#I’m sure I left plenty of holes anyways lol

[chaosduckies]

Rising Tides (Chapter 1)

So basically this is just a piece for Mermay. A very late piece, but if you guys like it, I’ll continue it! Honestly, this is very fast paced, and I’m very sorry, but it is STRESSFUL out here.

Word Count: 2.8k

CW: Mentions of Death, A little bit of violence (just getting chased my a shark), that’s pretty much it I think!

1-Nico 

The ocean was a dangerous place. Even for someone who has lived here their entire life. 

Living in the ocean meant knowing how to survive on your own. It meant knowing just how desperate other creatures were to survive. I knew that. I knew just how much of a light snack I was. I knew that I was small. Incapable of being strong or even giving one glare at someone and making them swim away with their tail fins behind their backs. 

Such is the life of a very, very insignificant, mer like myself. 

The little reef I lived in was small, but quaint. My parents love it. I don’t live very far from them. Occasionally I would go over and have dinner with them. Even if I wasn’t hungry. They would ask how my day was, and I would say: “It was good.” we would catch up since the last time we ate, and then they’d ask me if I finally made any friends. I would tell them no. 

Today, really wasn’t a good day. 

My job for the community was to gather kelp. Weird, right? Only some mers eat kelp, like myself. I’m weird. But that’s besides the point! I gather some at least once a week and give it to another person who just delivers it somewhere I don’t even know. I feel like I should probably figure that out, but I’m pretty sure that didn’t really matter- 

Everyone had their own designated job to do for the community. We didn’t have any currency, but the people who lead us told us to do our part, and usually mers are very reluctant to listen so, no one complained. It’s not like I didn’t like my job. Every time I eat I think to myself “Maybe this is the same patch I picked myself-“ Stupid, right? But, everyone has their jobs so they can keep on peacefully living in this community. Though, sometimes it’s not all that great. 

Some mers don’t like each other. When a fight happens, they like solving it civilly so it doesn’t encourage anymore to happen. That’s not it for my case. A lot of people don’t like me. Not because I did something wrong to them. Nonono. I could never hurt a person. Even if I tried. It’s mainly because people outcast people with brightly colored tails. Like mine maybe? They say it’s a liability. That it’ll only get me killed if I’m ever on my own. They’re probably not wrong either. 

Despite my parents having a dark purple colored tail, mine was a bright purple. It’s not good at all for camouflage, it reflects some sunlight when I’m closer to the surface, and it’s just basically like a sign to other mers saying “Hey! I can very easily be killed from a large predator!” And no one wants to be with someone like that. As for the soulmate thing? Despite humans having to find their one true love, mers just have to make a few friends, and if the universe decides that you were meant to be with someone, then there would be a matching tattoo on your wrists after a single contact. Again, weird, right? 

——————

I was swimming off to my small, but humble house hidden inside a huge piece of coral. I don’t even know how I found this place, but I remember loving it because it had a perfect view of the sun above the ocean, and it was far away from most people except for the occasional kid who was just exploring. It was a nice place. I just carried up some sand here made it look nice and decorated with some shells I find while gathering kelp. Turns out you can make a decent home if you really try hard enough. 

There were two shells I had today, a nice light blue one that was probably just a piece of an old clam shell, and a mixture of an orange and yellow one that came from a hermit crab that abandoned its home. I was going to give these to my parents later since they also love seeing the bright colored shells, but they were too scared to travel far from the little village we live in. There are predators out there that would love to snack on a helpless mer, and no one was going out unless they knew they could live on their own or they were hunters getting fish for the others. My parents were none of the above. They preferred the village life. They practically new everyone here and they were both soulmates. And here I am the entire opposite. What a great son I am, right? 

I grabbed a little satchel from my home and started to slowly swim off to my parents. The sun was setting, the water above reflecting a bright orange hue. It was a nice evening. Hasn’t been like this in forever because of all the storms happening above. It’s a wonder how those fishing boats humans have stay afloat when all the waves are just trying to rock them over. Well, maybe it’s because they have some help from other mers or something like that. It wasn’t unheard of. 

The path to my parents’ humble abode was lined with clumped up seaweed and some colorful rocks. Their house was dimly lit, but I knew that they were still awake. My mom was probably making some kind of bag while dad was eating happily in his chair. I swam in. 

“Hey mom.” I mumbled. 

“Nico! Your plate is on the table!” She cheered back at me. She was always happy to see me. Even if I came at least two times a week to visit. I was old enough to take care of myself. Or… at least in the community we live in. 

I looked at the plate on the table, shook my head and swam into the main room where they were doing just as I had imagined. Mom was almost done making a very small bag that she would probably give to one of her friends. I looked through my own bag, grabbing the two small shells I found and placed them on one of the side tables near my dad. 

He inspected them before smiling to himself. I knew he liked them more than my mom did. He said he used to bring buckets back home to his parents and just have a collection to himself. I see why he did. It was fun to find some. Better than sitting around the house all day and not having anything to do. 

I stared at the matching tattoos on both of my parent's wrists, slightly rubbing my own. I knew I wouldn’t find someone who would actually like me. I can’t even picture myself with anyone else. It was the sad, but indisputable truth. And I’ve accepted that fact. 

——————

The next morning, I woke up with my dark hair in my face and streaks of light I shining through some cracks in the little coral cave I lived in. I forced myself up, lazily rubbing my eyes. What should I do today? The question practically begged for an answer. I could just go swim around, but that does’t really sound all that fun if I were being honest. I mean, people would just sit and stare at me all day or do the exact opposite and whisper hurtful comments and rumors about me. Not that I really cared about that though. I said to myself that once I was able to, I would move away from here and just live on my own. 

Today I felt adventurous though.  

I grabbed my little satchel, and headed out, the morning sun still rising above the waters surface. The ocean felt great today. Today just felt like a good day. Something that’s rare to come by when you’re all on your own. 

Where was I swimming out to you may ask? Well, for your information, I was currently heading outside of the community I live in. It’s not like it’s prohibited, but most mers don’t find a need to venture out further when they already knew what was out there. Predators, other mers, food, fish, water. There really wasn’t anything new to find out here when you’re in this ocean. I guess what they really feared were the sharks that were found near the area though. But most don’t even bother with us. Mostly because no small mer like myself is crazy enough to venture out here alone. Yeah, I’m crazy enough. 

To a large shark, I’d probably be like, half it’s size. Most likely shorter. A purple tail is a sign that you’ll be a small mer, but big enough to be on your own. I was the exception though, given that I had a brighter color and was actually the size of like a small human basically. Yes, I was made fun of by some old classmates and sometimes my parents when I was still a pup, yes I know I’m small, and yes I can reach the top shelf on the counter (I mean I can swim so-) 

Swimming along the ocean floor along with the many overgrown plants and small anemones where I saw several clownfish leave to go get whatever is was that they needed. I had found a huge coral reef far into the ocean, there were tons of colorful fish everywhere I had looked. 

I want to say it was maybe an hour long of just roaming and admiring the many colors of the reef I had just found before my eyes drifted off to something big and dark in the distance. I squinted, slightly swimming closer where, for some reason, none of the fish dared to do. 

Filled by my curiosity, I swam towards the large object, wondering what it was. It was a long ways from the reef. It was dark, only seaweed and some kelp patches were the only plants. There were some starfish and snails, some crabs, but that was all the life I could find. It seemed like this part of the deep ocean was pretty much deserted. Strange. 

I kept going, seeing that the object I was looking at looked like those metal ships humans make, except it was wooden and had a bunch of holes. I swam cautiously in, minding that this was a place far away from home and there would basically be no hope in escaping a shark or something if I encountered one. I took a look at my tail, still bright when the waters here were dark and the sun was covered by a layer of seaweed. This would be fine. Nothing was going to find me here… Hopefully. 

The shipwreck didn’t leave much behind. Just some broken pieces of old wood and some old pictures. I doubt there would be anything of worth in here honestly, but I kept on looking, fueling my curiosity. What else was I supposed to do? If I do end up finding something maybe I can show it off to the mers back at home and maybe then they’ll stop ridiculing me and making fun of me for having a bright tail. There is no way I was the only mer in the entire ocean like this! 

There was a room that looked much like an office. Broken pieces of a desk, a little container that once held ink. What I was really intrigued about was the little open chest that revealed a round pice of flattened gold. I grabbed it, studying the rust colored piece of metal. Humans used this as currency once before, right? I’m sure they don’t use whatever these were anymore. Or if whatever I was holding was even a kind of currency. It just seemed like something a human would use. 

I stuffed the gold piece in my bag and continued looking. At least until I saw a large shadow swim fast in the corner of my eye. I kept my arms close to my chest, keeping my breathing controlled before I overreacted. It was probably just a big fish… yeah. Just a really, really big fish that can swim amazingly fast. 

I saw the same shadow swim by again, but this time it bumped into something, making me let out a little surprise yelp. I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth, hearing another thunk! Before I saw the full shadow of whatever the hell was outside. It was a shark. A huge shark. And it looked hungry. 

My hands were shaky, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t going to die, right? I didn’t actually think something like this would happen! I thought those were just rare occurrences that people were making rumors about. Was I actually going to die? No. There has to be some way out of this. 

Looking around, I found a small little crack I could probably fit in if I really tried. I swam slowly closer to it, noting that the thunks outside were getting closer. Please let me get out of here alive… I kept telling myself as I hurried to fit myself in the tiny crack. As soon as I was out, something fast was coming my way, and I was swimming just as fast to get away. 

It was hard to swim when you were in a life or death situation. I never realized that until now. I stole a glance behind me, letting out a weak yelp when I saw the sharks mouth open wide. Great. It seemed like I could fit perfectly in that thing. Imagine being killed by those sharp teeth- No don’t think about that. Not right now at least. 

The water around me only grew darker as we headed deeper into the ocean. There were some small caves, but I didn’t want to really trap myself in there. I had no idea why this shark was so desperate in the first place. It was so much bigger than a regular shark, couldn’t it find something else to eat other than a mer? Like a big fish or something? 

Eventually I realized why the shark seemed so interested in me. They like bright colors. I remember being told something like that when I was younger. It’s just great that my tail is just sooo bright, right? Wow I am so unlucky. My only hope to lose the shark (Who was gaining on me really fast, ohmygoshwhatdoIdo?) is to somehow lose it in a cave or something. Hopefully there was a small space I could get into that the shark couldn’t. And of course hope I don’t run into anything else that was hungry. 

There was a huge cave in front of me, and I took my chances. I felt the sharks jaws snap behind me, just mere inches from snapping on top of my tail. I shuddered, but kept swimming fast, trying to find some kind of small cave to fit myself into. Please oh my gosh I’m getting so tired I don’t want to die-  Stop thinking like that. I’m not going to die. At least not today. 

Just a couple feet ahead of me, I spotted a tiny hole that looked like it could fit me if I squeezed in fast enough. I stole another glance, seeing the shark right there behind me. I let out a scream, grabbing the bag around my neck and throwing it back at it. It slowed it down just a tiny bit, but it kept after me. Maybe just enough time to get myself safe. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” I muttered to myself, not noticing that something big moved in the dark. 

Right before I could fit myself through the crack hopefully leading to a small cave, I felt a sharp pain in my tail, The part I actually needed to be able to swim. I was forced out, seeing that it was caught in between the sharks sharp teeth. It let go for just a split second, before a loud growl was heard, making the shark almost instantly swim off. Tears stung my eyes (Weird because we’re underwater right?), but I blinked them away and stared at my tail fin, seeing all too many rips and tears. It hurt so, so much. 

That was when my mind had finally clicked and wondered why the shark had left in the first place. The growl. The two huge sets of dark blue eyes trained on me. The slight hue they gave off. Oh. It was just a really, really, really, huge mer. The ones that eat other mers? That destroy community’s for no reason? The one’s that were outcasted? That’s just wonderful. 

I tried swimming away, but the tears in my fins didn’t let me, making me whimper like a lost puppy. My breathing was fast, as I stared back into the eyes that would soon be the death of me. Oh I am so going to die. 

And suddenly I was encased in darkness again. 

——————

Yayyyy new characters. No worries, the giant mer is good. But oh noooo I totally didn’t hurt Nico’s tail on purpose for future purposes… Okay but I feel bad for my little mer. I’m not that sadistic.

But anyways, thank you guys for reading this little Drabble, and of course I know it’s not my best writing, but I was rushing and it’s just these last few days of school that are KILLING me. I hope you guys liked this, and thank you for reading!

[survey--s]

632.

Was the last person you hung out with single? No, we're married.

Have you ever attended a private school? Yeah, all my life.

Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? Yes.

Do you like drinking diet sodas? It depends on the brand/type, I guess. I like diet coke/pepsi but if it's fruity stuff then I prefer the full sugar versions.

Can you make mashed potatoes from scratch? Sure, it's hardly a complicated thing to do. It takes so much effort though so I pretty much never bother.

Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? Sure, plenty of times. I'm not really a fan of cooking in general though so I'd rather pay to go out somewhere or get a takeaway.

If your phone has a hole for phone charms, is it on the left or right side? Ha, are those even a thing anymore? My phone certainly doesn't have one anyway. And yes, I did check lol.

Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? A rural area.

Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Not so far as I know, but it's not really something I ask people about.

Did you use a pencil today? No. I don't think we even own one.

Are you adopted? I’m not adopted, but my mum is.

Have you ever had your car break down on you? Yeah, the battery died once and another time I got a puncture so bad that it completely destroyed my tyre. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? I don't remember.

Does your last name end in a vowel or consonant? I’m not sharing that.

When was the last time you ate at your favourite restaurant? I don't really have a favourite, it depends what I feel like eating.

What was the last thing someone gave you? Uh, I have no idea. Nothing exciting though.

Can you write your name in a foreign language? Yeah.

Who is the person you often go to for venting? I don't really go to anyone - I mean, if I want to vent I generally just do it on here because it's easier.

Do you keep an actual journal or diary? No, this does the job.

Have you ever been prescribed Vicodin? Yeah, for a wisdom tooth infection/pain. It made me feel so unwell though. I don't know how people can function on it.

Have you ever cheated on someone without them finding out about it? Never.

Was the last person you kissed male or female? Male.

Who were you with the last time you went swimming? In Lanzarote about six and a half years ago lol.

Does your dining table currently have place mats on it? No.

What was the last thing you cooked in an oven? Pizza.

Do you say “I love you” even when you don’t mean it? No.

Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? No.

Do you prefer wheat or white bread? White, or something like sourdough, focaccia or ciabatta.

[dancingisdangerouss]

Can you do the grabber x asthmatic! reader where he kidnaps her and during one night as he was checking up on her, he hears wheezing and coughing and he realises and runs to get the puffer.

I gotchu~ The request says “she,” but since it didn’t need to be mentioned, I’m making it gender neutral!

Warnings: Kidnapping, asthma attack, that's about it lol

You couldn’t do it.

Why you ever thought digging to fucking China was a viable means of escape in the first place, you couldn’t remember. But now you faced a new problem as you knelt beside the hole in the basement, your gasps for air sharp and unfulfilling, having triggered an asthma attack from the effort. The damp air down here certainly wasn’t helping any, and you were positive there had to be mold somewhere, too.

You managed to scoot the heavy rug back into place (if he saw you digging like a mole into the basement floor, you didn’t think he’d be too happy), but your breaths were fewer and farther between as you staggered to the mattress, flopping onto your side. The Grabber had made it plenty clear that your screams would be fruitless, and you didn’t want to waste what precious air you had left.

The coughs came hard and unbidden, making your entire body lurch from the effort. Sweat drizzled down your forehead and collected above your lip, the muscles in your neck tightening visibly as you wheezed again and again. It felt like you were breathing through one of those tiny coffee stirrers that looked misleadingly like straws.

Was this how this was going to end? It wasn’t exactly a pleasant death, but you had spent enough hours down here torturing yourself with all manner of ways he might use to kill you, and in comparison, this wasn’t so bad. You hadn’t really believed him, anyway, when he said he’d let you go. Perhaps this was for the best.

You only vaguely heard the basement door crack open, followed by a muddled voice saying your name. It sounded far and distant, like you were underwater. Was someone actually there, or was your lack of oxygen making you hallucinate?

Hands found your shoulders, flipping you onto your back. The scrape of a mask brushed across your chest as someone rested their head against you, listening to your heartbeat before slapping your cheek with the back of their ringed hand.

“Y/N? What’s happening?” That part came through, clear as day.

“Oh—” Wheeze. “It’s y-you.” Wheeze. “I-I’m dying.” Wheeze.

Your eyes fluttered shut, fatigue settling in. Yes, sleep…that’s what you needed. Sleep would help.

That hand smacked your cheek again, more insistently.

“What’s going on? Why are you not breathing right?”

You blinked up at him through blurred eyes, unable to focus on where his face was. “O-oh…asthma,” you rasped between broken, feeble breaths, “can’t…b-breathe.” It hurt to talk, and you weren’t sure you were even making sense, with your brain putting everything it had into keeping you breathing.

The Grabber seized you beneath your armpits, dragging you into an upright position against the wall. You thought he might have said something again, but you didn’t hear him, coughing into your shoulder, too weak to even lift your arm.

He gave you a hard shake. “Y/N. Where’s your inhaler?” he repeated.

The air-giving medicinal thingy? Fuck if you knew, you just needed air, and needed it now. Your only answer to him was another strangled wheeze.

The Grabber uttered a low growl, panicked eyes raking over your trembling form. Then his eyes flickered with a memory. “Your backpack. You had a backpack when I took you…red, right? Is it in there?”

“Red,” you parroted, your voice the vocal equivalent of sandpaper.

That seemed good enough to him. He left your side and you slumped over, barely registering the thundering of his boots as he raced back upstairs. Layers of sweat soaked your face and collarbone, and your mind became entirely consumed by the need for air, the words “In” and “Out” cycling around in your brain.

You didn’t even register when The Grabber returned, shaking the inhaler. He forced the space mouthpiece past your lips. A puff of medicinal relief entered your throat.

“Breathe in,” he ordered, and you complied. Thankfully, one of you knew what to do, even if your brain was like mashed potatoes. On instinct, having done it so many times before, you inhaled slowly, then held your breath, counting off 10 seconds. He watched you wordlessly behind the mask, uncertain.

After about a minute, your arm weakly lifted, tapping him on the forearm.

“What? Another?”

You nodded, and he delivered another puff. You repeated this with him four times in total, until your breathing began to ease up, the constriction in your chest unwinding. The wheezing died out and the coughs relented as you leaned back against the wall, freely filling your lungs.

“Better?” he prompted.

“Better. Thanks.” You wiped sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm, happy to still be alive, but not eager to find out how your actual death would play out. “Why’d you save me, anyway? Seems a bit counterproductive.”

The Grabber got to his feet, tucking the inhaler in his pocket. “There’s no…fun to be had with ghosts.” He winked.

…Damn this man.

[diavolosthots]

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all. 

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?” 

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness. 

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying. 

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now. 

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes 

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…” 

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin. 

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?” 

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought… 

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first… 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.” 

[icaruskeyartist]

*tugs your sleeve*

If you don’t mind… I saw a post “no part trans ideology makes any sense. How can they say they are trans if they don’t believe in sex/bioessentialism?”

And I recently talked to a cishet man about why I know I’m non-binary; he didn’t press but we basically left it at “so it’s an awareness of self but nobody really knows how/why that happens?”

I had sent him summaries and explanation posts but the talk still feels… ended unsatisfyingly. Any ideas?

I need you to know I accidentally bopped one of my bettas while feeding the fish tank because I was thinking about this question and thought he was part of the food cube I was trying to unclump.

So RIP him (he's fine we just scared the shit out of each other).

And I'm gonna probably oversimplify this a bit, so I'm sure there'll be good additions/corrections once I've posted it since yanno. A single human meatbag like me can't be arsed to remember everything lol. I depend on the trans hivemind to keep my head on straight.

But basically there's roughlyish 3 schools of thought in trans circles about why people are trans. It's all biology, it's all society, or it's somewhere inbetween.

Again, oversimplifying. But then again we sorta oversimplify the splintering of second wave feminism into three main schools of thought, so have at ye yeah?

First, the biological. Helloooo transmeds and Serano. Basically these folks think that the answer to why a person is trans has to do with genetics or your brain or w/e. It's all encoded in the meatsack, be it electric or proteins. That's why. you get assholes saying you can't be trans without dysphoria. It's why you got Serano talking about "subconscious sex" and claiming any non male/female identity is only a partial expression of one's "true" sex. I figured out I was trans on the tail end of this big scientific push to learn about how gender works in people's brainspaces, so I grew up knowing about male/female brains.

Mind you, I didn't learn I was trans until I was 19, so I'd read this Scientific Evidence for Trans and Cis and be confused because well, I'm Cis(TM) so why does my brain not feel Female? And then post-trans awakening, I still felt very dissatisfied by that answer.

Ok so that's your bioessentialist argument for The Trans. Some of it is born out of old rhetoric meant to force wider society to take trans people seriously (I was ALWAYS like this! I ALWAYS knew!) -- not saying there aren't people that didn't or don't feel like that to this day. We just know that it's a pretty narrow minded way of looking at gender identity with plenty of people not realizing until they're older. Even Old. Like 25. Or 60. You know, Old.

I'm in a mood today apparently. Hoping this still makes sense.

Okay, next one is "it's society". Pretty much the extreme end of this is the idea that Everything about Gender is because of society. Did you know babies come out of the womb with accents? Like, legit, my seahorse dad nurse friend told me that babies literally listen with their little not even ears yet holes and learn about shit around them. It's nuts.

So basically, we know that male and female sexes come about for fucking and making more of us, and we know that waaaay back in the throw rock collect berry days certain traits got associated with each sex. Men (generally) were more of the hunters and protectors and women (generally) were more of the gatherers and nurturers. So we as a Species sorta evolved down to make the Best of Each Sex cause the people who lived long enough to fuck and make more of us passed on their genes.

Fun fact, that's part of why after a certain amount of time parts of our bodies crap out early. We weren't genetically pressured to have a good back after 25. We'd already had like 10 kids and 2 survived to go and make more babies to fuck and have 2 more kids grow up and fuck and they all have bad backs by 30. It's just neat.

Anyway, after awhile, people decided Women were This and Men were That and suddenly what was an evolutionary thing was a Gender/Sex thing. Fast forward a whole lot and suddenly. Gender Roles. And if you didn't fit those roles you were a pariah.

So you got babies learning when they're still becoming babies what gender is, you got society telling you what gender is, but something isn't clicking inside. It's not your gender, but people are all "gender and sex are the same thing and you were born with a long enough dick and no internal gonads or a hole so you're a boy bleh"

And it's confusing and not right and you look across the aisle and there's a lot there you do like so you look in the mirror and you say "Okay I'm not Caleb anymore. I'm Alice and I'm a girl." And oh hey. Euphoria. It feels right?

And maybe you play with being feminine and it's for you. Or maybe it's not. Maybe you find you're not totally one thing or the other. Maybe you want HRT, just a little, or surgery, or you must have it ALL. The point is, you didn't fit the gender roles people expected you to fit into, you didn't like the body you were supposed to have, etc etc. You're trans.

You'll notice this kinda ignores the Intersex in the room. And that's because intersex makes things Complicated for Everybody.

So you're looking at these two ideas right? And you're just, but what makes that gender thing click in your head? Is it biology, is it society? Is it neither? And all I can say, and any sane trans or cis person will say is

shrug

It's really up to an individual to say where they think their own gender identity comes from. Because it's literally impossible to create a world where we could "test" people's gender identities. That shit is encoded in us to some extent when we're fetuses. We have a biologically sexually diverse array of people. There's so many fertile "cis" men and women who are actually intersex, be it through chromosomes or hormones or whatever (this is why hormone talk in sports is dumb).

So the reason why all this shit is so complicated and weird is because it just is? We may be able to map out the human genome and see what chemicals makes our brains do what, but that doesn't mean we fully understand the how or why of it all. And it's not really bioessentialism to say "hey, there's probably some biological component to this" because well, there's no definite No on the matter.

What do I think personally is the root of it alll? I'll let these iconic bi boys speak for me here.

[chiliiscereal]

Here’s your GIF for the writing challenge!

Prompt: “It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.”

Good luck and thanks for participating!💛

Thanks for letting me do this challenge again @crossbowking !

Pairing: father figure Daryl x reader AGAIN cause I’m a sucker for that lol

Setting: season 2

Type: fluff and angst I guess?

Summary: when looking for Sophia, Daryl finds reader holed up in a cabin. Reader doesn’t speak, doesn’t listen, and doesn’t trust them at all. No one can figure out why but reader sticks with them anyway. One day, Daryl follows reader when they sneak out of camp, hoping to find out what could possibly have happened to make them like that

——————-

Silent world

Sophia’s tracks had begun to fade like the afternoon sunlight. They had gotten faint but Daryl didn’t want to tell Carol the truth. Eventually they disappeared and he was only left with a direction.

He found a set of footsteps the size of Sophia’s about thirty minutes later. It had to be her. Judging by how they weren’t set in one specific direction, whoever it was must be lost.

He followed the footsteps to an old cabin. She had to be in there.

You, however, hadn’t realized you were followed until the door was opened. You felt the thumping of cautious footsteps on the floorboards and immediately jumped into action. You pulled yourself from the floor quickly and hid yourself beneath the dusty bed in the corner, dragging the blankets down to obscure you from their vision. If there was one thing you’d learned in this new world it was that you couldn’t trust people. Strangers, family, doesn’t matter.

“Sophia?” Daryl called out as he peered around the corner cautiously. He glanced about the room, taking in the living conditions.

Old food wrappers...

Empty water bottles...

A few blood stains...

An old backpack that CLEARLY wasn’t Sophia’s...

Whoever had been there it wasn’t Sophia. They’d been there longer than the girl had been lost.

He tightened his grip on his crossbow. “Whoever’s in here better come out now.” He ordered.

The only response was a slight shuffling noise from under the bed. If it had been Shane or Rick they wouldn’t have heard it. But Daryl had been hunting out in the woods since he was a child, trained in hearing the sounds of hiding creatures.

Whoever they were they were alive.

“Gonna hide forever?” He growled, raising the crossbow so it pointing at the bed.

Nothing.

He was absolutely tired of this person acting like their cover hadn’t been blown.

“Get out before I drag ya out myself.” He ordered, stepping closer.

Still nothing.

Finally, he had enough of it. He reached over and pulled the blanket away from the floor. He waited... thinking they’d come out.

No movement at all.

He grabbed the bed by its headboard and shoved it away from the wall, causing a small gasp to come from underneath it.

You were no longer in darkness.

You opened your wide eyes and backed up against the wall, chest heaving with panic.

This man looked dangerous to say the least.

Mean expression.

Weapon out and pointed at her face.

Knife hanging at his belt.

Suspicious blood stains on his shirt.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” He groaned. “I go out lookin’ fer one kid and then I find a different one?”

You didn’t respond. You just watched him with wide eyes.

“Ya seen another girl ‘round here, kid?” He asked, trying to calm down.

Still nothing. You just pulled your legs closer and tried to press closer into the wall.

“Got a family?” He interrogated with a firmer tone. “A group? Parents? Hell, even a weapon?”

You watched him carefully. Almost too carefully in Daryl’s opinion. Once he’d finished you shook your head, eyes drifting back to the crossbow in his hand.

He hadn’t even realized it was still pointing at her. He lowered it but still kept the weapon in his grip. “The hell am I ‘sposed to do now?” He asked himself out loud. “Don’t need another mouth to feed.”

You didn’t offer any suggestions. All you did was stare.

After a moment he groaned, his morals speaking louder than the selfishness of a survivor. “Damn it. C’mon. Get up.” He waved you to follow after him.

You shook your head, backing away. You didn’t know this man! He could hurt you! Do bad things! No way in hell would you willingly go with him.

He frowned. “Can’t ya talk?”

Nothing.

Just wide eyes.

“Listen, I’m ‘bout to leave yer ass alone in the woods if ya don’t give me a good enough reason why ya can’t.” His temper began to flare. “Got a group, got food, got water, an’ other kids. Seems like a pretty good deal ta me.”

You seemed to react to the word ‘kids’. You sat up a bit and seemed to watch him with interest.

“Yeah. We got another kid at our camp.” He nodded. “It’s safe.” He swore he was about to leave right then when you said nothing.

You looked down at the floor, thinking. Was this a good idea? He could easily be lying. Very easily. He seemed to know exactly what to say. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

But other kids... safety... and water... that was something you hadn’t seen in a good long while. Might as well give it a try, right? You could always run if things went south. You were good at that.

Needless to say, Daryl was surprised when you pulled yourself off the ground and picked up your bag. You gave him a wary look but followed him anyway.

“So, ya ever talk?” He asked as the two of you walked through the woods.

You didn’t answer. You just surveyed the woods carefully. He could have men out there waiting to jump you and do bad things. Or there could be walkers. You didn’t know.

Your racing thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder, flinching you out of your state of mind.

“Gonna answer me or what?” Daryl asked, getting more and more frustrated.

You just frowned at him, unsure of what he was saying. He was talking too fast for you to follow along with it.

“I asked if ya ever talk.” He shouldered his crossbow, no hope whatsoever in you answering.

All he got in return was a shrug.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sighed. Whatever. At least he’d be able to walk to the farm in silence.

—————-

When they arrived everyone was confused on who you were or where you came from.

The people living in the farm house asked you many questions and you could only catch a few words here and there.

Where

Who

Name

Girl

Sophia

Seen

Group

Woods

You just stared at the floor, unsure of how to respond.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Maggie asked quietly. “She’s not answering anything.”

“Been like that since I found ‘er.” Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t sure ‘a her name, family, or if she even got anybody.”

“Where’d you find her?” Lori frowned. “Surely she has parents somewhere out there.”

Daryl wanted nothing more to leave and return to his tent. But he answered anyway. “Was in a cabin. By the looks ‘a it it’s just her.”

“Sweetie, can you tell us your name?” Lori bent down so she could see your face. “Or where your parents are?”

Your eyes didn’t leave the floor.

Lori sighed. “It’s almost as if she can’t hear me.”

“Or don’t want to.” Shane snorted, leaning against the wall. “Kid doesn’t seem too happy to be here. Probably just thinks ignorin’ us is gonna make us mad or some shit.”

“Damn right it’s makin’ me mad.” The hunter watched the kid in front of him. “Can’t tell if it’s on purpose.”

“I’ve heard ‘bout kids shutting down an’ not speak in’ when they’ve been through somethin’ traumatic.” Hershel informed the group. “It could be like what happened to Beth earlier, an’ it’ll just take some time for her to come around.”

That was the answer everyone seemed to settle on.

They gave you time as well as plenty of opportunities to talk to them. They tried asking questions or telling you things but you didn’t respond no matter how hard anyone tried.

Daryl began to suspect what the real case could be when you didn’t even respond when Shane yelled at you.

He’d been trying to hurry up the process by forcing you to talk. When he got no response he finally snapped.

You’d been reading a book Maggie let you borrow, unaware that anyone had been talking. But you caught on quickly when the book had been slapped from your hands.

You gasped and stumbled away, face to face with an angry Shane.

You weren’t close to anyone in the group so you ran to the person who had brought you there, hiding behind Daryl.

Daryl had been surprised. He didn’t think you liked anybody there at all. After all, you never talked to anybody. Never answered any questions. Being there for five days hadn’t changed anything.

“The hell’s yer problem man.” Daryl growled. “Ya always go ‘round tryin’ to scare kids or what?”

“It’s not my damn fault she won’t talk.” Shane yelled. “She’s gonna learn some respect if she wants to stay here.”

“Yellin’ at her won’t get ya any damn respect.” Daryl bit back. “Hershel said it’d take time, didn’t he?” He glanced down at you as you hid your face from the fight.

“It’s takin’ too much in my opinion.” Shane rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

From that day on you steered clear of Shane and stayed by Daryl’s side. He wasn’t too sure why you’d chosen him out of everyone else and neither were you. But it seemed to be the right choice. The man never forced you to talk. He never yelled at you when you didn’t react.

It seemed like he simply enjoyed peace and quiet.

You helped around the farm house by washing dishes and feeding chickens. You helped Maggie and Lori make dinner and always helped them clean up after.

You picked flowers for Lori.

You showed Carl how to climb a tree.

You played cards with Glenn.

If Daryl didn’t know better he’d say that you were enjoying your stay at the farm.

But you still weren’t talking.

You interacted with everyone, yeah, but you still never spoke.

Not even when the farm fell.

—————

You and everyone had spent almost a month out in the woods once the farm was gone. You bounced from house to house and never stayed in one spot longer than needed.

One house you stayed at, you found a pair of small batteries. Even wire and tweezers. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you hope.

So that night you snuck out to the back yard once you were sure everyone was asleep.

But everyone wasn’t.

Daryl wasn’t.

He’d noticed the moment you disappeared.

He’d gotten up and walked outside, crossbow in hand. Maybe you’d ran away. Or got taken. Maybe you went outside and gotten lost.

But he found you leaning against a tree instead.

“It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.” Daryl stated, even though he knew you wouldn’t respond.

You did however react to feeling his footsteps vibrating the ground. Quickly, you stuffed whatever had been in your hands into your pockets and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Damn, kid, I ain’t gonna bite.” He held up his hands in surrender. “The hell ya doin out here?”

As always, you didn’t say anything. You looked back at the forest floor almost guiltily.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He frowned.

You knew you should tell him. He’d proven himself trustworthy after all. You just... you were scared you were wrong. That he’d be just like every other adult I. Your life.

“What’d ya have in yer hand before?” He tried, gesturing to whatever you’d stuffed in your pocket.

You tore your gaze away from him and reached down to pull out an object wrapped in cloth.

Daryl sat down beside you. “Can I see it?”

You held it a bit closer, brain still thinking in circles.

“I ain’t gonna break it or nothin’ if that’s what yer worried about.” He rolled his eyes.

Finally your mind was made. You set it down in his hands and waiting for his reaction.

Carefully, aware that you were watching his every movement, he unwrapped whatever it was.

He didn’t know what it was at first. It was almost as long as his smallest finger and was colored silver and tan. He realized what it was when he finally turned it over.

“Hearin’ aids?” He asked, turning to you.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “D-deaf.” You spoke, nerves at how he’d react making you stutter.

He jerked back a bit in surprise. “Ya been deaf this entire time?”

Another nervous nod.

“Damn, that’s impressive.” He gave you a sort of half grin. “How’d no one catch on? An’ why didn’t ya tell nobody?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a notebook, scribbling on a couple sentences. You showed him once you were done.

‘Lip reading. And I didn’t trust you.’

“But why didn’t ya talk like ya did now?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t ‘a known the difference.”

You wrote down more, hesitantly.

‘I’ve been told I sound stupid when I talk. So I don’t.’

You fiddled with your shoelace as he read.

“Who the hell told ya that?” He practically growled. “And why don’t ya know any ‘a that sign language?”

You took the notebook back and wrote down a few more sentences.

“And why don’t ya use the hearin’ aids?” He added.

You turned the book back to face him, only one word written.

‘Dad’

You felt ashamed to be admitting this. This wasn’t anything he needed to know. He would probably react the same way your dad reacted when he was given the opportunity.

“Hell no yer gonna explain more than that.” Daryl pushed the book back into your arms. “Can’t just half ass an answer.”

You sighed and began again.

‘He thought being deaf was a weakness. No sign language, no hearing aids, and no talking the moment my mom turned. He broke them when I broke the rules.’

You swallowed the emotions rising back up in the back of your throat.

He was a horrible man.

It was sickening, but you were almost glad that he was gone.

Daryl’s expression darkened when he read those words. “Sounds like an ass to me.” He handed the notebook back to you again. “So you tryin’ ya fix ‘em?”

You nodded and pulled out the batteries and wire, shrugging.

Daryl sighed. “Sorry, but that won’t be enough to fix these.” He examined the hearing aids once more. The wires were pulled apart and some of the plastic had snapped.

“... I know.” You managed to speak again, summoning your bravery. “Just wanted to try.”

Daryl’s expression didn’t change when you spoke. Maybe your dad was wrong. Maybe you didn’t sound as stupid as he told you you did.

Daryl handed the hearing aids back to you gently. “M’sorry kid.”

You shrugged again, placing them back in your pocket carefully.

Suddenly, Daryl had an idea. I’d require a run for sure but it’d be worth it. For now, he’d keep quiet about it. He didn’t even know if it’d work. But he might as well try.

——-

For the next few weeks on the road Daryl was on every run. You were curious about why but you dismissed it as him trying to make sure everyone would survive the coming winter.

By now, everyone knew you were deaf. They all reacted as Daryl had and treated you the same as they always did.

It was relieving to be honest. And a bit of a surprise. But the bigger surprise came later when Daryl told you he wanted to show everyone something in the woods.

You’d followed along, assuming he’d found more supplies.

Instead of revealing more supplies, he knelt down so he was at your level.

“I know it’s been hard without yer hearin’...” he started, reaching into his back pocket, “an’ I hope ya don’t mind I did this without askin’...” he pulled out an object wrapped in a familiar cloth.

You realized what was happening the moment you saw it.

“I gave it my best shot.” He pulled away the fabric and revealed the newly repaired hearing aids. “Found a book an’ some supplies on the last run.”

You hadn’t even realized tears were running down your face until they dropped onto your shirt.

Daryl reaches over and placed the hearing aids in your hands. “Give ‘em a try?”

You glanced at the faces of your new group. They must have known. Not a single one of them looked surprised. Just expectant and...happy. Happy for you.

Slowly, you tucked your hair out of your way. You set the small machine in place. You placed your hand over the on button tentatively.

The Hunter you’d grown attached to gave you a nod.

Finally, you pressed the button.

You waited and held your breath.

It was as if everything came crashing in at once.

The wind that rushed through the trees was giving out hollow rattling noises.

The birds above were chirping shrilly, each whistle harmoniously fitting together like a puzzle.

And you... you could hear yourself gasping in surprise as you spun in circles. You could hear the leaves crunching beneath your feet. Did that always happen?

“I’ll take it that it works?” Your thought were interrupted by a raspy southern accent.

You spun around, facing Daryl once more.

He stood back up, tip of his mouth tipped up in a half smile.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even thank him with your words.

So you thanked him the only way you knew how: with actions.

You wasted no time in running in his direction, more tearing spilling down your face as you wrapped your arms around the surprised man.

He returned the gesture after a moment of hesitation. “Wasn’t no problem.”

You buried you face in his shoulder, overcome with emotion. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

He rubbed your back comfortingly. “Was nothin’.”

You shook you head and hugged him harder. “No, it was everything.”

[black-rose-writings]

Reading Siege and Storm because I hate myself

To begin, I’d like to state that this is my first read-through and I only have vague idea of the plot I’ve gathered from fanfics and tumblr posts.

Long post ahead

Chapter 1

So... at first I was like - huh, this isn’t as bad as I thought, but the moment Alina gets introspective, it all goes to hell.

Like, she’s being physically made sick by not using her powers, which is making her feel useless - like, she says, pretty much verbatim: “The only thing I was ever good at was being a Sun Summoner and I’m not that anymore.”

I’m gonna beat those paragraphs over the head of anyone, who says Alina got a good ending.

I’ve also noticed just how often the like “I pushed that thought away” is used and more often than not, it’s used on thoughts that should probably not be pushed away.

Ah, yes, here he comes, my boy Darkles, being the dramatic bitch he always is. We get it, you’re the hot villain, tempting the good and pure heroine away from being good and pure.

And I’m just now realizing how many times in this chapter has Alina lamented their lack of privacy. We have to ensure the reader doesn’t hink she’s *gasp* sleeping with Mal.

Chapter 2

What?

Alina is tripping balls while being put under by a Heartrender, got it.

Darkling is being the voice of reason, but I’m getting the distinct feeling it won’t last.

Ivan gets one point, because Alina is in fact a traitor, but he’s also being a cunt, so it doesn’t really count.

Alina at Sturmhond: Do you even care about Ravka?

Me at Alina: Do you?

Chapter 3

“Mermaids are not real”. I’m pretty sure they are in the Grishaverse.

My boy Darkles is still making sense, but Alina is dedicated to being against him just for the hell of it, it seems.

Did this bitch just throw a tantrum, because he told her, what we can assume is the truth? Okay. Like, I get that she’s at best 18, but still. Not exactly the type of protagonist whose head I like being in.

And in that moment, dozens of smut fics were born.

Chapter 4

Wow, that was quick.

Aaand. What had just happened?

Chapter 5

Sturmhond is a funny bitch, I’ll give him that.

And this entire conversation, it seems like Mal’s entire purpose is to stand behind Alina threateningly and repeat what she said, lol.

I’d like to remind Alina (and LB) that a king in an absolutist monarchy (which is what Ravka appears to be) is very much a tyrant. Don’t make it sound like Ravka didn’t have a tyrant before. And at the very least, my boy Darkles seems pretty competent.

A man calling himself a Storm Dog likes dogs. No shit.

Chapter 6

I hate Mal. Dude, this is your girlfriend, maybe like... listen to her? Don’t bludgeon her with the one other guy she was kinda-sorta with, when you are a well known manwhore?

I don’t know man, I don’t like him.

Everyone: You can’t have more than one amplifier, it’s dangerous.

Alina: Haha, sparkles go brrrr

Chapter 7

In other news, pirates are funny.

Holy shit, they have a plane.

That was... a lot. And we’re crossing the Fold again, yay.

Chapter 8

You feel bad for the Volcra but not for the people you’ve left for dead in the Fold last time? Okay.

Baby Volcra. Am I supposed to say “ew” or “aww”? If I tried doing both at the same time, it would probably sound like one.

Jesus fucking Christ this book is a ride.

Did Alina really just have an “oh no, he’s hot?” moment? *sighs*

Puppy boy has a title longer than Daenerys, jesus.

Alina, my dear, you could have waited for a bit before doing that. There’s like thirty soldier with guns around you and you’ve just punched a prince.

Then again, you’ve never been smart, have you?

Chapter 9

For once, I completely agree with him. I know you two have lost your one shared braincell on that first crossing of the Fold but still, that was very dumb of you, Alina.

I’m starting to get why people were calling Nikolai “Darkling light”. Definitelly seems appropriate.

Mal, calm the fuck down, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard and you know it.

You two didn’t even let Alina get a word in for the last page. What right do you have to her, Mal, huh? Nikolai is making sense and you’re being an idiot.

What’s your deal Mal? What the fuck do you want?

And why in the hell are you the endgame love interest?

That’s an awful lot of guilt-tripping you’re doing there, Mal. No need to be pissy about it.

Chapter 10

The bones thing is definitelly yikes.

Saints, Mal, are you on your period or something? Alina doesn’t belong to you. Alina can make her own choices. Get a grip.

“You think I’m like the Darkling?” Yes. The Darkling isn’t all bad. You’re at war. No need to get your panties in a twist over a few fingers.

Oh, look, Alina has a cult now, nice.

Chapter 11

Your “dad” is a rapist, Nikolai. Quite possibly a pedo. He got exactly what he deserved.

I’d go for the second option. Especially after that stunt. Jesus, you could have asked her beforehand.

At least Darkles had the decency to make out with her in private.

Also like... why is every single person in this series so far an asshole?

Chapter 12

We meet the King again, unfortunately.

Alina gets Darkles’s old job.

This should be a total disaster, but let’s see where it goes anyway.

Chapter 13

Alina’s nuts, yay.

(I know they have a Force-bond-thingy. I also know they did it before Reylo did.)

Chapter 14

Oh boy, Alina’s not doing as bad as I thought.

For the 100th time in this book, I wish I had Nikolai’s confidence. Though it is getting a bit too much.

Puppy boy is dropping some truth bombs. Nice.

But he doesn’t realize that my boy Darkles has very good reasons to not align with Fjerdans - a) they think he’s a demon and b) they want Grisha dead.

I’m not gonna say she was, but like... the monarchy is very much corrupt.

Oh, boy, Baghra. This one’s gonna go well.

Yep, Baghra’s as pleasant as ever.

So... Baghra’s plan in book 1 really had been to just have Alina run away and hope for the best? Jesus Christ, lady. I’m not saying she deserved to have her eyes taken away, but she is definitelly a trash person and I’m not surprised her son turned out the way he did.

Also, I’m fairly certain that Baghra is literally slowly killing herself - that the reason she looks so old and frail is because she’s started to supress her power and it’s literally killing her, because, you know, she’s bonkers old.

Chapter 15

Nerd Alina > Self-pitying Alina

Also, I’m just saying, Alina comments on Zoya being attractive a whole lot - I get that she’s meant to be insecure, but I’m interpreting it as her being gay, because I need some happiness in my life, okay?

Just kill the sleazy old Rasputin-wanna-be. There’s plenty of them to go around in this series.

Chapter 16

Vasily takes after his father in creep factor.

Why not the Darkling being courted by a horny prince? Be a bit creative.

Chapter 17

Nikolai has big ADHD energy and I love him for it. Fits right in with the heavily autism-coded Fabricators.

*sighs at heteronormativity again*

*sighs at improper gendering of titles*

Date night with Mal. This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?

Chapter 18

Fun night of cultural appropriation, yay.

I hate cultists.

LET. ALINA. GO. FERAL. Please.

You two are going to give me a headache, I swear.

Darkles cockblocking Alina. And Malice threw a tantrum. Nice.

Chapter 19

You’re way too harsh on Genya, Alina.

Horny Alina rights.

They have a laser, now. Cool. Or, well, enormously hot.

Mal is being a drunk a-hole. Great. When does he become likable? Does he ever?

Banter between Mal and Alina? Kinda weird, always somehow comes back to either of them being insecure.

Banter between Alina and Nikolai? I’m all for it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a Darklina trash, but like... Nikolai is fun. I could see him and Alina having an arranged political marriage and ending up falling in love years into it, that’s all I’m saying.

Chapter 20

Just let this one go, Alina, please. You two are not working out. Please, end it with him. You’ll both probably be happier. (I’m saying this with the full knowledge that Malina is endgame).

Jesus Alina, get your shit together. You have every right to be mad, because you two didn’t actually break up, you didn’t kiss Nikolai and also, I don’t like Mal.

Sooo... when is Alina going to realize her manchild of a boyfriend is an amplifier?

Chapter 21

Alina has the horny sickness, lol.

Jesus Christ, girl, I don’t want to read your vaguely suicidal thoughts.

Mal, you fucking idiot.

Alina, stop defending Mal.

Chapter 22

Alina has a logical thought? Impossible.

Finally, some action.

Chapter 23

Oh, boi, this is going great.

Oh, boi, Alina’s having another martyr moment.

And, we’re done.

Finally.

That was a ride. Nothing really happens for like ten chapters and then everything happens in one and a half.

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing  the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

Taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riathearora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner @idratherliveinbooks @silver-stardrop @niko-su993 @olivia-grace26 @shigsteranddabstersimp @hawks96@pink-dodo-writes @amishahosein24 @keilemlucent @stargazingaloneatnight @thelilmisskaydesi @morganseeksindependence-blog @teabutnerdy @patchworkpiper

If you’re name was crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you!

[lemonandtheart]

@gxmonth Day 18 - This Wasn't In The Rule Book!! vampire au vampire aU VAMPIRE AU~~!! I have always been such a sucker for monsters and magic lol. I wrote a little fanfic drabble a hot minute ago that I'll include under the cut!

There were rumors running rampant all through Domino. Breathless whispers through the crowds of its residents. They spread fear like the plague, but who could blame them? With all of the people who’d gone missing never to be seen again it was only natural such a fear would grow until it had reached an unprecedented proportion. Whether it was truth or not didn’t matter because to the people of Domino there was no doubt. A vampire was on the loose through the city streets after nightfall.

Despite the lack of evidence, Jesse Andersen hoped the rumors true. He’d come a long way to hunt down this supposed dirty bloodsucker. His friend, Jim, had offered to come along on the journey too but Jesse had declined. They didn’t truly know if there was a vampire in Domino City. He’d certainly find out after dark. Since the people of Domino had been keeping holed up inside at night the past few months, he was sure the parasite had to be starved by now.

A chill settled in the night air once the sun fully disappeared over the horizon. Jesse pulled his thick, black jacket tighter to his chest. It would be a long night. He was glad he’s had the foresight of buying himself a hot coffee before the shops closed. It warmed him from the inside out as he perused the streets. Hopefully one of two things would occur: either there was no vampire and he’d be on his merry way after a quick report back to the Vampire Hunter’s Association or there was a parasitic lowlife lurking among the shadows that he would eliminate well before the sun would rise again. Either way Jesse felt that he’d be headed home within the next few days.

He paused underneath of a spotlight near a fountain. It wasn’t running and with the high-rise buildings surrounding he felt even the nearly silent sound of his pulse was amplified. It was quiet—eerily so. Not a thing in the whole city seemed to make any noise and the stillness of it was deafening. A soft, distant tapping of heels against pavement was a deliberate break in the silence. Jesse set his hand on the small stake launcher secured to his belt. The sound echoed and made it seem to come from everywhere at once. He slowly backed up to the fountain, craning his neck around to try and find the direction of the noise. Any direction would do. What he wasn’t expecting was the freezing hands on his shoulders matched with a silken, sultry voice from directly behind him. “Well, what’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

Jesse jolted from the grasp and yanked the weapon from its holster, aiming it squarely at the chest of the man, no, monster he was looking for. He had messy, untamable, two-toned brown hair and a set of gleaming golden eyes staring hungrily at him. He wore a low-cut V-neck shirt that nearly slit down to his stomach, the two sides of the fabric held together by thin string tied crossways. The sleeves, he noticed, were ruffled when he moved his hands up to the sides of his head — palms facing forward in a show of submission. His pants buttoned and sat snugly on his thin hips before disappearing beneath his high-heeled boots at the knee. The heels dug into the stone of the fountain he stood upon; the streetlights the ideal backdrop for his cape he wore over the ensemble. It fastened just above his clavicle with a jeweled button. Jesse sneered in disgust at the creature, but more so at the choice of apparel. It was far too extra, making him look more like a movie villain than a bloodthirsty creature of night. “Hasn’t anyone warned you it’s dangerous to be out so late at night?” The vampire questioned.

“I could ask the same to you, vampire.” Jesse responded, gesturing to the launcher aimed still at his chest. The vampire chuckled.

“Perhaps, but I own these streets. The name’s Jaden by the way. Jaden Yuki. To whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting this lovely evening?”

“Jesse Andersen. Sorry to say, but these streets were never yours.” Jaden kept his hands raised but stepped down from his position atop the fountain’s rim. Jesse began backing up, his eyes and shot never leaving the vampire as he strutted towards him.

“Is that so?” He drawled, continuing his slow approach. Jesse’s fingers twitched on the trigger, the small movement pushing Jaden to respond. He kicked high, knocking the weapon out of Jesse’s hands and into the sky. It came crashing back to the Earth and hit the rock of the fountain with a horrendous crack, bouncing into the water in a jagged movement. Jesse’s eyes widened at the horror of being disarmed. He hadn’t expected to find an adversary of any remarkable skill on the streets of Domino. Now, only panic and fear pooled in his stomach as he kept his eyes locked on Jaden’s. “Care to tell me what brings you here, Jesse?”

“You.”

“Me?” Jaden asked, cocking his head to the side in an innocent way.

“Obviously! You’re the one who’s been kidnapping people for the past few months!” Jesse’s words only seemed to confuse Jaden more. He furrowed his brow hard.

“Wait, wait. Hold on a minute. First of all, I haven’t kidnapped anyone ever! I haven’t even been out from the lair in a year or so! I’ve been—”

“I thought you owned these streets?” Jesse sassed.

“Well, ehe, I thought it’d sound cool. Didn’t it?” Jaden admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That doesn’t matter!” Jesse exclaimed, shaking Jaden’s shoulders. Jaden pouted.

“Fine, fine. Anyways, I’m not the one you’re after.”

“Great! Now I’m stuck in the heart of Domino with two vampires wandering the streets with no weapon.” He whined, coming to sit at the fountain. Jaden shrugged casually.

“There are plenty more vampires than that here, but okay.” An idea struck Jesse, fast and hard and stupid. So stupid, in fact, it just might work.

“You!” He exclaimed suddenly, rushing Jaden and squeezing his shoulders roughly. Jaden blinked slowly at him.

“Me?”

“Yes! You’ve got to know all the vampires around here!”

“So?”

“So, you must know the one responsible! You can help me!” Jaden’s eyes narrowed, intrigue taking over.

“Oh? And what’s in it for me?” He purred. Jesse gulped but didn’t let the fear register. He knew it’d make his job so much easier to play the enemy. If he could get Jaden to work with him, he could eliminate not only the immediate threat but Jaden as well. Killing two vampires with one stake. All he had to do was play his cards right.

“Would…some of my blood be fine enough payment?” He asked, playing as though he was embarrassed by such an idea. He’d noticed many vampires he’d dealt with in the past responded well if he pretended like he was new, nervous, and never before bitten. It was like the idea of being the first to drink from a human was a special treat that was rarely given. He’d been bitten plenty by vampires and honestly it wasn’t that bad. It only would become a problem should he take his lifeblood—the true way to turn a human into a vampire. Jaden pursed his lips as Jesse lowered the collar of his jacket, offering payment upfront for his cooperation. He closed in on Jesse, gripping his biceps and wetly licking a stripe up Jesse’s neck to his ear. Jesse hated the way his body shuddered at the feeling, both of the lick and Jaden’s hot breath now in his ear. Though, he was also grateful for it. It helped to sell the unspoken act of it being his first time. He bit his own lip, mentally preparing himself for Jaden’s fangs. It was always the initial jab that was the worst part. A short, single noise of amusement left Jaden’s mouth before his answer rang numbly in his ear.

“No.” Jesse felt his eyes widen when Jaden pulled back to look Jesse in the face, a casual smirk present on his lips. He had never once in all of his time dealing with vampires ever had one turn down a willing, easy meal. It was astounding and almost admirable. Jaden was on an entirely new level of vampire he’d never seen before. He could feel his cheeks flush with real embarrassment of being turned down so casually. What, was his blood not good enough? “I came up for a reason tonight, Jesse. Would you like to know it?” Words failed, so he simply nodded. Jaden closed the short distance between them and slotted his chin in the juncture of Jesse’s neck, lips less than an inch away from Jesse’s ear. He whispered like he was revealing a grand secret. “You see, I’ve very recently come of age. It’s time to build a court of my own, but to do that I have to prove myself. Know how?” His answer was a shake of the head. He could feel Jaden’s smirk grow. “I have to turn a human into a vampire in front of everyone I know. A little ceremony if you will. I was hoping to find myself a willing participant to join my court. My first member. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The color that’d been building in Jesse’s face drained. He was terrified in the, albeit gentle, grip of a vampire that wanted to turn him. It was a good thing in a way. At least Jaden didn’t have any desire to kill him, and that made him feel a bit better. Still, with all the vampires Jesse’d seen he’d never truly spoken to one longer than necessary. In one short description from Jaden, he felt like he’d learned more of the societal structure of vampires than he had in his relatively short career. Jaden pulled away from him, making eye contact with Jesse. He could feel the icy cold of Jaden’s fingers on the skin of his face. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Jesse shook his head, hoping to tune back in. “What?” He asked. Jaden shook his head softly, tsking.

“I said that if you wanted to, we could have a little fun. Make a game of it. Only if you’re a willing participant of course. I’d hate to coerce you into a life you’re uncomfortable with.”

“A game of what?”

“Rewards! If you win, I’ll help you track the vampire behind the disappearances and as an added bonus I’ll leave Domino. But if I win, you’ll stay and become my first court member. We can still track the vampire down, that’s a given. Either way you’ll still benefit in one fashion or another.”

“And what game will we be playing?”

“How’s hide and go seek? I know it’s a bit unfair since I know the city better than you, so we can keep tally at the fountain. Say, five minutes to hide and ten to seek? We’ll play ‘till dawn, so twelve rounds. No rooftops, no going into buildings, no turning into bats. Sound fair?” Jaden extended his hand to Jesse. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was even considering it, but it was true. Jaden was the best bet of actually locating the vampire he was looking for, and even if he lost Jaden didn’t seem like that bad of a guy. He was inclined to take Jaden’s hand, so he did. A searing pain ran up his arm and radiated through his body. “The oath is bound. I’ll seek first.” He turned his back to Jesse, covering his eyes with his hands. “One…Two…Three…”

Jesse ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The people of Domino were depending on him to end their blight. He had to win. He felt a sort of obligation to rid the world of these vermin. Yet, there was something about Jaden Yuki that’d drawn him in way too far for a first encounter. His initial presence had felt intimidating, domineering, and had in an instant become soft and genuine. It felt so wrong to see any good in one of those filthy creatures of the night, but Jesse couldn’t help it. He could sense the overwhelming good nature of Jaden and it made him feel inclined to believe that this would be a fair game.

That was five minutes. Jesse tucked himself tight into an alleyway. He slowed his breathing, trying hard not to give himself away. The click of Jaden’s heels against the concrete filled every crevasse and made it impossible to know how close or far Jaden really was. The gentle glow of the moon and the harsh lights of the city around were the only means Jesse had of sight. He wished desperately for the warmth of the sun. This alley felt like static on his skin. The clicking finally stopped. He held his breath, shifting slightly back behind the boxes he was obscured by. “Found you!” Jaden smirked. He’d moved so fast he’d nearly materialized out of thin air. “Alright! One to nothin’! Better catch-up Jess, unless you secretly do want to be a vampire!” He stuck out his tongue past his sharp teeth before taking off down the alley. Jesse couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. This was actually kind of fun. Jaden, as dangerous as he had the potential to be, actually was making this unfortunate situation fun.

He found Jaden easily, far too easily. He’d been out in the open, almost waiting for him. With each passing round Jaden found him with unfathomable ease and Jesse him with increasing difficulty. It all came down to the final round – Jaden’s six to Jesse’s five. It was Jesse’s turn to seek. “Good luck, Jess. I can’t wait to see how good you’ll look on the ceremonial altar for me!” He winked suggestively and, in a flash, he was gone. Jesse closed his eyes and willed the color from his face. He was a grown ass man. He could deal with comments like that! He could! He began his count.

There was breeze now that brushed and caressed his skin with an all-new chill. It made him feel uncertain. Could he really find Jaden? He had been getting harder and harder to find. If he failed to find him, he’d still finish the job he’d come to the city to do. The only difference was that he wouldn’t be leaving. His heart fluttered in his chest. It was making him feel fuzzy to think about. He didn’t hate the idea; he hadn’t hated the idea from the start actually. If he had, he wouldn’t’ve agreed to play. Hell, he didn’t even hate vampires down to his core like most of his friends did. He’d mostly joined to thanks to Jim’s glowing reference and the promise of traveling about. You had to dehumanize vampires to bring yourself to kill them. He’d gotten good at it and he loved to be good at something. He didn’t think now though that even if a good opportunity showed itself that he could go through killing Jaden. He’d done an excellent job at humanizing himself from the start to Jesse.

His counted ended and the final chase began. He only had until the sun rose now. Domino was huge and for once that evening, he actually felt defeated. Still, he pressed onwards and kept his search going. Every alley, every street, behind every garbage can and every car. It was like Jaden had disappeared entirely until finally he reached the first place he’d hidden. “Jaden! I know you’re there!” Jesse bluffed. He heard a chuckle come from behind him and flipped around. Jaden was so close, leaning in towards him.

“So close and yet so far.” Jaden said, gesturing over his shoulder. The sun had already begun to slink over the horizon. He felt Jaden’s thin but strong arms wrap around him and a swirling vortex of black consumed them.

[itsclydebitches]

Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.

HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway. 

Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore. 

***

Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.

The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.

Or leave behind a charred corpse. 

In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.

Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.

"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."

***

Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.

"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.

In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.

Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.

"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "

Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.

"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.

"Cinder."

"Cinder?"

"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"

"She's gone."

"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.

Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.

"I can do that," he murmured.

"What?"

But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.

"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."

"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.

"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"

Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."

"...fair enough."

Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.

"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.

"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."

"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."

***

The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.

He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.

"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."

Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."

Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.

***

Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.

Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"

Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"

Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.

"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"

"Who?"

"Angry girl with the creepy arm."

"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"

"You were helping me hack Penny."

Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"

"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."

"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.

"So I can kill him later myself!"

Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.

His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was. 

"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."

"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.

"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."

Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?

Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.

Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.

The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.

When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.

"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."

Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.

"Defend it from what?" he asked.

Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."

"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.

"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"

He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.

"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."

And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"

"You and I are nothing alike!"

"I didn't say we were."

Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.

"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"

He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."

Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.

When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.

I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.

***

When he woke they were already running out of time.

For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?

Why not here then?

Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.

"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.

"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "

Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "

"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"

Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?

"I will!"

"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."

They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.

Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.

"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.

Fuck if he knew.

***

Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.

He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable. 

Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.

"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."

"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.

He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!

 What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll.  But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.

In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.

Dear Glynda,

Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.

Sincerely,

General James Ironwood

P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.

How ridiculous.

So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.

He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.

"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.

"No."

"Crochet?"

"No."

Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"

Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.

A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.

From Vacuo.

Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.

They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.

Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.

"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.

Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.

Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.

Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.

Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.

And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.

She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.

There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.

He could still lie though.

"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."

Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though. 

Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.

"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.

"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."

Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.

"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.

"You coming?"

Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.

Probably.

He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?

But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.

There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.

He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.

Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.

[laur-rants]

Schrodinger’s Game Theory: The Fate of Daud

Ever come up with a theory, and then halfway through creating it, the evidence changes and so you’re stuck with a lot of well-put-together ideas but nowhere to go with it?

Anyway, I did that with Daud. Lol.

I just rediscovered a whole ass rant in my drafts (which is now in the link above for private viewing and judgement PLS read it, if you’re missing some context to this post) that I clearly spent a lot of time and energy on, where I came to the conclusion that Daud in Death of the Outsider is actually a imposter/doppelganger, and it was because of the writing from the book contrasted the writing in DotO so poorly, that I came to believe this. I was like, VERY convinced prior to Billie’s book coming out that this was, in fact, a viable game theory. !00%. There was a chance that out there, somewhere, Daud was still stuck in his mind, and needed someone to come rescue him. Stranger things have happened to explain characters coming back from the dead in a video game, okay?

Somewhere along the line, though, it stopped being game theory and was more like, a fan idea. I had collected enough evidence to come to the conclusion that my theory wasn’t sound. That, and Billie’s book released, and there’s no way I could argue that. Instead, imposter!Daud moved to Fan Theory, something I could fictionally, write about, put into an AU.

But... Just because it’s probably not true in the scheme of the game doesn’t stop me from thinking about it, from wanting to talk and share those ideas with others. Even if, at the end of the day, they hold no water and it wouldn't matter because, well. If Billie’s book is to be considered post-DotO canon, then there’s no reason to believe my theory would hold weight. It wouldnt matter, because Daud well, he was left for dead either way. Nobody was coming to rescue him. I’m sure there’s plenty of questions people have in response to this, the most chief one being

“If its not Daud how is he in the Void talking to the Outsider and Billie at the end of DotO??”

And my usual response is: the end of Return of Daud saw Daud becoming trapped within his own mind, through a trap laid by witches from the very beginning of the book. That meant, even if his physical body was still, well, physical, he was trapped inside his mind.

I proposed that out of survival, well, a sliver of his mind would hole itself up in the Void, maybe even be stuck there (this is not so uncommon as it appears; think of what happened to Jessamine in the Heart). Once the spell on his mind and the Outsider were gone, the sliver could return back to his mind. And he’d still be alive.

From a gamer perspective, looking at the mechanics of the game, and everything else, it makes sense. I’m sure some people would say this theory would ‘cheapen Daud’s death’ and I would refute that by simply saying ‘all of DotO cheapened Daud’s death, and despite being a playable character in the franchise he dies unceremoniously off screen and we just take Billie’s word for his death to heart.’ Nothing cheapens a death faster in my head than ‘time to renege on this character’s entire past arch and have him die off-screen.’ His death was ruined far before they went into the Void. If anything, this would give Daud a change to explain himself. 

But I digress. I actually did do a stupid amount of research on this. And what it all really boils down to is that there was bad writing involved in DotO when it came to timeline consistency and quality checkers not checking for that, + the book having been rewritten like, twice, to keep up with what Arkane was changing in DotO in real time.

That’s post marked 9/25/18. I’ve had this theory sitting around for a long time. I enjoyed it. I find it compelling. But ultimately, it was me trying to save Daud, in my mind. Would it be cool for the witches to have stolen Daud, replaced him with a dummy body Eyeless/Envisioned, given that dummy body his memories, and then, when it had outlived it’s usefulness of sending Billie astray, the magic broke and it perished? Hell yeah it would have been cool. and honestly, according to the books, it was a viable option! They could do all those things. You can’t tell me that

Billie can steal faces,

Emily can create copies and

They witches had access to a gemstone that can make prisoners of their own mind/see the thoughts of others,

and NOT immediately think that they’d try and replicate one of the strongest Marked to ever live. The one that TRAPPED DELILAH, no less. And because the witches messed with Daud’s dreams at the beginning of the book (it’s subtle, but its there, its like, you see it on the reread sort of thing), that’s the whole reason he thinks the Outsider is supposed to die, so of course the double would fervently believe the singular obsession that brought Daud into a trap in the first place...

I’m digressing again. Anyway.

What does this mean for Dear old Daud?

It means Daud canonically died, and it was shitty and poorly written and I’ll be salty about that until the day I die because some schmuck on twitter wrote one singular essay and Harvey Smith decided ‘you. you’re the one who needs to write this story’ and then we got Corvosider fanfic in a Dishonored game and I wanted to die. It doesn’t help that this writer was notoriously pretentious and shit-stirring in the fandom at-large BEFORE their hiring-- anyway, this isn’t a salt piece on that. I AM SALTY ABOUT IT, but I’m not the person to discuss it at length. Just know that that’s why some of the narrative decisions in DotO are so out of fucking whack, and we all have to deal with it.

MOVING ON....

There is still... a very slim chance. To save Daud.

Realistically speaking, this chance will never occur. It’s clear and obvious that Arkane has no plans on returning to the Dishonored universe, so despite all these loose ends that Arkane left and all these pieces that need to be picked up and all this lore that’s been reneged on, there’s really not much of a chance that we’ll see, say, Billie, return in a game that is specifically designed to save the timelines. Which, honestly, would be fucking baller. I want a game where I play as Billie, where the shattered timespace of Dunwall is saved by her capable hand, and Emily is free to rule for decades without having to fear that the Isles will fall into the Void like it’s Deimos falling into Hell in DOOM. We KNOW the timelines are saved because we KNOW that Emily has a long and Just (or unjust, if you went high chaos lol) Rule over the kingdom. That can’t happen if, just three years down the line, Billy is running all over the place trying to make sure time doesn’t break at the seams.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Because of how Daud meets Billie in RoD, we know that a Billie three years into the future (’YOUR future,’ she tells him) is trying to save his life. There are other timelines she’s saved already, for sure. Including saving Daud in the past, saving Corvo and Emily in the past, saving Granny Rags in the past -- basically, saving all the Marked from coming to an untimely end. And then, after all that, she goes back in time and tries to save Daud, tries to save him from being poisoned by witch magic and falling into a trap that is triggered when he touches her Future version of the Twin-bladed Knife. She goes through a sort of Groundhog Day scenario, where she confesses that she’s tried hundreds of times to save him, and she couldn’t save that Daud.

But why show us Billie failing to save Daud, if she was destined for failure? Because, eventually, she must succeed.

And therein lies Daud’s (potential) salvation. Is it realizing the other Daud is an imposter? Well... let’s think of it this way. Is the Billie who regained her arm and eye an ‘imposter’ where the ‘real’ Billie is in a timeline where she lost those body parts? Is the Aramis Stilton who went mad in the basement of his mansion the imposter? Or is it the one that Emily saved and was able to keep lucid? These people aren’t ‘imposters’ to their timelines, but they kind of are to the timelines that are saved. Which means DotO could be an entirely separate ‘timeline’, one that we manage to play through and see the ending of. But the ‘true timeline’ may never be known. But at least, we know it happens, and we have Billie to thank for that.

FIN.

[fingergunsbidean]

A Journey in Bisexuality

Word Count: 4.3k Pairings: Dean/Castiel (main), Dean/OMC, Dean/Lee, Dean/Garth Warnings: Underage feelings for Harrison Ford, internalized homophobia, mentions of homophobia but no homophobic actions are done towards Dean, drunken kissing, NSFW elements but no smut, alcoholism implied, and mentions of John Winchester’s A+ parenting, but no actual interactions with him. Summary: A character study of Dean and his journey with discovering and accepting his bisexuality.

Note: I was NEVER actually planning on posting this. I’m NOT a fic writer lol. I actually wrote this as a self paragraph in a 1x1 ten months ago, but I thought we could all use some Dean going to therapy and healing after that finale, so here we are. 

Dean is fourteen when he starts looking at Harrison Ford differently. It’s not just him, it’s all his favorites, but right now it’s all about Harrison Ford. 

His dad is on a hunt in the next town over, leaving Sam and Dean in some cheap motel. For once, he’s not itching to join him, because the local cable is having an all day Harrison Ford marathon, starting with Star Wars and ending with Indiana Jones.

He’s always admired the guy. He’s good looking, knows how to handle a gun, wears an awesome hat, and always wins the hot girl in the end. 

The thing is that Dean always wanted to be him, and as he watches Indi somersault out of the way of an oncoming boulder, he still does, but there’s something more there tonight that he hasn’t noticed in the past.

His cheeks feel flushed and there’s heat tickling underneath his skin. At first, he thinks he’s getting a fever or something and moves over to the other bed, just in case he’s contagious. 

The space does nothing to help Dean though, and his pink cheeks grow bright red when Indiana kisses Willie in Temple of Doom. As the music swells, and he lowly says the words “primitive sexual practices,” Dean finds that he’s picturing himself in Willie’s place, with Harrison Ford looming over him and dipping down to kiss him deeply.

The realization of what he’s doing crashes into him, leaving him a little sick to his stomach as he snatches the remote and turns the TV off abruptly. He swallows roughly to chase away the sick feeling and gives Sam a feigned apologetic look. 

“I–uh–think I’m gettin’ sick or something. I’m going to bed,” He says. But hours after the lights are turned off and he’s buried under the covers, he’s still wide awake.

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is seventeen, and this is the longest they’ve stayed in one place since he watched their house in Lawrence disappear from the backseat in the Impala. 

When their dad took on a pretty big case in Florida, he left the Sam and Dean with Bobby, and then…just kind of left them there. It’s been three months. At first he was pissed. He’s old enough to go on hunts with his dad. He’s been on plenty, while Sam was safely hidden away in a motel.

“You gotta watch over Sammy,” John said, like he always does when Dean asks to go.

It felt like a shitty excuse at the time, but now he can’t imagine being away from his little brother this long, and while he’ll never admit it, he’s glad he left them with Bobby.

For the first time, Dean actually knows the names of the other kids in his class. He has decent grades, and he’s even considering trying out for the baseball team. 

Sammy seems happy too. Dean has seen the poor kid get ripped away from school after school, trying to keep his sobs quiet in the backseat as their dad drove away from yet another town. He hates himself for thinking of it, but when he sees how settled Sam is at Bobby’s, he hopes their dad doesn’t come back.

And maybe he’s happy too, and he tries not to feel guilty, but it’s not like his dad will ever know. Whenever he shows up for them, Dean will follow with a “yes, sir,” like he always does. 

Until then, he just lets himself be a normal seventeen year old for once. He even found a group of friends and everything, a few guys from his gym class. There’s Matt, Jordan, and Aaron with the too blue eyes, or at least that’s what he calls him in his head. As if he’d ever have the nerve to call him that aloud.

Thoughts about boys creep up on him like itch, dull at first but the more he ignores it the more insistent it becomes. When he first noticed these…feelings, he told himself, “It’s a celebrity crush, it’s fine. Everyone gets those.” But then it grew into, “It’s just some stranger in a diner, it’s fine. You’ll never see him again,” and now it’s, “It’s just your good looking friend, it’s fine.”

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

It’s not fine, but Dean pushes it down and pretends it’s not there. Besides, he hasn’t stopped noticing girls. If anything, he’s notices them more. As long as that’s the case, there’s no reason to act on these feelings or even acknowledge them. 

His dad doesn’t want a whole lot from him. He wants him to protect Sam and be a good hunter, but Dean sure as hell knows what he doesn’t want for him, and that’s being with another guy like that, especially when he’s still attracted to girls. He’s seen the way his dad looks at gay guys, heard the comments he makes under his breath, and there’s no way that’s the kind of life he wants for his sons.

So, every time Aaron gives him the kind of smile that makes his chest warm or he finds himself staring too long, he reminds himself of all the reasons why this can’t be a thing. And just because Dean is thinking things he shouldn’t be, doesn’t mean Aaron is too.

He needs that reminder right now as the four of them are packed together in a crowded movie theater, seeing Scream. At some point, Aaron scooted closer to Dean’s side, pressing their shoulders together. 

The screams from the crowd sound like a dull roar in his ears when Aaron’s pinky brushes against his, and he holds his breath as he slowly tangles them together, until they’re practically holding pinkies. 

He should rip his hand away, he even stiffens as he prepares himself to, but then his shoulders sag as he leans further into the touch. He doesn’t want to pull away. His eyes burn as he stares fixedly at the screen with how badly he doesn’t want to pull away.

They stay like that for the rest of the movie, sneaking glances at each other, but keeping the touch to just their shoulders and pinkies. When the credits roll, Dean finally pulls away, stretching as he stands to try and come off as casual as possible. 

They toss their popcorn in the trash and talk about the movie as they head out of the theater. Matt and Jordan give them a quick pat on the shoulders before heading off, and before Dean can go searching for Bobby’s truck in the parking lot, Aaron grabs his elbow to keep him from leaving.

“Dean?” His blue eyes flicker from Dean’s face to the ground nervously, “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Like without Matt and Jordan.”

Dean feels his throat close as he struggles to get air in his lungs, worried that his popcorn might come back up. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. There’s nothing wrong with hanging out just the two of them, but from the way Aaron’s blushing he has a feeling it’s more than that.

“You mean like…” He trails off, unsure if he can even say it, but Aaron beats him to it.

“Like a date, yeah. I don’t know if you–if you’re–well, I thought I’d try, at least,” He gives a nervous look as he braves meeting Dean’s gaze.

His first instinct is to be furious, to fly off the handle at him for even daring to assume that Dean isn’t anything but straight, to tell him he doesn’t swing that way and storm off, maybe even get a punch in, but he’s frozen. 

Despite all his promises to himself that he wouldn’t ever acknowledge this thing that follows him around, he starts entertaining the idea of letting himself have this. His dad is on the other side of the country, he’ll never find out. Nobody has to know if they keep it to themselves. He can just try it this once to get it out of his system and then stick to girls.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean chokes out before he even fully gives himself permission to, and he knows he needs to leave now before he chickens out, “I gotta go. Uh–I’ll call you.” Aaron lets out a huge, relieved breath before giving Dean one of those grins that make his insides squirm with delight, and he smiles back, giving him a playful wink before walking away.

He spends the drive back to Bobby’s going between panic and excitement, planning out potential date ideas but also rehearsing ways to turn Aaron down. As he pulls into the Salvage yard and sees the Impala, he realizes it’s all for nothing and feels strangely numb. It’s time for the next hunt, and he knows with absolute certainty that he’ll never see Aaron again. It’s for the best, he tells himself. 

Who was he fucking kidding anyway?

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is twenty-one and drunk on the beach. His vision is a little fuzzy, and when he looks up at the sheer amount of stars in the pitch black sky, he feels dizzy, causing him to stumble into the body beside him.

“Watch it, brother. You don’t wanna eat sand,” A husky voice laughs as he grips Dean’s shoulders with strong hands to steady him.

Lee can’t fill the hole that Sam left when he went off to Stanford, but having him around helps him feel a little less like he’s suffocating. John swung by Texhoma in hopes to recruit his old buddy for a hunt, but got his son instead. Dean and John were glad for the turn of events for different reasons. His dad admired how strong of a fighter Lee was, his training precise enough for John’s Marine standards.

Dean just admired him, in general. He’s having a hell of a time ignoring it when his dad is always there. Maybe, it’s just his paranoia talking, but it feels like he’s watching Dean too closely, noting how he acts around Lee. Which is what inspires their first escape from John Winchester in a slew of rowdy drunken activities. 

After he caught them wasted in a middle of a hunt, they started being more discreet about it, so while John was dead asleep in his motel room, the two of them snuck off to a bar and then stumbled their way to the closest beach.

Lee’s hands on his shoulders make him feel both grounded but also like he’s teetering over the edge of a cliff. The moon illuminates his face from where it’s hovering near Dean’s, his blue eyes boring into his. 

In his drunken state, he forgets what they were talking about, or if they were even talking at all, and all those walls he’s been building around himself for the past decade feel flimsy, like the slightest nudge will knock them all down.

Dean’s gaze flickers wildly over his face before landing on a piece of hair that fell over his eyes. “You have sand in your hair,” He drunkenly giggles and lifts a hand to pull the sand out before tucking the errant hair behind Lee’s ear. Instead of dropping his hand like he planned to, he cups his friends cheek instead, his thumb absently brushing over his soft skin.

“Dean,” Lee breathes, low and rough, and it sends a tingle down his spine.

“Hey,” He answers, because it feels like the right the thing to say in the moment, or maybe he just doesn’t know what the hell to say when they’re standing this close and he wants nothing more than to just close the remaining distance, give into this want that’s been burning in his chest for years.

Something like recognition shows in Lee’s eyes before he clasps the back of Dean’s neck and draws him down to seal their lips together in a tentative kiss. It’s more gentle and hesitant than his actual first kiss, but it makes his entire body practically sing. 

He hears a desperate noise over the sound of the waves, and he thinks it might’ve come for him, but he doesn’t care. He can beat himself up for that later, but for now, he sighs against Lee’s lips and deepens the kiss, letting himself have this.

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Lee is the longest relationship he’s ever had, which is pretty sad, considering it lasts for about a month. But in that month, they find creative ways to sneak around his dad and even get caught up in some kind of wild orgy with triplets. 

It all crashes and burns when a case in Arizona goes horribly, horribly wrong, and Lee can’t just move past it. He quits hunting and leaves Dean to go back home, giving him one last lingering kiss before he drives away.

With hardly anything more than a dismissive grunt, John leaves shortly after, deciding Dean is finally old enough to hunt on his own, and that they’ll cover more ground to find whatever killed mom if they split up. The fact that his dad trusts him to do this on his own should be enough to fill him with pride, but it feels more like punishment, and for the first time in his life, he’s completely alone.

A week after Lee and his dad left, he’s sitting in the parked Impala, dialing Sam’s number.

“Heya, Sammy,” He greets his brother, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant and cheerful as possible. 

They talk about Sam’s homework and friends, and Dean tells him about some interesting hunts, leaving out the most recent one. He doesn’t tell him about dad leaving, but Lee is on the tip of his tongue. Part of him wants to tell Sam–to get this weight off his shoulders, for one more person to know, so it doesn’t feel like some big fever dream.

“Sam,” He starts, his tone suddenly serious. “I’m…” He stops. He’s what? He’s not gay, but he obviously ain’t straight either. But who says he has to label himself right this second though? He can just tell him about Lee. “I…” He tries again, but the words just don’t come.

That time he agreed to go on a date with Aaron, he told himself it’d be a one time thing to get it out of his system, and while this wasn’t Aaron, that’s what Lee can be. A one time thing. Something that Sam doesn’t need to know about.

“I gotta go. Take care of yourself, okay?”

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is thirty and fucking grateful for it. It’s 2009, and not 2014. He still has time to fix this. When he whips around and sees Cas standing there on the empty street, there’s a look on his face that Dean can only describe as tenderness, and that makes him believe he really can fix this.

“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas,” Dean breathes shakily, overwhelmed by the sheer relief that this Cas is his Cas, not the version he left in 2014.

“We had an appointment,” Cas replies, and there’s so much warmth in his gravely voice that Dean wants to chase it and hold it close to his chest. 

He feels his face do something that’s probably too open and too fond, but he doesn’t do anything to mask it. Instead, he firmly rests a hand on the angel’s shoulder and looks him straight in the eye before saying, “Don’t ever change.”

Dean wouldn’t say Cas has much variety in his facial expressions, so the hint of a smile he gets in return feels huge. It reaches his eyes more than his lips, and something about that makes it more genuine. 

This isn’t the first time Dean felt something after prolonged eye contact with the guy, far from it, but it’s usually a shock of heat or desire–this is something else entirely. He just wants to find more ways to earn looks like this, which seems impossible with the apocalypse around the corner, but he wants to try.

It’s been nearly a decade since he told himself he wouldn’t let himself act on feelings for another man, but shit has changed. His dad is dead, and that’s not enough to erase the shame that still washes over him any time he accidentally checks out another dude, but John Winchester is not an excuse anymore. 

The world is ending, isn’t this the best time to say fuck it and try?

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

Dean is thirty-two, and he’s very naked, and very sticky. He curses himself under his breath for not taking the time to clean up before passing out, but he must’ve worn himself out. 

For a second he forgets where he is or who he was with the night before, but when he cracks an eye open, he sees peeling yellow wallpaper from the ugly ass motel room he’s been staying in. He blindly reaches a hand out behind him and makes contact with an equally naked and sticky body.

“Hey, watch the hand,” A very familiar voice laughs from behind him, causing Dean to whip around in surprise, wincing at the soreness that follows.

“Garth?” He asks wearily.

“Yeah, who else? We didn’t even drink last night, don’t pull the forgotten one night stand act with me, Dean Winchester,” Garth chastises him gently, propping himself up on his elbow as he smiles down at him.

Dean blinks a few times to try and wake himself up, and when he’s feeling a little less disoriented, the night before comes back to him–and, oh yeah, he remembers it. Who would’ve thought a little guy like Garth could be such a firecracker in bed? Maybe, he somehow sensed that about him, and that’s why he was so eager to find out.

In the short time he’s known Garth, he wouldn’t say he’s had many dirty thoughts about him. He didn’t have many thoughts about anyone these days, not since Cas…Dean quickly ends that train of thought there. The nightmares are enough. 

The thing with Garth just kind of happened, between the goodbye hugs, and the comments about how good he smells, the little smiles he keeps sending Dean’s way, he figured why the hell not?

He wasn’t disappointed with his choice either. Garth was surprisingly strong and confident, which are all things Dean likes in his partners. He just wouldn’t usually go for someone he sees so often–makes things awkward.

“I remember,” He gives a quiet laugh before clearing his throat awkwardly, looking from Garth’s bare chest to the sheets. “Look, Garth, I–uh–I’m not really looking for a relationship or anything,” He begins, and it feels so overused and rehearsed. 

He hates having this talk, which is why he usually sticks to waitresses or women, and the occasional man that he won’t ever see again. He doesn’t want to shoot Garth down, but after Cas–he just thought things would be different by now. He thought they would be different now, but that hope died when he pulled Cas’s soaking trench coat out of the water.

He doesn’t know what he kind of response he expects, but it’s definitely not for him to throw his head back with a loud laugh. “Oh, Dean, I should’ve known you’d be this funny the morning after. Look at you, trying to give me the it’s not you, it’s me talk. We’re fine, buddy. Just two guys looking for a night of fun,” He shakes his head and gives Dean’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Dean feels his entire body sag in relief, and now that, that awkwardness is out of the way, he feels his body react to Garth’s close proximity, the memory of the night before has him ready to go all over again. 

Resting a hand on the hunter’s naked hip, he leans in until their noses brush, “In that case, round two?” He asks, his voice practically a quiet purr.

“Round two,” Garth agrees before pulling him in for a heated kiss.

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

“I don’t know. I guess that was the first time I did something like that without feeling guilty after. I didn’t really even think about the fact that he was a dude that time,” Dean recounts, picking at a stray thread on his jeans.

He’s forty-one and the world is still turning. Chuck is gone, Jack and Eileen are back, Cas is human, Sam is okay, and everything should be fine. But it turns out that peace on earth doesn’t erase decades worth of repression and trauma.

It took storming out of a few therapist’s office before he found the right one. Dr. Williams, or Charlotte, is pretty nice, so far. She listens to all his stories that would sound absolutely insane to an outsider, and hardly bats an eye. 

Usually, they talk about Hell or Michael, but somehow the subject shifted to his history with men today, starting with him telling her about the ring he got Cas for Christmas. The one he almost didn’t give him–the ring that isn’t an engagement ring despite the looks Sam keeps giving him, but hopefully isn’t just a friendship ring either.

“And how do you feel now? With Castiel? Do you still feel ashamed of your feelings or sexuality?” She asks calmly as she looks up at him over her notebook.

Dean grimaces at that word–sexuality. He’s had so many years to accept the fact that he isn’t straight, that he likes men too, that he more than likes a particular man specifically. 

Still, he can’t get himself to say the actual word, not even in his own head. His old man has been dead for thirteen years, and it still feels like he’s looming over his shoulder whenever he even considers it. 

Sometimes, he wishes he told him when he accidentally wished him back into existence, but he’s glad he didn’t. Of all the people who deserve to hear it first, it’s not his dad. The fact that he even thinks that, tells him these sessions are doing something.

“Sometimes…yeah,” Dean mutters and nervously licks his lower lip, “I know my family won’t care. Hell, they probably already know, but I don’t know. I just can’t shake it, I guess.”

“You don’t have to come out,” Charlotte tells him, and her voice isn’t too gentle like some of the other Therapist’s were, but it’s not too matter-of-fact either, which is why he likes her so much. 

“Not with an official statement, at least. You should do what you’re comfortable with. Like, next time you watch Star Wars, instead of keeping all those thoughts about Harrison Ford to yourself, say them aloud.”

Dean merely raises a brow in response, he’s pretty sure nobody wants to hear what he has to say about Harrison Ford. He’s come up with way too many jerking off fantasies to that guy. Most of his thoughts are something along the lines of, “I’d sell my soul to fuck Harrison Ford.”

Charlotte seems to catch on quick and lets out an amused snort, “The safe for work version.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure there is a safe for work version,” Dean points out and waggles his brows suggestively before dropping the act and sagging a little in his seat, his face going blank in thought.

“I know that uh–that being bisexual is okay,” He stammers out and rubs the back of his neck as it prickles with nerves, “Which is what I am, I mean, bisexual. I’m just trying to believe that it is.” 

It’s the first time he actually said it, and it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be. He still feels sick with anxiety, and like he wants to drink an entire bottle of whiskey when he gets home, but the fact that he did it at all lifts a huge weight from his shoulders.

Charlotte gives him an impressed nod and jots down a few notes, “Well, that’s a good start.”

⚤ ⚤ ⚤ ⚤

After his session, he comes home and gives some flimsy excuse about his whereabouts before pouring himself a drink. Cas isn’t in the kitchen or his room, but it doesn’t take Dean long to track him down. 

The new human spends a lot of time in the same spot these days. Shrugging on a coat, he brings his glass outside and walks to the little area Cas so carefully turned into his garden.

Dean doesn’t announce his presence, just watches from a safe distance as Cas mutters quietly to his plants. The sun occasionally glints off the silver ring on his middle finger, and it brings a fond smile to his lips. 

After everything they’ve been through, after losing him so many times, Dean can’t believe he’s really here. It’s not perfect, Cas is struggling with his new humanity, and the distance between them hasn’t been fixed, but it’s still good.

And Dean loves him.

“I’m in love with Cas,” He mentally tells himself, another thing that he’s known for ages but has been too damn scared to actually put into words. It’s just as nerve-wracking as his confession to Charlotte earlier, but it still brings him peace.

He doesn’t know when he’ll tell Cas, or if he ever will, but right now he’s okay just telling himself. He’s okay just standing here and watching him garden. It’s more than he thought he’d ever have.

[unstoppableforcce]

such a simple thing

pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x reader

masterlist | song link | 7.3k

a/n: I was so happy with this when I finished that I kind of refused to reread it so I wouldn’t hate it lol, I checked for errors but not as extensively as I normally do, also formatting on this hell site was fighting me so I apologize if the italics for memories aren’t encompassing

I really enjoyed getting back into the song one shots so if you enjoyed this and want more, feel free to send in song suggestions and characters you want to see paired with them :)))))

Tell me what you’re feeling, I can take the pain

“You’re quiet tonight...”

Lifting your head from the racing drops of condensation running down from the lip of your bottle, you found the patiently awaiting eyes of Santiago. He dusted the sand from the blanket you were sat on and made just enough room for himself before sitting down.

“Got something on your mind or...” his words danced through the air just as a turn in the wind pushed the smoke from the bonfire back into your face, offering you the perfect opportunity to drop you stare back down the cold sand you buried your feet in. “Honey...”

“It’s nothing.” You hummed, twisting the base of the bottle into the sand.

He sighed, glancing back to the fire and the crowd of the boys and some of their other friends on the other side of it.

Benny was fumbling with a device to keep the lights of the few phone flashlights in his hand propped up and illuminating the corn hole boards. Will was actively mocking him while he helped, the two of them both making a show of their bare chests and tattoos to the surrounding girls. And Frankie... Frankie was somehow managing a amiable conversation with the group around him while tending to the fire, his girl right over his shoulder.

But you weren’t socializing like they were, you were over here, off to the side as the sun finally dipped just beneath the horizon of the ocean.

“Does this nothing have to do with mr. No Show tonight?” He mocked hesitantly, nudging his shoulder into yours.

You quirked your head onto your shoulder to look at him, your goosebump covered knees pulling into your chest. “I broke up with him this morning.”

“Shit...” he shook his head, “I’m sorry, honey...”

Shrugging your shoulders, you reached back for you bottle and took a sip. “You didn’t like him anyways.”

“I liked him fine, more than the last one at least.”

“He was nicer than the last one...” you hummed again, but bringing the bottle to your lip, you only found it empty.

And he offered his to you instead.

“Doesn’t matter how nice he is, you still broke up with him...” he countered as you took your first sip and crinkled your face at the taste.

The light coming out from where the sun had just disappeared was just enough to read the label but it didn’t do much to clear it up in your mind. “What is this?”

“I don’t know, some shit Benny bought.” He shrugged, mirroring you as you accepted your fate and brought the bottle back to your lips.

There were plenty of drinks left in the coolers by the rest of the party but neither of you were getting up.

“What did he do?”

You groaned as the disgusting drink made its way down your throat and shrugged, pursing out your lips. “He didn’t do anything.”

“So why’d you break up with him?” Santi asked, leaning back with one arm propped up into the sand.

“Because he didn’t do anything.” You scoffed, “even if I hadn’t broken up with him today, he wouldn’t have come out tonight, he never wanted to go out. Not with friends, not even just for dinner... I don’t even know, everything was just complicated with him.”

“Well I guess now is a pretty good time to mention that I don’t remember his name anyways.” He laughed, effortlessly pulling you into it with him. “But I am sorry...you deserve better than this.”

“Thats sweet, Pope,” you chuckled, hitting his shoulder as he dipped his head down into his lap, thankful the slowly darkening horizon hid the rosy blush on his cheeks. At least until you recoiled, your tone losing all of your teasing tone. “I appreciate it, really.”

“I mean it.”

If only you knew exactly how much he meant it.

My heart is like paper, yours is like a flame

Whatever shitty beer Benny had brought got better after a few more. And you and Santi slowly rejoined the party.

And after a few more, the two of you thought it best to slowly work your way out of the party as well.

“I’m driving you home...” he said simply, grabbing your hips as you began to stumble off course through the sand on the way back to the parking lot, your shoes in hands and his jacket over you shoulders.

“I haven’t had that many—“ you held up your hand, counting off finger by finger until you ran out of fingers. “Okay maybe—“

“Come on, honey.” He cooed, holding you tight as you nearly tripped over yourself again, spiraling into a laughter that he couldn’t help but mirror with his own.

It had always been like this between the two of you.

Overseas, in some makeshift hospital tent as explosions shook the mountains around the two of you, your hands remaining steady as you stitched up the small knife wound on his forearm. You’d crack some joke, it wouldn’t even be a good one, but it’d be enough to pull some laughter out of the two of you.

Enough to take the two of you out of your heads, enough to ignore the bombs and blasts at least for the moment.

Because as soon as they stopped, that meant he and the rest of the boys would be heading out again.

“You’ll be here when I get back, right?” He asked as you wrapped a bandage around his arm and pressed it down tight.

“Depends how long you take,” you added carefully, glancing up to him and pulling your gloves off. He quirked his head and you continued, “I’m shipping back to Germany, the surgical program, remember?”

The army was making you a doctor, and as he had told you every every time he ran into you in medical tents and facilities wherever he went, you were going to be a good one.

But he missed his chance with you then.

And since reconnecting with you back in the states, he spent a lot of time wishing he could go back to those small moments with you. This was as close as he could get to it.

Unless, your wandering hands as you pulled him back to his jeep meant something more than you were just tipsy and still sad about this morning.

“Honey, what are you doing...” he hummed as you pulled his hoodie off your shoulders and tossed it into the passenger seat, moving your back to the door as he followed.

“What are you doing?” You mocked back, reaching for his hand to pull him even closer.

“Im driving you home, what are you doing?”

“Trying to kiss you...” your hands found the front of his shirt and pulled him in closer until he could feel the heat of your chest against his through the fabric of your shirt.

Everything about you was hot, searingly hot. The tips of your fingers just burning into his the skin of his arms as you wrapped them around you.

He was on fire.

Hotter than the flames that provided the only light in the harbor parking lot, the ones emanating from the bonfire the two of you had just left and the ones surrounding it. Someone, maybe Benny, maybe one of the idiot friends from the gym he invited, was spraying lighter fluid into it, sending the flames sky high and still not coming close to as hot as he felt as you drew him closer.

He had imagined this before, not in a parking lot certainly, but in a bed... this idyllic bedroom he had in his mind, a part of this perfect house he used to dream about as he watched blood and dirt run down the drain in the shower. It wasn’t his house, he never really had a house and he certainly had never lived anywhere with a fireplace, but there was one in that house, lit up as hot as your current touch. 

And the candles littered around the room burned equally as bright. 

Everything was so quiet, and you were always so warm.

It was an escape from the gun fire or explosions that came close to blowing his ear drums out on many occasions. It was an escape from the fight and his role in it.

Except it wasn’t real. It was just what his tormented mind came up with to stave off the nightmares in his bunk, packed in next to other soldiers like sardines in a can. It was just a dream about the beautiful medic who stitched him up, time and time again, surely the rest of the boys around him were imagining something similar.

He used the mere image of you as a distraction, even long after his discharge. In the jungles of South America, in the room they had him wait in before they prepped him for his neck surgery...

It wasn’t real though, the memory of you in his arms in some perfect house. 

But right now? Your arms leaving trails of flame and smoke up his arms to wrap around his neck and bring your lips dangerously close to his... It was real, and it was so much better than he could have ever imagined. 

Until the smell wafting from your breath, as you moved your lips impossibly closer to his, hit his nose. 

It smelled like that shit beer Benny had brought, and the few shots that Will had challenged you to. Then everything, even the scorching touch of your fingers over the scar at the base of his neck, felt like a mistake. A drunken mistake. 

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even know how much you had to drink that night. But he did. He sipped on a few beers the whole night knowing he’d have to drive home and he knew exactly what was coursing through your veins as your hips nudged into his. 

It was the breakup sadness from this morning, even if you said you were okay, no one got over it that fast. It was the liquor that was plaguing your thoughts, making you think that you wanted this, that you wanted him...

It wasn’t you. You didn’t want him. Not like he wanted you. 

“Santi...?” You quirked you head, clearly sensing a change in his touch. And when he froze up underneath you entirely, you recoiled back into the car, seeming to realize what you were doing for the first time. “I’m sorry, I--”

“No honey, I...”

The heat of your touch was gone, turned into the goosebumps that electrified your arms as you pulled away, taking every minuscule feeling of warmth with you as you did. 

He didn’t know what to say, but he tried anyways, reaching out for you because he didn’t know what else he could do, “no, honey it’s not--”

“Just take me home...” you said quickly, hoping into the passenger side of his jeep and crossing your arms tight over your chest. 

I can’t make you see if you don’t by now

Santi was a fast driver. 

Notably fast really, at all times, day or night. Not crazy, just fast. 

But this slow crawl back to your house and up the driveway was all he could manage as the silence between the two of you settled over him, weighing down his shoulders as the chilling breezing whipped around his topless jeep, freezing him to his bones. 

You hadn’t said a single thing the whole drive back and he wasn’t sure yet if that was better or worse than the alternative. 

With his jacket over your thighs, covering up the shivering skin your denim shorts left exposed, you sat unmoving beside him in the passenger seat, your hands playing over themselves in your lap. He didn’t know how to read this emotion on you, he had just never seen it before. 

Never once had you been so quiet in his presence, not unless he was counting the few times the two of you had been star gazing. But those times never felt like this. 

Those silences were comfortable, warm even, as the two of you huddled up next to each other in his back seat, staring at the stars over head. Nothing needed to be said then, all you wanted to hear from each other was the sound of each breath and over the forest on the other side of you. 

This wasn’t that. 

This silence was a weight heavier than anything he had ever felt before. As metaphorical as that assessment of it was, he literally felt his shoulders caving in where he sat, one hand extended out to the wheel and the other resting on the stick shift. And the weight of all the defenses and excuses he wanted to make for acting the way he did felt even heavier inside his chest, but he feared you didn’t want any of them. 

He kept his mouth shut and pulled smoothly into your driveway before putting the car in park and turning the engine off. 

He had never had to be hesitant with you. Things were just easy.

He could put his arm around your shoulder, he could kiss your cheek and tell you that you looked amazing and it wouldn’t mean anything more than what it was. Platonic love. 

Maybe what he felt was more than that, but what did that matter? He was sure you didn’t feel anything more than that so he kept it to that and just hoped you didn’t figure it out. 

But you must have, right? You must have known there wasn’t something more to what he felt for you. 

He didn’t drive the other guys home, he didn’t chat with them in the middle of the night when the couldn’t sleep, he didn’t buy them smoothies and meet up with them after the gym because he hadn’t seen them in a few days and that was the only time they were free... no, all of that, he reserved for you. 

For the woman who had saved his life more times than he could count, for the woman he loved more than anything in the world... for the woman who just tried to drunkenly jump him and who he turned down--

“I’m sorry.” You said quickly, finally looking up from your lap to meet his stare, but just as quickly shifting it away to the shut garage door in front of you. Taking in a deep breath, you continued quieter than you had started, “This morning was... and I had to much to drink... and I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize,” he tried to fight in a way that kept his heart contained in his chest. 

But you kept going, “I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.”

You shouldn’t have. Right. He knew that. 

You hooked two fingers into the door handle and threw it open, laying his jacket back on the seat as you hopped onto the concrete below you with a light thud. “Thank you for driving me home...”

“Anytime.” He fought back quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the gentle slam of the door shut. And as you retreated to your front door, sparing him a final glance over your shoulder, he offered a quiet, “Good night, honey.”

“’Night,” you added back with a wave over your shoulder before fishing your keys out of your pocket and unlocking your door. 

He waited for you to get in, he always waited.  

It didn’t matter what was brewing in his chest as he did. 

I’m so tired I just don’t care

It was a week later and the same silence from the car ride home had continued to haunt the two of you, both of you unsure of what you could possibly say. 

No texts, no calls, not even an email... he missed you and still couldn’t find it in himself to reach out. 

Because what if you didn’t want him to. What if, after that night, talking to him was the last thing you wanted. What if you woke up sober the next morning and just found the whole thing embarrassing and didn’t want him to admit he remembered it all in excruciating detail. 

What if he couldn’t see you again without mentioning that the crease between your brows looked even better up close as your face relaxed, your lips moving in for a kiss. What if he called you and couldn’t stop talking about the way your touch ignited a fire in his chest that had been stamped out and left unlit for decades. What if he saw you sober and made a casual move on you like he always did and you wanted none of that. 

What if it was all just you being drunk and lonely and him mentioning it made it more than what It was. 

He’d spent the whole week tiring himself out with every possible permutation of what he imagined was going on in your head and none of them made him feel any better. None of them came close to easing the tension his muscles seemed to be holding since he pulled out of your driveway that night. 

He was surprised he could even manage to relax his hand enough to let go of the steering wheel when he got home. 

The only outcome that he could imagine could ever possibly keep some semblance of normalcy between the two of you was to ignore it entirely, to act like he didn’t care or didn’t even notice something had happened. 

And as it turned out, you had come to the same conclusion. 

You greeted him at Benny’s next fight with a simple, “hi,” and spent the rest of the night with Frankie as a buffer between the two of you. At least until the break between the fights, when you went off to fetch a new drink for yourself and wandered back with a man trailing behind you, engaged in seemingly effortlessly conversation and laughter with him. 

“You’ve got to stop staring at her, Pope.” Frankie muttered to him as he turned to place his body directly in Santi’s line of sight towards you. 

All he could do was huff and return his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and Frankie didn’t seem to take that as an answer. 

“What the hell happened after the bonfire, man?”

He shook his head, glancing away, back to the empty octagon for a breath before returning to meet his glare and realizing he wasn’t getting away without answering. With a sigh, he gave his best attempt at a convincing shrug, “I don’t know, nothing happened.”

“Oh, nothing? Really? That’s why Will tells me she called him for a ride home after a late shift the other night, the one you always used to pick her up after?” He’s careful to keep his voice down, but one glance over his shoulder told him you were far too interested in the man who was far too interested in you. “And you refuse to go with us to the baseball game Friday night after you found out she was going?”

You always called for a ride if you needed one. Sure, he planned to get you every Tuesday when they inevitably kept you late, but you always called to tell him when. And when you didn’t? Well, that was just the final nail in the coffin. 

Ignoring it entirely was the only way it was going to end up okay in the long run, so he opted out of the game, yeah. 

He wasn’t proud of the route the two of you were taking, but he wasn’t about to make it any worse by saying something. 

“It’s nothing, just a bump. it’ll work itself out.”

Frankie let out a sigh somehow more exhausted than the one Santi had managed a few seconds earlier, but if anyone else had reason to be tired, it was the man with the one-year-old and two idiotic best friends. 

“What happened?”

The funny thing was that Santi had told the truth. Nothing happened. 

Your lips were inches away from his and absolutely nothing happened. The fact that nothing had happened was the problem actually, and the absurdity of that statement alone was enough to bring a veil of pure exhaustion over his body as he settled back in the seat. 

The crowd was beginning to cheer again so the next fight must have been close at hand, but Frankie was still turned in his seat like Santi and whatever he was feeling was the night’s entertainment. 

“You need to talk to her.” He argued in place of receiving an answer. 

“She’d talk to me if she wanted to talk.” Santi huffed, rubbing over his face and fixing the cap over his head. “She always has.”

“Yeah,” He scoffed, “when she wants your opinion on other men in her life.”

Santi turned his head back to face him just as the crowd roared again, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re that man now, Pope, whether you want to admit something happened that night or not,” He sighed, reaching down for the beer under his seat and standing up as the rest of the crowd did, pulling Santi up with him. “My best guess is she’s going to Will for that advice now.”

He could pick your cheers out of the dozens around him, echoing around in his ears. Hell, he could pick the faintest sound of your voice out from stadiums away; he felt tuned to it. So when you got particularly rowdy, he knew he would turn away from Frankie’s stare and find Benny entering, shoulders bouncing and ready to fight. 

He just couldn’t. Not with the weight of Frankie’s words hanging around his neck. 

“It’s complicated,” he tried to defend, wielding the word like it was some sort of excuse. 

“It never has been before with you two.”

With that, they both turned back to the spectacle in front of them, Frankie beginning to cheer along with the crowd, but Santi couldn’t muster the breath just yet. 

Because as he looked back to you, spotting you just over Frankie’s shoulder, the man you were with already had his arm around you. And by the time the fight was over, you were already heading out with him, stopping by Will briefly, probably to ask him to pass on your “congratulations” to Benny, then leaving entirely. 

There was nothing for the two of you to talking about. There were no what ifs. 

You were sad about your breakup and drunk off the shit beer Benny brought. He was just a rebound, a move of last resort or something like it. 

You didn’t burn for him the way he did for you. 

If you did, he would’ve at least gotten a goodbye. 

Can’t you see how much you hurt me?

The one night he isn’t awake at 3 a.m. is the night his phone rings. 

Just the gentle buzzing on his nightstand at first, something he was barely cognizant of as he lifted his head from his pillow, a trail of drool following as he blinked his eyes open to read the exact time off the digital clock. Then his home phone began to rang, the shrill tone piercing the peacefully silent air of his whole house and rocketing him out of bed in an instant. 

It was Frankie, on both lines, calling frantically, and that was the last push he needed to fall out of bed and find a worn pair of jeans on the ground and a mostly clean shirt from atop his hamper. 

His mom had called him and woken him up much the same way, saying his father was in a car accident and that, while he would probably be okay, she was rushing to the hospital now and he needed to do the same. Which was no problem except his girl was out of town for work and he had a one-year-old asleep in her crib who would need to be fed in a hour. 

“I can be there in two minutes, just let me find my keys.” Santi assured him and the sigh of relief that fell from Frankie’s lips over the phone was astronomical. 

“Thank you...”

And it really was two minutes despite being a five minute drive. Santi was a fast driver. 

Though, in parking at the curb and jogging up the few stairs of his porch, he found he wasn’t the first one there. Stood against the unfinished planter box in pathetic pajamas, a cardigan wrapped tightly around yourself and socks with lemons on them tucked into slippers was you, tearing his heart out just by being you. 

“He called you too?” He asked carefully, the first thing he had really spoken to you in weeks. 

You shook your head though, “no, she called, said ‘Fish called her frantically and would need the help.”

“You already knocked?”

The look you shot him clearly said ‘what do I look like to you? an idiot’ but he knocked again anyways. It gave him something to do besides stare at you in your adorable sleepwear. 

And before he could bring his fist down for the second half of his knock, Frankie frantically pulled the door open and ushered you both in to the kitchen where he was fussing with bottles, the fridge door wide open. 

“She’ll need to be fed when she wakes up, that’s usually in an hour and I should be back by tomorrow but if you have questions, you can call either me or--”

“Frankie, calm down, we’ve got this.” You said, your voice barely waking up out of its raspy morning drawl as you walked around the counter and laid your hands gently over his to get him to stop. 

Glancing to Santi with the same crazed stare, Santi offered a similarly calming sentiment, “We’ve got this, go, don’t worry.”

That seemed to be the last reassurance he needed, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, grabbing his hastily packed backpack off the floor, wrapping Santi up in a big hug and leaving. Leaving the two of you in complete silence besides the gentle hum of the baby monitor left sideways on the counter next to the mess he had been busy with. 

And the silence was no good, not since Santi had spent so much time brewing in it in his own house, thinking about you. Now you were four feet in front of him, just a kitchen counter between the two of you and he had to open his damn mouth. 

“You can go, I’ve got this if you want to head home.” He shrugged like it was nothing. 

Your face didn’t react like it was nothing though. 

Your arms crossed back over your chest with your loose cardigan puddling around your arms, let out a hefty scoff and jutted your hip out all in one go. “I’ve got this, you should go home.”

It was the feistiness in you that he loved, he just didn’t love it in this one moment. Because it pulled something ugly out of him, something he didn’t like but was powerless to stop as the words bubbled out of his throat. 

“Honey just go, I’m sure you’ve got someone waiting for you at home anyways, so just go.” He argued, like it made all the sense in the world to say. 

It didn’t though. Not as it left his lips and certainly not as your face twisted into deep confusion, the crease in your brow furrowing before pure anger took over you, unlike anything he had ever really seen from you. 

Across your chest, your hands turned to fists and you didn’t let him escape the fire of your stare. All you let out was one fateful word as it slipped past the lips that had tried to kiss him just a few weeks ago. 

“Wow.”

He tried to fight it back, “that came out harsher than I wanted it to--”

“Really, is there a softer way you meant to slut shame me, Pope?” You scoffed again, shaking your head as he stumbled for a grasp on the right words. 

“I didn’t mean to--”

“No, I think you did--”

“Honey, that wasn’t what I meant--”

“Stop calling me that.” You said definitively, getting his babbling to stop, his whole disposition shifting to that of a hurt puppy at your words. 

He had always called you that. Always. Since the day he met you and never once, no matter how many egomaniacs you dated that felt threatened by your friendship with him or how many times you tried to ditch the group to meet someone new at a bar, never once had you told him to stop calling you that. 

But before he could fight it, the baby monitor released a muffled cry from where it was downturned on the counter and you quickly reached for it. Again, a cry echoed out of it, the blue light meter signaling significant noise while the both of you just sighed. 

“I’ve got her--” he tried to get out, moving to the hallway back to her nursery but you held up a hand to stop him in place. 

“I’ve got her, you should just go.”

“Please--”

“Go, Santi.” You added, your tone much harsher as you disappeared down the dark hall, your steps turning to tip toes before he heard the door creak open and the cried become even more apparent. 

He didn’t go though. He couldn’t leave after his best friend called him to watch his baby during a family emergency, whether he was fighting with you or not. 

He walked with careful steps into the kitchen and pulled one of the prepared bottles out before sticking it into the microwave to warm it gently. By the time you came back out with a quieter but distinctly awake little Mia settled on your hip, he already had it ready to go, passing it to you with one of the soft towels lying around. 

“Hi, Mia.” He said softly, stroking one of the tears off her cheek. 

She giggled lightly at that, she always did have a soft spot for Tìo Santi. 

You, maybe not so much now as you accepted the bottle and walked her over to the rocking chair set up in the living room. He followed sitting back on the couch next to you and the silence remained. 

For the whole rest of the night, it remained. You took Mia back to bed after a while and came back out into the living room, claiming the loveseat across from where Santi had now laid out on the couch and keeping the silence. 

A cold and painful silence. His heart burning in pain the whole time.

It’s like I wasn’t there

“Do you know where we are right now?” 

Settling into the seat next to Santi, Benny took up as much room as he possibly could until Santi just couldn’t avoid him. He had his arm over his shoulder, his knee nudging into his, his foot rest on the ring beneath his bar stool and his face in his. 

Impossible to ignore. 

“Yes.” Santi answered stubbornly, pushing his face away so he could grab his fresh drink from the bartender. 

“It’s a bar.” Benny told him despite his answer and Santi nodded along, still confused. “It’s a bar where we’re having a party.”

“Benny I--”

“My brother’s birthday party.”

“Yeah, I know, I--”

Benny put his hand over his mouth and shook his head, “No, listen to me. You are at a party, a birthday party, and you are sitting alone, not having any fun just because the woman you’ve been in love with for a fucking decade is here.”

Santi didn’t get a response with Benny’s hand still over his mouth, so he had no opportunity to even mount a defense. Not that it would’ve mattered, Benny had eyes and there would be no convincing him he was wrong, especially as he continued. 

“She’s beautiful, she’s smart, she’s saved your life more times than I can count and look,” he casually swung Santi’s head toward the pool table where you and Frankie were battling, “she’s all alone here tonight in the hottest dress she owns--”

That was the final straw. Santi pushed him off of his shoulders and made sure to get his hand away from his face, all with a practiced precision that forced Benny’s hands into a show of surrender. He raised them even higher as the rough cut of Santi’s voice broke out again, “You don’t think I noticed what she was wearing?”

“She came here alone.” He added, accentuating every word like that wasn’t the second thing Santi had noticed when you came into the bar they rented out. 

“So what? So she can pick up another guy here--”

“You two are such fucking idiots,” Benny cursed out, stealing Pope’s drink for a sip before he fought for it back and ushered for him to continue. “She knows everyone in here, she’s not trying for some meaningless hook-up, she’s trying to catch someone’s attention.”

“Or she just wants to look good for herself--”

“Pope, you absolute fucking idiot. That is the dress. THE dress! The one you she wore on her birthday last year and you said ‘now if you’re ever looking to catch someone’s attention, that’s the way to do it’.”

He let his stare shift back to where you were bending over the table, trying to line up a shot without succumbing to the laughter spurred up by the group around you. 

It was that dress. 

How Benny remembered it so well, well he didn’t want to ask. All he knew was that he was right. It was a slip of black that flowed over your body beautifully, with a low-cut back and slit up your left leg. 

If he remembered correctly, which he knew he did when it came to you and that night, he actually had said, “Oh Honey, did you wear that all for me?” with a joking intonation. 

Only you responded with a little twirl and laugh, “Why? Do you like it or something?”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into a burly hug, spinning you slightly with both his strong forearms wrapped around your waist. He followed that up with a quick kiss on your cheek and pulled back to show you a smirk he just couldn’t wipe from his lips. 

“If you ever walk into a room wearing that and it doesn’t catch my attention, you’ve got to shoot me, honey, because that’s not the real me.”

It wasn’t as coy as Benny’s memory, but in his head, you just laughed and shook your head, dragging him and Benny, who hadn’t gotten nearly the hello that Santi had, into the restaurant behind you to where Will and a few of your friends from the hospital had already secured a table. 

“Now,” Benny leaned back in, interrupting the memory that played through his head as he continued, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but ‘Fish seems to think that you think she’s not into you and I just wanted to use this opportunity to remind you that A. that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, and B. this is my brother’s birthday party, so whatever happened needs to not be happening here, because you’re killing the mood with all this sulking.”

And that finally pulled a laugh out of his throat. 

Benny just naturally had that effect, changing even the sourest moods into something better. 

With a hearty slap to his shoulder, Benny left Pope at the bar with his drink and returned to the group he had been chatting withe before, but turning back one last time before he made it to point to where you were playing and give a wink and thumbs up. 

But you were playing and having fun. If he was going to do this, it wasn’t going to be now, not If he had to pull you away from your fun to do it. 

Taking his drink, he followed Benny to his table to ease back into conversation instead of drinking his sorrows away, and when he saw the party begin to die down an hour later and the dancing began to slow down on the small dance floor, he finally crossed the room to you. And with one look, Frankie said goodbye to you and pulled his girl onto the dance floor where Will was with his girl. 

Then it was just you and him, and finally, the two of you couldn’t ignore each other for any longer. 

Tell me what your heart wants

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Good, at least that was a start.

“Do you want to--”

“I just want to say--”

The two of you can’t talk to each other for how long and now you can’t not talk over each other... the irony was not missed by either of you as you both stole brief chuckles. 

He just overcame his nerves before you did, and got his question out first. 

“Do you want to dance with me?” 

His hand hung in the air, extended out between the two of you, colder than it had been even while wrapped around his glass a few minutes ago as you just stared at it. If you said no, he was pretty sure that would be the end of things between the two of you. He just couldn’t see a way back from that. 

But instead, you slipped your molten-hot fingers into his and gave him a gentle nod. 

He dragged you backwards from the pool table to the relatively empty dance floor, stopping briefly as both your feet found it to offer you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You stepped up, one whole step closer to him and placed your free hand on his shoulder, his other hand slipping down the effortlessly smooth fabric of your dress to settle at your waist. 

And like those nights when he took you star gazing, the silence was natural for the first few beats as the two of you began to sway with the slow song Will had obviously requested. It stayed that comfortable too, at least until you finally turned your head and made eye contact with him. 

Then he just couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I don’t know how it went so wrong so fast, honey-- I’m sorry, I just...” the breath he collected for the sentence fell away as you watched him try and catch it again. But all he could muster was another apology, “I’m sorry...”

As you shook your head, you gave his hand a tight squeeze. 

“You’re my best friend, Santi, I didn’t mean to ruin things. I just had too much to drink and I was feeling lonely and...” you trailed off and his heart stopped, his face moving back into your distracted line of sight, all but forcing you to continue. “I never feel lonely around you, so I did something I shouldn’t have--”

“No--”

“Santi, this is my fault--”

“No, I wanted to kiss you and I’m the one who ruined it.”

Your stare shifted up from the chain around his neck to his eyes with a hopeful glint. “Why didn’t you?”

He shook his head this time, glancing around the floor to see the other couples too caught up in each other to even realize what was happening between the two of you. 

“You were drunk and I thought I was just going to be your rebound... I didn’t want you to do anything you would regret...”

The sigh from your lips was the embodiment of the relief he felt at seeing the tension fall out of every muscle in your body, even your grip around his hand and his shoulder felt looser, much more like the version of you he knew and loved. 

“Why didn’t you just say that...” 

“Because I didn’t want to ruin anything. You’re my best friend too and I was afraid if I opened my mouth, the right thing wasn’t going to come out... like at Frankie’s that night with Mia... I didn’t mean that, I don’t even know why I said it... I just... you mean too much to me honey, I could’t lose you.” 

The words flowed from his lips, barely processing through his mind as he held your stare. It was everything his heart wanted to say that night and he finally had the courage to drop the gate and let it all come out. 

Because keeping it shut was losing him you. And he couldn’t lose you. 

“When did this all get so complicated...” You chuckled with only half your heart behind it as his hand at your waist tugged you into him further. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he defended, “we can keep it simple.”

“Simple?”

“Yeah, just the basics.” He said softly as you leaned your head forward onto his shoulder. 

“What did you have in mind?” You mocked somewhat as he pulled his hand intertwined with yours up to his lips and left a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“We start with the fact that I’ve been in love with you for over a decade and go from there.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and stopped your swaying immediately, and he froze like had the second he smelled the liquor on your breath after the bonfire. Only this time, you didn’t pull away or drop your heated touch from him. 

You just brought your lips to his and this time? He didn’t hesitate. 

Like a match lighting a fireplace, like the burning heat from a bonfire or the warmth from a candle, flames erupted inside his chest, scorch trails tracing back from his heart to every point of contact with you. Your touch on his shoulder switched to his neck, igniting a trail of gunpowder up to his hairline. Your grip in his hand held tight and tingles ran down his forearm like a grenade had just gone off in your shared grip. And your lips...

Your lips were the sun, burning hotter and brighter than anything else around, the perfect embodiment of what you were to him. 

He couldn’t pull you in tighter if he tried. The hand at your waist gripped into the silky fabric of your dress and pressed and pressed until your chest was flattened against his and every inch of you was a point of contact, sending every molecule of his being up in flames. 

What a way to go. 

And when you pulled back, desperate for a breath of oxygen before you could stoke the fire again, you sighed out a gentle, “I love you too.”

His eyes opened to find yours waiting for him, your forehead pressed into his and lit up with what had to be all of the light from every burning star in the galaxy. 

“What’s your favorite constellation?” He had asked somewhat mindlessly all those nights ago, the two of you in the back of his truck, necks angled so that all you could see was the sky as you star gazed. 

“The big dipper.” You answered, equally as mindless. 

“Wow original,” he mocked easily, “why?”

You shrugged, your shoulder hitting his as it did. “Sometimes the simplest thing is the best thing.”

He had made some kind of joke about whatever poetic moment overtook you there and then, but he wasn’t joking as he gazed into your eyes now. 

He loved you and you loved him. 

Such a simple thing

--

tags:@itsamedeemoney @pizzahutmonkeybutt​ @poesflygirl​ @aellynera​ @mandolovian​ @phoenixhalliwell​

[atelier-dayz]

Wish you would write a fic where obi wan loses his memories after order66 and runs into vader (mustafar fight never happens)

Okay, when I first saw this, I had SO MANY QUESTION. But I figured something out. Not sure if this is even remotely what you expected but I had fun! :D

There’s something coming. 

‘Bi has no frame of reference for exactly what, but he has a bad feeling about it. The varactyls who have taken him into their lounge[1] are agitated, keeping closer to their nesting grounds than usual. Boga refuses to leave his side for even a moment, though she has stayed close ever since he’d washed ashore with her all those months ago, only a scant handful of memories to call his own.

They had been shot at, the blaster holes in his clothes and the burns scoring Boga’s side clear evidence of that -- and incentive enough for him to stay hidden away with the varactyls. He has avoided contact with anyone, but especially with the troopers in white armor milling around the closest city. Over the months, the troopers’ presence has diminished, though not disappearing entirely, and ‘Bi[2] still hides, something within him, the same something that allows him to connect with Boga and the others, telling him that something terrible has happened out in the galaxy, that he mustn't be found. Someone had wanted him, whomever he’d been, dead, and he must keep up that illusion. 

He has spent months living with the varactyls, living off the land with the knowledge left from his missing past. He tries to recall his memories, but is entirely unsuccessful. The feeling of being...hunted had faded as time had passed, but now that feeling is back.

Suddenly, a strange howl fills the air, and he and the varactyls look up as almost one as a small, black starfighter streaks across the sky, heading for the encampment of troopers just outside the city. Whoever is coming, they’re after him, he thinks. 

He’s morbidly curious about this newcomer, but an insistent and anxious Boga has him climbing onto her back. They flee, the lounge of varactyls swiftly climbing up and down the rough terrain, farther and farther away from the city. 

They are found anyways. 

A gunship descends onto the mesa where they’d chosen to rest for the night. They hold themselves silent and still, hidden behind the rocky outcrops in hopes of not being detected. ‘Bi spies through a slit between two slabs of rock as a man jumps out of the gunship before it even lands, his black cloak fluttering in his wake. One trooper jumps after him from a more reasonable height, a long blaster rifle in his hands.  

The man in black stalks forward, head turning left and right as he searches. His face is familiar. Somehow, ‘Bi knows him -- no, he had known him, but not this man before him now. This man feels like a jagged, festering wound, like fury and despair and pain all rolled into a miasma. His eyes are--wrong, glowing gold in the dimming light even at a distance. 

“I sense him. He’s here,” growls the man in black. 

“He’s not dead after all?” comes the distorted voice of the trooper through his visored helmet.

“If he was dead, I would have felt it,” the man says. “As it is--” 

‘Bi scrambles back as the man abruptly lunges forward and, a molten red-bladed sword in hand, cuts apart the rock formation he’d been hiding behind. A lightsaber, the word comes to him as he shields his face from the smoldering debris. 

“Obi-wan, you’re looking rough,” the man drawls, looming over him with his saber halfway extended towards ‘Bi.

“I--oh, that is my name, isn’t it?” 'Bi remarks as he gets to his feet. Obi-wan. Obi-wan Kenobi. 

“What do you mean--" the man falters. "Of course that's your name. What are you playing at?" He scowls, and Obi-wan stiffens as the man fully extends his saber at his throat. 

He remembers then holding a lightsaber once, remembers the live wire heft of holding one. A blue one, not screaming red like the one at his throat. His lightsaber. 

Now, he thinks, would certainly be a good time to have it, as the man glares down at him with those sickly yellow eyes.

"As I only have memories of the last few months, the Obi-wan you knew is...not present, so to speak," he says.

The man huffs. "That's the game you want to play? Surely the Negotiator can lie better than that--no, I know you can, with all the lies you've --"

He's interrupted by a screech as Boga leaps out from cover at him. 

"Boga, don't!" With alarm, Obi-wan raises an arm as if that would prevent her from lunging at the man. 

The man twists his face into a snarl and holds his free hand out towards her, fingers curling almost like claws. With a whine, Boga collapses onto the ground next to Obi-wan, head flailing and limbs scrambling against the dirt. 

"Boga." Obi-wan senses her pain sharply and strokes a hand over her feathered head as if that would soothe and shield her from what the man is doing to her. "Let her go, Anakin!" 

The name just slips out. 

Pain rips through his head as a smattering of memories return to him.

Anakin. Jedi Knight. The "Hero with No Fear." His former student. His friend. His brother.  

He recognizes nothing of the boy or man he'd once known in the man before him. 

"Anakin Skywalker was weak, and he is dead. I am Darth Vader," Anakin declares, and only after a few long moments, as if to prove a point, does he drop his hand. 

Boga slumps to the ground with a weak whine, and Obi-wan continues to stroke her head. 

"That was much too dangerous, my dear," he tells her. "Don't you worry about me, I'll be alright." 

"So sure of yourself, aren't you?" remarks Vader. "What was it you always lectured me about? 'Your lightsaber is your life?' Well, your lightsaber is gone, which means, so is your life.” 

Vader raises his saber, ready to strike Obi-wan down right there.

But Obi-wan is distracted. 

He should have realized. Varactyls are remarkably loyal creatures, and they had just spent months protecting him. They certainly aren’t going to stop now, as suddenly, trills fill the air. The entire lounge of varactyls charges out from all different directions, having taken the time to encircle them -- to encircle Vader.

Obi-wan knows though, that Vader would have no qualms cutting every single one of them down -- and looks ready to do so, pivoting to the nearest approaching varactyl and changing the grip on his saber as if he’s about to use it as a throwing spear. 

“No!” Obi-wan shouts, and through pure instinct, gathers up the something that’s been guiding him -- the Force -- and pushes with both hands. 

The invisible shove sends Vader flying into the air with a yelp, lightsaber slipping from his hand --  

Though this outcome does not surprise him nearly as much as seeing the trooper swing his rifle like a bat at just the right timing to send Vader off the edge of the mesa, Vader’s enraged roar trailing after him[3]. 

As the varactyls skid to a halt in a protective circle around him and Boga, Obi-wan gapes at the trooper, who takes a moment to look over the edge to follow Vader’s descent, before turning to Obi-wan. The trooper takes off his helmet, revealing a face identical to all the others save for a scar curving around his left eye and down the side of his face. 

“General, we should leave. I can’t say how long that will actually hold him,” the trooper says, gesturing to the gunship, where more helmetless troopers happen to peer out of the doors. 

Obi-wan squints at the trooper, taking in that distinctive scar, the left shoulder antenna, and the remnants of orange paint scratched off the armor. 

Crossing his arms, he remarks, “My memories might not be all here, but I’m fairly certain you shot at us.”

The trooper grimaces and brushes a hand over a surgical scar on the side of his head. Obi-wan hadn't noticed it before.

“I would never willingly shoot you, sir,” the trooper says. “...they put chips in our heads, turned us into drones the moment the...Emperor said the right words.” 

Obi-wan relaxes a bit, sensing the truth in those words, though that is a rather messy and likely painful subject to revisit at a more...appropriate time and setting.

“You...weren’t bluffing about the memories?” asks the trooper with a deep frown.

“Unfortunately not. They seem to be coming back though, in bits and pieces.”

“Oh, well then, Cody, at your service. I was your second before...well, before.”

More than that, he’d been a dear and trusted friend, Obi-wan senses, before the terrible things had happened. There are things, he suspects, that can never be fixed, but their friendship will not be one of them.

“We better get going, sir,” Cody says. 

Obi-wan makes to join him, but stops when the varactyls crowd around him. With a smile, he reaches out pat each of their heads. 

“Thank you for your help, all of you,” he tells them. “I wouldn’t have made it all this time without you.” 

They nip at his clothes and hair and bump his shoulders before edging away, and Boga bounds forward to his side, now recovered. He strokes her feathered head for a moment.

“I guess this is where we part ways then, Boga. You’ve been a wonderful friend. Do take care of yourself, all right?” 

But as he goes to join Cody then, Boga trills and follows him. He raises an eyebrow at her, but he can sense her devotion, her intent to continue following him wherever that may be.

“I...don’t think that’s the best idea, my dear,” he says, “Your home is here. Your friends and family are here.” But she trills again and even begins walking to the gunship without them.

“She’s welcome to come along, sir, there’s plenty of room where we’re going,” Cody says, failing utterly to not look like he’s smirking at Obi-wan. 

“And where exactly are we going?” Obi-wan asks.

“To the Rebellion, of course.”

Notes:

[1]A collective of lizards is apparently a “lounge of lizards” and since varactyls are lizard-like I went with that lol

[2] Obi-wan calls himself ‘Bi because that’s what it sounds like when the varactyls are specifically calling him.

[3] For visualization, please see Lumi’s gif at the end of this post with Cody using his rifle as a baseball bat.

Vader!Anakin’s speech patterns annoy me so much but they are what they are *sigh*. 

I kept accidentally referring to varactyls as vacteryls because there’s a medical syndrome called VACTERL alskdfjlkasj

[moral-turpitudes]

Butterflies 🦋: Part 1

A/N: Tumblr is a bitch so I had to re-upload this lol. Idek why I wrote this but I had an idea about butterflies and I just went with it. Sorry if the ending is a bit lame but I hope you enjoy this cute shit. There will be a Part 2 soon. 

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Mentions of neglect, and Swearing.

Word Count: 2,435

Characters: Bonnie Gold x Reader

+ I also made Esmeralda have more of an appearance as well and mentioned his younger sister a tiny bit since they absolutely failed at acknowledging them in the show lol.

Summary: Y/n leaves her hometown after she and Bonnie learn they’re going to be parents. But after getting news of some urgent blinder business, Bonnie’s priorities shift as he prepares for his next mission by Tommy, and as he prepares for his new life with Y/n.

Requested: No

Part 1 | Part 2 

Y/n never thought that she’d leave Small Heath, knowing that the very city she was born in was nothing but trouble. She was like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon that wouldn’t budge, wanting to go off and live and do as she pleased without facing the hollow shell of her parents that awaited her at home.

But she never thought she’d get that chance so soon, until she met him. The brown haired boxer boy who came in with stars in his eyes to where she was working on sewing the fighters robes at the ring, asking if she’d do some repairs to his. She always stayed after hours to get time away from her parents, causing her to have more run-ins with him than she could count. And little did she know, he’d tear a small hole in his robe on purpose every now and then just to get the chance to stay after with her and talk, and ultimately walk her home after the sun went down.

The two quickly started dating after a couple more of his boxing matchups, causing a jealous stir in the crowd of girls that she’d always seen sitting up front. But in a flash, she and the infamous Bonnie Gold had been going steady for a full year now. During this whirlwind of a year, she found out she was pregnant with his child and they both, along with his father’s insistence, decided that having her move in would be good for the both of them considering the circumstances back at home and the fact that they had a new addition coming.

But because this was Small Heath, and because nothing ever happened without the blinders coming into any conversation, the town quickly knew of them, along with the growing tensions between outside gangs and the blinders. There had been explosions and chaos ever since the other gangs stepped foot in Small Heath, and they no doubt stalked the boxing rings while the blinders were there, which was making it more risky for her to stay there as Bonnie had been working with the blinders as of late. And everyone in town knew full well that anyone who carried a razor-blade cap also often carried a possible death sentence.

Y/n shuddered at the thought as she reminisced on how she got here. She hated he was working for them, but she wanted to support his dreams nonetheless. As she shook herself from her thoughts, she laid in the back of the vardo, watching the sunlight streaming into the wooden structure. The inside was painted a dark green color, much like the vast expanse of trees surrounding the spot they all stopped at. As she looked up aimlessly, she marveled at the intricate gold-painted wood details that lined the inside of the space, nicely contrasting with the rich colors of the various curtains and small decorations hanging from the windows. As her eyes wandered, she saw the small drawers and a lamp that was resting on the wooden flooring, and a rug with floral patterns and golden thread weaved throughout, taking up the majority of the space.

As she took in her new surroundings, she heard the voices of Bonnie and his father Aberama talking with some people outside. They were voices she didn’t fully recognize.

Y/n stepped out carefully, the fall air creeping up around her dress as she walked down towards them. On her way over, Bonnie’s sister - and her new best friend, stopped her and pulled her gently to the side over by where her and her other sister were setting up breakfast.

“Hey y/n, let me know what Bon says when he gets done meeting with them, I hate him getting involved in that blinder business.” She said, skeptically looking out at them talking with a stone-faced man with two others behind him. They all had their razor-blade caps on, including Bonnie. Y/n knew the men they were talking to as Bonnie had mentioned them before, back when he had just started working with them. She had also met them at plenty of his boxing matches over the year.

“I know Esmeralda. But I’ve met them enough to know they’re not all that bad, but I’ll have a talk with him. Promise.” Y/n said hugging her.

She walked over carefully, draping a hand over her small bump she had forming under her blue dress. The blinders looked over and Bonnie and his dad followed suit, Bonnie tensing a bit as she made her way over. He watched her with a sweet smile, desperately trying to hide the strain in his eyes as he had been told some news about the gangs.

“Good morning love. Sorry for keeping you waiting.” He said as she put her arm around his waist, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“What I was saying Mr. Gold, was that we’ll need you both in Small Heath by 9 tomorrow. We have to be ready.” The stone-faced man, Tommy Shelby said to Aberama quietly.

Y/n observed the others and saw that they looked a bit uncomfortable, their trigger-fingers itching for action as usual. But no blood would be spilled, not here anyways.

She felt Bonnie relax as they said goodbye to them, the two of them watching as they walked off towards their cars that were glistening in the sunlight.

“What was that about Bon?” She asked as he walked with her back to where everyone was gathering for breakfast.

“I’ll tell ya later. It’s nothing for you to worry about now love.” He said pulling out a chair for her to sit at and then fixing himself and y/n some of what Esmerelda had cooked.

Y/n tried her best to eat as the morning sickness was more prevalent than in the previous weeks. But she ended up running off anyways to bring it up once again, frustrated at not being able to keep anything down. After getting herself under control, she wandered off to the creek nearby to rest, loving the sounds of the water rushing amongst the trees.

Bonnie sat for a moment fumbling with a small ring in his pocket while talking quietly to his father about the plans for tomorrow. His father noticed and winked as he took it out to glance at it, it was Bonnie’s late mothers ring, but Aberama made sure to keep it for him when he found “the one.” As he talked about his plans, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of y/n and how she was doing, so he excused himself, hastily shoving the ring back in his pocket, and running towards where she went off to.

Bonnie knew she was having a hard time adjusting to being away from her family, while also not wanting to go back. Her family were like ghosts in a way, they were present, but were never available when she needed them. They never once offered to meet him nor did they take their daughter seriously when she told them her news, and when she left they barely muttered a goodbye.

As he walked into the forested area he remembered that day and how she was sad to leave the town she grew up in, but seeing her finally open up once she was out of the confines of her house was one of his favorite moments. In his eyes she was like a butterfly bursting from a cocoon, ready to see what this new life had to offer. She had always been fragile in a sense, but at the same time so strong which he admired her for.

He heard her crying as he saw her sitting by the creek in the distance.

Slowly walking down towards her, he saw her stand up, wiping away the last of her tears on her hands.

“Y/n? Love are you okay?” He asked quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned around and smiled weakly, more tears falling reluctantly to the ground.

She immediately hugged him to her, letting the rest of the tears fall that she had held in for so long.

“What’s wrong love? You can tell me ya know...” he said patting her back gently.

She looked up as he wiped some of the stray tears from her face and sighed.

“I guess I’m just frustrated. I’m frustrated that I can’t eat, and I’m frustrated that you have to go and get involved in all these things for Tommy and them. You all are basically my only family now and I just don’t want you all to get hurt.” She said.

Bonnie pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead and sighed, looking out at the trees as their branches swayed around them. What he would give to not have to do the things he did, he just wanted to box and to be able to support her but he had to do what he had to in order to keep them safe. Even it meant killing people.

“I’m doing this for us love, you know that right? I know what I’m doing, and so does my dad. No one will hurt you. I promise.” He said.

“Why were they telling you to meet them tomorrow? What was all that about Bon? I doubt it’s about boxing.” She said, a bit of anger taking over as she undid herself from his grasp and sat on a nearby tree stump.

“It’s about the gangs y/n...they’re planning to attack him and have already blown up one of his supply yards and they need our help. He wanted to come to tell us his plan. We’re leaving at 8 tomorrow to meet him, just me and my dad and a couple of the lads.” He said.

“I’m going.” Y/n said looking away from him.

He came over and sat by her, putting his arms around her as she leaned into him.

“As much as I want you to, I can’t let you sweetheart. You need to stay here where it’s safe, because none of them know we’re out here, Tommy made sure of it. It’s not just you I’m thinking about anymore you know. I need you, and I need you both safe.” He said placing a hand on her small bump, as she placed her hand over his, sighing in defeat.

“I guess you’re right, but you better come back so help me god.” She said and got up. Bonnie smirked and joined her as they walked back. A pretty blue butterfly fluttering past, making him smile.

“What’re you smiling at?” She asked smirking as their steps crunched the leaves that were beginning to blanket the ground.

“Did you see that butterfly going past?” He asked.

“No, I was too busy looking at you.” She said smirking as she held his hand.

He grinned. “Well, I was just thinking about how you remind me of it. Beautiful, yet fragile in the best of ways.” He said.

“In what ways am I fragile? Do I look like a mirror or a glass vase or something?” She asked laughing.

“No my love, you’re just fragile in the sense that you’re precious and I’d never want to hurt you. You care so much about everyone and it’s one of the reasons I love you, and why I’m so glad you’re going to be the mother of my child. I mean that...you’re strong and you’ve always been the one to help me out and put up with all my shit for so long. I just want to be able to help you for once. I want you to know that I care about you and that no matter what I’ll always be there for you.” He said stopping and looking down at her.

Y/n smiled and looked up at him, feeling like she could stare at him forever if life permitted.

“I love you too. And I care about you more than you know. We care about you more than you know.” She said cradling her stomach.

“We just want you to be safe, we just want you to come back to us.” She said quietly and walking ahead.

“Y/n...I’ll always come back to you, and with this I definitely will.” He said as he fished for the small ring in his pocket.

Y/n turned around to see him on one knee holding the diamond ring shakily.

“Will ya marry me at least? I’m 100% sure I’d come back knowing you’re the one wearing this.” He asked cheekily.

Y/n stopped and smiled.

“Bonnie fucking Gold are you serious?” She asked stretching out her hand for him to put it on.

“C’mon is it a yes?” He asked as she looked at the ring.

“You could’ve proposed with a piece of string tied together and I would’ve said yes! of course I’ll marry you.” She said smirking and bringing him in for a kiss.

Not soon after, they made their way back to camp and y/n immediately went over to Esmeralda.

“So what’d he say? Oh my god why are you so happy?” She asked raising an eyebrow and sitting down with a cup of tea.

Y/n took a deep breath and told her, no matter the outcome, it had to be said.

“He said they’re going to help the blinders with some peaky business...I tried to tell him I’d go with him and he said no because they’re going to take down a gang that’s been fucking Tommy over. And despite my protests he said it was unsafe for both me and the baby. Anyways, that means it’s me and you running this place until they get back....” Y/n said looking off to see Aberama hugging Bonnie, congratulating him.

“Okay...and that’s a good thing?” She asked as you smiled.

“Well no, I obviously don’t want them to go, but we’d get the place to ourselves for a couple of days, save the couple of others around. Maybe then we could start planning...” Y/n said.

“Planning for wh-“ Esmeralda stopped short as Y/n slowly held her hand up.

“Oh my god yes! I was going to whack him upside the head if he didn’t do it soon. I’m so happy for you! We’re definitely planning this wedding.” She said giving y/n a hug.

Bonnie came over after their little convo and sat with them around the fire, his arm around Y/n’s shoulders as she curled up next to him. As much as she feared for him leaving tomorrow, she believed he’d come back to her, and no matter what happened he’d always make sure his family was safe.

[fizzingwizard]

Last week I mistakenly wrote “episode 41″ instead of “episode 40.” Tried to fix it, not sure if Tumblr let me. Here’s the real episode 41!

We’ve been on a pretty darn good streak lately, but this episode was a miss for me. It’s not terrible - it’s still far and away better than much of what we were getting in the past - so I don’t want to be harsh. It’s a much needed Yamato & Takeru centric episode, which I was excited for.

But one of the weaknesses in this reboot is that the characters just lack the strong motivations and inner conflict that drove the 99 Adventure series. It’s not completely absent, but it’s very dialed back by comparison. So I just couldn’t really feel the brotherly bond this episode wanted me to feel. But more below the cut.

Pic of the week:

Yamato and his gentle face <3

The group is taking another break. I will never get bored of watching them just chill.

Gomamon gives Jou a massage. On the one hand, cute! On the other, wtf? XD I mean wouldn’t that hurt? He has claws

Cutest siblings.

Even though they’re taking a break, Taichi, of course, is too responsible to properly goof off. (99 Taichi would be so freaked out by this kid.) He decides to go scouting and Koushirou offers to go with him. I really hoped we’d see a bit of what they do this episode scattered through the main story, but looks like we’ll get to it next week and I can’tttt waaaaitttt

Speaking of the main story, Yamato and Takeru decide to go gather food.

Who even knows what the other four get up to. Jou and Mimi continuing their break makes sense, but I’m kinda surprised Hikari and Sora didn’t want to join one of the tasks, or do their own. I suppose they know they can’t leave Jou and Mimi unsupervised though hurr hurr

So Takeru and Yamato go to look for food and find themselves surrounded by fog. Suddenly this little guy, Opossomon, pops out. I instantly hate him and his annoying squeaky voice.

Opossomon takes them to his amusement park. He is sad because nobody comes to visit anymore. I figured Takeru would be like AMUSEMENT PARK AMUSEMENT PARK!! but literally all he cares about is “aw, opossomon seems sad, let’s give him what he wants.”

Whoever heard of a kid who wasn’t excited by amusement parks.

Takeru does get a little excited once they enter the park and start going on rides. They get on the ferris wheel - a classic Digimon motif - and the brothers recall going to a theme park with their parents before the divorce. Takeru reminisces happily, but Yamato seems a bit more reserved.

Takeru: Oniichan was scared of the haunted house and wouldn’t go in?

Gabumon: o_O y-you were??

Yamato: o/////////o

seriously Idk, I just love that he’s bothered by ghosts, bahahaha - pretty sure that wasn’t a thing till Tri, unless it happened in a CD drama or novel or something. Anyway it’s just, it’s just so perfect for Yamato, bahahaha

I am absolutely going to write a ficlet about Taichi, Yamato, & the haunted house now

Then there’s this weird bit. They come across a merry-go-round and they remember that, on their family trip, Takeru tried to go on it with Yamato, but Yamato said no and Takeru went with their mom instead. That seems to be the situation but IT’S NEVER EXPLAINED. Why did Yamato not want to go on the merry go round then?? Was there a reason? Or he just didn’t want to at the time, and the reason he regrets it now is because this turned out to be their last family trip and there was never another chance to go on the merry go round together after that? I could totally accept that but it’s not explained in any way.

Unless I totally zoned out... I’m pretty guilty of that with this show lol.

But this is the kind of thing that bugs me... we’re supposed to understand that Yamato, at least, is feeling some kind of melancholy, at least. But we have so little background for it. We know Yamato and Takeru don’t live together and that they care a lot about each other. But we don’t feel the kind of bitterness 99 Yamato had, nor is Takeru anything like as clingy as his 99 version. They seem pretty well adjusted.

And, I mean, that’s probably the point. Plenty of children of divorce are perfectly well adjusted. Maybe that’s the reason the producers didn’t want to be as heavy-handed with the trauma this time - there’s more divorced families than ever and you don’t want to be guilty of suggesting all those kids are messed up because of it. I’m on board with that. But even in 99, the main reason Yamato and Takeru struggled wasn’t because their parents were divorced - it was because the divorced separated them from each other as well. Each parent took one kid. You can see how that would seem practical, except that kids aren’t furniture, you can’t just divide them evenly and call it fair.

So... yeah. This episode seems to want us to believe Yamato and Takeru are indeed struggling over being separated. But it’s so low key. It just doesn’t make sense when in every other interaction they’ve had, they’ve been fine. The only previous sign was Yamato being worried about protecting Takeru when Tokyo was in danger, and anyone would be worried in that situation - you don’t need to be from a divorced family for that lol.

Back to busness - they come across... Xiaomon? Chowmon? who is annoyingly cute and helpless. Turns out, shock! The theme park is a trap! Opossomon is evil!

And he has evil balloons! Evil balloons!

Yamato and Takeru fight the balloons but somehow end up creating more fog and get separated. Previously they’d also realized that their Digivice communication wasn’t working, probably due to the fog. I hope we see more of that in future episodes.

Yamato hears Takeru’s voice coming from within the dreaded haunted house and ventures inside.

Here’s another bit that just left me like uggggh. Yamato is scared of haunted houses, so make it a big deal that he makes himself go in for Takeru! He has like one timid line about and that’s it. There’s no challenge here. There’s no stress. The whole encounter is like a minute long.

He quickly finds out the voice was actually just a mimic coming from these Takeru balloons.

And then Bakemon attacks.

Me: Now something interesting will happen, right??

Yamato: Nope.

Meanwhile, Takeru hears the story about how Opossomon has been luring Digimon into his theme park and then sacrificing them to his Monzaemon statue thing in another weird example of this Digimon-eat-Digimon world we’re in Why Opossomon is doing this, or where Monzaemon came from, is never explained.

Takeru also encounters his dreaded theme park ride, the roller coaster. But Pegasusmon takes care of it in a single attack lol.

He fights his hardest but still can’t prevent his new friend from getting sucked into the void. This was another place where they could’ve stressed Takeru out, but he’s fine.

Ugh, I miss crybaby Takeru. The victories are more powerful when the challenges are steeper, what does this show not get about that?

Monzaemon then becomes WaruMonzaemon, but he seems to be a mindless puppet ordered around by Opossomon. I DON’T GET IT BUT OKAY.

Now Takeru does something really cool! He wants to save the trapped Digimon and he understands they’re inside WaruMonzaemon’s hole. So he willingly goes in himself!

That is SO COOL! Why isn’t it a bigger deal???

Why don’t we get Takeru struggling to muster his courage?

Why don’t we get real fear and worry from Yamato when he sees him go inside??

Yamato runs up right at that moment just in time to watch his brother get swallowed up. HE SHOULD BE OUT OF HIS MIND WITH PANIC.

But he just fights normally. Shouts Takeur’s name, gets a bit of a power boost... that’s it.

Inside WaruMonzaemon, Takeru finds out that the trapped Digimon are having their life energy sucked away by the balloons connected to them.

Then he and Patamon also realize their own energy is draining away thanks to their own balloons.

Yamato finally looks properly concerned, though it’s still like... not at the level the episode needs.

He recalls the family theme park outing again, and apparently he promised Takeru that the next time, they would go on the merry-go-round together. The episode treats this promise like it’s a Big Deal, again without explaining anything like they never got that next time thanks to the divorce, or they’re so lonely being so far apart, or Yamato is obsessed with giving Takeru everything he wants... I don’t. I don’t get it. I can’t be moved by this nonsense.

why a merry go round? Maybe there’s a good reason I’m not thinking of, but I wish it had been the haunted house or the roller coaster. It would make more sense if Takeru were scared of the roller coaster and only wanted to try it if Yamato went with him, but Yamato at the time said no, and thus Takeru didn’t get over his fear and the roller coaster itself played a role in this episode both towards Takeru getting stronger and their brotherly bond getting stronger...

Inside WaruMonzaemon, Takeru gives a speech about HOPE and HOPE IS IMPORTANT and WE MUST NOT LOSE HOPE and the other Digimon are like YES WE HAVE HOPE HERE’S OUR POWER and are able to channel their life energy into Patamon so he can evolve...

... and Angemon appears. And I’m like, oh yeah, this is the Takeru episode. It’s supposed to be his episode. IT DOESN’T FEEL LIKE IT. If anything, up till this point it feels like a Yamato episode.

I mean, in the other episodes, the kids’ Crest traits mattered to various degrees. Sometimes they talked about it in words, sometimes they didn’t so much, but you could see the trait at play (uh, not sure how well that applies to Jou’s case tho...? lol). This episode gets to the very end and is like “Oh yeah by the way Takeru’s trait is hope... forgot to mention it before so lemme mention it ten times in a row now!”

If Takeru had seemed sad, scared, upset - literally any negative emotion - this would have worked, BUT AS USUAL HE’S FINE THE WHOLE TIME.

Angemon wins, duh.

And apparently it’s evening now??? They’re still gonna go get food. By the time they get back the other kids are gonna be like wtf where were you we are STARVING

So yeah, I guess you get the idea of how I feel about this episode. Just nothing special. It’s like a summary of the episode it wanted to be, if you know what I mean. On paper, everything looks fine, but in execution, it’s just... a lot of nothing. I mean compare this to 99 Takeru with DemiDevimon at the theme park. Or how about that fan favorite episode with Gotsumon and Pumpkinmon? Those both kick this out of the water, despite being no more complex.

I just so want this show to understand.... what made 99 Digimon good wasn’t just the monsters and the battle scenes, it was the kids’ relatable flaws and problems and the surprisingly organic way they learned new things and overcame obstacles. Digimon Adventure in 1999 had a way of teaching without preaching that is incredibly rare in children’s media. The modus operandi was pretty much let the kids be kids.

This 2020 reboot is not preachy - but it’s also lacking the stuff that made the 99 show relatable.

However. This wasn’t a terrible episode. At least it gave us some face time between the brothers. I’m frustrated, but I’m still glad that the show has overall been moving in a much more Digimon Adventure-like direction. And who knows what will happen in the end - I plan to rewatch the whole thing after the finale and maybe I’ll discover they were doing something totally different with Yamato and Takeru the whole time that I just didn’t notice, or that wasn’t clear until the very end. We’ll see.

Next week!

My favorite Digimon, Raremon, appears!

More importantly, TAICHI AND KOUSHIROU EPISODE, TAICHI AND KOUSHIROU EPISODE, TAICHI AND KOUSHIROU EPISODE!!!!!!!!!!

like I’m sooooo psyched for this!! I hope it’s good but I’ll just be happy to see the two of them working together. Taichi didn’t appear in the preview though, only MetalGreymon - not sure if that means anything. Regardless, my little Taishiro heart is pounding!