve @freshpepsilove @gracestuurn @m4ttthemunch

[dailycharacteroption]

Deity Drop 8: Iomedae

And so we’re back to the top of the list, looking at our second of the core deities of the Inner Sea Region, and it’s perhaps one of the most important for humanity: Iomedae the Inheritor!

The youngest of the Inner Sea deities, Iomedae lives up to her title by being the one that inherited the title of God of Humanity after Aroden’s death after serving as his second Herald after the death of Arazni. However, she did not start out this way.

Indeed, Iomedae is our first example of a mortal risen to godhood (outside of Aroden himself) and the latest (confirmed) to have done so by way of the Starstone, the legendary artifact that granted Aroden his own divinity, which he sequestered away in the Starstone Cathedral, a dungeon meant to protect such a powerful object and test the mettle of those who would dare to seek divinity.

In her mortal life, Iomedae started as a Chelish paladin in the service of Arazni and served in the Shining Crusade against the Whispering Tyrant. It was during and after that campaign that she performed 11 miracles, some of which were merely impressive feats for a mortal, others showed a spark of divine favor. The exact details of which are lost to time, but it is generally considered that the lessons learned from them are more important than the particulars.

In any case, her final act was turning her cloak into a bridge across the bottomless span to the Starstone Cathedral, where she took the test and ascended to divinity, where Aroden took notice of her and offered her a spot as his herald, which was recently vacated by the death of Arazni.

However, Aroden himself later vanished, presumably dying, leaving his followers and humanity in general in the lurch, that is until Iomedae stepped into his shoes, becoming their patron.

That being said, Iomedae is a very different deity to Aroden, focused more on goodness and righteousness and the fight against evil than he ever was, which he actually found inspiring.

Iomedae is a goddess of honor, justice, rulership, and valor, and leads by example to encourage mortals to do the same. Whenever mortals show courage against evil, compassion to others even when it puts themselves at risk, and even hand in their use of authority, The Lady of Valor smiles upon them.

So yes, Iomedae is the deific embodiment of what a knight is supposed to be, and those that follow her genuinely can be expected to be devoted servants of law and order, both on the crusade and back home seeing to the people.

(Keep in mind that unlike the real world, the crusades of Iomedae’s followers are generally expected to actually be motivated by a desire to defeat evil, since such things are tangible and real in Pathfinder. That being said, even lawful good groups can make mistakes, and not everyone is comfortable with the association with the Crusades)

The Light of the Sword appears much as she did in life, being a Chelish woman with short dark hair, adorned in fine plate mail with her sword and shining shield in hand, and sporting an aura that strikes fear and unease into even most fiends.

Iomedae’s personal realm does not seem to have a unique name, but it is located on the second tier of Heaven, taking the form of a pastoral and peaceful land that is nevertheless dotted with several keeps. The militant nature of the realm makes it a useful support for the archon armies of the heavenly mount, with many archons training there and staffing it’s keeps in case someone ever dares to invade the celestial realm.

Naturally, humans make up the majority of Iomedae’s worshippers, though she accepts all with righteousness in their heart. Warriors that value honor, as well as civilians that try to live their less violent lives by the same principles are equally worthy to her. Additionally, there is a sizable population of halflings that believe in her message despite having a history of enslavement by humanity in the Inner Sea Region.

The Inheritor counts most lawful and goodly gods among her allies, and the chaotic and evil as her foes. She shares something of a rivalry with Irori due to the differences in their methods of ascension to the divine, and she holds a grudge against Pharasma for her secrecy concerning the death of Aroden. She typically has no friendly dealings with beings of evil, though she cautiously hears out Asmodeus and his cronies, sifting through the lies and corruption for nuggets of wisdom.

Her servants are composed of angels and archons in abundance, and she even has her own unique angelic servants in the form of the iophanites, small burning disc-like angels that can transform into shields. Her current herald is the mortal Queen Galfrey, who stepped down from her previous role as leader of Mendev in order to serve the goddess. Her previous herald was the Hand of the Inheritor, who was captured and corrupted by the Demon Lord Baphomet, leading to his death. Additionally, Iomedae is served by the likes of the superior iophanite Jingh, the celestial gold dragon Peace Through Vigilance, and Saint Lymerin, a former priestess of her goddess uplifted to an avian-headed celestial form.

Iomedae’s domains are Glory, Good, Law, Sun, and War, with the subdomains of Archon (by way of Good and Law), Chivalry, Day, Duels, Heroism, Honor, Hubris (by way of Glory), Light, Redemption, Revelation, Sovereignty and Tactics; all of which reflects her nature as a god of righteous warfare, but also of kindness and perhaps a little recklessness in the pursuit of what is right.

Meanwhile, her 2E domains are confidence, might, truth and zeal, which reflects those aspects as well. Additionally, she offers the alternate domain of duty, as well as magic of uncanny accuracy, increased size and might, and warding oneself with flame.

The obedience of the goddess is simple enough, being an hour long ritual of reaffirming one’s vows to follow her teachings while dangling your holy symbol from your preferred weapon. Those that do so are blessed with insight when it comes to diplomatic matters and recalling information about the upper echelons of society.

But of course, as a full deity her expanded powers are split into three. The first of which, her evangelist powers, reflect her courage and the fear she strikes into evil. She grants spells that dispel fear and imbue allies with the blessings of courage and heroism. From there, She grants power to pierce the magical defenses of fiends or protection from them if you are no caster, as well as the ability to infuse spells (or weapons for non-casters) with holy power to pierce the immunities of such fiends.

Meanwhile, her exalted ones draw upon her command of holy energies, able to cast protective wards, enthrall with words, or smite with rays of light. They can also learn to imbue their weapon with a deadly burst of holy wrath against their foes, and even summon mighty shield archons to aid them.

Finally, her sentinels reflect her history as a mortal paladin, first granting spells that bless weapons or armor, as well as bolster strength. Afterwards, she grants them an improved ability to smite if the sentinel is a paladin, or a lesser form if they are not. And finally, their blades are blessed to banish fiends back from whence they came.

Iomedae is actually very prevalent in Starfinder, retaining her role as patron of humanity, as well as any species that values honor and valor alongside warrior prowess. Her largest religious organization is the Knights of Golarion, which act as righteous defenders of the Pact Worlds and anyone else that calls out for aid with their mighty fleet of warships.

That will do for today, but I hope this was inspiring and interesting to read, and shines some new light on the role of the typical “uber paladin deity”. Tomorrow we’ll be going for something a bit more obscure, delving into a forgotten god from the Mwangi Expanse.

[angelinecarax]

[X] Spend the night in a haunted building [ ] Go into a burning/collapsing building to save someone [X] Take a shortcut through a dark alleyway [X] Stay calm with a weapon pointed at them [ ] Be confident defending themselves from an attack [X] Touch a dangerous exotic animal [ ] Take someone else’s punishment to protect them [ ] Travel to an unknown place by themselves [ ] Spend a night in the woods alone [X] Witness (or join) a séance [X] Explore a pitch black catacomb with only one light [X] Contact the spirit of someone they once knew [X] Spend the night in a cemetery [X] Sit in a room with one hundred creepy dolls [X] Hang their feet over the edge of a tall building [X] Swim in dark, murky waters without being able to touch the bottom [X] Use or accept a powerful magic spell [X] Be covered in spiders, snakes, or other insects [X] Go looking for the source of a mysterious sound late at night [ ] Spend an hour sealed up in a coffin [ ] Go sailing miles from shore without any communication [X] Use a Ouija board [ ] Go diving in a dark, underwater cave [ ] Climb through a long tunnel just big enough to fit through [X] Explore a spot where cult rituals were performed [X] Go walking late at night, alone [X] Spend the night in a home where someone was murdered (With purpose and respect to find answers, not a game.) [X] Play an urban legend game (Bloody Mary, the midnight man, etc.) [X] Stay home alone with a suspected killer on the loose [X] Climb a dangerous mountain where many have died on their way to the top [X] Explore ancient ruins where strange things have happened [] Touch a supposedly cursed object [X] Check out a creepy cellar or attic [X] Cross an unstable bridge over a huge drop [X] Pick up a hitchhiker in the middle of the night

TAGGED BY @wanderersofeorzea POSTING FINALLY

[r0mantic-f00l]

I've actually decided to write my boy happy for once?? unheard of, I know

Champagne Conversation

Stars bloomed in the sky like the spring flowers blossomed in the ground, each one glowing brighter than drops of heaven in the Sun.

The night air was cool, was brisk, was welcoming as you leaned back on the picnic blanket, watching as the black sky showcased its wonderful stars and Moon.

Soft music was playing from a radio you insisted on bringing along, claiming to your boyfriend that you could carry the large, dense object through the street (yet he still took it away from you to carry it himself, although it was just as heavy for him as it was for you).

Wrappers of chocolate and packets of strawberries rested by the picnic basket, thrown lazily by it as you two couldn't stop looking at each other to properly place the rubbish in the basket, or rather the bin.

Regulus sat beside you, pouring two glasses of champagne as you waited, and you both laughed when Regulus had spilled the champagne slightly on your dress, though the boy did apologise profusely and you laughed away his unnecessary apology.

Regulus gave you your glass, which had a strawberry floating on top of the champagne, and you thanked him, smiling as you took a sip of your drink after you sat up.

He also took a sip, and made a disgusted face as he swallowed the champagne.

"Reggie, I told you not to drink it if you don't like it." You giggled.

"I do like it!" He tried to proclaim but you shook your head, still laughing whilst you did so.

"Don't lie, you hate it!"

Regulus sighed before nodding his head, his wavy black hair flopping over his forehead as he did so.

"I do hate it." He muttered.

"Then why do you drink it?" You asked with a grin as you took the champagne flute away from your boyfriend and placed it down on the lid of the flat strawberry packet.

"Because you like it."

"You drink it because I like it?"

"Yes."

You chuckled, taking a sip of your champagne before speaking once again.

"So if I jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?"

"Yes." Regulus answered, no hesitation or pause before his response.

"But why?" You giggled, to which the boy smiled brightly, his smile mimicking the shine of the stars above.

"Well I wouldn't want you to jump off a bridge, I desperately wouldn't. But if you really, completely, wholeheartedly wanted to, well I'd jump first so I can see if it's safe enough for you to do so."

"And if it isn't safe and you break many bones and end up in hospital?"

Regulus grins. "Well thank Merlin it was me rather than you."

You shook your head, placing your glass down next to Regulus'.

"No, Reggie, you need to put yourself first."

"Above you and your needs?"

"Yes!" You said exasperatedly, though your smile still lingered.

"Well no. That's just impossible. Of course I'd put you above everyone and everything else in this entire universe. There's not a single scenario where I wouldn't protect you instead of myself."

"Well, that makes us both fucked."

Regulus tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

"Because there's not a single scenario I wouldn't protect you instead of myself."

He chuckled, making you huff.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Mon amour, you couldn't carry a stereo down the street."

"That has nothing to do with me protecting you!"

"It has everything to do with you protecting me."

"How so?" You crossed your arms as your tongue poked the inside of your cheek whilst Regulus found your defensive expression adorable.

"If you're not strong enough to carry a stereo, how are you strong enough to protect me from, say, a lion?"

"Love."

Regulus chuckled, yet he was slightly perplexed at your response.

"Love?"

"Yes, love. Love makes you strong."

"Hm. Does love make you stupid?"

You gasped in fake offence, and shoved the boy's shoulder gently.

Regulus laughed, throwing his head back as you joined in with his laughter.

Eventually, you both began to calm down from your giddiness, and Regulus leaned on his elbow, laying on his side as he gazed at you, that soft smile never leaving his face.

"I will still protect you even if you try and protect me instead. The tiger wouldn't even get a single scratch on your beautiful body."

You smiled, leaning closer to him to nuzzle his nose.

"Hm, I wouldn't even let you get close to the tiger."

You kissed him, both of you still smiling as your lips touched.

Pulling away, Regulus rested his forehead on yours as he intertwined yours and his fingers together.

"I wouldn't even let you be in that situation."

You sighed.

"Fine. You win."

The boy chuckled, pecking your left cheek before you rested your head on his shoulder.

"I always do."

[misfxts]

Muse Bravery Checklist: Iris Adelaide

Repost and fill out the form all about what your muse would/wouldn’t be brave enough to do. Then tag any friends you’d like to see do it as well! Note that some of these aren’t smart things to do but in this case, bravery and risk are both included.

My muse would ...

[X] Spend the night in a haunted building

[] Go into a burning/collapsing building to save someone

[X] Take a shortcut through a dark alleyway

[] Stay calm with a weapon pointed at them

[] Be confident defending themselves from an attack

[] Touch a dangerous exotic animal

[X] Take someone else’s punishment to protect them

[X] Travel to an unknown place by themselves

[] Spend a night in the woods alone

[X] Witness (or join) a seance

[] Play a scary video game in the dark alone

[X] Explore a pitch black catacomb with only one light

[] Contact the spirit of someone they once knew

[X] Spend the night in a cemetery

[X] Sit in a room with one hundred creepy dolls

[X] Hang their feet over the edge of a tall building

[] Swim in dark, murky waters without being able to touch the bottom

[] Be covered in spiders, snakes, or other insects

[X] Go looking for the source of a mysterious sound late at night

[] Spend an hour sealed up in a coffin

[] Go sailing miles from shore without any communication

[] Use a Ouija board

[] Go diving in a dark, underwater cave

[X] Climb through a long tunnel just big enough to fit through

[X] Explore a spot where cult rituals were performed

[] Go walking late at night, alone

[X] Spend the night in a home where someone was murdered

[] Go surfing on the Dark Web

[] Play an urban legend game (bloody mary, the midnight man, etc...)

[X] Stay home alone with a suspected killer on the loose

[] Climb a dangerous mountain where many others have died on their way to the top

[X] Explore ancient ruins where strange things have happened

[X] Touch a supposedly cursed object

[X] Check out a creepy cellar or attic

[] Cross an unstable bridge over a huge drop

[] Pick up a hitchhiker in the middle of the night

Tagged by: @skarletchains Tagging: Anyone who's gotta go to a doctor's office for varying reasons

[ifyougochasingrabbits]

Cross the things your character would do and REPOST!

[X] Spend the night in a haunted building [  ] Go into a burning/collapsing building to save someone [X] Take a shortcut through a dark alleyway [X] Stay calm with a weapon pointed at them [  ] Be confident defending themselves from an attack [X] Touch a dangerous exotic animal [  ] Take someone else’s punishment to protect them [  ] Travel to an unknown place by themselves [  ] Spend a night in the woods alone [X] Witness (or join) a séance [X] Explore a pitch black catacomb with only one light [X] Contact the spirit of someone they once knew [X] Spend the night in a cemetery [X] Sit in a room with one hundred creepy dolls [X] Hang their feet over the edge of a tall building [  ] Swim in dark, murky waters without being able to touch the bottom [X] Use or accept a powerful magic spell [X] Be covered in spiders, snakes, or other insects [X] Go looking for the source of a mysterious sound late at night [  ] Spend an hour sealed up in a coffin [  ] Go sailing miles from shore without any communication [X] Use a Ouija board [  ] Go diving in a dark, underwater cave [  ] Climb through a long tunnel just big enough to fit through [X] Explore a spot where cult rituals were performed [X] Go walking late at night, alone [  ] Spend the night in a home where someone was murdered (With purpose and respect to find answers, not a game.) [X] Play an urban legend game (Bloody Mary, the midnight man, etc.) [X] Stay home alone with a suspected killer on the loose [  ] Climb a dangerous mountain where many others have died on their way to the top [  ] Explore ancient ruins where strange things have happened [X] Touch a supposedly cursed object [X] Check out a creepy cellar or attic [  ] Cross an unstable bridge over a huge drop [X] Pick up a hitchhiker in the middle of the night

Tagged by: Myself way back. Tagging: Anyone who’d like to!

Old prompt results below...

Another one where there isn't much of a change, which is pretty interesting.

[X] Spend the night in a haunted building [  ] Go into a burning/collapsing building to save someone [X] Take a shortcut through a dark alleyway [X] Stay calm with a weapon pointed at them [  ] Be confident defending themselves from an attack [X] Touch a dangerous exotic animal [  ] Take someone else’s punishment to protect them [  ] Travel to an unknown place by themselves [  ] Spend a night in the woods alone [X] Witness (or join) a séance [X] Explore a pitch black catacomb with only one light [  ] Contact the spirit of someone they once knew [X] Spend the night in a cemetery [X] Sit in a room with one hundred creepy dolls [X] Hang their feet over the edge of a tall building [  ] Swim in dark, murky waters without being able to touch the bottom [X] Use or accept a powerful magic spell [X] Be covered in spiders, snakes, or other insects [X] Go looking for the source of a mysterious sound late at night [X] Spend an hour sealed up in a coffin [  ] Go sailing miles from shore without any communication [X] Use a Ouija board [  ] Go diving in a dark, underwater cave [  ] Climb through a long tunnel just big enough to fit through [X] Explore a spot where cult rituals were performed [X] Go walking late at night, alone [  ] Spend the night in a home where someone was murdered (With purpose and respect to find answers, not a game.) [X] Play an urban legend game (Bloody Mary, the midnight man, etc.) [X] Stay home alone with a suspected killer on the loose [  ] Climb a dangerous mountain where many have died on their way to the top [X] Explore ancient ruins where strange things have happened [X] Touch a supposedly cursed object [X] Check out a creepy cellar or attic [  ] Cross an unstable bridge over a huge drop [X] Pick up a hitchhiker in the middle of the night

[bekkachaos]

For the writing prompt - #5 for Malex please ☺️☺️

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Deep Sky didn't get many new recruits, but when they did, they were obviously brilliant in one way or another.

The newest team member, a twenty-something classical physicist named Ash, had been labelled somewhat of a prodigy and after a rocky initiation, fit right in.

Not only was he somewhat of a human calculator but he had a quick witted nature about him that everyone seemed to love.

He and Alex got along very well. They bounced ideas off one another and were usually on a very similar wavelength when it came to their thoughts, so when the two of them came together on a project they usually got a lot further than others had in half the time.

Alex sat on the couch at home, the dregs of a glass of wine sat on the coffee table as Michael walked over with a glass of whiskey and the last of the bottle to top up Alex's glass. He had been regaling a story from earlier in the day about some piece of technology they had been tinkering on together, his mouth drawn up in a smile as he explained the way he watched Ash work and how Eduardo had started to joke that they were sounding like an old married couple.

"Honestly, I was never that smart at his age," Alex said as Michael put down the empty bottle and slotted in beside him so that he could put his arm around his shoulders. "I think it should probably be illegal. He just gets this crazed look on his face when he's onto something, although today that led to him nearly electrocuting himself."

He chuckled as he looked back at Michael who just nodded, smiling with just his lips and eyebrows before he took a drink from his own glass.

"Sounds like fun," he said dryly, making Alex narrow his eyes at him curiously.

"Okay, what's with the mood?" he said, making Michael shrug in that infuriating way he did when he was about to make Alex guess what was going on in his brain.

"No mood," he said.

"There's a mood, or, you know, thoughts happening in there," he smirked, making Michael roll his eyes.

"No thoughts," he shrugged again, and Alex chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I mean I've just been sitting here listening to you talk about spending all day with some guy, but no, no real thoughts."

"I've been talking about the project, Guerin," Alex shook his head. "Ash is helping me with that so he's probably going to come up. What have you got against him? You didn't mind him when you came in to drop me some food last week."

"Never said I had anything against him," he said, smirking back at Alex and nudging his shoulder with his chest. "Have you? Had anything against him?"

He was teasing, in tone, but Alex knew Michael well, enough to know the way he was tensing his body up, deflecting with jokes and an arrogant curl of his mouth. It was the same posturing he did when he became defensive, protective, and one other thing.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Michael squirmed a little, scoffing with a roll of his eyes.

"Of that scrawny kid?" he said, snorting derisively and making Alex bite his lip to stop from laughing.

"You're the same build as he is."

"You noticed that huh?"

"Michael," he said with an exasperated sigh, putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "If you find him attractive well that's on you, don't bring me into it."

"So you don't then?" Michael asked, that antagonistic smirk still glued to his mouth.

"Honestly? I haven't noticed," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I don't notice those things anymore. If you asked then yeah, objectively I could say he's an attractive guy. But I'm not attracted to him."

Michael let out a sigh through his nose, his lips faltering a moment as he gave away the facade, putting his glass down on the table and letting his hand rest on Alex's knee.

"So you don't need to be jealous, of him, or anyone else," he said, reaching out to press his palm to Michael's chest, sliding it up and over the crook between his shoulder and neck.

And then the smirk was back, a shrug of his shoulders as he slid his hand further up Alex's thigh, over his hip and slipping his fingers under the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't worry, I'm not," he said, leaning in until he could place a soft kiss under Alex's jaw, his head tilting up willingly to give him the space to crowd him closer. "I mean, can that guy do this?"

He mumbled the words into his skin, chasing them down with his tongue, then his lips, his hand rising higher under Alex's shirt until he was slowly pulling back so that Alex could raise his arms and be stripped out of it.

Michael's arrogant smirk was replaced by parted lips and hungry eyes, making Alex roll his eyes as he let Michael shift him so that he had one leg on the couch and the other on the floor, a perfect fit between them for Michael to settle.

"Nah, he just gets the science and that little wrinkle you get when you think too hard," he grinned, making Alex chuckle and drop his head back a moment.

"You're an idiot," Alex said as Michael leant in over him.

"You're in love with an idiot," he smiled, leaving a soft kiss against Alex's lips. "What does that say about you?"

send me a pairing and a prompt from this list 💕

[cactusringed]

Something about abandoned Minecraft worlds, worlds marred by combat that just.... I don't know. The most beautiful Minecraft builds will still never evoke as strong of an emotion to me as seeing a half destroyed cobblestone wall, or a high one block tower which changes materials several times through, with a pool of water at the bottom. It tells a story. It's ugly but they're also ghosts of what happened there.

Idk sometimes I think of limlife and how objectively fucking ugly it is but then how at the same time it is the life map that most closely resembles a battlefield. And how fitting that the vast majority of structures on that map were made specifically for offense, for it to be littered with sky passages made of cobblestone for the sole purpose of dropping tnt, and little bunkers high up, as high as they can to protect themselves from aforementioned dropping tnt. The map littered with holes from explosions. The burned then drowned, utterly destroyed woodland mansion. The sprawling bread bridge. Idk I'm being silly and insane and all but man idk how fitting that the season with the most deaths, with the most violence, is the season with the ugliest world. I hope one day someone recreates it. Third life and last life worlds' feel like abandoned, once beautiful kingdoms, marred by war. But limlife's is another category of its own.

[breannasfluff]

Swimming turns into resting, then continuing around the lake. Dusk and Dawn nip lightly when Link tries to wander off, so he sticks close to the wolves. Movement down in the water below them points to monsters and, while he can use a sword now, fighting is annoying. It’s a lot more fun to explore.

It’s this exploration that has him circling a hollowed tree stump. There’s a large metal ball chained up to the tree. Was it…trying to run away? Could trees run? Link hadn’t seen one move yet so maybe not.

Come, pup! Dawn nudges his leg with a large golden head.

Link waves a hand absently and ignores him. There’s got to be a reason there’s a ball and chain here. Moving forward, he digs his hands into the bark and hoists himself up to look inside. Nothing.

Pup!

Dusk is already sitting and watching. Wait, he says to Dawn, keeping his nose to the wind for enemies.

Link walks around the stump and pokes at the ball. It’s heavy metal. Actually…he grabs his slate and taps at it till the symbols appear. He learned how to use a metal one at a shrine. Maybe it will work on this?

It does and he yips with excitement as he maneuvers the ball into the air.

Dawn gives a huff and moves away. Probably best to protect his tail, even if Link isn’t going to drop it on purpose. He uses the slate to yank at it, but it remains stuck to the tree. After some more consideration, Link drops the ball inside the trunk. It’ll be annoying to get back out, but what else is he supposed to do with it?

It must be the answer before there’s a puff of greenery and a little chime of noise. A creature appears over the stump.

“Ya ha ha!” it says.

Link growls and ducks behind Dawn. There he crouches, hand on his sword, to see if it comes for him.

The thing has no face, but there’s a mask in the shape of a leaf that seems to do the same thing. It turns toward Link. “You found me!”

Dawn’s hackles raise and he aims a low growl at the creature. Twilight sniffs the air, but it must not smell like a monster. It continues to float above the log.

Link moves forward slowly, but all it does is hold out a small object. Dawn’s growl kicks up, but the creature doesn’t seem dangerous. He darts forward and grabs the item, but nothing happens. The thing continues to float above the log.

Turning over the item shows some sort of seed. It’s too hard for him to bite through, so he shrugs and stores it in the slate. Puzzle solved, he gives a tentative wave to the odd creature and lopes out across the grass.

From the hillside, there are lots of interesting things to look at. A huge bridge cuts through the bigger lake. The cathedral from the plateau where he started is just visible. Are they going in a circle? Is everything based around the plateau?

There’s no answer, but at the top of one of the hills, Dawn yelps and stops. Dusk joins him with a whine. They sit, furry shoulders pressed together, and stare out across the land. Link joins them.

The castle with the voice is visible, swirling in red and smoke. The sight is uncomfortable and he bares his teeth at it. There’s no way he’s going near that. Bad, he says, ears flicking back. Bad bad bad.

Bad, agrees Dusk. He pins his ears back, then turns and purposefully continues onward. Dawn stays for another moment, then joins Dusk, head low.

Read the rest here!