#We were able to survive thanks to this rule

[talewrites]

Fragile Part 7

Sorry for the wait! It was hard to focus while writing this chapter, so I might be editing it for mistakes here and there. I hope you like it! :] <3

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, broken limbs, violence, drowning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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You were laying dazed on the cold metal floor. In too much pain to focus on anything else besides breathing. You heard a commotion, voices muffled through the thick glass. At least inside this tube they couldn’t touch you anymore. Your mind strayed to the turtles. You weren’t able to save them. You weren’t able to do anything. You just hope they can somehow get away safely. That April and Casey can somehow save them.

“I won’t ask again…. Where’s (y/n).” Leo growled. He grit his teeth as he lowered his stance, ready to strike.

Baxter Stockman was quickly typing commands into the program on his computer. Karai stepped in front of him and drew her katana.

“Out of your reach, Turtles.” 

“Aaaaand, there!” Stockman hit one last key on this computer and a red light started to flash on the tank, bringing the turtle’s attention to the crumpled form inside the glass. At the same time a multitude of files and programs started closing on the screen one after another, Stockman’s signature digital self-destruct program. Baxter stepped away from his computer and lifted his arms up triumphantly.

The sound of rattling pipes overhead catches your attention. 

“Ha! You’re too late, Turtles. For years, the Foot Clan has sought out the means to fight you mutants on equal footing. And now, we have our secret weapon! An endless supply of pure mutagen!!!” 

You heard a loud beeping sound, then a click, and the squeak of metal.

A gush of icy water pours down on you from above. The sudden cold shocks you and marginally distracts you from the pain. You pull yourself to the edge of the glass away from the heavy stream of water coming down from above, slowly starting to fill the base. You take a shaky deep breath and bang a fist on the glass. No use. Dizzy and numb, you look outside the tank for someone, something, anything that might help you. That’s when you see them.

And with dawning horror, they see you.

“Guys….?” You press your wet hand up against the glass. They’re here! They’re safe!!!

“(Y/n)....? (Y/N)!!!!” Leo shouts and lunges towards the tank. He tries to rush up to the glass but Rocksteady blocks his path. There’s blood on your cheek, and even a good distance away he can tell you’re in bad shape. 

“OUT OF OUR WAY!” Raph roared at Bebop and Rocksteady, crossing his sai in preparation for a fight.

“Uuuh hey guys? Why is (y/n) in a giant fish bowl…?” Mikey asked, nunchucks at the ready.

“They ain’t comin’ out anytime soon, short stack.” Bebop said with an evil grin. 

“You turtles totally fell for our trap!” Rocksteady chuckled.

Donnie immediately noticed the computer hooked up to the tank’s controls. He tried to subtly sneak past Bebop to get to Stockman but Karai stepped forward and blocked his path.

Karai pointed her sword at Donnie. “The Foot will be unstoppable.”

“And I will FINALLY get the recognition I deserve, for single-handedly creating an entire race of superhumans that will rule over the city!!!” 

“You’re crazy!! You don’t even know what kind of side effects that mutation will have on regular humans!” Donnie activated the electricity at the end of his bo staff, ready to fight Karai to get to Stockman. 

“I do have to thank you turtles for activating their mutant gene. Without your help, none of this would be possible!” Stockman’s laugh echoed through the large room. He waltz over to the canister filling up with the distilled mutagen from your blood. “We originally got (y/n) by a…. foreseeable mistake. But to our surprise, they survived where others had failed. And yet- their results were incomplete. Their animal DNA wasn’t materializing no matter what we did to them. So we came back to New York, where the population could supply us with countless more test subjects.” Baxter said cheerfully, popping the lid off the canister. “But now that we have the results we wanted, we have no need of them! We can preserve (y/n)’s body in a special chemical compound that will put them into a permanent hibernation. No need to worry, their body will be harnessed for science!” Stockman’s laugh was deep and evil, and to everyone’s shock-

He dumped the canister of mutagen over his own head.

Karai lept back out of the trajectory of the splash. Baxter’s laugh increased in volume as he began to morph and change. His head and eyes grew large, his body shrank, little papery wings sprouted from his back, and he mutated into a giant mutant fly. 

Bebop and Rocksteady were stunned by the transformation. “Eeeeewwww… he turned into a bug?” Bebop whined.

“Nasty!” Rocksteady shook his head. Neither of them were paying attention to the turtles so Raph and Donnie covered for Leo and Mikey to make a break for the tank you were in. By now it had filled enough that you were starting to float.

“We’re here babe! We’re gonna get you out!” Mikey reassured you. 

You whimpered helplessly. You were having a hard time keeping your head above water, not really able to swim with a broken dislocated arm and broken ankle. 

“Stay back!” Leo sliced at the glass, and Mikey hit it with his nunchucks as hard as he could, but their attacks barely left a scratch!

“Guys! We have incoming!” Donnie yelled as Stockman had started flying around the room, maniacally laughing as he swooped down and kicked the back of Mikey’s shell, almost knocking him over. 

“Dude, gross!” Mikey protested. Stockman looked to be drooling some kind of acid substance from his mouth.

Bebop and Rocksteady had recovered and started to charge towards them. Leo and Mikey had to jump away from your tank to avoid getting trampled. 

“Donnie, that glass is as hard as steel!!” Leo jumped up and kicked Rocksteady across his cheek, then retreated.

“What’re we gonna do? (Y/n)’s tank is already half full!” Raph shouted. He was using his sai to hold back Bebop’s tusks as he tried to charge them. 

You were doing your best to calm your breathing enough that you could float, but every time your head ducked below water you panicked. Your body was exhausted and protested against your desperate movements, but you needed to survive long enough for the boys to break you out.

“Donnie! See if you can turn off the water!!! I’ve got Karai.” Leo ordered

“Mikey! It’s you and me!” Raph called over, clanging his sai together and shouted a war cry running up to strike Rocksteady. 

“What?! What about the bug brained dude??!! Eep!” Mikey ducked as Stockman flew over his head. He looked down and realized he was kneeling at the feet of Bebop, who had taken the black taser out of his pocket.

“You wanna taste too, little man?” 

When Bebop flicked on the taser, Mikey saw the small stains of fresh blood on the pointed tips that buzzed with electricity. He looked back over to you struggling in the tank and how heavily injured you looked.

He saw red.

Mikey had a rare moment of true anger as he jumped to his feet and knocked the taser out of Bebop’s hand with his nunchucks, and in a flurry of rapid hits he beat back the warthog. He finished him off with a powerful roundhouse kick to the head.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH MY BAE!” He shouted triumphantly.

Raph looked back to Mikey with wide eyes, proud of his little bro for letting loose. “Woah. Way to go Mikey!” He ducked a hit from Rocksteady and punched him hard under his chin. Knocking him out cold. 

Leo was crossing swords with Karai. She was a skilled fighter. But he was much stronger than her. While he pushed her back with a heavy strike, she slipped on some of the mutagen that had spilled on the floor, allowing Leo to take advantage of the opening and disarmed her. He flicked her sword out of her hand and knocked her back. She glared daggers at him, quickly recovering. But seeing as Bebop and Rocksteady were knocked out, she opted for a tactical retreat.

“This is just the beginning.” She hissed and ran out of the lab door. 

Stockman was buzzing around your tank, still laughing maniacally. 

“You turtlezzzzz cannot defeat the mighty Dr Stockman!! I am invincible!! I am-“

Donnie turned on the taser at the end of his bo staff and vaulted it at the annoying human insect, striking him and electrocuting him, knocking him out of the air to fall on the floor with a gross splat.

“Good thing I always carry a bug zapper.” He deadpanned.

Donnie went back to trying to hack into Stockmans computer. He managed to get past the firewall with his hacking program, but he discovered that all of the interfaces connected to the tank control had been erased. 

There was no way to stop the tank from filling up completely. Donnie would have to write a whole new interface from scratch to control the tank.

There was no time.

You were running out of air, trying desperately to keep your head above water as the tank was almost full to the top. You took in one last deep breath just as the water consumed the last of the space. You held your good hand over your mouth and nose hard, trying to hold in the air, and floated down towards the bottom of the tank. 

No more air.

“(Y/N)!!!” 

“ANGEL CAKES!!!” Donnie and Mikey yelled out in panic.

Your eyes snapped open, hearing their muffled voices outside the tank. You swam over to the glass and met eyes with Raphael. He had picked a spot and began punching at the glass over and over again with his sai in his fists.

The needled jabs just managed to scratch the surface. 

You looked at him sadly through the glass. He was stressed, sweating and desperate to break through. Mikey had grabbed a chair and had chucked it at the glass from another spot but it just bounced off and broke on the floor.

Leo was standing behind Donnie with his hand on his shoulder, but his eyes didn’t leave your face. 

Time was running out. You were choking on the stale air in your lungs. Head getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. You removed your hand from your mouth and pressed it up to the glass, some bubbles of air escaping your mouth. Your eyebrows knit together to concentrate on not breathing in the fluid in the tank. But you were suffocating and in pain. 

It was hard.

You looked back up at Raph, and forced a smile on your face. You felt sad. You didn’t want them to see you like this. They felt so far away. 

Darkness was consuming your vision. The last remaining bubbles of air escaped from your mouth and your eyes slipped closed. 

“NO!!! NO-! (Y/N), STAY WITH US.” Raph pounded his fist hard against the glass. 

“DAMN IT.” Donnie frustratingly slammed his fist down next to the keyboard, his head falling into his hands. None of the lines of command coding he was typing in were working.

Leo left Donnie’s side and strode up to the tank.

“Move.” Leo ordered as he came up behind Raph. He unsheathed his swords and began slicing at the glass again. It was barely making a scratch. But combined with the small dents Raph had been making, he was slowly chipping away at the surface.

“Leo! If you can manage to cut 1.2 centimeters deep, it should weaken the glass enough to shatter with enough force!” Donnie yelled from where he was still furiously typing into the stationed keyboard. His attempts to unlock the system all in vain. 

Leo and Raph worked together to stab and slice at the weakest point in the glass until finally-

*crack*

A small fracture appeared in the glass. 

“There!!” Donnie called out. Raph and Leo switched to charging at the door and ramming it full force with their shoulders. Over and over as the cracks grew wider and wider.

Mikey came over, and with a hand on Leo’s shoulder, the leader stepped aside to let his little brother help. Mikey joined Raph and rammed the glass again with such force the crack split all the way across the glass. One more strike-

The glass shattered on impact.

The gush of water that burst through swept Mikey and Raph off their feet. The floor of the lab flooded, and your body washed up on the floor. Lifeless and unmoving.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!” The boys all yelled. 

Leo reached you first, falling into a kneel at your side. He ripped out the two needles from your back and held you in his arms. Donnie rushed over and slid down into the other spot at your side, his goggles pulled into place as he quickly checked you over.

“They’re not breathing. Put them down flat, now.” Leo obeyed and laid you on your back. Donnie first pressed down on your diaphragm to check for water blocking your lungs, then began compressions. 

The room was dead quiet all except for the sounds of Donnie’s whispered counting as he pressed down on your chest. He paused, opened your mouth, pinched your nose, and breathed into your lungs. 

Mikey was nervously walking around you back and forth, and Raph watched you from a distance, a vacant expression as he watched your face for any sign of movement, pleading with himself for you to be okay. 

After what felt like an eternity, you coughed. Leo quickly rolled you lay on your side. You spit up water, gasping for air. You felt like you were coughing up a lung full of ethanol. 

Mikey cheered and Raph took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands. Donnie fell backwards onto his butt and pulled his goggles off his head, so incredibly relieved you were breathing. Leo rubbed your back comfortingly as you got your breathing back under control.

Once you got a suitable amount of oxygen back in your lungs, you whimpered. Your throat was burning and a pain in your stomach and chest made it hard to breathe.

Leo picked you up again, and held you close to his chest. Your eyes fluttered open and you winced at the bright light from the ceiling.

“Welcome back.” Leo said with a smile on his face.

“Leo…?” Your voice was quiet and scratchy. You looked around at Donnie, Mikey, and Raph that all came into view around you and Leo.

“Guys….?” You felt barely conscious. Head foggy and tired like you were under water.

“We’re right here.” Donnie assured you, reaching down to pick up your good hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

All the fear and emotion of drowning and being captured suddenly crashed down on you all at once. You sniffed and big tears gathered in your eyes.

“I was… so scared… I thought I was going to lose you….!” You hiccuped and sobbed as Leo held your trembling form tightly against his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here. We got you.” Leo soothed, rubbing his hand down your back. He buried his nose into your damp hair and held you tight.

“You had us worried there for a minute!” Donnie was smiling at you, soft and relieved. Mikey was standing behind him rubbing tears out of his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.” Raph said, kneeling down behind you. 

“Wait. I need to splint their arm and their ankle first. Mikey, can you find me some-“

*crack*

“Will this work?” 

Mikey had already broken off the thin legs of a chair across the room. 

“Yeah that works fine.” He pulled out two rolls of gauze from one of the pockets on his belt, and took the offered sticks from Mikey, who knelt down by your feet. 

“What’re we gonna do about him?” He asked, motioning over to Stockman’s twitching form across the room.

The brothers all sneered at the fly mutant with similar levels of disgust on their faces, finding him rather gross. You smiled.

“Just leave him there, we can worry about him another time.” Leo offered, adjusting you in his grip. You winced terribly when your arm was moved. 

“….Is ...your arm dislocated?” Leo asked you, holding you upright in a sitting position, now thoroughly checking you over. 

Donnie and Mikey were working together to splint your ankle, Mikey holding up your foot while Donnie wrapped the splint to it.

“Let me see that.” Raph placed his hands on your shoulder and you clenched your teeth and whined quietly at the sharp pain.

“Leo, hold them still for a minute.” 

“Just hold onto me tightly, it’ll be over in a second.” Leo hugged you close, wrapping an arm around your good side.

Raph got hold of your tender arm, and with practiced ease, popped your shoulder back into place. You cried out loudly and buried your face in Leo’s shoulder, taking deep breaths. 

Raph tried to rub the soreness out of your poor shoulder. “Good job, princess. Now let Donnie get a look at that break.”

You hesitantly detached yourself from Leo, your shaking red and swollen arm was carefully picked up by Donnie, who set the splint and carefully wrapped the bandages.

“I’ll be able to get a better look at it with the x-ray machine back at home. For now we just have to be really careful not to jostle them too much when carrying them back.”

“I got em.” Raph volunteered. Leo looked to Raph, wordlessly nodding his head for his brother to take you from his arms.

“Careful of their arm….”

“Got it.” 

Without much effort, Raph scooped you up in his big arms. You winced as a sharp stabbing pain radiated through your stomach as you were held close to Raph’s chest.

Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m sorry, princess. It’s just until we get you home.” Raph apologized. Leo led everyone quickly out of the lab. 

Once back out in the hallway you had entered from, you noticed with visible shock the literal sea of bodies that covered the floor. Foot ninja. They fought through all of them, just to get to you.

Everyone exited the lab, careful to stick to the shadows as the sun began to rise. As the turtles made their way for their home, your stomach burned worse and worse with a white hot pain that radiated through your body. The movement of the city passing you by made you become dizzy, and your head felt like it was spinning. You felt nauseous and incredibly tired. 

“Hey Raph….?”

“Yeah princess?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you guys…. You had to save me instead….” You weren’t making any sense. Raph could barely hear you as the wind whipped past his head. You just felt so tired.

“Hey, stay with me, princess. We’re almost there. It’s okay.” Raph didn’t know what the right thing to say was. But your eyes were starting to slide closed.

“Can we…. Can we watch Princess Bride again…. When we get home….?”

Raph smiled at that.

“Yeah. We’ll watch it as many times as you want, short stack.” He didn’t care if his brothers teased him for secretly liking your girly movie. He didn’t care if he had to watch it with you a hundred times. He just wanted you to get better.

“We’re almost there. How you holding up?” 

Silence. 

“(Y/n)…?”

“Mmh?” 

Your eyes were closed.

“Come on, wake up, we’re almost there.”

He was desperate. 

“Mm…hm…” 

You hummed, but your eyelids felt too heavy to lift. You felt yourself sinking into a dark liquid abyss. You could no longer fight the pull.

“(Y/n)….. (y/n)? Hey…! Hey, no no no no no, you gotta stay awake. Come on princess…! (Y/N)!!!”

You felt Raph try to shake you awake, felt his muscles tense as he pushed himself to go faster. 

“We’re almost there, hold on…!”

“Hold on….”

Darkness overtook you.

Part 8

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x @leonardo-dabitchy @sh1ga-to3s

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[ghostheartfelt]

Hiiii! First of all I hope you're doing well <333 and second omg!! I loved your ghost smut 😭😭 I'm here to request smt if you don't mind, I've requested this before but nobody wanted to write it but feel free to not wrote it too if you don't like the plot but here we go:

Ghost breaks up with reader NOT because he hates her but because his next mission is really hard and dangerous and there was a really slim chance that he'd survive it. So he tries to push reader away to not hurt her feelings but things escalated and they break up but when he comes back from the mission they have make-up sex? 🤭 Thank you for reading all of this and if you can't write it then I understand, thank you for your time and effort 💗

*:･｡☆ a/n: hi anon~ thank you so much for being my first req!!!! And thank u so much for  the support. I’m so sorry i took forever to get to this! but you bet ur sweet ass i’ll write this for you?! I hope you enjoy this regardless of how long it took me to get to it. mwah! -ur bbg cure 

〔☆〕 desc: ghost is deployed on a mission in bangladesh that price explains as risky and complicated--ghost immediately thinks of you as the possibilities of survival are described as slim. him, gaz, and soap set out back to manchester, and no amount of talk is able to change his mind. he ends things off between the two of you, which arises a depressive state in you before he arrives and makes it up to you completely. (possibly takes place before ten minutes past?…. 👀)

*:･｡☆ tags: p in v, unprotected intercourse, whiny ghost if you squint, hand job if you squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, reader orgasms twice, cock warming, he sleeps with the tip inside<3, this hurt my breeding kink heart, pet names, possessive ghost, breast worship if you squint, break up and make up sex, porn with feelings. SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!! not too bad, sadly.

—✩ N[EX]T REGRETS ✩—

word count — 4.3k

☆ (peep the song that inspires this writing...) ☆

Your hands are setting two plates on the dinner table; one for you, one for your boyfriend.

He was coming home from deployment—it’d been months since you’d last seen him, you’d lost track.

Silverware wrapped in cloth napkins are set beside the plates before you flick the cog of a lighter and ignite the candles in the middle of the table.

You turn yourself around to grab the cookie sheet of ribeye off of the counter after pushing on mittens, holding it in your palm as you place two steaks down onto one of the plates, then one onto another. 

Then you take the tray back to the counter and set it back on top of the table cloth so it didn’t damage the marble.

Regardless of the fancy dinner setup, you were still in a black satin night dress and fuzzy socks. You knew Simon would just dress down himself the moment he got home.

You scooped steamed vegetables onto both plates, then potatoes and gravy with a sprinkle of chives. 

When you place down the spineless wine glasses, you hear a heavy door slam causing a smile to crease your face.

Simon was home, he was going to come inside and he was going to hold you again for the first time in months. Run his hands through your hair for the first time in months. Kiss you for the first time in months.

You seat yourself gently on the dinner table, ankle crossed over the other with your elbows bent and palms pressed neatly on the wood as you wait for him to come inside.

You hear the door open, then shut, heavy padded footsteps approaching the threshold of the dining room.

Ghost is the one who comes through the archway—fully geared with the skull mask and helmet, the only thing he lacks is a rifle.

“Simon…?” You push yourself off your palms, confusion whisked on your face.

It was one of your rules, the mask stays off inside your home.

His eyes land on the neatly set table before they reach yours. 

You approach him slowly and he tenses, your eyebrows stitching together in concern.

His stomach twists inside of him.

Gorgeous minx.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Beautiful perfection.

He couldn’t say anything he wanted to—and god he had so much to say.

Your eyes flicker to the windows alongside the front door seeing two other bodies.

Armed bodies.

He wasn’t staying.

“Can you all stay for dinner atleast? I made enough for everyone…” you smile softly while fumbling with the straps of his vest. 

Stop touching me, you’re making this harder on me. Ghost swallows the knot in his throat. 

There’s a pause before Ghost backs up.

“There’s someone else.” 

It’s a lie, it’s a lie. It’s such a lie. Ghost 

Something inside your chest tightens and you swear that it’s your heart. 

“What?…” You scoff lightly, your eyebrows pinching together in disbelief.

Don’t make me say it again. Ghost inhales sharply.

“Simon…” you tilt your head slightly, extending your hand to touch him.

“Please, let me try to be better for you, give me a chance…” your lips quiver. 

You don’t need to try and be better for me. Ghost thinks.

He knew you’d been reading articles on how to be in a relationship with someone in the special forces—he’d found out and closed the lid, sat you in his lap and kissed you so softly, telling you that you were perfect for him and you didn’t need an article to tell you how to love him.

But you know it’s real when Ghost jerks his shoulder away.

You know it’s real when you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as tears start welling in your eyes. 

You know it’s real when Ghost’s eyes evade yours. 

You know it’s real when Simon turns around and he doesn’t spare you a goodbye.  

You especially know it’s real when the door slams shut and rattles the walls around you.

It’s surreal, but you expected this. 

He must’ve found someone on base, you thought.

You feel your knees give in beneath you, and you’re met with the floor.

A hysterical sobbed scream leaves your throat as your trembling hand lifts to drag down at your lips.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

Ghost stands for a moment on the doormat outside of your home. 

Gaz’s hand finds a place on his back, the other holding his vest as he guides the larger male towards the truck they’d arrived in.

“Didn’t have to do that, Ghost.” He says, followed by a sigh.

“Did.” Ghost replies back as he seats himself in the back. “Wasn’t lettin’ her get my dog tags—she’s been through enough bein’ with me.”

Soap turns his head over his shoulder after sitting in the front passenger seat. 

“Ay, L.T, we all know y’ll make it back t’ya pretty lass.” He says. “Y’r one of we bes’ fighters, ain’t that righ’, Kyle?” Soap’s elbow bumped into Gaz’s ribs.

Gaz utters a strained noise before nodding, hands wrapping around the wheel.

“‘M not takin’ that risk, now shu’up ‘n drive. Cap’s gon’ ‘b pissy enough.” 

His head turns to look out the window as he feels the wheels of the truck roll down the driveway.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

It’s been seven months. Two-hundred-thirteen days. 

All you do is work, eat, and sleep. 

Eating, not as much as you should.

You couldn’t cook, couldn’t get yourself up from your bed the second you got home from work to start the stove.

You either sleep all day or not at all, there wasn’t a balance.

God, your living room was disgusting. Snot tissues were littered across the entire coffee table, empty champagne glasses, crusted food plates and crushed soda cans.

You’d resorted to hiring a maid just to clean your living room—which was the only room you stayed in for five months straight while your depression started getting progressively worse.

You lay on your side with a weighted blanket draped over you, holding you down comfortably. 

Simon stayed in your head, even after half of a year. He invaded your head. It drove you insane.

At the same time, you were scared of the day that he wouldn’t be your first and last thought each and every day anymore.

You bunch the blanket closer to your chin, your wet eyes have drenched the little area to hell. 

Things just have never been the same since Simon left the house–-you still happened to feel his presence next to you, hovering over you. 

“There’s someone else.”  His words settled an uneasy weight on your shoulders that you still were unable to shake off. 

A splutter of sobs escapes you once again, tears blurring your vision as they fall and your nose starts to clog. 

You try to breathe in, but you feel as though there’s not enough air around you. You breaking into a coughing fit is enough for you to push the weighted blanket off of your body and heave yourself up. 

Spit and drool creates several small strings between your lips–you’re practically foaming at the mouth from how hard you’re crying.

Tears flutter off your eyelashes and further blur your vision, so you try and rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms desperately. 

You stand up wobbly and start towards the bathroom, you didn’t have the energy to walk the extra couple of steps into your bedroom to use your own bathroom, so the guest bathroom would have to do for now. 

You turn the shower knob and pull it out towards you after undressing, then step into the warmth and sink onto the shower floor, hugging your knees to your bare chest and letting the water run over your face. 

Sobs cause your body to twitch and jerk, the heat in your eyes making your eyes burn as your breathing grows unsteady over the stream of water above you. 

You just wanted him home. 

But, he wasn’t yours to want home anymore. 

He wasn’t yours to crave anymore or to love. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

A door slams so hard air causes the fabric of his shirt to flail in the wind. 

Ghost had spent months struggling with the actions of his decision, where he had hoped that the choice would break you free of your shackles of worries when it came to the blonde when he was away. 

He spent every night and every rising morning worrying someone would take his place. It would’ve been his fault, he knew that, and it made him want to scream at the top of his lungs until they felt raw in his chest. 

He presses the lock button on his keys, hearing the locks inside the jeep click, then he jumbles with his keychain looking for the house key.

Ghost’s hands are shaking as he pinches the specific key and jabs it into the door lock, turning it.

When he hears the all-familiar click, he immediately pulls off his balaclava and pushes himself through the front door. 

There’s silence–pure silence throughout the house except for the sound of running water. 

She’s showering. 

A short amount of relief washes over him as he bends to untie the laces of his boots, placing them aside. 

When he stands, his eyes scan over to the living room and he feels his heart sink in him at the sight of the absolute mess made of the living room.

An overflowing laundry basket and take-out boxes that made the room stink of old fried rice. 

He throws his bag behind him against the wall before he walks himself towards the pile of laundry and begins pulling out shirts and pairs of pants to fold against his knee. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You took a two hour shower, most of it being of you shredding any form of emotion from your body that you could.

Now you were sitting on the fur-covered toilet seat, running your lotion-coated hands along your freshly shaven legs. 

You told yourself you would try going to a club to replenish your sex deprivation. 

Steam finally clears from the mirror allowing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your hands pull the towel off your head, wet hairs sticking to your shoulders.

The bathroom smelt of your coconut milk shampoo and body wash–it smelt divine. 

You thumb up your white laced bra and panties, plug in the blow dryer and scrunch your mop in your hands as you wave the blow dryer over your hair.

It seems like hours, being only nearly ten minutes until your hair is somewhat dry, but your arms are tired, so you unplug the dryer and wrap the cord around it.

You leave the bathroom and walk back into the living room, pausing in motion at the sight of it being clean–your laundry being neatly folded on the coffee table. 

“Kris? Is that you?” You call, not too loudly. 

She had a key to your home, but she had stated she wouldn’t be available this week due to some personal reasons she wasn’t required to go over with you.

You walk over towards the couch and drag your hand along the cotton material.

There was no reply to your call, which concerned you. You hadn't contacted any of your family members to come visit.

You slowly turn yourself around and the breath is practically stolen from your lungs. 

Simon’s standing across the room from you, clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, a belt secured in the front.

You watch his eyes drag up and down your exposed body, watching as he inhales sharply while his eyes narrow.

“Love,” He mumbles. 

Your eyebrows furrow and you lift your neck up. “Why–why are you here?” “Will y’let me explain?” He sighs. 

“Does she know?” You reply quickly with a shaky voice. 

“Does wh–” 

“Does she know you are here, Simon.” 

There's silence, then he licks his dry lips.

“There is no she.” He says flatly.

“No,” you scoff, running a hand down your face, eyes darting to the side as you listen to him walk closer toward you. “No…no. No–I remember specifically…” your angry, now.

Simon catches your lips in a firm kiss, but you push him away, and the look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

“Please,” Simon’s eyebrows pinch together. 

“Stop, just stop.” You seethe, pressing your finger into the midsection of his chest making him back up some. “You said there was someone else, you said–”

“I was lyin’, there wasn’t.” He pauses, frowning.

“Bullshit,” you shake your head. “Fucking bullshit, Simon Riley!”

“Let m’talk.” Simon says gruffly, his tone stern. 

You swallow thickly and lower your head in defeat after nodding, finger lifting so you can chew on your cuticle bed. 

“I…I let a debriefing get t’me. Said there wasn’t much’a chance of survival–can’t say much, y’know that…but I didn’t want y’to have to go through that.” He explains. 

His hand reaches down to lift your chin, thumbing at any stray tears making their way down your cheeks. “Forgive me, lovie.” Simon leans down to close the gap between you both again, this time you submit and his hand cradles the back of your head. 

The kiss is slow and passionate–gentle with its hints of dominance. 

“Missed you…” He mumbles over your lips, hands finding your ass to knead the supple skin.

You gasp slightly, but cave in to his touch instantly. “And I missed you…” 

“Please…never do that again.” 

His forehead rests on yours a moment, fingers toying in your hair by rolling pieces between his fingers.

“‘M sorry.” He murmurs. 

He wasn’t the type to apologize, you knew that. His apologies were sincere and meaningful.

Your hands grip his shirt.

“Over half a year, Simon…” Your voice is so low, you couldn’t even call it a whisper. “This whole time…”

“I know…I know…” He mutters into your hair, taking in your scent. 

“Will y’let me make it up to ya, love?” Hot breath rakes over the side column of your neck.

You simply nod, and that’s all enough for him to pick you up by your thighs and for you to wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him.

He guides you both into your bedroom, seating you on the edge of the bed.

“So fuckin’ sexy when y’r half-naked ‘n angry…” Simon chuckles dryly as he drags a finger up your clothed cunt. 

“Simon…please…” you mumble into his shoulder.

“I’ve got’ya, gorgeous.” He says cooly while laying you flat on the bed. 

Simon slips his fingers past your panties, his cock twitching in his pants at the feeling of your wetness spreading along his fingers.

“Ffff..uck, babe, you're so wet for me ‘lready…” he whispers.

You gasp as his finger slips up and down between your folds, making you twitch as he passes your throbbing clit.

“So fuckin’ divine…” he purrs above you, eyes full of love and lust. His other hand finds a place on your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he works at your warmth.

You whine, watching as his teeth bite at the lace lining of your panties, pulling them down as his eyes don’t stray from yours.

“Oh…fuck…” you bite your lip gently, the action making you fanny flutter to the point of aching.

“Jesus…” he breathes against your thigh, pressing his lips along the skin and sucking it until he’s satisfied with the markings.

Simon scoops up both of your legs by the crooks of your knees, spreading them apart as he shifts down to rest his knees on the ottoman spread across the end of the bed.

A shuddered moan releases from you as his tongue prods at the hole in your cunt, then drags up to swirl around your sensitive bud. 

Your hand grabs a tight hold in his hair, making him groan against your core and increase the pressure and sensation in your stomach.

A whimper leaves your throat as he sucks and laps at your pussy, making you buck into his jaw.

“Jus’ like that, baby,” he growls onto you, pressing a wet kiss onto your clit. “Y’gon cum all over m’face like a good girl?” 

You mewl and cry out as Simon slips a finger inside, your back arching and thighs jerking.

“Simon!” You gasp loudly as your fingers dig into his back over his shirt.

His tongue drags flatly up your cunt, collecting all your juices—he’s practically drinking you. 

Another finger pushes inside gently, curling inside that same spot he’s able to find so effortlessly each time that makes you go wild.

“Gon’ c…cum…” you stutter meekly.

“C’mon then,” he urges. “Cum f’r me.”

Simon quickened his pace and the pressure, pumping his fingers in and out, in and out.

Like he was starved, his face presses closer into you, tongue toying at your clit making you twitch against him.

There’s an unbearable heat between your legs as you feel a knot tie in your abdomen when Simon levered his fingers deeper into you. 

“Good…” he groans, pressing his tongue inside with his fingers as your walls clamp around him desperately, a strained moan leaving you as your orgasm snaps.

You cum, hard, and grip his shoulders with both hands as his fingers fuck your orgasm back into you before he finally pulls his fingers out to coat your thighs in your climax.

Simon sucks out his work, then spits it back out onto your heat, slapping your pussy and releasing a deep groan.

He licks his fingers clean, his tongue sliding between each finger. 

You lift yourself up by gripping his belt, slightly wobbling before his hand finds a spot to rest on your back.

“Fuckin’ hell…cum drunk ‘lready, sweets?” Simon bends down to take your mouth onto his, taking the chance to slip his tongue between your lips when you moan into his.

Gently, you palm his hard cock over his pants, eyes squeezing shut then opening to find your place on his belt and fumble with the buckle.

“Mm—y’find what you were lookin’ f’r?” He pants heavily before his lips trail down your jawline to lick and suck at your neck. 

“Oh..fuck…” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. 

“Want you so bad, Si…” you moan, lifting your head to grant him better access. “Want to feel you inside of me.” 

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room while he kicks off his pants that you helped pull down Simon’s hips, lips then coming back down to tease at your collarbones and neck.

“Ooh..ho…you will, don’t y’worry, sweet girl.” His cock sprung free out of the restraints of his boxers, making him groan hoarsely.

Simon’s fingers tap on the outerside of your thigh. “Turn over,” he demands.

You babble out nonsense that is incoherent as you flip on your stomach and one of his hands gather both of your wrists. 

He’s on the bed now, between your legs with one hand holding you up by your stomach. 

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, lips trailing up your spine.

“Y’want it?” He growls. “Huh?”

He inhales sharply, nudging the tip into your greedy hole. “God…you do…” 

“J’s suckin’ me in like th’needy little pet y’are.”

You moan out a chant of pleases, cheek pressing into the comforter of the bed as he arches and positions you to his liking.

“Y’want this thick cock in y’r empty pussy.” 

“Yes…” you mumble, backing into him 

softly until you take in his entire tip which causes the larger man to apply more pressure into your stomach. “Fuck me, please…please…”

“Oh…Mmm…Such a good girl beggin’ f’r my cock.” Simon praises, letting you bounce on his tip for a few moments.

“Tha’s right baby…jus’ like that…I own this pretty little cunt, don’t I?” He snarls. “Nobody else’s to fuck.” 

“Only yours, just yours,” you nod helplessly, earning a positive noise from the man behind you.

He takes in a sharp breath before slowly he inches himself into you farther, stretching you. 

Filling you.

You moan loudly, your walls closing around his length making him push out the same noise.

When he bottoms out in you, his tip kissing your cervix, he retracts and ruts back into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as he hisses and breathes harsher at every thrust.

“Oh…” he sighs in ecstasy, releasing your wrists so he can grab the fat on your waist.

“Yes…” he moans, every contact with your hips causing the breath in his mouth to jump and fall.

“Tight little pussy just swallowing me,” Simon hisses through clenched teeth as he painfully yet deliciously stretches you open to his size. “So—fuckin’ sexy.” 

“Want y’to cum in me, please…” You gasp, clawing at the comforter as he bucks himself deep into you, filling you up and emptying you, repeating that motion over and over.

“Want me to fill y’with my seed?” He chuckles, a moan interrupting him. “Tha’s what my slutty pet wants?”

“Fucking yes! My god, yes…” you pant, muttering and whining unintelligibly as he slams back into you and makes your ass slap against his thighs. 

“Too bad,” he croons.

“Simon…pl..ease..” you moan.

“No…no, I can’t…cum in ya, love. We—we ain’t thinkin’ straight…” Simon’s cock twitches inside of you as he continues ramming his hips into yours, a guttural groan tearing out of him. 

“I can feel y’tightenin’ around me, j’s beggin’ to cum around my fat cock…” 

“There y’go…Bounce that gorgeous ass on me, j’s how I like it, babe.” Simon strains, hand roughly smacking the skin on your hind. 

You squirm against him, making the blonde growl and grab your hips with a bruising grip. “Y’feel me stretchin’ y’r tiny pussy?” 

“Mhm? Y’do?” He grunts, heaving above you as he thrusts himself into you. “Fuckin’ take it, filthy fuckin’ minx.”

“Look at you, such a pretty pet, bent to my content…Pussy out on display.” 

“Gonna cum, gorgeous, all over your perfect belly.” He mumbles and flips you onto your back.

You moan shamelessly and loudly, whining as he pulls out of you and starts stroking himself while playing with your pussy.

“Fu…u…ck…” his head leans back as you massage his balls and replace his hand. “J’s likeee…that, perfect girl…”

He rubs his middle and pointer finger over your clit at an inhuman pace, making your body jolt and try to push away if it weren’t for his hand holding you roughly in place.

You roll your wrist up and down, pumping his cock in your hand until he takes control again and smacks his tip against your lower abdomen, spilling out his cum onto your stomach with a choke of your name.

Simon’s body twitches, pants and swears rolling off his tongue in a pleading voice as he covers you in his warmth.

“C...C’mon lovie, cum all over my fingers again, let me sss…see y’come undone f’r me again…N…Need to see it…” He stumbles over his words as he comes off his high, an undertone of a whimper in his voice.

It makes you pool, your ego skyrocketing at the fact that you can do that to someone. To him.

Simon’s fingers hit every perfect nerve inside your pulsating cunt, curling and plummeting into the same spot of overwhelming pressure that brought you over the edge. 

A tightness coils in your stomach again, and he absolutely fucking loves the strained noises that spill out from you at every rut of his fingers inside of you.

He loves the way he can get you wrung out at every pet name and gentle touch, the way you clamp your thighs together at the smallest motions.

Simon knew your body better than you did, and he fucking loved it. He knew every spot that drove you absolutely mad and every crevice that had the ability to make you beg just how he wanted. 

Your eyes shoot open from their half-lidded proportion as Simon finds a certain spot that sends electricity throughout your entire body, making you cry out and dig your nails into his scar-ridden flesh.

“Righ’ there, huh, princess? Righ’ there?” He hisses which drawls out to a throaty growl, hammering that same spot with more pressure. “Couldn’t stand bein’ away fr’m this pussy f’r so long…” 

You chant ‘yes’ over and over again until your gasping and panting his name, your breath catching in your throat as you let out a loud cry through your climax, thighs trembling as they slowly close around his forearms in reflex.

He lifts your thighs up again and sits you on his lap as he pulls the covers over the both of you.

“Did s’good for me, lovie. Mmm…S’proud of you, baby.” Simon whispers, catching your lips in a ravenous kiss as he presses his cock inside of your warmth, pushing your climax back into you in a tranquil motion. 

“‘M gonna be right back, okay?” You coo against his lips as you swing your legs over the bed, he gives you a small ‘mhm’.

You quickly give yourself time to use the bathroom, then wash your hands before you walk yourself back into the room, crawling back into his lap before he turns the both of you to the side.

Simon unclips your brassiere and drops it onto the floor, cups both of your breasts in his palms and moans as you slide yourself back down onto his cock.

“Mmh…So warm…” he whispers huskily while kissing the nape of your neck down to your collarbones.

He spoons you, lulling you into a state of drowsiness as he gently massages your tits. Simon’s breath is a gentle pattern over your neck, gentle snores leaving the barriers of his lips after his hands go still.

You don’t take long to catch sleep right behind him, turning your head a moment to peck his wet lips before you’re able to finally shut your eyes.  

[cobaltperun]

Lost (2) - Into the nothing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.2k

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

-Heaven hear me, I know we can make it out alive-

You woke up around half past seven, the fatigue from battle still weighing you down, but more than that you couldn’t shake off that uneasy feeling from the last night. You tried and you tried, but you just felt like something was wrong. You sighed, the sound of birds chirping by your window did little to take your mind off the bad feeling. So, you sat up, turned the TV on and got up while the documentary about whales droned on. You lived in an efficiency apartment, and as cramped as it was, you made it a home thanks to Tara. She got you the few trinkets that were lying around. The cheesy ‘Home is where the heart is’ hung from the doors above the coat hangers. The small porcelain cat napped on the fridge, and a slightly bigger stuffed dog she bought you for your twelfth birthday sat on the nightstand drawer next to your bed. There were only two framed photos in your apartment, both of them were just you and Tara, one from her eighteenth birthday, it was actually spontaneous one, you just got done setting up the table for her birthday and she came out to her backyard with Chad keeping her eyes covered. She barely even registered all the food, she just ran over to you when he let go of her and jumped into your arms, and that was the moment Mindy captured from the side, the moment when Tara was leaning her forehead against yours and looking you in the eyes. The second one was back when you were kids and Tara and Mindy won an award for a short video.

Everything else was pretty much minimalistic, you hardly had space for anything else, given the living area wasn’t even 250 square feet. Bed at the corner, with nightstand drawer to its’ right, the TV hanging on the opposite wall, a coffee table you modified to be taller that doubled as table in general between the two with a couch just beneath the window. The kitchen area was small as well, just bare necessities, which sometimes made cooking a bit of a struggle for space. What little space was left was used up by the wardrobe closet and your bag and basic training gear, both by the wall where the TV was, standing between the doors and the TV.

You were comfortable in your home, comfortable in your own small space, separated from the rest of the town, in a building that was meant to be a part of some bigger project that got canceled, but the building remained, and the couple you worked for owned this apartment and a few other in the building and they rented it to you for a ridiculously cheap price. Right now, however, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off, you needed to go train, or go to work, or do anything to keep your mind off whatever was causing that damn feeling.

So, you broke your rules and ran down the stairs all the way from the third floor, and then, the moment you stepped through the main building entrance, you began running. You had a set of rules you lived by, eat healthy, train hard, rest enough, and resting enough involved having a day off after a fight, meaning no work, no training, just recovering. Yet here you were, running on an empty stomach while the town woke from the slumber. Cars drove past you, as did the school bus, and for a moment you thought you caught a glimpse of Tara sitting by the window, probably with Amber next to her. Running cleared your head a bit and you made up your mind. Next weekend you’d take Tara away from Woodsboro, you’d take her wherever she wants to go, Amber’s whining be damned.

You were tired of the distance, and you could feel Tara was tired of it as well, and it was about time you did something to change that.

With that sense of clarity and the decision you finished your run and, despite still having a day off, took a shower and went to work.

~X~

It was always the same old story when he and Mindy were alone. Always the struggle for the rights to control what they’d watch.

“There’s a basketball game on right now and I want to watch it,” Chad raised the remote above his head, not willing to budge. Could he have gone to his room to watch it? Absolutely, and Mindy could have gone to her room to watch whatever movie she wanted to watch tonight. Still, over the years it turned into a bit of a game between them, to see who would cave in first and he wasn’t going to be the one to give in this time.

“Pft, there’s a brand new horror movie airing and the remote has my name on it,” she pulled his forearm down so she could reach the remote, but he just tossed it to his other hand.

“No way, watch it later,” he took a few steps back and went around the sofa to put some distance between him and Mindy, only because he knew Mindy would stay put, choosing to wisely use her energy.

Mindy snorted at that. “No way, dude,” but she was grinning, clearly not annoyed by their usual argument.

Chad was about to say he was the one with the remote, hence he held the power, but his phone rang and he looked over the sofa to see who was calling him. Mindy had already grabbed it and handed it to him.

“It’s Wes,” she said and while he was picking up took the chance and stole the remote from him.

“Hey, give that back!” Chad complained before Wes could say anything.

“Chad,” Wes’ sounded like he was on the verge of tears and the remote was almost instantly forgotten.

“Hey, pal, what’s wrong?” Chad asked, worried, he rarely heard Wes this distraught, and Mindy noticed his tone as well, as her victorious grin dropped.

“It’s Tara. She- she was attacked, Chad, she was stabbed seven times in her own home. Doctors are fighting for her life as we speak,” Wes wasn’t making any sense, Tara was stabbed? Doctors were fighting for her life? He must have gotten high or drunk or something.

No. This was Wes. He rarely drank any alcohol and he most certainly never got high.

“Does,” he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. “Does anyone else know?”

“No, I’ll call Amber, you, you handle Y/N, please,” Wes told him and Chad felt dread fill him up.

There was a reason why he’d choose to tell Amber and not you. Amber was Tara’s girlfriend, sure, and she’d take it hard, she’d be worried, she’d rush to the hospital and stay by Tara’s side. You on the other hand, you’d be a tempest of rage and grief and fear. Sure, you and Tara weren’t close these past few months, but it was just a small, temporary break, you were still Tara’s Guard Dog, and you didn’t protect her.

Chad had no doubt in his mind that you’d be a hound, hunting down whoever hurt Tara and making them regret going after Tara.

“I’ll call her,” Chad still promised, and he’d call you, as frightening as the call was going to be.

Wes thanked him and hung up, his voice cracking near the end.

“Chad?” Mindy walked over to him and wiped his cheeks, and only then did Chad realize he was crying as well.

“Tara was stabbed, Wes doesn’t know if she’ll live,” he whispered, breaking down and hugging Mindy. He cried against her shoulder while she tried to stay strong for them both. The remote, the TV argument, it all remained forgotten.

~X~

At half past eleven p.m. you were back in your apartment, ready to sleep, even though it evaded you. You were just lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. That bad feeling, that worry, it came back while you were wrapping up your shift at the restaurant you worked in.

You abruptly sat up when your phone rang, and you just stared at Chad’s name for a few moments. The bad feeling intensified in an instant. Chad rarely called, especially this late.

“Hey,” you pushed the feeling back, you were just paranoid for no reason. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

“Hey, Y/N,” the shakiness of his voice nearly made you drop your phone, he sounded like he just stopped crying. Something was wrong, but you were still in denial.

Just stay calm, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as your heart drummed against your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Wes just called. Tara, she-“ the pause he made when he took a deep breath to collect himself was deafening. “she was attacked. Stabbed seven times. She’s at the hospital.”

He was wrong.

He wasn’t.

It couldn’t have happened to Tara.

It did.

The world and time itself stopped, everything stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, you just went through the motions as you grabbed your jacket and car keys. “Thanks,” before you understood what was happening you were already outside your apartment. “I’m heading there now.”

Move. Just get there. Just get to her. Just get to her. Just get to her. Those four words were on repeat in your mind like a chant. You couldn’t stop, not for a red light or anything else, you just kept going until you reached the hospital. You just barely recognized Wes’ mom as stopped you before you could enter the hospital.

“Easy, Y/N, breathe,” how distraught did you look if those were the first words she said to you.

“Tara, how is she?” nothing else mattered at the moment, not the worry in her eyes, not the weight pushing your body down, nothing but getting to Tara. The police would handle the attacker, so you only cared about how Tara was right now.

“She’ll live,” if you were capable of thinking clearly, you’d find it ironic how such a short sentence shook you to your core for the second time in your life. And it was, ironically, the exact opposite of the first time, of the ‘he’s dead’ that broke you all those years ago. At the moment, though, you felt like you were being torn apart and pulled back together at the same time. She’ll live, Judy had told you, the reassurance brought some semblance of clarity to your mind, yet at the same time the simple fact that she needed to clarify that made you feel like you were drowning.

“Y/N, where were you between nine and ten p.m.?” the question barely registered in your mind as you leaned back against the wall and took several deep breaths.

“Work. Woodsbo-Restaurant,” when did your voice become so hoarse? The need to just get inside and find Tara was almost overwhelming but a part of you, the last rational bit of you, managed to keep you rooted to the spot just until Judy told you to get going. Trying to force your way inside would only delay you reaching Tara.

Judy sighed and pulled you into the hospital. “Come on, I’ll take you to her room.”

She guided you through the dark, cold halls, going past the reception and up the stairs to where Tara hopefully was. You were barely aware of the few nurses stopping to look at you, as if surprised by what they were seeing. You didn’t care. None of that mattered at the moment.

You promised you’d do something nice for her and Wes when Tara recovered. Not before that though, you needed to prioritize. And prioritize you did as you walked through the doors to Tara’s room. Your vision became blurry as you looked at her. Still. Pale from blood loss. Attached to medical equipment. You didn’t even realize it when your legs gave out and you crumbled to your knees. All the fighting, all the hits you took, all the times you were struggling to get up, it all paled in comparison to this feeling. The sight in front of you weighed you down so hard you couldn't even struggle to get back up. For the second time in your entire life, you felt like you couldn't move, like nothing could make you move. Tara's steady breathing was the only reason you managed to keep your own breathing steady.

“Tara?” you breathed out, trying to will her to open her eyes and look at you, to show you she’d be fine, but she didn’t. She just laid there, completely still and if it wasn’t for the beeping of her heart rate monitor you were sure you would have gone mad right then and there.

“Y/N!” Judy’s shout felt distant, but you felt her touch on your shoulder.

Your slightly parted mouth closed, jaw clenching so hard you would later wonder how you didn’t crack any of your teeth. In the whirlpool of emotions, you clung to the one that was just arising, anger. “Did you catch whatever did this to her?” the anger burned through your veins. You wanted to hurt whatever did this to her.

“No, whoever did this to her fled. Tara told us it was someone dressed like a Ghostface,” anger turned to wrath. Whatever attacked Tara, that something wearing a damn Ghostface costume, was still out there, free. Oh, you knew violence, and fighting was how you made a living and that was all the difference. You fought in a controlled environment, against a willing and often just as capable opponent, the purpose was to win. Something that attacked Tara was different, the exact opposite, so as tears fell down your face and you clenched your fists a single thought ran through your mind. Ghostface better hope the police catches it.

An irrational part of you thought you should've been there with her. A more rational side argued you haven't spent a night with Tara in the past four months. Another rational argument was that you were at work when the attack happened, so you wouldn't be able to do anything even if you made plans to spend the night at her place. The irrational part argued back that it was supposed to be your day off, so in a perfect world, you would be there to keep her safe.

The world wasn't perfect, but the irrational part of you still kept winning as you got stuck in the loop of what-ifs, regrets, and guilt.

Judy squeezed your shoulder and you looked at her, and she was startled, afraid even, pulling her hand away from you and taking a step back. The pure, unrestrained wrath you felt must have been clear in your eyes. “We’ll catch the one responsible,” Judy promised you as she regained her composure.

You just nodded, getting up from the cold hospital floor and sitting down on the bed next to Tara’s, clearly not willing to leave her side. And Judy understood that, as you vaguely heard her tell some nurses to not even try to separate you from Tara.

For the next twelve hours, the only sound you properly and consistently registered was the heart rate monitor beeping to the rhythm of Tara’s heartbeat. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look at Tara, you just sat there, hands dangling between your knees and head hung low. The sound calmed you down, it assured you Tara would be fine. It also made you a bit more accepting of doctors and nurses, so when they entered you just observed their every move like a hawk instead of, well, whatever the less appropriate alternative was. Frankly, you weren’t sure what that alternative was, but you knew careful observation was a better option.

A groan shattered the silence and you jumped to your feet only to kind of freeze, not sure of what, if anything, you should do. Tara’s eyes opened slowly and the tension in your body just began fading as her eyes met yours. She blinked a few times, likely confused and still under the effects of the pain killers.

“Y/N,” the sound of her voice, or rather how hoarse it was finally got you to move as you filled a glass of water and helped her take a couple of sips.

“Easy, I got you,” you dropped down to one knee, opting to as gently as you possibly could brush your fingers against the back of her right hand.

Tara looked around, taking in the hospital room she was in, and then her eyes widened, her heart rate sped up, as did her breathing as she frantically looked around for any signs of danger.

“Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you jumped to your feet and cradled her cheek, getting her to look at you. “Okay? You’re safe,” you whispered as her eyes locked with your own, searching for something, anything to cling on to, to anchor herself to and calm down, and she did find it. Her heartbeat gradually normalized as the two of you just remained like that, frozen, with your hand on her cheek, and your left hand gently holding her right hand.

A sob tore through Tara’s throat as she tried to take your hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out, her eyes filled with fear and yet to be shed tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” and you’d be damned if you broke that oath. You moved your hand and wiped the tears off her face and Tara, still sobbing, leaned into your touch.

“You promise?” she asked, a bit calmer as she stared into your eyes.

You wanted to hug her, to hold her, to never let her go, but you were afraid you’d hurt her. “I promise. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” that brought a small smile to Tara’s face and you found yourself smiling back, caressing her cheek.

“Could you help me sit up?” she whispered, still weak, fearful, but reassured that you wouldn’t leave her.

You nodded and carefully moved her. You weren’t absolutely certain about your approach, but you still wrapped your left arm around Tara’s shoulders and gently helped her sit up. Tara leaned back before you could move and rested the back of her head on your left shoulder. You were about to speak but Tara turning her head and looking at you, mere inches away from your face kept your mouth shut. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

Was it uncomfortable? Definitely. You were sort of leaning back and you could feel your muscles, still somewhat sore from the fight and lack of proper rest, ached a bit as you committed to staying still. Could you make it even more physically uncomfortable? Yes. Would you do it? If Tara let you, you most certainly would. So, you moved your left arm to hug Tara from behind, sort of, it was more like letting your left arm rest beneath her neck to avoid her injuries. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes, relaxing and just for a moment it felt like everything was fine, like everything was the way it was a few months ago when you would spend countless hours watching movies or shows and Tara would unavoidably end up in your arms. The bubble the two of you created, the illusion of everything being as it should burst the moment Tara accidentally moved her broken leg and winced. “Did they catch him?” she asked, fear and panic once again overtaking her. The heart rate monitor’s beeping getting faster just offered you concrete proof of how much the idea of her attacker not being caught yet affected her.

“Not as far as I know,” and you knew. Despite not leaving the room you did your best to stay informed and as of half an hour ago, there were no news of Ghostface, or anyone really, being caught.

Tara buried her face in the crook of your neck. “I’m so scared Y/N,” she whispered, exhausted to the point of not even having the strength to cry anymore.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” if Tara noticed your refusal to refer to Ghostface as a human being she didn’t comment on it, she just leaned further into your touch. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed down, and you felt and heard Tara’s breathing getting even. As exhausted as she was you weren’t surprised, she fell asleep once again.

Tara didn’t tell you to move, or even to let her go, so you didn’t. Aching muscles be damned. That being said, your own exhaustion made it difficult to keep your eyes open and despite the position you were in you still fell asleep for the first time in roughly thirty hours.

~X~

Tara woke up to the smell she came to associate with you, a soft scent that didn’t trigger her asthma, a scent that was quintessentially you, and it felt so right. The feel of your muscular arms around her, keeping her safe, the sound of your breathing near her ear, keeping her calm. Your warmth, your strength, you. For a moment Tara even forgot what happened, but then she raised her left hand and saw the bandages and it all came back.

The knife piercing her flesh, the boot breaking her leg, the pain… The fear. The helplessness! She was all alone and all she could see was that mask, that figure, that knife through her palm. All she could hear was that voice, the security system repeating that her systems were disarmed, the knife going inside her stomach and back. All she could smell was blood, her blood.

She frantically looked around, her eyes wildly looking for any signs of danger, and then, as if you instinctively knew something was wrong you tightened your grip on Tara. Tara’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward you, as she watched your closed eyes, the slight furrow of your brows and a tiny scowl, you clearly weren’t comfortable like this, but she still melted into your touch. The sound of your breathing overtook the sound of Ghostface attacking her. Your warm touch replaced the cold knife. Your scent pushed the scent of blood to the back of Tara’s head. Right then and there you were all Tara could feel.

Tara got her breathing under control, she felt her heartbeat calming down, she relaxed. You were with her. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t let anyone harm her. You didn’t abandon her, Amber was wrong. Tara now knew that without a doubt. You were here with her, you spent who knows how long watching over her, you did what Amber didn’t. You came when Tara needed you. Despite everything that happened to her, Tara felt safe, you made her feel safe. And she smiled, letting sleep take over once again, at least until a doctor or a nurse came.

~X~

The sleep didn’t last nearly enough to get you back to a hundred percent as not even two hours after you fell asleep you felt fingers brushing against your cheek.

Your entire body felt stiff as a board, and you had to bite back a groan at how uncomfortable you felt right now.

“Y/N, you’ll get stiff like that,” there was a tiny hint of amusement in Tara’s voice, and like the hopelessly in love sucker you were you thought it was completely worth it.

“You think?” you smirked a bit and finally managed to open your eyes and look at her, she was no longer as pale as she was last night, but she still looked tired.

“I sent a text to Amber,” Tara said, making it clear she was awake for some time. Her phone was in her lap, and you definitely didn’t give it to her so someone else was here while you were sleeping.

“Damn, how come I didn’t wake up?” you groaned. So much for keeping her safe, you were so tired you didn’t even wake up until she touched your cheek.

“I do have that effect on you,” and the playful teasing was back, along with a slightly mischievous smile. Good. She was messing with you and for once you would let her do it. Also, well, you couldn’t really deny it, you did have a heavier sleep when Tara was with you.

“Yeah, let me get up before Amber sees those effects you speak of,” alright, maybe you couldn’t completely let her off the hook for teasing you. The beeping sped up again, not by much, but seeing as you were listening to that beeping for half a day you could tell the difference.

“Amber isn’t here,” there wasn’t any anger or any other negative emotion in Tara’s voice, but between her words, the additional acceleration of her heartbeat, and the way she was looking at you, you could understand the unspoken half of that sentence. You were here.

You were with her, as if there was any way you wouldn’t be with her in this situation. And, if allowed, you were going to make sure you remained with her from now on.

A/N: And the reader can cook, because why not. Tara shall get spoiled with good food! Anyway, this is moving a bit slowly, so I’m hoping to make the next chapter longer.

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

[yanderemommabean]

MammaBean! If ye have the time, may we please have more yandere murder hornet king! 🐝

The scent of honeysuckle wakes you up, and you begin to groggily rub your eyes. The last thing you can piece together is running away from basecamp as an insect invasion took your crew mates, and demolished your way home. 

You were definitely lost, but now it seems you’re no longer thirsty, or even that hungry for that matter. You weren’t freezing, and the cuts you had acquired while fleeing the attack seemed to be bandaged and healing. Did your group survive? Were you in an infirmary and back at the ship? 

“Awake now? Good…I do hope you’re able to understand me” a deep voice rings, making you jump and clutch the blanket laying on you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, my little flower”. 

You’re frozen, meeting the dark gaze of the creature in front of you. It was one of the aliens who attacked, who massacred your teammates- and it appeared this one was the king. Larger than the others, bolder colors, even more of a dangerous aura, there was no doubt. 

“You seem so frightened. I apologize, my kind is rather vicious when it comes to protecting the hive, I can see why the defeat would devastate you. However, I must say, surviving has put you in a favorable light”. 

Humanoid talking murder hornets. You’ve got to be in a coma or on drugs. Hopefully both. 

“What…what are you going to do to me?” was all you could muster to say. Out of the hundreds of questions you had, the only one that really rang out was the punishment you would receive for surviving. Would you be worked to death? Beaten and killed? Jailed and held captive for ransom? There had to be a reason they didn’t just kill you off. 

The large winged creature chuckled, sitting beside you on your bed, his claw coming to wipe your hair out of your face. “My little flower...So scared, so worried. Do not worry, I will keep you safe, away from any harm” he gestures to the entire room, arm outstretched as he speaks “This is just one of the many safe rooms in my hive. My kingdom, if you will. No harm is to come to any of my people or allies within here, and those who break my rule, are put to the racks”. 

“R..Racks?” 

He laughs, gently rubbing your head affectionately “Hahah! Do not worry yourself with those vile thoughts. I’ll answer all of your questions. Firstly, I must ask…What is your name? And how can I thank you for wandering into my life at the right time?” 

What?

“Wait wait- what are you talking about? I-I didn’t come here on purpose if that’s what you think! I-I wasn’t sent or given as a trade!” 

“No, you were a lost little thing. A gift given to me by the gods while I was lost in my own despair. You were my blessing from beyond the clouds, and I cannot wait to indulge you in my love, and in return, let myself indulge in you”. 

(Mkay this is a bunch of BLEGH but I hope you enjoy bean! -Mommabean)

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello, do you know of any ttrpgs where the players fight titans (or any other really BIG things), ideally in a fantasy setting? I've come across two kickstarters that looked really promising but both seem to have dropped off, Reach of Titan and Relic :(

I'm looking more for a Shadow of Colossus-style game than Monster Hunter, if possible.

Thanks!

Theme: Shadow of the Colossus

Hello friend, I have three games that I think you might like, and one game that’s inspired by Shadow of the Colossus, but has a different goal.

Titanomachy: Legacy 2nd Edition Quickstart, by UFO Press.

Welcome to Hekaton - a jungle-covered planet where stranded colonists hide from titanic monsters.In Titanomachy, the players are survivors living among the ruins of a colony devastated when colossal titans surged out of the planet's jungle and tore apart their space elevator and advanced infrastructure. Generations down the line, the titan Gigas has just fallen after a monumental battle that devastated your families. Now you know the titans can be stopped, but your families are weaker than ever. How will you build a world where you're safe?

This document gives you a jumping-on point for Legacy: Life Among the Ruins Second Edition, letting you try out the core game rules and pre-generated player options before breaking open the full suite of options available in the main book.

As a standalone game, you don’t need to have Behemoths in Legacy, but if you want a world in which they exist, all you need to do is ensure one person is playing The Order of the Titan.

In Titanomachy, you’ll get a taste of what kind of game that might be, and the online version of it is free! Legacy is a game primarily about surviving the end of the world and the way humanity rebuilds over time, so adding in the Titans is a way of providing a major obstacle to the goals of all of the factions involved. If you want a game that places the Titans as simply a piece in a larger story, this might be the game for you.

Facing The Titan, by Nicolas “Gulix” Ronvel.

“We are the Company. Hunters, warriors, mages, scholars, nobles, barbarians, we have been brought together for one purpose: to put an end to the reign of the Titan. Let us get to know each other and rediscover each other after all these years. Tonight, let us share our experiences so that tomorrow those who survive can tell the stories of those who fall.”

Facing the Titan is a GM-less, zero-prep roleplaying game, for one-shots games of about 3 hours. It has been designed and playtested for groups of 3 to 5 people. A solo mode is also available. You will play the Company, a group of heroes whose fate is to face the colossal Titan. And to destroy it!

This game divides game play into five distinct phases, starting with the Companions phase, which introduces your characters, and ends in the Clash phase, which is your Companions’ battle with the Titan. The game has a number of various Titans available for you to fight, with six basic Titans and ten extra Titans that were written after this game was Kickstarted. All of the basic titans look to be from a fantasy setting, but some of the extra Titans may allow you to change the setting of the game!

Trail of the Behemoth, by Dan Felder & Seamus Allen.

The world is filled with monsters that tower over the hills; beings that some call gods… And they want to eat you for breakfast.

As a Hunter, you stand between the monsters and humanity. Each hunt you’ll gather clues about your foe’s weaknesses, then engage in a climactic battle against the colossal beast, a monster so big that its body becomes the terrain on which the Hunters climb. 

This is a game that is designed to run quickly, with simple rules and easy monster creation. The game comes with five adventures that can be combined for a short campaign, or can be used as standalone one-shots. The combat is designed with a push-you-luck mindset, allowing you take more actions as long as you’re able to accept the risk. Once you kill the monster, your characters can upgrade their gear using pieces of the titan’s corpse to strengthen your weapons or armor.

Autumn of Giants, by Melody Saturn.

Autumn of Giants is a collaborative storytelling game of a group of humans guiding and protecting a Colossus on the way to rest and shelter for the Winter. It tells of a desolate and gentle journey through lonely and beautiful places. And of a small group of people who will do everything they can to protect a friend.

Move from location to location, describing the broad strokes of each environment from the colossus's perspective as a group and then zooming in on individual scenes from the humans' points of view.

Describe how your characters change over the course of the journey, using the shift, carry, and shed options. Face daunting Perils or find respite in Interludes with group scenes between locations.

This game has a much calmer vibe to it, being about shepherding a Colossus rather than fighting it. The locations given are very evocative, which I think would be very helpful when it comes to helping the players describe each place they visit. The game is about change; your characters at the start will not be the same by the time they reach The Sleeping Grounds. This game is also GM-less, which might make it a good fit for a table in which everyone wants the same role.

I’d Also Recommend…

The Wildsea, by Felix Isaacs, which has large creatures to fight but is more about adventuring on the Verdant Ocean.

Hellwhalers, by BrewistTabletopGames, a game of nautical horror inspired by Moby Dick.

[sotwk]

According to the lay known as “The Fall of Gil-Galad”, upon this elven-king’s death, he was “the last whose realm was fair and free, between the Mountains and the Sea”.

…say what now? Excuse me, dear Middle-earth minstrels, but you seem to have forgotten about THIS GUY:

King Thranduil Oropherion is the Sindarin counterpart of the “High King of the Noldor”, and therefore comparable to the renowned High King Gil-Galad, but is sadly not given the same amount of recognition in stories and songs.

Allow me the honor of “singing” the ways Thranduil is very similar to Gil-Galad:

(1) Both were born in the First Age, and as young elves witnessed the destruction of the cities they lived in: Thranduil in Doriath and Gil-Galad in the Havens of the Falas. They were exposed to war and bloodshed at an early age and experienced living as refugees.

(2) Both survived and possibly participated in the War of Wrath. (You know, that really terrible, bloody, decades-long war that literally broke the world--that war.) According to certain interpretations of the film “The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug”, Thranduil likely did fight in the War of Wrath, where he “faced the great serpents of the north”. Elven warriors of the First Age were incredibly fierce warriors out of necessity, and if Thranduil survived those great battles when he was about 150 years old, that makes him extra badass. 

(3) Both inherited their kingships from their forefathers. Gil-Galad’s claim to the Noldor throne (like his canon parentage) is a little murky, but he is related to Fingolfin whose line was pretty much wiped out, so only Elrond or Galadriel could have challenged his claim (which they didn’t). Thranduil’s claim is far more direct as the son of the first King of the Woodland Realm and ruler of the Silvan people.

(4) Both were warrior kings. Because canon stories of Thranduil are very sparse, we don’t know for sure which wars he did or didn’t participate in during the Second Age. What DID he do those 2,000+ years while his father was establishing and ruling the realm? Honing his warrior skills seems to be a fair hypothesis. How else would he have developed the deadly skills he exhibited at the Battle of Five Armies? How else would he have kept the foul creatures of Dol Goldur at bay without a magic ring? It’s very possible he’s seen more time on the battlefield than official historical accounts say. 

(5) Both fought at the Battle of Dagorlad, during the War of the Last Alliance. Gil-Galad fought hard and valiantly to the end at Mordor, slaying Sauron by his own spear. Because Oropher died at the first onslaught, it was likely that Thranduil had to exit the war early, either to bury his father and their slain soldiers, or because he himself was injured. There may have been enough time for him to rejoin the Alliance at the Siege of Barad-dûr, to avenge his father and salvage his family’s honor and pride. But Thranduil, whom people mistakenly dismiss as arrogant or proud, was a king who valued his people and the soldiers under his command. It would have been easy glory to join the Siege since by then the war had been all but won (and won by the blood of his people, might I add). Thranduil chose to stay with his kin and help them through the loss of their king and many loved ones, and to reassure them that they were in good hands with him as their new ruler. 

It’s a big, sad shame that Tolkien was not able to write more stories about Thranduil, his family, and the Mirkwood elves. Based on the theories we, his fans, are able to formulate about him, it seems he may have been the most successful, even most benevolent, Elven ruler of them all. He will just have to get his glory and renown in the “songs” and “lays” of our headcanons and fanfics. 

Looking for more Thranduil content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

Thank you for your support and interest!

[aleksanderscult]

I loved your analysis! Can you analyse the (barely there, not enough) Darklina scenes from the KOS duology? I could not rationalize some of what was going on there.

First of all, I'm so sorry for taking that long to reply, anon! (Hasn't it been over two weeks since you send this or what??😭😭)

Second, thank you so much for your kind words! 💗💗

Third, you and I both friend 🤝🤝

'Cause honestly I didn't know what the fuck was happening in that interaction too 😭

I'll actually analyze the only Darklina scene we got in RoW. But if you want another one too, just send me an ask!

So! Let's dive in and analyze that hot mess, shall we?

(note: I had to go back and read this scene very carefully in order to understand what the actual fuck they were saying💀)

⚠️TW!: PTSD, trauma⚠️

The way he's so obedient with her even in this life 😭

If somebody else had ordered him to do that, he wouldn't obey. But Alina? Alina is a different story and this is the first time he hears her voice since his death in R&R.

'Any little victory'

Uhh....okay...??

You made him wipe his feet. I'm.... impressed??

(confusion levels 📉)

LMAO MY BOY WOKE UP AND CHOSE VIOLENCE

I always believed that the dynamic between Aleksander and Alina involves lots of teasing. But not in the fun sense. But in the sense of "I'm getting under your skin. My words to you sting".

And that's what the Darkling does here too. He's a prisoner. Their prisoner. So he tries to gain the upper hand by using his wits, his past with Alina and the latter's trauma against her to get even.

Pretty clever, huh?

See what I mean?

He tries to weaken her confidence and it's interesting that back in Keramzin he also tried to get even (and he did) by killing her mother figure.

Aleksander: "Wanna fuck with me? Wanna mess with me? How about that time when I burnt that orphanage and killed your "mother"?"

*Alina's sure confidence is gone and now the Darkling has the upper hand in her feelings*

OUTSTANDING MOVE 👌

Excuse me, Misha? Who the Hell gave you the permission to interrupt or talk at all??

Also, do you really expect from the Darkling to remember a little boy while he was too busy trying to rule a nation, win a war and persuade Alina to join him?

And if you also expect him to remember you from that time when Baghra went out to confront her son while you escorted her, then you're also wrong. 'Cause he was too busy being furious that his mother sided and helped the opposite side and too busy being distraught because he was watching her fall to her death.

You're not important, son.

Sit down.

LMAO THIS IS SO HILARIOUS

Misha you're still an infant. Please shut up.

I honestly liked him in the Grisha Trilogy (I found him a cutie) but now I want to slap him and everyone else in this duology except Aleksander

The Darkling has survived numerous murdering attempts against him. He was finally killed by Alina not because of some grand display of her powers but because the former was so heartbroken by Alina's fate (and his own because he would be alone) that he just gave up on his life. Basically he committed suicide.

Misha, you wouldn't be able to kill him even now that he's powerless and in chains. Probably you would stumble and fall in the effort or smth.

Uhh actually no, Mal.

Threating him only makes you sound like idiots, honestly.

Also, since when did Mal gained ✨wisdom✨?

Wasn't he the hot-tempered one in the trilogy who always got angry with the mere mention of the Darkling? And the one who wanted to kill him as well?

Alina, you know damn well what his name is.

Honestly, I think she didn't say it because she wanted to respect the fact that he trusted her to keep it.

And I agree that Yuri is a horrible name for him. Makes him seem like a fisherman 😭

Meanwhile Alina in S&B:

So either Bardugo kinda forgot these scenes or we're led to believe that these scenes weren't her being happy, but we thought she was happy.

(me casually ignoring that theory because I choose to believe only the things that MAKE SENSE)

The fact that Bardugo made Alina believe that she was unhappy when she was whole with her powers and surrounded by people like her but totally happy now that she has no powers (a part of her soul actually) and living with a man that slut-shamed her in a toxic, childhood place is umm... yeah. Not good.

So basically:

Aleksander: "You look different. You look like shit. What the fuck did they do to you? This is not you"

Alina: "No bro I'm happy now that I live in toxic conditions where the teachers mock me, Mal takes me out for a walk to forget my psychological traumas and I raise some Grisha children that will fade because they don't use their powers and some others that I probably am in no condition to raise. At least that's what the author said is happiness, bro."

Aleksander: "......."

Alina: "......"

The readers: "........."

ALEKSANDER IS HONESTLY ALL OF US FRR WITH HIS LINES

"In peace"

Yeah, having PTSD certainly is peaceful. And knowing that you abandoned your country and left its fate to chance certainly makes you sleep like a baby at night.

"We chose the life we wanted"

Alina, you didn't CHOOSE to lose your powers. And before that you didn't even know what you wanted to do with your life. It was a last minute decision for you.

"I fell pray to the same greed that drove you"

Girl, are we the only ones who did our homework??

In his POV in RoW he confirmed that he tampered with merzost in the past because he wanted to stop Ravka's wars. So as far as we know he never used power exclusively for himself.

"I paid the price for tampering with merzost"

Now hold a second. I thought that the reason Alina lost her powers is because Morozova wanted that said power to be shared by any otkazat'sya around. It wasn't that much of a punishment as much as a need for Morozova to share that power.

Unless it was..... both?

I just want a guy that will believe in me and my abilities the way Aleksander does with Alina, man 😭

He strongly believes that she could become a Queen even without her powers. And he's actually so right when he says to her that her wounds won't heal. Because no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you are alright. No matter how hard you try to persuade your mind that you're not broken, reality will always hit you. Some wounds never heal and Alina's certainly will not. She didn't lose a toy, she lost a part of her soul and witnessed many die. How the hell does she think she's suitable to raise children, when she herself is NOT okay psychologically?

"In the wake of your wars"

Excuse me. Why is the Fjerdan and Shu wars always the Darkling's fault??

"And maybe when our country is free, then that wound will close"

She sounds so brainwashed bye--

And just like I said, wounds like that never close unfortunately. It can only become more bearable with time. But not forgetable.

Ah yes. Bardugo makes us watch how cute their relationship is.

Am I supposed to take off my camera and snap pictures of them whispering with tears in my eyes: "They look so adorable"?

'Cause I won't.

The way Bardugo has made Mal unfazed by the Darkling's comments. A thing that completely contrasts his nature in the Grisha trilogy.

He also made him have "sassy" lines because we've got to like him somehow, right? 🤗

Still hate him

Basically, dear anon, the author has made Mal more "likeable", immune to the Darkling's insults, patient and witty in order for us to change our mind about him and finally like him.

(mission failed btw)

He is literally nothing like his trilogy counterpart and, if possible, she made him more annoying.

(how the hell she managed to do that, I don't know)

I just feel sorry for Aleksander who has to deal with all these jerks. If I were there, I would have helped him kill them and bury their bodies.

Because you let your heart and feelings get the better of you, Aleksander. Because you proved to be the most human of all these characters here. You let her come close. And that's what killed you.

(also, shut up Misha)

Alina, you could have said "no" to that invitation. So stop acting like they dragged you from the hair here.

"Do you think you could manage it?"

Do you, Alina? 'Cause really, what did YOU do to make the lives of Grisha better? At least he built a palace for them.

"It's not like you didn't get a fair try before. Hundreds of tries"

Yeah, and half of them failed because you got in the way. You refused to listen to him and, even if you didn't like the way he dealt with the persecution, you chose to run away (again) instead of deciding to stay and do better.

SHE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT ZOYA AND NIKOLAI COULD DO BETTER LMAO 😭😭

Zoya, the very fact that he mentioned you should feel like a badge of honor.

And yet Ravka is in its worst condition ever.

Sorry Alina but I don't see shit from them.

The fact that the Darkling keeps mentioning that he's eternal is to remind them that he has seen everything and done everything. He has more experience than they will ever have. Not to gloat about it. And yet Alina takes it as the latter.

And it's funny that Alina turns him down for the job saying he has no powers when Alina herself suffers from the same condition 😀

Finally someone with self-reflection.

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!!

PREACH!! PREACH!! 👏👏

When you have the "villain" exposing the true problem in the story, the flaws and failures while having the heroes screaming "EVERYTHING IS FINE. YOU'RE WRONG!" then you know that something is wrong.

How the Hell are they gonna provide eternal peace in Ravka and to the Grisha when:

They have no experience

They are too busy criticizing the villain instead of looking at their own flaws

They doubt themselves

(you can add to the list, guys)

And he's not shaken because he's talking with a Saint, Zoya. He's shaken because he's talking to Alina. She always had a way in getting under his skin. He said it.

"Fine. Make me your villain" fits here 'cause he never perceived himself as the bad guy but he knew that this is what others thought of him.

I think it still stung to him to know that others saw his every action in a negative light but he still kept going. And sometimes he even used it (at the end of R&R).

Alina still wants to believe that there's something redeemable inside him. Her POVs were always the "kindest" in the way they painted the Darkling.

MISHA COULD YOU PLEASE SHUT IT

What about his mother, huh??

Who, despite the abuse he suffered from her, he still cared about??

Alina?? Oh boy, he was in love with her, obsessed and gave her so many chances. Something that he almost never does unless he's desperate.

So PRETTY PLEASE STOP TALKING

Meanwhile the Darkling in R&R, chapter 11:

"I have regretted many of the things I’ve had to do in this war."

So either Bardugo forgot that or Alina did or Aleksander changed his mind.

Or (my theory) Bardugo changed his perception in order for us to feel less sympathetic towards him.

Nevertheless, at least he has a spine and knows where he stands.

And Alina wanted the Darkling to say it not for him but for her. So she can feel okay. Unless Zoya is talking bullshit.

YES ALEKSANDER WHY DIDN'T YOU LIE SO OUR HEROINES COULD FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEMSELVES???!!

HOW DARE YOU?? 😠😠

He tries so hard to persuade her that the reality she lives in will not pay off anything. First off, this is not who she is or what she was meant to become and second, why does she teaches children stories that are lies? Feeding them false hope, repeating a circle that others had also been doing.

"Do you *really* believe..."

He wants to make sure that she stands by that. He just can't believe that this is her opinion. Her choice.

He just wants her to shine people!! 😭😍

"Those stories tell us the only people who matter are Kings and Queens. They're wrong"

Now tell me, Alina, which stories do YOU tell them? What do you teach them? That the world is as rosy as the orphanage they live in, where they only eat sugar and play the piano? Do you imagine what kind of reality check will those children get once they live in the real world?

And here, ladies and gentlemen, we see the Darkling having reached his limits and saying "Fuck this shit I'm out"

Congratulations, Aleksander! You survived that meeting with these buffoons and their groundless arguments!! 👏👏

Here, have this! 🏅

He saw his chance (Alina holding Mal's hand) and seized it. But I think he really meant all those questions he asked to Alina.

So, dear anon, what we have here is the villain making his effort (again) to be heard and understood. He tries to make them see his own point of view: Ravka is in serious danger and Zoya and Nikolai are in no position to protect it. He, on the other hand, can since he has more experience and balls to deal with these issues. The Darkling is no pussy. He truly makes hard decisions when he must, something that essentially all rulers must do when the situation calls for it.

But! We have the good guys silencing him and threating him (even having a little child to do the last one) in order for the reader to understand what he has left in his wake. How much pain he has caused.

Mal has gotten ✨magically✨ wiser and calmer and has actual wits to repel the Darkling's insults in order for us to get to like Mal and see how much he has changed.

Alina sounds like a brainwashed woman who is convinced that her lifestyle is great! That wanting something more (idk. a throne and changing the world maybe) is sinful and unfitting of her.

Aleksander is the only one who thinks otherwise for her, though. Thank God, I mean!

He sought Alina out both to reclaim his powers and because he just wanted to see her.

Personally, in this scene only the Darkling makes sense. The others either want to feel good about themselves by threating him or want to convince him that "Hey, we're the good ones here. We know what we're doing, okay?" and his own ways are shit.

Dear anon, if you have any other questions or want me to analyze any other Darklina scene from this book or duology that I didn't include, then just say so!

And please any others who want to add something about this scene, feel free to criticise in the comments! 💛💛

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 2

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the reaction to chapter 1 <3

AU's in general are always nerve wracking, but this one feels even more so because I am aware it's a little bit of an out-there idea. I really appreciate the support on this unhinged little fic, and I really hope you like this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She seeks him out on the train. 

He’d left the dining carriage not long after they left the district, and at first, she leaves him to it, giving him the space she remembers needing herself. It was strange to leave home, the only place you’d ever been, and not know if you’d be coming alive or in a body bag. Not everyone even got that, the brutality that the tributes sometimes showed each other beyond imagination, as if the Capitol had truly won in convincing them all that they were each other's enemies. Their gaze and anger turned inwards, instead of all of them looking out to see who was using them like chess pieces. 

She goes looking for him for a couple of hours, Kate’s crying eventually getting to her, too many memories of other tributes who hadn’t come home haunting her. The ghosts of children whose faces she’d never forget in every reflective surface she walked past. 

She finds him at the back of the train looking out of the large window, scenery they’d otherwise never get to see speeding past them, hints of life and freedom in the birds that flew between the trees. She clears her throat as she steps into the carriage and he looks up at her, his smile tight as their eyes meet. 

“Want me to leave you alone?” She asks, not stepping any closer to him and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he replies, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She nods and walks towards him, revealing that she has two glasses of scotch behind her back, smiling wryly as she tries to hand him one, “Here, I brought you this.”

He frowns, the smell from the glass familiar, the scent of alcohol something he thinks he might always associate with his father, “We’re not ol-”

“We’re old enough to die for a TV show,” she says, pressing the drink into his hand before she sits next to him, “I think we’re old enough to have a drink.”

He pauses for a moment and considers arguing with her. He thinks about putting the drink down, ignoring that she’d brought it to him, but he doesn’t. There was something about it pulling him in, the chance to break the rules, to do something he’d never done before, tempting as he thinks about the fact his days are numbered. He nods and takes a sip, something simmering in his gut when she smiles widely at him. 

He’d never been able to say no to her anyway. 

She laughs at him when he grimaces at the taste, at the burn in the back of his throat, and for a moment they are children again, playing in her mother’s house with no regard for anything other than the fun they were having. The train jolts and pulls them out of it, bringing them back to the harsh reality they were in. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods in response, “What happened with you and Haley?” 

He smiles sadly, scratching the back of his head as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he thought he’d one day marry, “We talked about the future. She wanted kids. I don’t,” he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world and then potentially sending them into this.” 

Emily nods even though he’s not looking at her, blowing out a steady breath, “I know what you mean. Especially now I’m a victor.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together with curiosity. He’s so close she could reach out and touch the line it creates between his eyebrows, press her thumb into the ravine that she’s sure would get so much deeper as he got older. 

If he ever got older. 

“Why?” 

She smiles sadly, “The kid of a victor would almost be guaranteed to go in the games,” she says her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “It makes good TV. It would show even the strongest of us aren’t protected.” 

There’s a pause, and it stretches out between them. Tied together with threads of their separate histories, tattered edges knotting together to create a morbid tapestry. 

“What about you and that guy from District One?” He asks, breaking the silence, his voice soft, as if he was afraid to ask. 

She smiles wryly, “Ian?” She says and he nods, making her chuckle, “Don’t believe everything you read, Aaron. He’s just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.” 

He isn’t sure what to say to that, how to feel about the wave of protectiveness that washes over him, so he clenches his teeth and decides to move the conversation on. 

“Where’s Kate?” He asks, looking at the amber liquid in his glass before he takes another sip, this one going down easier than the first. 

“Dave’s comforting her,” she replies, looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the trees, “She’s upset,” she says, even though it’s obvious. She looks at him and takes a moment to study him as he continues to look at his drink. He was handsome, he always had been, but the boyishness that had once been in his features had faded away. Sharp features had replaced once rounder ones as if they’d cut through from underneath, pushing away innocence and childhood with the harsh realities of life. He looks up at her and she clears her throat, pushing down the embarrassment that she feels at being caught staring at him, “What you did was really brave.” 

He laughs wryly and nods, blowing out a slow breath before he finishes his drink. It was objectively brave, he knew that, if he’d seen anyone else do it he’d think the same thing, but he didn’t feel brave. He couldn’t have let his brother do this, couldn’t let him march towards certain death when he could help. 

He wasn’t sure it counted as bravery when it was his only option. 

“He’s my brother,” he says simply, “I only did what was right,” he says as he puts down his empty glass. He can see her start to argue with him, the pinch between her brows something he’d seen countless times before, so he cuts her off before she can, “So, how does this work? Do you and Dave train us both? Do we have a mentor each?” 

She sighs at the change of subject but lets it slide, well aware that he needed to deal with this in the way he needed to, that her feelings weren’t important in any of this, “One each - I’ll be working with you, Dave will be with Kate.” 

He frowns, “I saw you with Tara last year,” he says, feeling momentarily regretful when she flinches for a second, a brief reaction she can’t control at the mention of the female tribute from the year before. She’d almost made it, survived until the final three, and then was killed by a career tribute from District One, “Don’t you usually work with the female tribute?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together to gather herself, “Yes but, because we’re friends Dave suggested I work with you,” she says, the lie slipping past her lips easily. 

She used to hate lying, used to think the truth was always the better option no matter what, but one thing she’d learnt since leaving the arena was that lying was the way to keep everyone she cared about safe. She’d asked Dave if she could work with Aaron and had ignored his concern. Selfishly, she wanted to spend as much time with Aaron as she could, so if she did lose him, if she had to watch him die helplessly and keep a straight face, she would be able to tell herself that she’d done her very best to help him. 

He chuckles wryly, “Friends? Em, we’ve barely spoken since I started to date…” he drifts off and shakes his head, cut off by the look of hurt that flashes across her face, guilt sparking in his gut, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend, her name turning to ash on his tongue at the thought of how she must be feeling about all of this. He sighs, “Look, that wasn’t fair. I’m-”

“No,” she says, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “You’re right. I haven’t…” she sighs and a humourless laugh escapes her, “It’s not been an easy few years.” 

The guilt in his belly catches fire, spreading through his blood as he reaches out and places his hand on her arm. It’s only when he does it that he realises it’s been years since he’d touched her, and he feels like an addict, the desire to never let go forcing him to do just that, his hand springing back like he’d been burned. 

“I am sorry, Em,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “I can’t imagine how you’ve felt since you came back.” 

She looks down at her arm where he touched her, his warmth lingering where his palm had been. She knows she’ll inspect her skin later, that she’ll check to see if he’d left a mark behind, if he’d somehow branded her with a simple touch because she can almost feel it burn. She looks up at him and smiles, and she shrugs half-heartedly. 

“Well, in a few weeks when we’re back on this train, you’ll know.” 

It’s false optimism neither of them buy into, but he can’t help but smile back at her, “Yeah,” he replies, “I will.”

___

She’s running. 

Her lugs hurt, her feet her almost numb with pain, a dampness in her shoes she knows is blood and not water, but she can’t stop running.

Her life depends on it. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide pretty. The things I’ll do to you when I catch you.” 

She’s only forced further forward by Karl’s words, by the foul implication dripping from them. She’d seen what he’d done to some of the other girls, and had seen the joy he’d derived from it. Emily wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of killing her, she was going to outlive him or she was going out on her own terms.

She curses as she realises she’s run into a dead end, her feet just touching the cliff edge as she comes to a stop. She can hear him gaining on her, his thundering footsteps getting louder, and she closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one final moment of peace, but when she opens her eyes she sees a shimmer in the sky. It’s almost discernible from the blue of the fake sky in above her but she sees it. She chuckles as she remembers what Dave had told her about the forcefield, about the edge of the arena, and she pulls her knife out of her pocket. She looks over her shoulder and sees that Karl is right behind her, a smirk on his face as if he had won already. She looks straight ahead and she throws the knife, immediately ducking as it hits the forcefield and bounces back. She’s knocked to the ground by the force of the soundwaves that echo around her, her hand automatically covering her ears as she tries to protect them. 

Everything goes eerily silent, everything overwhelmingly quiet after so much nose, and her hands shake as she removes them from her ears. Her arms are unsteady as she pushes herself up off the ground. She walks over to where Karl is lying, the same smirk still painted on his face, a grim flash burn of the last moment of his life, and her knife planted firmly in the centre of his chest. 

She jumps when the canon goes off, half convinced until that moment she’d lost her hearing, and she looks up at the sky, Karl’s face briefly emblazoned on it, before the disembodied voice of the game maker fills the arena. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this year's Hunger Games - Emily Prentiss.”

___

Aaron was exhausted. 

No matter how much training they did, how much preparation Emily had put him through the last few days, he couldn’t sleep. It alluded him, forever out of reach as he slept in a bedroom bigger than his childhood home. 

He’s walking around the apartment they’d been assigned when he hears her scream, the sound of it pulling him towards her room immediately. When he walks in she’s wrapped up in the bed sheets, twisting in the bed as if she’s trying to escape from something he can’t see. He runs over and sits on the edge of Emily’s bed, placing his hand on her sheet-covered knee and squeezing as he says her name.

“Em,” he says, quietly at first, not wanting to startle her, “Em, you need to wake up,” he says, shifting closer, his hand skating up her side as it lands on her shoulder. He turns her towards him and the look on her face, the devastation she couldn’t escape even in her sleep, makes him ache, “Sweetheart, please,” he says, the nickname slipping out of nowhere as he begs her to come back to him, “Wake up.” 

She sits up so fast that their foreheads would have collided if he hadn’t moved, a gasp loud enough to shake the walls escaping her as she looks at him, her eyes wide. She tries to shift away, as if she doesn’t recognise him, still half asleep as she tries to shake the rest of the nightmare off. 

“Emily, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She breathes heavily, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she frowns at him, recognition finally seeping into her eyes, “Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling encouragingly as he rests his hand on her shoulder again, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “It’s me. I was walking past and I heard you.” 

She frowns, “Heard me what?” 

He presses his lips together briefly as he weighs up his options, but he knows she needs the truth, “I heard you scream.” 

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, smiling softly at her. His gaze drifts to his hand on her shoulder and he lets it drop to the mattress, “Were you dreaming about the games?”

She nods, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart still hammers at her rib cage, the beat of it so hard she thinks her ribs might crack, that the places the Capitol doctors had put her back together would slowly unravel.

“Yeah,” she says, her nerves too shot from the nightmare to deny it, “It’s always the same moment.” 

He’d watched her games, and had felt relief when she’d won. It was the only one he remembers all the details of, the names of the other tributes forever burned into his memory.

They were people he’d prayed would die so the girl he loved would win. 

“What moment?” He asks without thinking, his eyes going wide as he realises what he’s said, “You don’t have to-”

“When I won,” she says, cutting over him, feeling a strange sense of relief in finally saying this to someone. She was under no illusion that her mother hadn’t heard her screams. Elizabeth made her coffee on the mornings after the worst nights, or sent for her favourite bread from the bakery. A silent apology that would have to do, because Emily knew if her mother asked about it, if she acknowledged what her daughter had gone through, the house of cards they’d built around themselves stuck together with half-truths and platitudes would come crumbling down, “It’s always the moment when I won.”

He nods, “The knife and the forcefield,” he says, “I didn’t know what you were doing at first.” 

She hums sadly, shaking her head she repeats the words she’d heard again and again anytime she saw footage of any of the games - hers included.

“The moment a tribute becomes a Victor,” she says, doing an impersonation of Penelope that gets a smile out of him that she matches, “Not that there are any Victors,” she says, her smile fading, “Just survivors.” 

Her words are heavy in the air, laying like a cloying blanket over them, an acknowledgement that even if he won that he’d never be free trapping them in place. He eventually clears his throat and starts to stand up.

“Well, I should go back-”

“Please stay,” she says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before she can stop herself, her basic instinct to keep him close winning out over everything else, “I…please stay.” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, he simply nods and climbs into bed next to her, careful to make sure he’s on the other side of the mattress from her, their bodies not touching as they lay next to each other. For a moment it’s awkward but he turns his head to look at her, a half smile on his face as her eyes meet his.

“I think this bed is bigger than my bedroom at home.” 

She chuckles and rests her head back on her pillow, “I will give the Capitol one thing,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “They sure know how to make a mattress.” 

When they wake up in the morning they are tangled together on his side of the bed, wrapped up like vines that had grown side by side, destined to become indistinguishable from one another.

___

“He needs to smile more.” 

Emily doesn’t look at Dave, doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen as she slaps his chest with one hand, the other by her mouth as she bites her cuticles, “He’s doing fine.” 

“He’s lucky he has the whole volunteering for his brother thing on his side,” Dave says as he steps closer to the TV, Aaron’s one-on-one interview with Jason Gideon, the host of the games, happening live in front of them, “Let’s be honest, not a lot of star power on that screen right now.”

“Shut up Dave,” she says, finally turning from the screen and looking at him, “He’s doing his best. I didn’t do great either.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “True. I think that was the first time they’d ever had to censor a 15-year-old on the show before.” 

She chuckles and looks back at the screen, blowing out a slow breath as she looks at the other tributes sitting behind Aaron as he speaks to Gideon, her gaze fixed on one of them in particular, “I don’t like the look of him.” 

Dave frowns as he leans in and gets a closer look, “Oh, that intense guy from four? What was his name…”

“George Foyet,” she says, turning to look at him, “He reminds me of Karl. I think he’ll get a kick out of it all.” 

“He does have that look about him,” Dave replies, watching her carefully, concern washing over him. She was clearly close to Aaron, or had been at some point, and he was worried she was setting herself up to get hurt. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Aaron’s room had been untouched for days and that Emily wasn’t screaming in the middle of the night anymore. “Bella, are you-”

“Shh,” she says, tuning back into what was being said, aware that the conversation was wrapping up. 

“So, do you have a special lady waiting back home?” Gideon asks and Aaron looks down at his hands before he looks at the camera and he shakes his head. 

“No, I used to but…” he trails off and shakes his head, “We broke up.”

“That’s a shame,” Gideon replies, leaning forward in his chair towards Aaron, “There must be someone else though, someone else you’ve had your eye on.” 

Aaron sighs and Emily swears she can see his thought process, can see him physically weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to say, “Well, there is someone. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember” he says, his smile tight, “But it won’t ever work.” 

“Why not?”

Aaron looks down the camera, an intensity in his eyes that, for a moment, makes Emily feel like he’s talking directly to her, “Because I came here with her.” 

She feels her breath catch in her chest as she flicks her gaze to where Kate is sitting on the stage, any vague hope she’d felt the last few days, waking up in his arms even when they fell asleep on separate parts of the bed, gone in an instant. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dave says, shaking his head, “Maybe he does have it in him.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, swallowing thickly, “Maybe he does.”

___

She avoids him after the interviews, purposely changing the habits she’d formed in the time they’d been in the Capitol, and it takes him a while to find her using the tactics she’d taught him on how to track someone against her.

He finds her on the roof of the building, her elbows resting on the edge as she looks out over the city. The fireworks going off in the distance make him feel sick, the celebratory feeling in the air more akin to that of a festival rather than marking the start of the death match between children that would begin in the morning. 

“Emily?”

She turns to look at him, her smile fake, the one she always wore in front of her mother or the cameras, as their eyes meet, “Aaron, what are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you,” he replies, walking over to join her, “You disappeared.” 

“I don’t have the privilege of being able to disappear,” she says, her grip on the wall in front of her tightening as the smell of him washes over her. He smelt different here, clean and fresh in a way that wasn’t always possible at home, the Capitol’s array of soaps something that had surprised even her and her relative privilege when she first came here. He smelt different, but there was something that was still him sneaking out from underneath, “Don’t you want to spend the evening with Kate?” 

She regrets it as soon as she asks it, pettiness winning out for a second. It could be his last night in some sense of normality before he died and she was upset because her feelings had been hurt, her unrequited love for him that had followed her everywhere her whole life making itself known at the worst possible time. She looks up at him, expecting to see the sting of her words on his face, but she’s only met with confusion.

“Kate?” He asks, and then it clicks into place, the assumption she must have made when he was speaking to Gideon, trying to win some kind of favour with the audience. He’d thought about his literature class at school, how the teacher had always told them that a love story pulled people in, and he’d thought of Emily. Thought of how her seat had been empty during that class because she’d been here in the Capitol, ready to fight for her life. He’d loved her for so long that it had felt good to admit it, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, “Oh, no. Em-”

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning to walk away, “I think I’m just tired-” she’s stopped as he grabs her shoulders and turns her to look at him, his expression intense, a hint of fierceness to it that makes her breath catch in her throat, “What-”

He cuts her off, his words falling free before he can even think about stopping them. He could be brave now. 

He might not have many chances left, 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, both of them frozen in place, “I was talking about you.” 

It’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear at the worst possible time, and her chest shudders as she lets out a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about Dave,” he says, offering her a half smile that fades as she doesn’t respond to the joke, “Em-”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“You stopped talking to me,” he says, no malice in his voice, only confusion that somehow made him seem younger. 

“I was protecting you,” she says quietly, “President Barnes, she…well let's just say, the people close to Victor’s don’t always have the longest life expectancy. The entire time I was in that arena I told myself if I lived I’d tell you. I’d admit what I’d always been too scared to…but I wanted you to live and be happy,” she laughs bitterly, “Even if it was with someone else.” 

He knows her well enough to read between the lines and he steps closer, the space between them so small now he can feel her breath skip across his face, “Are you saying…”

She nods, her eyes boring straight into his, an intensity in the darkness of them he’d never seen before, “I love you too.” 

Everything shifts, everything he thought he knew suddenly different, and the lingering fear he’d felt for days about what he was about to do disappears. For a moment he feels nothing but love for her. He leans in to kiss her, drawn in by the way she’s looking at him, but she stops him, her fingers pressed against his lips as she shakes her head desperately. It physically hurts to stop him but she can’t let herself have this, can’t have a taste of him when he might die tomorrow. 

“No,” she says, the word catching in her throat, “I can’t. You’re…I’ve dreamt of this for years and I don’t think one kiss, one evening would ever be enough,” she says, her thumb still resting against his lower lip, her entire body aching to lean forward to kiss him, “I can’t spend the rest of my life desperately trying to remember what it was like to kiss you.” 

He wishes he could pretend that he didn’t understand, but he does. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. Whether it was one night or a lifetime, and if he was her, if he was the one sending her off to what could end up being her death, he knew he couldn’t do it either. That the unknown was better, that it would allow her imagination to live on after him. He tightens his hold on her, pulling her into a fierce hug so he doesn’t go against her wishes, settling for kissing the top of her head instead, for smelling her hair and the shampoo that had always been too nice for where they came from.

“How about,” he says, a hand on either side of her face as he pulls back to look at her, his thumbs catching tears as they land on her cheeks, “ If I live, I’ll take you on a date when I get back?” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head as she presses her forehead against his, “Aaron…” 

He cups the back of her head and encourages her backwards again, the same smile she’d fallen in love with when she was too young to understand what it meant painted across his face, “Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Give a man going off to his death something to live for.” 

She has to bite back the tears, not wanting his last memory of her to be one full of sorrow. She blows out a shaky breath before she nods. She smiles shakily at him and wipes a tear from his face as she does so, pushing it away trying to commit the feel of his skin against hers to her memory.   

“Okay,” she says, nodding, an edge of desperation to it, “It’s a date.” 

-x-

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[thewertsearch]

Asks Comp 4/8

The thing is, Davesprite's situation is more complicated than an unfulfilled time loop. His timeline isn't an irrelevant offshoot - in fact, it's integral to the existence of the Alpha Timeline, and presumably always was. Davesprite forms part of a weird, fully intact time loop which spans multiple timelines.

And since this is a future Dave, you have to assume he knows about Bro. The two clearly had a complicated relationship, but he's surely shaken by his death - if nothing else, it's a sign of how serious things have become.

That'll be a fun thing to check out when I've finished the comic! It reminds me of those Hunger Games simulators that were doing the rounds a couple of years ago.

That's true. Dave knows how strong the Underlings have become - and yet, he's still confident that Jade can stand up to them. Presumably she finds some sort of workaround for their First Guardian powers?

Sunslammer is so good! A standout song, even in a comic with as many bangers as this one.

Honestly, part of why I'm dragging my feet on the album reviews is because I want to hear these songs for the first time in context. If I'd heard Descend before watching Descend, I feel like it would have robbed the song of some of its dramatic weight.

I assumed it was just because witches are associated with frogs.

That would have explained why they're part of her Land, but I'm pretty sure that Kanaya's glitched planet was also a frog Land, and she's not a Witch, so...?

*The rest of Sal's response has been redacted, lest we fall once more into the Frog Theory Black Hole.*

I'm pretty sure that's a statue of Echidna, the mother of monsters and Jade's Denizen. Dave's probably close to LOFAF's Palace!

The Seer sees all - and sometimes, she understands the implications before we do.

It'd certainly be interesting. I just reread that conversation, and the biggest takeaway would have been that the kids were going to befriend the trolls, and get involved in their personal drama. This would certainly be consistent with the tone established by an Act 1 Hivebent!

Yup. Vriska was only able to 'create' Perfect Jack because Becquerel didn't object.

Really, he could have prototyped anything he liked, no matter what Vriska did. Even if she tried to shut the Entry down by incapacitating Jade, he could simply have activated the piñata himself.

I mean, that's basically what happened!

If any Aspect is geared around survival, then it's Feferi's. There's no breath left in her body, but our girl is still in the game!

Getting back to the trolls will be interesting, especially since - I assume - we'll be zipping back to when Feferi was still alive. The Veil is a much less friendly place, now - but does Feferi know this? What, exactly, is about to happen to the trolls?

I suppose. I guess there's no reason for every Carapacian to be created with knowledge of the Rings.

Actually, Sburb might not want them to know - Jack's probably not the only one who wouldn't respect the Ring's rules. There could be potential ringwielders out there who are far more dangerous.

Thank you! I feel like I've been doing a lot more character analysis in Act 5 versus previous Acts, where most of my speculation was about the lore. It's a fun change of pace.

Damn, I didn't think we'd actually be explaining these!

It's moments like these which really enhance the comic for me - justifications for things that I genuinely thought were just nitpicks on my part. It's really gratifying, honestly.

@thelegendofgreg asked: Here's some commentary from the jade enter flash, theres uh. alot to read but its all neat stuff "I talked about this way back, maybe even in an earlier book? Well, here I go again, so hold on to your ass. There are four entry items: Apple of knowledge, Bottle of wine, Crow's egg, Dog piñata. A, B, C, D. All of them are related to new life or new beginnings. You bite the apple, you fall from grace, enter a new world, begin this wild journey. You smash a bottle to christen a ship. An egg hatches, creating new life. You break a piöata to celebrate a birthday. Each involves breaking or puncturing something. Each involves a form of sustenance, or something to consume (piñatas have candy inside). Two are vessels for the substance (bottle, Piñata), two are the food items themselves (apple, egg), and one arguably counts as both (egg). Two of them drop from the same basic tree template (apple, piñata). They ramp up in complexity. John's is a simple test: bite the forbidden fruit. Not much to it. A single unit of departure, almost conceptually elemental, like an apple, as Rose goes on about later. The challenges get trickier. Rose has to break a bottle. Easy enough idea, but things go wrong, and she has to take a blind leap to get it done. A sacrificial gesture, and one of faith in a friend (Jaspers). Dave's is even more obscure. A simple test of patience, but one that's not clear. He isn't told what to do and just has to wait. Non-action is the key, and in a way it's another gesture of faith under dire circumstances. Finally, Jade's challenge incorporates a lot of these elements. It's another "blind faith" situation. She has to take a shot in the dark. There's a sacrificial gesture, but instead of risking herself (like Rose), Jade must symbolically sacrifice her friend via effigy and cannot complete the sacrifice without help from that friend. (Bec must redirect the bullet. There's no way this works if he doesn't.) It is also a signifier that the pet she knew as a friend her whole life is about to, in a way, become her enemy. Like a good dog gone bad, who now must be put down."

So they are all intended to be foodstuffs! And, apparently, alphabetical - although I think 'Crow's egg' is a bit of a stretch.

There are also themes of sacrifice and faith that I didn't really think about before. Choosing to enter Sburb at all, knowing the stakes, is absolutely a leap of faith - and it's a game which sacrifices your whole planet. Skaia's been telling us the score this whole time.

Homestuck absolutely deals with dark themes - but they start out buried under the surface, and even now, are still in the process of revealing themselves. This makes sense for Homestuck, a coming-of-age-story whose protagonists are slowly coming to terms with some dark truths about their lives.

Awful Hospital, however, immediately says: here's our protagonist. Her baby is dying. She just woke in a strange room. She doesn't know how she got here. Her baby has been stolen. There are monsters inside her brain. By the way, here's a quip, because this is actually a funny comic. It just felt... dissonant, and not in a fun way. I don't really know what it's going for, tonally.

Don't take this as a negative review, though! I only read a couple dozen pages, so I'm really not qualified to rate the comic - I just wasn't feeling it at the time, so I shelved it. I enjoy a lot of Bogleech's writing, and Awful Hospital's lore sounds pretty interesting, so I'll probably give it another shot at some point.

Not for the most part! I'm super into time travel stories, though, so I'm well-Primed to understand their intricacies.

So there might be intermittent stages between the four we've seen in the kids' session? That'd be interesting - I'd love to see the intermediary stage between John's 2D chessboard and Rose's 3D cube.

There are, at this point, too many awesome songs for me to pick favorites. Umbral Ultimatum and Sunslammer are excellent, but what songs aren't, at this point?

I can't imagine what we're in for when we reach the Act 5.2 finale...

Ooh, interesting. Considering how many accidental references Hussie seems to make, it's honestly up in the air whether that was intentional.

That said....

Jack is looking awfully divine these days.

I suppose Tavros has probably logged the most rocket-hours, yeah.

I'm sure all Breath Players probably learn to fly, unless there are some oddball classes which don't let you interact with your Aspect.

Anonymous asked: forwarding this message to you from someone who doesn't have a tumblr account. ~DJ "Important fact. Dave and Aradia both use musical instruments for time travel, but different ones. Aradia’s is a music box, it has a single prerecorded music, the only way to “play” it is to turn it so it plays the music that was always in it. Dave’s is turntables. They contain a preexisting music, but what you do with them is to jump, cut and shuffle this music, creating something new, having full control of it. - RM"

I like it! As Time Players, they both follow the set path of the Alpha Timeline - but Dave gets a little funky with it, multiplying himself with a complex series of time loops.

Aradia, ever the fatalist, instead turns to doomed clones for reinforcements. I don't think we've ever seen her make a stable loop.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Survival

Previous =-= Next

Author's note: Thank you @sleepyfan-blog, for letting me borrow Cedric. :)

Summary: Claude survives, and panics, finds Cedric and calms down. Somewhat.

Warnings: Panic ... Let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Claude had been very grateful that Cedric had managed to find him, trying to use Psykery on this planet had been very difficult and had nearly took more energy than he had left in his body. As it was he'd been informed by a fussing Cedric that he'd been in a Coma for several months, recovering from Warp Overuse, while his body's wounds had been slow to heal, as for some reason, one of the Psyker cousins, a Librarian said that even while in such a deep state of sleep, for some reason his Psyker powers were still slightly active and in use doing… something.

Claude hadn't a clue what it was that they were still being used for and had told Claude and the elder Cousin as such. He had been filled with un-Astartes-like emotions when he'd first woken up and seen strange First-born cousins surrounding him and his first thought was to find somewhere to hide.

It had taken hours of searching to find him as he'd found the nearest shadow and had sunk into it using the shadows to hide and be nearly intangible and had only revealed himself when he'd found Cedric. He hadn't meant to jump scare and had clung to his brother-now-cousin fellow Primaris and had half tried to drag him into the shadows to help hide his fellow Primaris Marine.

It had taken Cedric a while, longer than Claude cared to admit, to have been calmed down properly and actually listen to what he was saying. After learning where, and most importantly when they were, and that these older cousins were not as… as harsh as the older cousins that they know in their time. He'd stared at Cedric with surprise, as Cedric explained what sorts of punishments, they used, and what punishments were Not Allowed.

"Not even a minor beating?" Claude had asked quietly, and almost disbelieving, "The- the Captain's and Chaplains don't … aren't… supposed to do the floggings and whippings?"

He had listened to Cedric's response, "I mean… you're an Apothecary, so of course the rules are different for you, they don't want to break you, so they are softer on you… normal battle brothers have to take your punishments and the punishments of are more specialized brothers. For we are to soak up the damage and are the hammer to batter our enemies to break them."

What Cedric and Claude don't know is Scout Sargent Ash'val had located the pair of Primaris Marines and had been quietly listening in. He was not likely what he was hearing from the pair of Primaris Marines.

"… I am starting to believe them," Cedric says. "At least in regards to the punishments that the dole out. I know that the Salamandrs tend to be soft, but this is primarily an Imperial Fist base."

"Chores aren't a harsh punishment," Claude says thoughtfully, "Although being stuck in the base for months without being able to go out is… deeply unfortunate. I'm… sorry that I asked you to break out of punishment to free me. If there is any way I can ease the… the extra punishment that you get will for disobeying then I will."

Cedric has a stubborn look on his face and starts to say something, "No! I asked for your help- and well. Perhaps they might be more understanding if they knew it was a life-or-death situation."

"… I don't have armor or a vox on me Claude," Cedric says quietly, hesitantly, "They will ask how I knew where you were or… or how you contacted me. When I don't have even a primitive radio on me."

"… I've always been able to contact you if we are on the same planet," Claude says curling in on himself. "Just.. a Primaris thing. Yes. That's what we can tell them. It's… true? After a fashion."

"We need to get you back to the infirmy," Cedric says firmly.

Claude grumbles but nods and leans into Cedric who starts to guide him back to the med-bay, Ash'val had stepped back and out of the sightline of the younger pair of Space Marines and had sent the other space marines who'd still be searching for the wounded younger Raven Guard that he's been found and being returned to the med-bay. Also, he'd learned more about the Primaris, or at least how their First-Born brothers and cousins treat them, and it does not fill him with good emotions, and he wonders why they are treated so poorly, when they are such good, loyal, and a bit too obedient, younger brothers and cousins.

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You and Bucky arrive at the house in Lincoln, Nebraska, to start the mission. And you also meet some… SHIELD agents.

Warnings: Deaths, missing people, hydra.

Other: English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for eventual mistakes. -> 18+. !!

-> Masterlist

-> Part one ; Part three

-> Sam and Dean (02)

The tension in the Quinjet was thick as you and Bucky sat in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Bucky had been avoiding you like the plague but that was no surprise, his jaw clenched thigh as he stared down at the clouds out of the window.

You moved uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes finding his figure. Whether you liked it or not - whether he liked it or not, you needed to break the ice. You couldn’t arrive there pretending to be a couple when it was clear from miles away he’d push you down a hill if he could.

“So,” You started. “Anything you wanna add to the plot? This shit says little about it, Fury is letting us set up a story.” You said, looking up again from your papers. Papers that needed to be burned in case anyone found them. Rules. “Like… when we met? How we met? Something like that?”

“Isn’t that enough?” He muttered, not turning his head to look at you.

“No.” You said letting out a sigh. “Listen, you need to put this one-sided fight you have with me away for a moment. We’re on a mission to save lives, not on vacation.”

He finally turned to look at you for a long moment, before crossing his arms under his chest and sink in the seat he was sitting on. “We met at a party thanks to our common friend, Steven. We immediately hit it off and I asked you out the same night, you said yes and we got together a few months after that - two months, to be exact. The tenth of march is our anniversary. We got engaged three years later the same day and got married… when’s your birthday?”

“Seventh October.” That was the day you were supposedly born. But no one was sure, since you didn’t have a birth certificate.

“Seventh October of the same year. We moved there due to my work since you’re a stay at home wife, and we have been talking about adopting a cat.” He finished. “Is that good enough?” He asked sternly.

“Perfect, actually.”

“Great.” He grunted. “Now shut it.”

“And they say I’m the rude one.” You muttered under your breath.

“I can hear you.”

“You’ll survive.”

* * * *

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest two-story house, its faded paint and overgrown lawn gave it a cozy vibe. There was even a porch. Not that you knew what to expect, you’ve never lived in a house before - and frankly, you couldn’t wait to have your own kitchen even if it was just a big play pretend for the mission.

You and Bucky got out of the car, taking your heavy bags from the trunk. The taxi driver, who was an undercover SHIELD agent, nodded at the both of you before driving away, leaving you both alone to face the mission. You weren’t nervous, and neither was he. If anything, your only complaint was the fact that he wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary.

The neighborhood was quiet, and you could see a few people already looking curious at the new couple in town. Little did they know how much that man hated you.

Unlike you, Bucky was looking at the house with a critical eye, his expression almost unreadable. Not that you had ever seen him without that frown.

“What’s your complain now?” Your hands found your waist, and you looked at him waiting for an answer.

“Too many windows. A kid would be able to break in any second.” He said - he wasn’t wrong but if they chose this house, they must have had a reason. He looked at you for a second before motioning you to follow him as he made his way up to the front door.

“Home sweet home.” You said, walking inside.

“Stay here. I’ll do a quick check of the house to see if everything is alright.” You two just arrived and he already started to boss you around.

“I’ll come with you.”

But this wasn’t an option for him.

“Stay here.” He repeated more firmly than before.

“Ah yeah.” You raised your hands in surrender. “You don’t trust me.” You said, clearly mocking him. “Whatever, James, just be quick.”

You stayed there for about ten minutes before he finally came back, his expression didn’t change one bit. He gave you a simple nod, took the bags - his and yours - and walked upstairs again.

The silent mission begun, apparently, as you were sure he won’t utter a word until he was forced to. Fucking great.

You walked - rushed, immediately to the kitchen. It was, honestly, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The sunlight was coming in through the huge window that made you also see the backyard, the countertops were made of wood, dotted with small appliances and cooking utensil. A modest wooden table was in the middle of the room and you imagined yourself, perhaps in another life, sitting there with the family you never met.

You forced yourself to walk out of there to find your husband, wherever he disappeared to. You walked upstairs, your footsteps echoing in the empty staircase, and looked in each room - the bathroom, a small library room, and laundry room.

But you found him in the bedroom, pointing a gun at the window.

“What are you-“

Bucky didn’t turn to acknowledge your presence, his focus solely on the window before him. Without saying a word or turn to explain what the fuck he was doing, he pulled the trigger; the gunshot didn’t make you flinch but you weren’t expecting him to do that.

Your eyes widened in shock, mostly because you had just arrived and he was already acting like a fool. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” You almost yelled, walking towards the window to close the curtains - and you saw that the bullet only left a scratch on the glass.

“Relax, it’s bulletproof as I suspected.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Suspected?!” You repeated, this man was an idiot. So much for being over a hundred years old. “For fuck’s sake, Barnes, someone could have seen it! Or heard!”

Bucky’s eyes finally flickered to hers. “If I am correct, this house is also soundproof. Stark’s technology is hard to miss.” He said with complete indifference, putting the gun down.

You just sighed in frustration, knowing full well that arguing with him was like arguing with a wall. As you shook your head, you walked out of the room and went downstairs again. You irritation was palpable even for Bucky that was following you with what you swore was a grin. That asshole.

You, once back in the kitchen, stood in front of the coffe maker. The familiar hum of the machine filling the quiet room as you prepared yourself a well-deserved cup of coffee. Not even half an hour and he managed to piss you off.

“What do you know about those SHIELD agents we were supposed to meet today?” You tried to keep your tone casual as you turned to face him.

Bucky watched her from his seat at the kitchen table. “Not much.” He replied curtly, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance. Stuck with the person he trusted less in the entire State, he felt alone in that mission.

Maybe he was being stupid, but he couldn’t look past the way you served Hydra for all those years without ever questioning a damn thing.

You raised an eyebrow, your irritation raising at his dismissive attitude. “Helpful.” You remarked dryly, taking a sip of coffee.

His jaw clenched at your sarcasm. “I know as much as you do, Emma.” He retorted, his tone full of annoyance. “If I’m not helpful then neither are you.”

“Then let’s just hope they’re better than you.” You couldn’t help but say. “Wouldn’t want to work with reckless assholes for God knows how long.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with anger after hearing your remark. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what, Barnes?” Your own temper was rising to match his.

He was about to answer before the doorbell rang and his words died in his mouth. The bell rang in a distinct pattern - three times with quick breaks. It was a code that both you and Bucky recognized instantly.

The agents had arrived.

That also meant the mission had officially begun, and you both had to put and end to the reckless behavior and start being professional. That probably was going to be the hardest part of the whole ordeal.

Without uttering another word Bucky rose from his seat, the tension on his shoulders was visible. He made his way to the front door with you trailing just a few steps behind. The asshole didn’t even spare you a glance before opening the door.

As it swung open, you were greeted by the sight of two men standing on the doorstep, they were both dressed formally and you noticed that one of them had a small cut on the lower lip.

One of the two men was tall, even taller than Bucky, and he was very well built. His brown hair was tied in a neat man bun, and he was looking back at the grumpy Super Soldier with a small, amicable smile.

You edged closer to the doorframe trying to get a better look at the other man since Bucky had moved just enough to block your view.

He was definitely shorter than his companion, but there was something about him that seemed far more intimidating. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his piercing green eyes were locked on yours and, for a short moment, you thought you saw a small smirk playing on his lips before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Clearing his throat, the shorter man broke the silence. “Barnes and Dayne?” He asked just to make sure, his voice was barely above a whisper to prevent anyone to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Mh.” Bucky responded, nodding in affirmation to the man’s words as he moved aside to let the strangers inside the house.

“What he meant to say,” You glared at your partner for the mission before continuing. “was yes, we are and you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” The taller man shared a glance with the other one. “My name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean.” He pointed to the shorter guy, who was scanning the surroundings.

Before you could introduce yourself too, even if it was clear that the two men already knew who you and Bucky were, Dean spoke first.

“There are too many window in this house. Even a kid would be able to break in.” He said. “Is this supposed to be your base?”

How ironic.

“Yes. And the windows are bulletproof and locked, though. Already tested it.” Bucky answered. “No one can break in.”

“The doors?” Sam asked.

“They can’t be opened in anyway from the outside and there’s a passcode to lock them for more safety.” You answered. “We’re good.”

“Great.” Dean spoke, walking past the both of you to go sit on the couch. “You guys don’t mind if I make myself at home? It’s been a long day.” He said, sending his brother a glare. That sounded quite personal.

Sam shot his brother a warning glance back, clearly trying to dissolve the growing tension. “Dean’s right.” He interjected smoothly, his voice calm as he went to sit on the armchair - purposely away from his brother.

Weird.

“Are you two gonna stay in here with us for the entire duration of the mission?” You asked.

“No, we momentarily live in the house next to this one.” Sam informed you.

“We’ve been following a series of disappearances in the area.” Dean begun, getting down to business immediately, as you and Bucky took a seat as well. “We were given fake identities and went undercover as FBI agents, most of the cases led to dead ends…” He made a pause, taking a stack of papers from his bag and tossing it on the coffee table so everyone could have a clear view of it. “Except this.”

You looked closer. There were some pictures of a woman, not much older than you probably, alongside some of her personal data. Cassandra Miller.

“This says she was a nurse.” Bucky spoke. “Hydra is after people that nobody would look for.”

Sam nodded, agreeing to that. “True.” He said. “But after talking with some of her colleagues, we found out she was the assigned nurse to treat a patient that was found dying near a river. The man had no documents on him and he was barely recognizable but still alive.”

As Sam spoke, Dean retrieved another set of documents from his bag and spread them out on the table. Amongst them were medical records, lab reports and handwritten notes.

“She found out some anomalies in his DNA and begun to dig deeper - apparently went a bit too far because she completely disappeared five days ago.” Dean finished Sam’s speech, looking at both Avengers.

Your heart sank as the weight of the whole situation settled on your shoulders - if what you were thinking was right, Hydra was probably looking for another you. Another person who could survive all the shit they injected and comply, instead they were just leaving a trace of bodies behind - and you only had found two for now. Who knows how many there where out there.

You knew all too well the fear and helplessness that those poor people must have felt - must be feeling now as you spoke. Being assigned on this case was already bringing your mind back to memories you wanted to forget but couldn’t even if you tried. That was a burden you’d carry all your life.

Memories of your own captivity - that you didn’t even know was one. The experiments, the torture, the constant struggle to hold onto your humanity- everything came back in an instant and you felt like suffocating. Innocent people were going through that and you were there, trying to make light of it all without even knowing where to begin.

Your eyes fell on the photographs and documents spread out once again, and you felt a surge of rage and sorrow wash over you. But then, you frowned.

You were kept a secret for fifteen years inside Hydra’s facility, no medial records of what they did to you existed to your knowledge. You, growing up in there, often saw other ‘patients’. You had seen things that probably not even Bucky had seen, and you knew Hydra never left pieces behind.

“Why,” You started, clearing your throat as you tried to ignore the fact that you felt like someone was squeezing it. “Why are they leaving the bodies out in the nature? Why aren’t they burning them like they used to?”

Bucky turned to look at you, a frown on his face. “What makes you think it was them? One of them was found still alive, maybe he escaped?” He didn’t believe his own words for a second - no one escaped Hydra. But he also knew it was unlikely for them to purposely leave a trace to follow now that the Avengers were looking for them.

You shook your head, dragging the picture of the man in front of him. “Look at his feet.”

Bucky did as you said and he let out a breath. “Found without shoes and no scratches on his feet.” He noticed. “He was left there on purpose.”

You nodded. “And they wanted us to know.”

As you stared into Bucky’s eyes for a moment, you missed the glance the two brothers gave to each other. As if they knew something more about this whole situation than you and Bucky could ever imagine.

[ink-flavored]

Make The Word Tag

tagged by @void-botanist, thank you!

Rules: Using the 3 random words given to you, you have to write a scene either using all 3 words in one scene OR write three separate scenes using each word separately.

Sicne this got a little long, I'll tag everyone right up top.

Your words are: organ, jump, cold

Tagging: @foxys-fantasy-tales @noblebs @vacantgodling @taranorma @sigridhawke @ink-enchanted @hallwords @leahnardo-da-veggie @rachaellawrites @wintherlywords @ettawritesnstudies and anyone else who wants to write something!

My words were: volcano, heaven, and means, and I wrote the following scene(s) for P&J!

~

The awkward silence grew exceptionally long. Pride stared at a stain on the wall, pretending to wonder where it came from. He didn’t know why he was still sitting there, listening to Justice sniffle into a tissue an arm’s length away, but couldn’t force his body to move. All his muscles clenched, waiting in suspense for permission to slink off the couch and forget this ever happened.

“Thank you,” Justice suddenly mumbled.

Pride almost jumped. “For what?”

“For listening, I guess.” He crumpled the used tissue in his fist, staring down at it with a wet smile. “I can’t really talk to humans about this, so.”

“You probably could. Just don’t say you’re homesick for Heaven. Let people fill in the rest themselves.”

Justice scrunched his nose. “I don’t know, I’m not a good liar.”

“It’s not lying, technically.”

“Sure, but it feels better to be able to tell the truth.” He gestured between them, the empty cushion on the couch even more exaggerated. “To talk to someone who gets it.”

“I don’t.”

Pride’s mouth answered so quickly he didn’t have time to think about what it said. Justice blinked his puffy eyes, taken-aback.

“What… do you mean?” he ventured.

“I’m not homesick,” Pride said. “I don’t miss anywhere, really.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t miss anyone?”

Pride snorted. Justice would never know how funny that question was. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. Hell sucked ass and I’m glad I’ll never be able to go back.”

“Oh.”

Justice sat back on the couch, confusion overtaking the homesickness that Pride discovered mere minutes ago. The longer he sat there, eyes far away in thought, the more a suspicion grew in Pride’s mind. A suspicion that seemed completely ridiculous.

“You don’t think demons actually like it in Hell,” he said, “do you?”

Justice turned to him and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they?”

It was, perhaps, the dumbest thing Pride had ever been asked in his life. If he didn’t have his horns safely tucked away, he’d assume he was getting high off his own demonic fumes. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“I don’t know anything about Hell, and you lived there, so—”

“’Lived there’? I existed there. I survived, barely.”

Justice looked as astonished as he felt. “But—why? Didn’t Lucifer create it for you?”

That was the second dumbest thing Pride had ever been asked in his life. “I fell with Lucifer. Hell was waiting for us—it existed before we ever got there.”

The silence was not awkward this time. It was electrified with unspoken questions. Pride spun through a dozen different ones—mostly consisting of What the fuck? in different volumes—and watched Justice silently spin through a dozen more. When it seemed like neither of them would ever speak again, Pride blurted out the first thing that landed on his tongue.

“Is that what they teach you about us?” he asked.

It was Justice’s turn to snort. “Most of that was my own guesses. Heaven doesn’t teach us anything beyond the basics.”

Pride didn’t need an elaboration past that—he could figure out for himself what “basics” an angel in the army of God would learn about a demon. That they were singularly focused on bringing down Heaven, by any means necessary.

“Things have definitely changed,” he mused.

“Changed how?”

“Back when I fell, all anybody could talk about was Lucifer’s rebellion, and how crazy it was that demons existed.” Pride stretched his arms over his head in perverse satisfaction. “I guess being the new kids on the block meant more back then.”

Justice didn’t share his enthusiasm, watching him gently. “You were part of the rebellion?”

“Oh, sure. I even had a hand in planning it.”

“Really.”

It was a bluff that almost no one would be able to check him on, especially not Justice, so Pride plastered on his favorite smug smile. “Really. No big deal.”

Justice didn’t look totally convinced—not that Pride needed him to be—but nodded along. “I can see why you wouldn’t miss Hell. Plus everything else.”

Pride just made a noise, pretty done with the conversation. Reliving his very, very short glory days aside, there was little else he had to say. Homesickness was as foreign to him as humanity. Earth was slightly better than Purgatory. It was a hundred times better than Hell, not that Hell was a very high bar. So to be honest, there was nothing else Pride had to say about this.

“Do you miss Heaven, then?”

He froze. All feeling drained out of his body until he was cold, still, and strained. He forced his mind blank so he wouldn’t think of anything.

When he didn’t respond, Justice tried again. “I know it’s been a while, but you were an ang—”

“If you finish that sentence, your teeth go out with it.”

Pride jumped off the couch, rattling with the desire to go somewhere, anywhere else. He planted his feet, eyes spinning around the room. His tail lashed around his ankles, appearing out of thin air. Thick, black smoke poured from his horns like the mouth of a volcano.

“I—I’m sorry,” Justice tried. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t miss Heaven,” Pride snarled. “I never fucking liked it there to begin with, and as far as your kind are concerned, I was never one of you.”

His nerves snapped into motion and his legs carried him away. Pride didn’t care where he was going, barely noticed his hand reaching out the door, could hardly see the outside world through the scarlet haze covering his eyes.

Someone was going to sin tonight. Badly.

[med-ex]

feelin rlly idk HAPPY?? over this franchise as a whole✨

I wasn't even alive for Fallout 1 & 2 - but upon entering the world 3 years after they were released, would grow up hearing its name constantly... never did i think it would take GTA's place as my favourite video game series. Like literally never thought the weird little isometric game talked about by my older cousins would be the one.

I played Fallout 3 at the worst period of my life- it became a pure escape from graduating high school, becoming a severe alcoholic and moving off my mountain into my province's capital city. I was in love with it to the point that when I came home to my family home to visit, I would haul my xbox 360 in my backpack and strap my little tv to my back with a rope- ✨that's✨ how addicted I was to it.

It resonated with me in a way no other game series has. No, I obviously didn't grow up in the same standards as the wastes, but could resonate with foraging for food, no clean water & mess, destruction and despair everywhere you turned.

Fast forward a year or so, and I try Fallout: New Vegas. This is where it finally became my favorite series ever. I could list all the reasons, but they're similar to what you'll see all over the net; it's just amazing. I already was all "fuck the government" since I was a child but it made me think- think about the rule of authority, think about perseverance, weigh out what "right" and "wrong" truly means and the blurred line between the two.

By the time I was 21, I tried Fallout 4. It took some getting used to in the terms of its modern graphics, but I really loved how I got to experience conversations that felt like I was actually having them. I loved building the world back up and when I was brave enough to try mods- then shit got real interesting. I was already obsessed with Fallout 3 & NV but we can thank Fallout 4 for getting me into the community as a whole.

I was one of the ones to make fun of FO76- the launch was a huge part of that, but I just didn't understand how it could ever truly fit into the Fallout series. I played it for the first time when I was 2022, and now after 2 years I wholeheartedly regret shitting on it so hard. There are so many cool quests/stories and though some of them are silly seeing as it's online-based and they need to cater to that and though it's a bit strange at first, it feels so cool to be around other players adventuring the wastes + actually having to persist to build your own base, feed yourself and survive- as console commands don't exist in the same realm they used to with the earlier titles.

Now, we arrive at the airing of the first Fallout television show. I seriously thought it was gonna be shit- I just couldn't imagine them being able to do a good job but as we can see, here we are. The show is amazing and I didn't even know it was something I wanted so badly. The only real-life renditions of Fallout I've seen is that one live action trailer for 76 + cosplay- so seeing it in film, is seriously so fucking cool.

Idk guess im just gettin a little ✨sentimental✨ towards a series that has given me so many lessons, so much ability to cope with my own shit + gotten me into such a fun community filled with funny jokes, amazing art, discussions and rich lore that maybe one day could leave the video game + TV screen and become even a book.

Ty to the crew of original artists who started this back in the 90s, and thank you to the crew of artists at Bethesda in this current century who kept this game going💖

[your-punk-mom]

Vash needs therapy Pt. 1

(FYI: My view on therapy is that everyone can benefit from professional support, at least at times. But some people *need it urgently, right now, and maybe long term*. It’s a tool, don’t judge.)

So here’s my personal rule: DON’T DIAGNOSE PEOPLE OVER THE INTERNET. It’s unethical, and even if I were qualified (I am not) it would still be wrong.

But Vash is fictional, so that’s ok. :)

I said previously that psychological character analysis tries to explain how a character’s actions flow naturally from their past, relationships, and assumptions.

Today, we’re going to mostly look at actions. And Vash’s actions say he’s got a Savior Complex.

Savior Complex (SC) isn’t a diagnosis of mental illness. It’s not even in any version of the DSM. It’s more like a state of mind, stemming from toxic beliefs and reflected in toxic behaviors. Anybody can develop this mindset, with or without an accompanying mental illness.

Thanks to not being a “disorder”, SC is not a big subject for serious academics, but practicing therapists write about it a lot, so my citations are a little bit informal.

My favorite version of a definition of SC is from Grouport:

The savior complex is a psychological construct that describes a person's need or compulsion to save others, often neglecting their own needs in the process. It's a behavior pattern often rooted in empathy, but when left unchecked, it can lead to unhealthy dynamics in relationships and personal distress.

Individuals with a savior complex often believe that their worth is tied to their ability to help others. This belief can stem from societal expectations that value selflessness and altruism, sometimes to the point of self-sacrifice.

Doing good deeds is not a bad thing by itself; it even has health benefits for both helper and helped. But taken to extremes, it becomes a problem. People with SC often damage themselves and others in the name of saving someone, even the target of their help.

WebMD has a pretty thorough list of behaviors and beliefs that can indicate a SC. Let's match some of what we observe in Vash's actions and words to these indicators.

Does helping or saving others:

✅Put you in danger physically if you try to save someone in a dangerous situation

Agreeing to duel the Officer Chuck Lee in Jeneora Rock; jumping back inside the worm to rescue the reporters; getting in the middle of Wolfwood and Livio's firefight; walking right into Knives' trap; taking a bullet for literally anyone.

✅Affect your mental state, especially if you aren’t able to save the other person

After Rosa kicks him out of Jeneora Rock, Vash tells Meryl he is smiling because "I don't deserve to cry"; refusing to talk after Jeneora Rock; refusing to eat for two days after Jeneora Rock, refusing to eat for weeks after the Big Fall (especially significant since he only eats for the joy of it); stating that that he “failed” to protect Rem, and so he *has* to save LITERALLY EVERYONE; after the Big Fall, lying about Nai's survival to Luida and Brad.

✅Cause you to neglect your own physical needs, which could lead to illness

Refusing to eat for two days after Jeneora Rock; refusing to eat for weeks after the Big Fall; Letting that one officer in JuLai shoot him over Jeneora Rock, when Vash easily could have dodged; letting the JuLai military police beat him up until he was bleeding, in Jeneora Rock.

❌Lead you to get burned out

Not Vash, but only because he's not human.

✅Affect your personal relationships

In Rosa's first appearance, she says Vash rescued the town before, and that any friend of his is welcome in her diner. But after the Nebraskas, EG the Mine, and Knives wreck the town and Knives steals the Plant, Jeneora Rock has no power or water, and they have an enormous quantity of injured and dead people. Rosa blames Vash and kicks him out.

Wolfwood and Vash continually fight because Vash wants Wolfwood to adopt nonviolence, while Wolfwood finds that totally impractical. This creates conflict when Wolfwood kills the giant worm, then again when he shoots Rollo as a mercy, and again when Livio turns up on the steamer. Vash wants Wolfwood to change, even against his own will.

And then there's Knives. //sigh//

Effin Knives... Let's just put a quote here from VeryWellMind:

They also can have problems in their relationships with family and friends, and frequently find themselves being taken advantage of by others. People close to a person with a savior complex just assume that person will take care of them, without any regard to their needs. It can lead to a toxic, one-sided relationship, where your boundaries and feelings are not respected.

🤷‍♀️Negatively affect the person or people you’re trying to help

This is less clear-cut, because lots of people blame Vash for events that others are acually responsible for (chiefly Knives). We could argue that his previous failures lead to people not trusting his intentions, and acting against his saving them... Or we could just talk about Rollo. Vash essentially failed Rollo twice, when he didn't return in time to prevent him being made a child sacrifice, and again 20 years later when Wolfwood shot him as a mercy killing. Vash was angry, but Wolfwood pointed out forcing Rollo to continue living in pain and misery was cruel, and Vash was not able to cure the monstrous changes done to Rollo. Wolfwood feels the killing was actually compassionate, but Vash insists he could have found a solution without killing.

If we call that one a half-point, giving us a 4.5 out of 6 behaviors. Again, SC is not an illness, this is not at all diagnostic, but it's enough to suggest talking to a therapist would be helpful.

There's other self-assesment lists and articles out there, and some lump Hero Complex into the same broad definition as Savior. I had accidentally confused SC with Martyr Complex in an earlier post. The difference really seems be that both people with a Hero or Martyr complex need acclaim or praise for the good deeds they do, but Vash doesn't care about rewards or recognition at all. Rosa said he fixed the plant before for free, and other than food or drink, we never see him ask for payment or even trade in exchange for helping anyone in Trigun Stampede.

---

Please tell me what you think of Part 1. Part 2 will cover the psychology of Vash regarding how his past relates to his beliefs, and if we have time, we can try to get into what that does to his relationships.

[erabu-san]

Came to offer my insane idea for Freminet (Fremillei if u squint) What if Freminet is given a mission in sumeru right, and it goes about as bad is it could go, he got the mission done, but he drags out of it barely alive with blood everywhere SO he stumbles, like dead of night to where Collei and Tighnari live, and knocks on the door barely able to stand and Tighnari opens it and is "OH MY GOODN-" boom, Freminet passes out, but not before whispering "Pls help" (this reminds me of that "I didn't know where else to come" trope) Obviously Tighnari and collei are freaked, bc one, who in the world did this to Frem, two HOW did this happen, and three, is he even going to SURVIVE??? He does, and wakes up like the second day, and when asked questions just stays silent debating on wether or not he should open up and be like "Yeah Im in Fatui, yk, that one organization thats been terrorizing all the nations, and we've been trained since were were like babies to kill people so we can join the official ranks! hahah, so anyways!" Or just be quiet and yk, NOT say that. But Collei just wants him to tell her was wrong because she is probably shakin in her shorts for his wellbeing (Tighnari may or may not be dialing Cyno to "Pls come open an investigation") But anyways thats about as far as my brain can go at 6 in the morning, you can decide what comes next hahaha

THANK YOU FOR YOUR BRAINROOT OMY 🫣🫣🫣

I think Collei would totally respect Freminet's silence !

Collei would say something "we are here for you Freminet". Something that Freminet wouldn't expect to hear in the past. But he knows how Collei is genuine. The problem, Father's order are absolute. He has. To never talk about it.

Feeling guilty, he just don't cross Collei's eyes and mumble a thank you. Tighnari are Collei but Freminet asked to be silent about it, and they both respect his wish. But if it is something happened in Sumeru, they have to tell to the general mahamatra there is a danger. Such a dangerous situation for Freminet 😭 he might wish to run away. After all, the mission is done 🥺 one of rule of the orphenage, is being loyal. So yes. Running away from this place would be the best option. But he only feel bittersweetness when he saw how Tighnari and Collei are caring toward him

[silent-raven13]

Hobie's Hobbies

Everyone knows Hobie Brown, Spider-Punk, the punker that loves breaking the rules and challenge authority with no remorse what's no ever. He's a man- err, man? Heck, he doesn't believe in social contrast like gender or sexuality. But let's say this Punker is one about expressing one's self without hurting nobody, to protect people's lives and rights.

Hobie Brown is for the People, his love causes waves to many hearts and in his world he always makes BIG CHANGES! He has the power and voice to do so, yet his appearance always the first to be judge without knowing his goofy personality. The fun lovable Hobie wearing dark and spiked clothing to fit his subculture and style.

One of the biggest secrets many found out about him when they got closer to him, especially his Sunflower is his hobbies involving sewing, knitting, crocheting, and crafty.

Good old Capitalism is never getting him, since he always- ALWAYS find ways to make things work. Need a part of shoes? Don't worry, he'll use the five finger discount from a Cooperate store to get them. Need a new shirt because that old shirt have holes? No worries, he'll sew it right up or make it into a completely different shirt.

His sewing machine has been his old reliable from the beginning of his young life. When he first was a squatter/homeless at the age of thirteen, he had only the old shoes he wore that the soles were ripping off, and old hand-me downs shirt and pants from his older brother. He had to learn quickly how to reuse and savage old clothing he found from the streets or find ways to layer up when winter was coming. So many bouncing from one warehouse to another, until he was able to find a group of teenagers struggling the same thing.

They work together, through listening to underground music they were able to become a family. Soon, he met many people that were willing to teach their own hacks or life skills.

One old homeless woman to him under her wing and they share a little home at an abandon run down building that was once part of the Projects. She use to be a fashion designer, yet with the dictatorship running the States, many rules about modest dressing, and freedom of expression went out the window.

This lead her in jail and lost everything even her name! She became homeless, and found ways to survive by making clothes for anyone she met on the streets. Luckily she didn't have to sell herself or do drugs, her duty was to sew and make clothes from simple trading or cash.

Hobie learns her ways even though she was a tough teacher, very mean at times with her thick Haitian accent coming out ever now and then. Every time he sews, he could remember her commenting on his crappy stitches by hand, "Ki kaka sa? Yuh hav to be able to make a proper stitch! Now, do it again!" She would smack his hands then rip the work for him to redo, "I'm only teaching you how to do it right. You want your clothes to last! Quit makakri around! Now, do a basic running stitch. Yur not eatin' until we get it right!"

"Awe, but aunty! Zelda please!" fourteen year old Hobie would beg her to be easy on him, but that only made her more tick off.

Hobie remembers how she would curse him out for complaining, because she knows their world is cruel. The people around them treating them like shit. He never did a proper thank you to her, then again, Miss Lowe is never one for affection. After all, she's half Caribbean woman- never that affection by physical touch but through silence or gentle pats. Sometimes harsh comments are her most affectionate ways for her to express.

Anyway, he knew everything about sewing through her and he started to create his own clothing from what he could get. This made him very crafty, he's able to look at any design and quickly replicate it. If his friends wanted leather bracelet with stubs, he can make it in a split second.

This went as far as technology and cracking codes, anything advance computer science can be cracked by him. It's something he learn quite young that he's a very smart person, but he wouldn't found out if he didn't knew how to sew.

Now, in a better place living in the comforts of his Poly, his boathouse, he can enjoy making more fashionable clothing or knit/crochet stuff for his friends in peace.

Back to the present, Miles looks at the dress he's sewing for his baby sister's birthday. "Ugh, I can't get these material to work! Maybe I should tell my mami to buy that other dress. But that dress is so expensive almost 2k!" He sighs at the big pink puffy dress, he tries to sew a perfect line of the fabrics, but one of the fabric isn't forgiving.

The punker came by having to eat a cherry popsicle, chilling at his boyfriend's couch. Watching his boyfriend using his mother's sewing machine, which they rarely use, having trouble sewing. He saw his Sunflower looking stressed out, then went over to look at, "You might need to use a fabric patch on the delicate material, luv."

"Really?" Miles being nineteen years old, he didn't know anything about that. Yes, he cosplay, but he always uses hot glue sticks or staples when stitching can take too long for him.

Hobie patted his back, "Let me try." His Sunflower let him sit on the chair, then he inspects the items in front of him.

Miles watches Hobie starting to fix the dress, every part Miles did he remove and fix it to improve the stitches, "Your stitching here is too loose, and here too tight. You need to pace yourself and this right here?" He shows two fabric together falling apart from one of the messy stitches, "It's gonna fall off by this end being loose! Luv, what are you doing?" He chuckles at the dress.

"I know, I suck! But my mom always wanted Billie's first dress to be special. We thought we could make it from scratch since the dresses we saw in the shops weren't the right color or style. It was a bit too Baptist for my mom tastes." Miles sighs being exhausted, "I wanted her to help me but she's super busy with work and I have to watch my little sister since-" The baby monitor turns on by waves of his baby sister crying, "See."

Miles got up to go over to check on his sister, "She's probably hungry."

"No worries, Sunflower. I can have this dress up and ready before her birthday party." Hobie saw the idea sketch of the dress, "So, you want flowers and butterflies on it?"

"Yeah, my mom thought fairies and butterflies would be a cute theme. I thought she would pick Bluey, or Baby Shark or Minnie Mouse." Miles giggles coming out of the room holding a teary eye Billie, "But I think she wants a Tinkerbell theme, but with pastels." The baby girl wore a strawberry onesie with a strawberry bonnet as she sniffs being calm by her brother's hug.

"It's a nice choice, all the sparkles and frills." Hobie hums as he looks at the sketches of the dress being a light pink second layer of the skirt with soft yellow and green, even there's wings design. "You made the wings?"

"Oh yeah! That was easy! Hot glue gun is always my best friend." Miles grins as he kisses his baby sister's cheek, "Awe, boo-boo. You hungry?" She snuggles her brother being clingy.

"Why not make her a strawberry fairy." Hobie chuckles at the baby's outfit.

"Hahaha, she would be cute as Strawberry Shortcake!" His boyfriend went to get Billie's formula ready.

"She would make a darling Strawberry Shortcake, I always liked Orange Blossom."

"Really? Why?" Miles asked once he mix the formula with lukewarm water, then giving a good shake. The little baby drools at her lunch wanting to eat.

"Because she reminds me of you, luv. You're my cute Orange Blossom." The punker made his boyfriend flustered.

"What? I feel like I'm more of a Ginger Snap." He fed his baby sister going over to an arm chair to sit down and feed his sister. Little Billie happily drinks her bottle while listening to her brother and his boyfriend.

"Huh, never thought about her. Who do you think I would be?"

"Lemon Meringue." Miles grins at him.

The punker burst out laughing, "Not you picking the whites one out of the bunch?"

"Hehehe, okay. Okay. Let see, hmmm... Raspberry Tart? She's pretty spunky." His boyfriend points it out.

"Heh, I can see that." His punker boyfriend kept pressing on the peddle on the sewing machine and working on the fabric. "Do I look cute in Magenta, luv?"

"Yeah, you do." His boyfriend giggles, his eyes gleaming at him as he sat with his legs crossed on the muted grey armchair. Billie's chubby hands holds the bottle wanting more formula as she drinks. "Hey, eat slow bebé! You're gonna get a tummy ache."

"HMPH!" Billie grunts being so hungry." She ate like there's no tomorrow.

"She eats so fast like my dad." He laughs.

Hobie points out, "Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Now, check this out, Sunflower!" He shows the perfect stitching of skirt of dress being so perfectly aline and hidden from sight.

"WOW!" Miles' eyes sparkles at the skirt of the dress, "Bae that's amazing! I didn't know you were that good?"

"Luv, I'm offended. You think I buy my cloths?"

"I didn't know you actually know how to sew sew? I thought you just making patches on your pants or jacket for fun."

"I know how to sew sew, Sunflower. I make my own jeans sometimes if not rip the ones I have and use other fabric for different color combos." Hobie chuckles with amusement as he kept going, "It won't be long till I finish the skirt but..." He looks at the size of the skirt's width around the waist then at Billie, "She's rather small..."

"I think I mess up on the measurements too, because it's lookin a bit big. I still got more fabric."

"Don't worry, luv. I know how to fix it around the skirt. Good thing I found out not before making the upper part of the dress." He saw the pencil made for marking fabrics and use it to make his marks. "I'm going to measure the little lass."

Billie drools as she pushes the bottle away being full. "AHH!" Her big brown eyes on Hobie then her brother.

"Okay, once I finish burping her." Miles hums as he got up to help his baby sister burp then his nose smell something odd, "And change her diaper."

"HEHEHE!" Billie laughs then grunts having her face buried into her brother's shoulder. "UGHHH!"

Miles sighs while his boyfriend cracks up by the baby making farts and pooping. "I didn't think she would go that fast!"

"Something is in the formula..."

"Hahaha," Miles went to change his baby sister.

After a twenty minutes, the Black Latino came with his sister and let the punker measured around Billie's waist, chest, and arms. "Alright. Luv, you can ease and watch some television."

"I feel bad that you're doing all the work. I wish I can help or repay you." Miles pouts.

"No worries, luv." His partner grins widely, then wiggle his eyebrows, "How about repaying me with some fun."

"You would want that, huh?" Miles snickers, "You want me to wear your band shirt without anything on, too?"

"Now, that's tempting."

"Hahaha, how about I go make you lunch?" His boyfriend went to turn on the television to play Monster Inc and set his baby sister in her play pen, "Okay, boo-boo. I'ma go make Hobie, his lunch."

"OHh! Ohh!" Billie's eyes glue to the television watching the movie, then grab a soft block to hit another block.

Miles went over to kiss his punker, "Mwah, you want a sandwich?"

"I want you." Hobie's eyes gleam with love, his hands wrap around his partner's waist.

"Pfft, cheesy! Come on, bae. Aren't you hungry?"

"I am. A sandwich with chips would be fine for me."

"Okay. I can do that." He gave his man another kiss then patted his chest, "You want soda?"

"Yes, luv. So didja mum order a cake?"

"Yeah, my dad took us to this Dominican bakery and order a Dominican cake with guava filling. It's gonna have sparkles, fairies and these glitter balls. Ha, you can tell my mom always wanted a girl because she's going all out." He took out the ingredients to make a sandwich.

"How was your first birthday luv?"

"You wanna see?" He asked.

"YES!"

Miles went into one of the bookshelves taking out a photo album, handing it back to his boyfriend. The punker flip through to find adorable baby pictures then photos of Miles' first birthday party. The theme was baby Mickey Mouse with soft blue, red and black with gold. There was baby Miles with his big doe eyes and big smile being carried by his dad while his mom kisses his round cheeks.

"Luv, you were cute."

"Hahaha, I was a cute baby." Miles smiles at his boyfriend, "Mickey Mouse is like a big thing with Latinos. I remember I went to my cousins' birthday parties with the same theme. Baby Mickey Mouse and his friends."

"My birthday was just a cupcake."

"Awe, baby." He frowns at his punker's childhood.

"Luv, it's alright. It's just... I wish I have a photo of me when I was a sprog." The punker flip through the book to find photos of his adorable partner being so small and curious. A photo of him dressed up a Winnie the Pooh while holding his rattle. These photos are a treasure!

"I bet you were a handsome boy!" His boyfriend hums.

"I'm still am! I'm your handsome boy, Sunflower." Hobie set the photo album to the side then he let his Sunflower sit on his lap to kiss.

"AH!" Billie shouts over with her own curious eyes on them.

Hobie playfully did a raspberry through their kiss making Miles grunts, "Ew, bae! You put spit on my lips."

"So? Come here, let me lick it off?"

"No," Miles rub off the split from his lips, "I'm gonna go make your sandwich!" He giggles when his punker snuggles him. "Bae!"

"I love you, Miles. I love you and being part of your family... you know that." Hobie mutters with his facing his Sunflower, his chin resting on his chest. "I love that I get to be part of Billie's life, too. I see her as my little sister."

Miles smiles at him, "I love you, too. I love that you are part of us, mi amor." He presses his forehead against his punker, "Your my soul mate, baby." This made the punker smiles widely then give a kiss on the lips.

"AHH!" Billie whines out loud, she saw them kiss looking so happy. "AHH!"

"I should," Miles looking bashful when he pulls away, "I should get that sandwich ready."

"Yeah, I..." Hobie also felt flustered, "need to finish this up."

"Don't work too hard, bae."

"I won't." Hobie felt his heart race, it's not like they kiss before. Maybe it's because he knows his Sunflower is the one and only for him. Perhaps he saw himself married to him- OH no, he can't think of that. He's still too young for those ideas. Instead he glances up seeing Billie smiling at him. "What is it?"

"Hahaha." She sticks her fingers in her mouth being amused at the punker.

"Funny, luv." Hobie chuckles.

The three spend their time together, Miles helps Hobie with the ideas of the dress. Since the punker thought less butterflies from the sketch would work for Billie to move around. They were talking about color lay outs and types of fabric working along.

When Rio got home from work, she sighs being super exhausted, "My god, today was hell!" She mutters.

"AH!" Billie came crawling with a sparkling skirt on.

"Oh, mi bebé!" Rio's moody feeling washed over when she saw her baby girl beaming with joy, she got low to pick her daughter up and gasps with delight, "What do you got on, mi vida?"

Billie's hands on her mother's face with laughter. "Oh mom, your home! You saw the skirt? Hobie made it!"

"Ello, Miss Morales." Hobie said being by the sewing machine as he kept working. "That's just the draft! Trial run!"

"Bae, it's a great skirt even for being the first one." Miles said out loud.

Rio said, "Wow, I didn't know you can sew, Hobie. It looks so nice." She touches the skirt to see the perfectly line stitches and band around her daughter's waist. "It's perfect!"

"Hahaha, thanks!" Hobie said with a smile on his face, "But this one will be the one. A simple splash of pink, green underneath and yellow over the top will make it sparkle!" He pins the band then start the machine.

"He's helping make her dress! I tried but... I messed up so much, mami!" Miles rub his neck as he eyes on his scraps from the floor.

Rio chuckles, "Tell me about it. I remember I would make some shirts crooked." She went over to the punker to see the dress, "Guau! You're really good."

"Just practice, Miss Morales!" The punker had an eye for details, he carefully work around the delicate sparkle fabric.

"Gracias, Hobie. I feel like we should pay you... this kind of stuff is a lot of work."

"Nah, I don't mind. I always sew clothes for my friends." He said, "And I like doing this."

Rio smiles at him, "Thank you, Hobie. I'm glad you are helping us, right bebé?" She coos at her little girl.

"Hehehe," Billie smiles at her mother's kisses.

"Hmm," Rio check her Smartwatch to find it's almost five, "Hmm, Jeff will be home soon."

"You wanna order Chinese?" Miles asked her mom.

"Yeah, that'll be better for me. I really don't want to cook." Rio sighs being tired, "Mi amor, can you make the usual order also Hobie what do you want let Miles know. I'll be right back. I need to shower." She kisses her baby girl before putting her in a playpen. The middle age woman had been dreaming of a warm shower since work, she wanted to feel relax after a busy day.

"Yes, Miss Morales." Hobie nodded.

Miles went to get a Chinese menu from a local restaurant near buy, "So bae, what you want?"

"Hmm," The punker rub his chin as Miles went over to sit on his lap and snuggle, "maybe some pork fried rice, fried chicken and beef with broccoli. Oh Egg-rolls!"

"You want some chips?"

"Yes! You know me so well." Hobie snuggles with him.

"AHHH!" Billie watches them.

"Okay, I'll make the orders. You should take a break, bae. Watch some tv and play with Billie." Miles kisses him on the lips before going to get his smartphone to make the call to the Chinese restaurant.

The punker went over to the couch to relax a bit, he lifts up Billie seeing the skirt dangling. "You like the skirt?"

Billie nodded then touches Hobie's face to feel his cheekbones, "Ma?"

"She's going to shower, lil one." He carries her letting her hold the remote as they watch My Little Pony, which Billie seems to enjoy.

Miles smiles when he saw his man relaxing after he made the order. Then went over to clean up the messy fabrics on the floor, "Since you know how to sew, maybe you can teach me?"

"Oh? You wanna be my student." His boyfriend teased.

"Hey, I need to know how to do this too. You seen my cosplays!"

"Hahaha, right. I can for 100 kisses, luv." Hobie hums.

Billie waves the remote speaking in sounds, "AHH! HAH!"

"Oh okay, I can do that." Miles kisses his man's cheeks multiple times, "Mwah one. Mwah! Two! Mwah-mwah! Four!"

"You got ninety six more to go." Hobie hums happily.

"AhhH!" Billie went over to her big brother for his kisses, "Ohh! Mmiii! MIII!" She fusses around being jealous.

Miles giggles, "I guess, I have to give her a hundred kisses too!"

"Awe, but I was first!" Hobie slouches his boyfriend being needy.

"There's enough of me to go around!" Miles giggles at the two.

Rio saw the three having fun making her smile before she went to the bathroom to shower. It wasn't long till the delivery guy from the Chinese restaurant came by. Miles pay the guy in cash plus tip, when he brought the bags into the home, Hobie went to help him while carrying Billie with one hand.

"Smells so good." Hobie's stomach growls.

"I know. I'm getting hungry." His Sunflower went to put the bags of Chinese food on the table, "I hope my dad gets home soon."

"Oh yeah, pops will sure love to see me here." Hobie grins at his partner.

"Hahaha, you always like picking on him, huh?"

"Yeah, Sunflower. Always gotta be the annoying boyfriend." The punker gave a nose nuzzle to his Sunflower, "You should know this by now." Miles giggles in agreement.

Billie looks up at them while she drools, "Uh?"

"Look away, lil bloo. This is only for me and your brother." Hobie kisses Miles while covering Billie's eyes.

Jeff walks through the front door being surprised to see Hobie kissing Miles, "AHEM!" He didn't need to see the punk smooching his son.

"DAD!" Miles quickly shove his boyfriend being shy, "Your home early!"

"I was able to get out early, after we solve a case. Looks like that Spider-man gave us the evidence we need to take down a drug lord." Jeff stares at Hobie, "I had a feeling there was gonna be some trouble."

"Da-ah-ad! Stop picking on Hobie!" Miles frowns, "Oh but mamí is here and we order Chinese food! We got Barbecue pork!" The light of joy through Jeff's eyes had shifted his whole mood when he heard that his son order his favorite dish.

"AAAPPPAAAA!" Billie reaches out for her dad being so happy to see him, she giggles.

Hobie grins, "You want pops to hold you?"

Jeff snorted, "That's Mr. Morales to you!"

"Bababa!" Billie nodded as she looks at Hobie with her finger wagging at him.

"Awe, love you too!" Hobie playfully teased the baby girl with kisses on her cheek.

"AHH!" She puffs her cheeks with anger.

"Okay. Okay! Gimme my baby gurl, she's gonna start crying cuz of you!" Jeff huffs as he took his daughter from the punker's hands.

Miles said to his dad, "Dad, don't be so mean to my boyfriend. He's just playing around." He hugs his punker like he was a protective shield from the chief of police.

Rio came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body and another around her hair wearing her flip flops, "Oh, hola, mi amor. How was work?"

"Hey, Rio! Just finished showering?"

"Yeah, food is here, too?"

"Yes, mami! I'll go get the plates and set up for dinner." Miles said.

After Rio went to her bedroom to changed, Miles and Hobie set up the table. Jeff plays with Billie for a bit, "Now, where did you get this skirt?" He asked his baby girl.

"Hehehe." Billie giggles.

Miles smiles, "Hobie made it!"

"Yeah, dad! I made it with these criminally hands." Hobie jokes having his boyfriend nudge his side.

"Bae, behave!" Hearing his man chuckling with delight, Miles could only rolled his eyes "Now, get the soda and help me finish set up the table."

"Hahaha, you tell him, son." Jeff chuckles with amusement how his son is able to have that punk on a leash.

Rio came out with her pajamas and her wavy hair damp, "Mwah," She went to kiss her husband's cheek, "How's my Chief of Police doing? Busy day?"

"Ohh, tell me about it." His hand took his daughter's hand to play with it. Billie's tiny hand was able to grab his index finger. "We solve the case no thanks to Spider-man, but man, I tell ya! With the evidence we got, that drug lord is getting life in prison possible with no parole!"

Rio smiles happily, "See, Spider-man is a good man. He gave you the evidence!"

"I know. I know. But it's hard working along him if he keeps going against the law." Jeff sighs.

Miles secretly smirking proudly at how impressed his dad was with Spider-man. Normally it's about him being a thug and breaking the rules, but this time it's something very positive. Hobie saw that and grins at his Sunflower.

"You saw Hobie making this cute skirt, apparently he knows how to sew! He's making Billie's birthday dress!" Rio happily said.

Now that made Hobie very happy, Miles knew if his boyfriend is happily head banging in his mind. "Mami, Hobie knows how to knit and crochet, too!"

"Oh really?" Rio put on hand on her hip being impressed. "I have some knitting tools and yawn. I did it when I was pregnant with Billie to keep my mind off from my strict diet." She recalls. "If you want. I can give it to you!"

"Awe, you don't have too, Miss Morales!"

"Oh I'm happy to give it to you! I know I'm not good with crafts like you and mi hijo!" She went into one of the cabinets from the living room to pull out a basket of knitting tools and yawn, "Here."

"Ohh, you got the good yarn too." Hobie's eyes gleam at the basket, he touches one of the yarn feeling its soft nice quality, "Thanks, Miss Morales." He felt like a kid in a candy store as he started to get his knitting needles some green yawns and quickly started to knit. With his speed of his handwork gave off, he happily bob his head side to side being in the zone.

"Bae, you gotta eat first then work on this." Miles giggles.

"Sorry, luv. It's been awhile since I knit something I want." He explains.

Rio claps happily, "Your really good, Hobie. You have quite the talent!"

"Awe, thanks, Miss M!"

Miles giggles, "Okay! We should start eating! Chinese food gonna get cold!"

"Oh, we don't want that!" Jeff grunts, "I want a hot meal after a long day's work!"

"I can feed Billie! You and mami should eat!" Miles happily said.

"Awe, thanks, mi vida." Rio happily kisses her son's cheek having to smother him with all her love.

Billie waves her hands, "AHHH! AHHH!" She wanted her brother's hugs!

Hobie playfully tease Billie after her mother went to serve herself dinner, he hug and kiss Miles. "My Miles!" He chuckles.

"AHHH! AHHH!" Billie's eyes widen getting upset.

"BAAAEEE! Your gonna upset her!"

"See I knew your trouble!" Jeff grunts.

At the family table, Miles fed Billie some formula while everyone eats. Jeff asked, "So how was every else' day?"

"Busy! I had one patient- a teenager boy kinda dress like you," She looks at Hobie, "and got into a car accident where a shard of glass got into his neck and completely miss his artery. He was one lucky boy."

"What! That's insane!" Hobie gasps, loving Rio's hospital stories. Something about her explaining about the crazy stuff in there always fascinate him.

"Wow, imagine the surgery to perform?" Miles asked out loud.

"It's very tedious work, especially when there's a lot of sensitive nerves, and veins." His mom explained.

"Terrible thing to happen at a young age." Jeff explain before shoving fried rice into his mouth.

"It was. His mother was a mess. I'm just glad he survived the surgery and is healing." She said, "it's traumatic stuff."

Miles nodded, "Yeah, that's crazy."

"What about you two? I thought Miles was making the dress" Jeff asked, eyeing Hobie and Miles seeing they were alone hanging out.

Hobie chuckles, while Miles answered, "I did but I sucked at it. it was falling apart and Hobie took over. We were talking about adding more flowers or butterflies."

"I say less butterflies since lil Billie boo gots to move around." Hobie points out.

"I like the butterflies from the sketch." Jeff said, "They fit the whole theme."

"What if we make a crown for her! Miles made the wings." Rio points out. "Maybe have the butterflies on the hem of the dress."

"Well, I can add a bit. It's just the fabric on the topic layer is delicate and can't be stitched so much or it'll rip. I think the flowers would be nice."

"Is the fabric okay for Billie to move around. I know some nice clothes can be itchy!" Jeff points out.

"The feeling of the fabric isn't scratchy." Miles said, "I think she'll be fine."

"I think the fabric is best to enhance the shape of the dress. I'm thinking making straight across neckline and use the sheer fabric over it. I'm planning in making the sleeves leaf like with the satin fabric and sheer fabric on top, too. I'm thinking we should really play with the fairy idea." Hobie explains as the Morales family pictures how the dress will turned out liking the sound of it.

"Ohh, that is a good idea. I haven't thought of that. I know, I drew a basic princess poofy dress, but the leaves idea does sound nice!" Miles nodded.

"What about her shoes? We got her white shoes for her." Jeff said.

"Oh make it like Tinkerbell. Add those cute puffs." Rio pointed out.

"Or Flowers?" Jeff asked.

The family kept talking about Billie's dress, sharing ideas and seeing what will work for the little girl. Billie watches them talking among each other while she relax in her brother arms. Hobie's hobby really saved Billie's first birthday dress!