#Whether that's as someone who managed to intervene and stop his death or was a neighbour of his who realised he had a bad home life

[batfamfucker]

A crazy thing is that The Boy In The Box case has been on my mind all week this week and they've apparently just found out his identity. I don't know why I was thinking about this case so much but finding out this news, I'm so fucking happy. I was literally thinking about it yesterday and today like 'I wish they could give that kid justice. I wish they could just find out who he was' and they finally might be able to. Not full justice as I'm sure his killers are likely dead by now, but after 65 years that boy will finally have his name be known. In my mind, he will finally be able to be buried with his name and put to rest. He'll finally have peace after 65 years.

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 6)

In Silence, We Crumble

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Warning(s): ANGST IM WARNING YOU ANGST

A/N: I'm on Wattpad now too, click here to read and vote there: WATTPAD

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Y/N was in the Snows' penthouse living room, acting as if she hadn't shared the best kiss of her life with her friend's cousin a week ago. It was already late when Tigris answered the door and faced a worried Mrs. Plinth. Coriolanus would arrive half an hour later, questioning the situation. His gaze quickly passed over Y/N, and a nod of the head was the most interaction between them that night.

The woman pleaded for Coryo to help rescue Sejanus, even though the boy hated the idea. There was a phone call, and the boy and Mrs. Plinth left hastily. Y/N followed Tigris to her room.

"It's late; I can't let you go alone," Tigris said anxiously, probably because Coryo had just left for the arena again.

"Okay, I'll stay here with you," Y/N replied. It wasn't the first time she had slept at her friend's house, so it didn't take much to convince her mother. Whether she liked it or not, it would be good to have company that night. Y/N had stopped worrying about Coryo's death before the Games. She was more concerned about those around him and what he might do. Every day, she hoped some situation would help the boy reflect on the future.

"You know, when I took care of Coryo, I never imagined he would turn out like this," Tigris said while painting her toenails.

"Authoritarian? Conceited? Arrogant?" Y/N thought.

"Like what?" Y/N asked, saving the insults for when she saw Coryo in person.

"He sometimes looks a lot like his father. And that's not a compliment."

"Maybe we all have something from our parents, right?"

"I wish he were a bit more like his mother."

"What was she like?" Y/N asked.

"She was beautiful, intelligent, kind, sweet... She looked like a princess," Tigris said, smiling nostalgically. "Maybe Lucy Gray could help bring out that part of him, huh?"

"Did I miss something?" Y/N was confused.

"Oh, the whole Capitol is talking about them, as if they were a couple's goal."

"Couple's goal?" Y/N couldn't help but give a sincere laugh. "As if she didn't have bigger things to worry about."

"Coryo said they kissed a few days ago."

THE KISS. THE VISION'S KISS. She saw the two kissing through a cell. If she knew it was going to happen, why did it make her so uncomfortable? Moreover, another vision had been confirmed. Wasn't she doing anything useful to change his fate?

"And what did he say about it?"

"He said it was good, it must have been his first kiss. If not the first, the one that makes the heart beat faster, you know?" Good? That bastard...

"I know," Y/N said without thinking.

"DO YOU KNOW? Have you ever kissed someone like that?" Tigris was excited.

"Oh no, I read a lot of romances..."

"I see... Y/N, you have a lot of secrets, and I will uncover them." Y/N threw a pillow at her friend, who quickly caught it.

The girls quickly fell asleep after gossiping about life in the Capitol. Tigris was very worried; she didn't want to sleep at all, but Y/N managed to convince her after a lot of effort. The two chatted quietly until eventually, one of them stopped responding. But a noise during the night would wake Y/N up.

She looked at the clock beside the bed; it was 02:15 AM. She looked at Tigris sleeping peacefully on the left side of the bed, which, by the way, was quite large. Y/N got up quietly not to disturb her friend. She arrived in the kitchen and didn't notice anything different. She decided to heat up the tea that Tigris had made earlier for Sejanus's mother.

She poured it slowly into the cup when she noticed a silhouette in the living room. She put her hand over her lips to avoid screaming too loud.

"Coryo! You scared me." she said quietly to a battered Coryo in front of her. He was wearing a coat that covered the clothes he had left with. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing. Sejanus is fine. I saved the day; I'm going to sleep," he replied as he moved away slowly.

"Oh no, I'm going to make tea, and you're going to tell me what happened." Coryo had a zero-friendly expression. But Y/N guided the boy to the living room sofa, as if she didn't care about his anger.

In a minute, she reappeared with a teacup and some cookies that Mrs. Plinth had brought. She sat next to him on the couch.

"Eat, they're very good. They taste like Christmas." The boy seemed too beaten down to resist.

"I killed a tribute."

Y/N didn't know what to say; her mind couldn't formulate any sentences.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't have a choice."

"I know, and it wasn't your fault. The Capitol, Dr. Gaul, they are the real culprits for all this. You're just a pawn on their chessboard." She wanted to ask about Sejanus, but she didn't want to start another fight over it.

"What was it like entering the arena?"

"Sejanus is an idiot. With that damn tradition of breadcrumbs. Pathetic. If anyone needs proof of the backwardness of the districts, this is a good one. Primitive people with primitive customs. How much bread has been wasted on that nonsense? Oh, no, he died of hunger! Bring bread! This 'friendship' with Sejanus is going to cause me a lot of problems." Coryo spoke lowly, mocking the pain Sejanus felt for Marcus. And it was at that moment that Y/N saw in Coriolanus what Tigris had mentioned earlier. The air of superiority, the resentment. Y/N felt a lump in her throat and involuntarily moved away from the boy. Something he didn't fail to notice.

Y/N remained silent, she had nothing to say. In fact, her desire was to go back to her room and cry until she fell asleep.

The atmosphere in the room became tense, impregnated by Coriolanus's revelation about the tribute he had eliminated and his cynicism about the districts. Y/N, although initially speechless, felt a mixture of anger and hurt growing inside her. The silence was broken when she finally spoke, her voice loaded with restrained emotion.

"Do you really think all the districts are like that? Primitive and backward? That people deserve to die for a tradition, like leaving breadcrumbs on the ground?" Y/N gave Coriolanus a penetrating look, her own district origin pulsating in her expression.

Coryo stared at her for a moment, as if assessing her reaction. "I'm just telling the truth. There is no progress in the districts, just outdated customs that lead nowhere."

His response ignited a flame of indignation in Y/N. "And what makes you think you're better? That your vision of progress is the only correct one? Do you think all districts are made up of pathetic and hungry people?"

Coriolanus retorted with a disdainful look. "Of course, they're not all the same, but it's undeniable that there is a general delay. I'm just being realistic."

His answer was like an open wound to Y/N, who felt the words echoing in her mind. She knew she couldn't change the Capitol's perception, but hearing it from someone she considered close was like a punch in the stomach.

"So, do you also think I'm pathetic?" she asked, her voice trembling but firm.

Coriolanus hesitated for a moment, looking into Y/N's eyes. "It's not the same. You're different."

"Different? How? Because I also have a district origin" Y/N felt a mix of sadness and frustration.

"It's not that..." Coryo began, but Y/N interrupted him.

"You know I'm not different. In the eyes of the Capitol, I'm also an insignificant girl from any district. Don't be hypocritical."

He sighed, seeming to rethink his words. "Look, that's not what I meant."

"But that's what you said." Y/N's disappointment was palpable.

"You don't understand. It's different with you."

“No, it’s not,” Y/N insisted, distancing herself further from him. "You're just in denial because you still see me as a girl from the capital. Because I don't feel hungry anymore? Because my father built an empire during the war? Or because you just like me, and you lie to yourself."

The room fell silent for a moment, only the echo of the words spoken hanging in the air. Coriolanus seemed lost in thought, while Y/N felt the need to get away from his presence.

"I just..."

"I didn't want you to get hurt by all this," Coriolanus finally said, his tone softer.

"Do you think words don't hurt?" Y/N let out an ironic laugh. "Sorry, but you know nothing about what it's like to be from a district. What it's like to live in the shadow of the Capitol. Don't try to tell me it's different with me because it's not. Our childhoods were similar, but the war in the districts was by far worse."

Coriolanus looked at the ground, realizing the depth of Y/N's words. A persistent tension lingered between them, as if the broken trust had created an irreparable abyss.

"I didn't want..." Coriolanus began, but Y/N interrupted.

"I think it's better if I leave before I say something I regret."

Y/N stood up, casting a last glance at Coryo before leaving. 

"I hope Lucy Gray doesn't find out about your honest opinions on the districts. If you want to maintain a relationship with her."

The door closed behind her, leaving the boy alone in the room, engulfed in confusing emotions and growing pain. The night that began with gossip and laughter had now faded into confrontation and sadness.

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Just wanted to drop a quick note to say a massive thank you for all the love, likes and comments on my story. <3

A LOT OF ANGST TO YOU GUYS. CRY ME A RIVER.

Taglist: @shari-berri @h-l-vlovesvintage @tea-bobba @daenerysqueenofhearts @commanderfreethatdust @glxzillx @write-from-the-heart @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

TAGLIST AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Christopher Hitchens on Islam

I can't shake what I heard, saw once on the BBC from someone whose career in London I followed. Don't know if you know him, you wouldn't like him: Anjem Choudary. A very well-known noise maker around London, complaining about secularism, Judaism, this kind of thing, been trouble with the law a few times.

And was interviewed on BBC, went on about how nothing would change until the green flag of Islam was flying over Downing Street and Buckingham Palace, and so forth.

And was asked, I thought quite mildly by BBC interviewer, said, well if this is the way you feel about Sharia, about the total Islamic rule, wouldn't you feel happier moving to a country where they already had it?

Which is a polite question, a rather cheap one, I mean, but still. Didn't prepare me for the answer, which Choudary looked straight at the guy and straight into camera, said what "makes you think this is your country?"

In Islam, humans have the right to govern human societies and manage the affairs of humans.

... until they are offered Islam.

As far as Islam is concerned, the world already belongs to Allah. And it’s not merely the case that only Allah may be worshipped (per the shahada), but also only Allah may rule. Humans can form their little governments and make their little rules while they don’t know better. Until Islam comes to save them from the tyranny of human laws, so they can be freed to submit to Allah instead, who is already in charge of everything, the people just didn’t know.

In theocracies like Iran, they don’t really “make” laws. All the laws, everything humanity will ever need has already been given to them by Islam. These theocratic governments don’t actually create laws, they find them in the scripture. Allah has already told them whether ringtones are haram or halal, his human agents just need to be pious enough to recognize his wisdom.

That’s why an Islamist lunatic like Anjem Choudary can deadpan say “what makes you think this is your country?” He already knows that it’s Allah’s land.

Well now, just you transfer yourself to Somalia last week.

A girl of 13, probably out for the first time unsupervised in her life. Things must have been very bad if she was allowed out without male supervision to begin with. But there's enough chaos to explain that. She's immediately pounced upon by a group of older men and very thoroughly raped and sodomized and beaten.

And she goes to the religious court for redress, and the religious court knows its business. And it knows its texts very well, and it says "we don't know that it's true what you say, that men abused you in this manner. But we can tell you've had sex. In fact, judging by your injuries, we can tell you've had a great deal of sex lately. But you're not married, so you're guilty of adultery."

So now, before your wounds have stopped hurting, you're going to be buried up to your waist in hot sand and laughing men will now take part in the only other cultural activity that gratifies the male sex in that part of the world, which is stoning that young woman to death.

The people who did this knew exactly what they were doing, and they were in perfect conformity with their holy books, and they absolutely do not believe that anything happens randomly. They are not under the illusion that heaven is indifferent. They're not under the illusion that we are biologically created, that we're here because of the laws of natural selection and random mutation. They don't believe anything of the sort.

They're utterly consoled by the idea that heaven intervenes and cares about every action, otherwise they wouldn't put themselves to the trouble of raping, torturing and murdering a thirteen-year-old whose last moments you might want to take just a few seconds to imagine.

[27twinsister]

If you die enough times you get to meet Kamen Rider Ghost

Fandoms: Sentika F8ABA6 Jisariz & Kamen Rider Ghost (Crossover)

(Also mentions Decade a little tiny bit because Tsukasa and Jisariz are played by the same actor and Decade has different universes and all that.)

A/N: This is the niche crossover I wrote the other night. AO3 is still down so I’m posting it here. I do want to post it on AO3. I might post it under a different title there, I just…titles are hard.

Hurt/Comfort, 668 words, Not Rated

Summary: Takeru is always aware of heroes who died, whether they get revived later or not. But in this case, the person he hears about isn’t a superhero who dies in battle, and he wants to make sure she’s okay.

Content warnings: Characters talk about death, dying, and being killed in canon-compliant ways. Nobody dies in the fic. Casual spoilers for both shows.

Takeru was always aware of heroes who died, Kamen Rider or not. Sometimes the deaths were permanent, other times they were temporary. Either way, Takeru noticed every time they died.

And thanks to Tsukasa, Takeru caught wind of deaths happening in a different world. The world seemed to have reincarnation, so it wasn’t a big deal, but there was one problem: it seemed to be the same person killing the same victim every time. An adult man and a teenage girl.

Takeru got Tsukasa to take him to this world.

In this world, Takeru was surprised to see someone who looked shockingly like Tsukasa about to kill a teenage girl, and he knew he had to intervene.

"Stop," Takeru transformed and stood between the girl and her killer.

"Who are you to stop me?"

"I’m Kamen Rider Ghost!"

Takeru hadn’t fought in a while, so while he wasn’t particularly strong (and was mortal), he was able to stall and let the teenage girl get away.

After the man disappeared, Takeru decided to look for the girl again and ended up finding her sitting on a beach.

Takeru demorphed and approached her.

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah…" the girl nodded quietly.

"Uh, what’s your name? I’m Tenkuuji Takeru."

"I’m Ayuka."

"Ayuka…this is going to sound weird, but," Takeru paused. It was always hard to explain this out loud. "So, I’m Kamen Rider Ghost. That means a few years ago, I died. And ended up coming back to life. And then I died again- it’s a long story. But ever since then…"

"How did you die more than once?"

"Well, the first time I died I stayed dead for a few months before managing to revive myself. But even after that there have been times where, say, my heart stopped and I temporarily died- it’s complicated. Anyways, I’m alive now. But I have…more experience than average with being dead. And my friend told me that you…have also been dying a lot too," he said. He wasn’t sure how to word that, but Ayuka didn’t seem offended. "Is that true?"

"Yeah. I’ve been killed a lot," Ayuka said way too casually. "But I’m used to it."

Takeru wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

"Is that bad?" Ayuka asked after a moment.

"Kind of, yeah. Is there anything I can do…maybe stop that guy from killing you?"

"No. I kind of like that he’s the only one that kills me. He protects me from other people so that he can kill me himself. Is that bad?"

Takeru wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Like, yes, that was terrible. But if she was used to it, and even liked it…

"I think it is kinda bad. But I can’t make you change how you feel. Do you need a hug?"

Ayuka nodded, and Takeru gave her a hug.

Usually, when Takeru met other people in this situation, he asked how they died. Usually they were heroes and the answer was dying in battle. But in this situation, knowing Ayuka had been killed multiple times within a short period of time, Takeru didn’t ask. She probably wouldn’t want to talk about it.

"It hurts," Ayuka said. Her voice cracked and she hugged Takeru closer.

"Hm? What does?"

"Every time…usually he stabs me or chokes me. Does it ever hurt less?"

Takeru knew the answer to that question, and he felt a knot in his stomach as he answered.

"I wish it did. But even when I was a ghost, I could still get hurt in battles. I couldn’t die because I was already dead. But I don’t think the ability to feel pain ever really goes away."

(Unless the person was permanently dead, but he didn’t want to say that part out loud.)

Takeru quietly held Ayuka as she cried.

He wished he could do something to help her.

For now, all he could do was stay in this world and protect her.

[triggerhappyimagines]

If it's okay could I request how the dr3 boys would react to their s/o being accidentally shrunk during one of Miu's experiments or something? I thought it would be a good opportunity for lots of fluff and protectiveness hehE

this was actually very fun to write, thank you for requesting anon!! also, i apologize if some of these scenarios sound repetitive, i wrote the ones i had instant ideas for first, and then sort of left myself stuck trying to think of something for the others that didn’t sound exactly like everything else i’d already written...

also, just for fun, i decided to write a little scenario for Miu, too! i hadn’t planned on it at first, but her involvement in this particular request made me want to write for her and i couldn’t help myself,,,, this is my first time writing an imagine-type thing for her so i can only hope i did her justice aha~

warnings: a little bit of swearing

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Shuichi Saihara

— VERY CONCERNED!!! VERY VERY CONCERNED!!!

— you’re so small!! what if you get lost?! what if someone steps on you?! what if you fall off something and die?! what if-

— you’ll have to calm him down before he gives himself an aneurysm lol

— somehow he’s more worried than you are. Miu says she’ll be able to get you back to normal in no time, so why shouldn’t you trust her? Shuichi could give you about a thousand reasons but that’s beside the point

— if it were up to him he would hold you and not let go unless he absolutely has to in order to make sure you don’t get hurt or stuck somewhere but obviously that’s unrealistic

— to an extent, it’s cute how worried he is about you, but it does get annoying from time to time

— i mean, you’re shrunk, not stupid. you know to stay away from edges of tables and other things you could fall from, not to wander off, etc.

— but as frustrating as Shuichi can be you really can’t get upset with him because dammit he’s so cute when he gets protective and you love him so so much

Rantaro Amami

— honestly he’s not super concerned at first

— he trusts you to be careful and not get yourself killed, and he trusts Miu to get you back to normal somehow, so why should he be worried?

— though he’ll still be pretty chill for the most part, he will start to be more protective of you when he starts to fully process the sheer number of tragic deaths you could succumb to in your current shrunken state

— this protectiveness takes the form of him offering you way more assistance than you need

— it’s nice that you want to help out, rantaro, but your s/o doesn’t need you to help them find something to sit on, c’mon now

— he kind of enjoys the way you literally fit right into the palm of his hands

— additionally, there’s now a very small, feral urge in the back of his mind to brush and style your hair like his sisters always used to do with their dolls

— he’ll probably never mention it, but don’t be too surprised if he all of a sudden takes a strong liking to playing with your hair once you’re back to normal

Kokichi Ouma

— did you expect him to treat this situation with the proper concern and caution it deserves? because if so i have bad news for you-

— he thinks it’s so funny how small you are

— like, so funny Miu has to physically intervene to get him to stop cracking up at your tiny form

— obviously you don’t think it’s as funny as he does

— right away he’s thinking of ways he could use your size to his advantage to mess with somebody

— at one point he decides it would be really funny to pretend he’s going to step on you which essentially translates to pretending he’s going to murder you but once you chew him out and explain to him how mean that was he actually feels really bad for upsetting you

— while he’s nowhere near as small as you are now, Kokichi is a rather petite guy, so the size difference between the two of you isn’t quite as drastic as it is between you and the taller guys

— since he’s a little less likely to accidentally smush you, he’s able to sorta cuddle you as if you were a small stuffed animal

— and btw being gently held and all snuggled up in his arms like that??? HEAVEN. LITERAL HEAVEN

Gonta Gokuhara

— if i had to choose someone who’s the least likely to accidentally get you killed while you’re shrunk, it would be Gonta

— i mean, he handles bugs that are much smaller and delicate than you are now, and if he can take such good care of them, obviously he’ll be able to take care of you no problem!

— you draw the line at him putting you in the little bug box he carries with him, though. you’re a human being, not a beetle!

— he likes to have you sit on his shoulders! they’re so broad that there’s plenty of room for you, too

— his hair is long enough for you to hang onto it to keep your balance if you need to!

— being so tiny also really puts into perspective just how gentle Gonta is

— yes, you’ve seen firsthand how he’s able to handle delicate little insects, and he’s always gentle with you, too, but being in the position of an insect in the palm of his hand, so to speak, is so much different

— you’ve never had anyone touch you with so much care, solicitude, and just pure love before and it’s honestly the most incredible feeling in the world

K1-B0

— another very concerned boy

— (s/o) is tiny???? how??? WHY??? HUH??

— at he’s pretty concerned about his knowledge of how humans work and fears he knows much less than he thought

— nobody ever told him they could shrink!!! he didn’t know humans could do that!! that’s because they can’t, kiibo, but i appreciate the concern

— once you explain what happened to him - how you were helping Miu out when her current experiment decided to malfunction and go apeshit, making you the size of a doll in the process - he’s a little less confused but also a lot more angry

— he makes sure to give Miu a thorough lecture on lab safety! he can’t have his s/o getting hurt just by being in the same room as her!!

— don’t worry, he’ll simmer down once you assure him that you’re okay!

— similar to Gonta, Kiibo is very careful with you! he knows you’re much more fragile than he is under normal circumstances, but now that you’re so little he’s even more worried about how susceptible to injury you are

— when he holds you or touches you, he does so with the utmost precision and care, as if you’re made of glass and would shatter if he laid his hands on you incorrectly

— he won’t tell you this, but he’s really looking forward to the day Miu is able to get you back to normal just so he won’t need to be so anxious about your safety anymore

— it’s hard work worrying about the person you love!!

Kaito Momota

— another one who’s probably not as phased by the situation as he should be

— but when Miu told him that she’d accidentally shrunk his s/o, he didn’t think that meant "i shrunk your s/o and don’t have a way fix it at this point in time"

— so when he realizes that now he has to help make sure you don’t, idk, die, he’s a little annoyed. not with you, though!

— i mean, technically he doesn’t *have* to help you out, but it would be a real dick move if he didn’t lol

— he lets you sit up on his shoulder, or in the pocket of his jacket!

— at first he doesn’t totally process that you’re a little more fragile than usual, so he may accidentally manhandle you from time to time

— just be sure to tell him if he’s holding you strangely, or if you’re starting to get uncomfy

— his priority is making sure you’re taken care of and he's not about to let himself of all people get in the way of that!!

Korekiyo Shinguuji

— he’s very worried about you, but he’ll try to hide it

— the last thing he wants to do is make your situation more stressful than it needs to be by fussing over you to no end

— it’s not that he doesn’t think you can take care of yourself anymore! he just doesn’t think the world is safe enough for you anymore!

— if you catch on to his anxiety and decide to question him about it, he’ll most likely go off on a tangent about how ‘humans are at the top of the food chain’ and ‘there’s a reason most predators are large and most prey is small’ and ‘in nature small creatures are naturally put in constant danger" or something

— while you may not necessarily appreciate him comparing you to a small prey animal, you know his heart is in the right place

— he just wants to protect you!!

— Kiyo has pretty large, slender hands, and you fit in his palm rather comfortably

— under normal circumstances, he’s incredibly gentle with you, and his delicacy of his touches increases tenfold now that you’re so tiny

— in a strange way, it almost feels like he handles you the same way he would handle some sort of fragile, ancient artifact that could be destroyed with just the smallest slip of the hand

— frankly, it’s a bit of an unusual sensation, albeit in a good way!! it’s nice to be touched so gently, y’know?

Ryoma Hoshi

— he’s glad to have a chance to be the tall one in the relationship... lol i’m jk... or am i?

— unlike the other guys, Ryoma doesn’t really dote on you and assume you need his help for everything, mostly because he knows firsthand what it’s like to be so much smaller than someone

— he doesn’t really like being treated like he’s helpless, or needs constant aid from taller people, so he’s mindful of the way he responds to the situation as not to end up behaving exactly like those who frustrate him to no end

— of course if you need him for anything, whether it’s helping you go from one place to another, or just wanting some love from your boyfriend, he’s always right there for you!

— however, sometimes he needs to go get someone taller than him to help you out with something, which he really Does Not Enjoy™️, so before you ask him to help you get something from up high (by your current standards, ofc) be sure to ask yourself if it really can’t wait until you’re back to normal lol

— like with Kokichi, the size difference between you and Ryoma isn’t all that drastic compared to some of the others, so he also manages to cuddle you without much issue. it’s a little awkward at first, but at least there’s no fear he might accidentally lay on top of you and squish you to death

— perks of having a boyfriend who’s 3’5", y’know?

Miu Iruma

— you’ve always enjoyed helping Miu out in her lab, and it isn’t uncommon for her to request your assistance with something, but up until now nothing has ever really... gone wrong in there, at least not majorly

— somehow, whatever shrinking device she’d been working on decided to have an absolute freak attack and target you, not the watermelon she was about to test it on, and now you’re about ten times smaller than you should be

— at least it works... right?

— she’s very apologetic and honestly feels so incredibly guilty that she could have possibly let something like this happen to you

— you’re honestly not very upset at first. she can fix it and you’ll be back to normal in no time, right? ...right?

— now is not the best time for Miu to be telling you about how she hasn’t yet developed a way to reverse the shrinking properties of her latest invention, but unfortunately she doesn’t really have another choice

— in the meantime, she takes it upon herself to whip up a few things to make your new life as a tiny person easier until she can dedicate her time to finding out how to get you back to normal

— you’re a little surprised at the sheer amount of robotic tools and gadgets provided to you that she just had laying around, as well as how quickly she’s able to throw together little devices to help you get around quicker, or reach things up high

— if there was any doubt that she was truly upset that her experimentation could have gone so wrong, it all vanishes the second she places her lips on your head (you may be small but that’s not going to stop her from kissing you!!) and says she’s never going to let herself put you in harms way ever again

— she loves you more than anything in the world, and would spend the rest of her life trying to undo the damage she caused if she had to! that’s how much you mean to her <3

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him. 

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward. 

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries. 

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed. 

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.” 

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her. 

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not. 

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty. 

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children. 

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age. 

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?” 

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket. 

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up. 

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face. 

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life. 

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N. 

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

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.  Let me know what you think!

[fleetwoodmak99]

Long Past Dawn

Eric Draven x reader

This is requested from @sister-morticia "Hi!! Can I please request an Eric Draven x reader whump with lots of hurt and comfort/worried!Eric? I need some caring fluff! Thank you!! ☺️" I had so much fun working on this!!! I'll be posting a part 2 as hcs of the aftermath soon. It will focus more on the comforting aspects. Also I’m really sorry this is long. 

WARNINGS: Panic attacks, hyperventilating, serious wounds, gun violence, mentions of blood, depression, talks of deep sadness, death, resurrection, paranoia, explosions, and fainting.

SUMMARY: It has been a year since you lost your lover, Eric Draven. While you have managed to get by, it has been extremely difficult. After having a particularly hard night, you decide it might be a good idea to go for a walk to release some steam, only to fall upon a danger situation.

Its been a entire year since you had lost the love of your life, Eric Draven.

It was around Halloween. The leaves on the trees were starting to change from green to orange and yellow as the air turned cool.

Halloween used to be Eric’s favorite time of the year. Always making a big deal about it with lots of horror movie marathons and tons of candy. Now, you had none of that.

No celebrating, no watching horror movies all night, no eating a bunch of candy, no Eric.

Even though it had been a whole year since that dark night, it still haunted your every waking thought.

Every day seemed to bring a new struggle. The worst of it being at night. The pain of losing Eric broke you down to the point where you could do nothing but spend most nights crying.

Anxiety making itself known at every turn. Always worried that the men responsible for taking the life of your lover and leaving you for dead will one day realize you aren't and come after you.

Memories of that night plagued your dreams often. Seeing flashes of T-Birds gang breaking through the door of your shared apartment and attacking you while you were cooking dinner.

The panic consuming your chest becoming too overpowering as you relived that night over and over again. Jolting awake in a pile of sweat when it became too much. Feeling your stomach turn to the sickening thoughts roaming around in your head.

You tried to calm your thoughts. You really did. But the terror that filled your chest was too powerful.

A strong force making you leave the warmth of your bed in an attempt to ease your mind. Pacing around the room, completely lost in thought.

Are they going to come after me? Will they want to harm me?

The demanding thoughts running through your head was starting to cause a wave of nausea to wash over your body.

No. They don't know you are alive. They would have come after you if they had.

You were lucky enough to get Sergeant Albrecht assigned to your case. He was the only one on the force who was kind to you.

Albrecht helped you stay under the radar until you were able to get enough money to move far, far away. The main problem being that you couldn't find a good steady income that would get you out of this hell hole while not blowing your cover, creating the never ending cycle of being trapped in the city. Being doomed to live here forever with no escape.

Still, you felt an overwhelming ache in your stomach every time you thought of Top Dollar still being out there, controlling most of the violence in the city. Hoping that the brutality won't one day unleash on you.

Knowing that it went against the rules you had started following in an attempt to protect yourself further, you decided it might be a good idea to go for a quick late night walk. Noting the dangers of what you might be doing, but it was your last attempt to ease your anxieties and distract you from the pain.

Hoping that the fresh cool air will be a jolt to your system, you grabbed a light jacket and black high tops, placing it over your pajamas and venturing out into the night.

Stepping out of the safety of the apartment building and into the bitter cold. Feeling the tip of your fingers and toes already starting to turn into ice. Still, you were determined to complete your walk as it has always been a good way of distraction you from your intrusive thoughts.

With that being said, the streets of Detroit certainly looked different at night. Feeling a thick layer of sorrow and rage in the air. It being so thick it became difficult to breath.

Choosing to ignore it, you kept walking.

A smile spreading across your lips when you see a group of children in Halloween costumes running with bags of candy in their hands, laughing as they did so.

Curiosity taking over as to why children would be out this late on Devil’s Night. Seeing as you did much worse things when you were a kid, you let it slide.

Either way, you began to have doubts if this was a good idea, deciding it might be time to head back and hide from the world once more.

Turning around and walking the other way, you could already feel a wave of relief washing over you as you made your way back only for your heart to be ripped out of your chest when a booming explosion erupted just up the road. A burst of light blinding you as the ground rumbled.

The sudden event sending you onto the ground, holding your heads up to your head in an attempt to protect yourself from the eruption.

Trying your best to focus on what exactly was happening as the light started to dim into small flames and a bundle of smoke coming from an old abandoned building.

At first, you wanted to run the other way. Knowing that this was most likely the work of Top Dollar or some other big mob boss trying to cause some havoc in an already broken city.

Yet when you tried to get up, you remained planted on the ground. Your body being completely immobilized and without breath.

As you tried getting your strength back, you started to hear a faint scream coming from up the road. Your thoughts immediately going to the children you had seen giggling to each other just moments ago.

You tried remembering which way they had went. Hoping that they were far away from the building now engulfed in flames but after hearing more yelling, you knew you had to make sure no one was hurt or worse.

With a new found determination, you felt yourself starting to grow stronger, experiencing a rush of adrenaline fueling your body.

This time when attempting to get up, you were able to get onto your feet. Your legs still feeling weak, you forced yourself not to waste time and move towards the very thing you made you shake.

Getting closer to the fire, you could start to feel the heat coming from the flames. Inspecting the building, you couldn't see anyone inside. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all.

You thought for sure the police or at least the fire department would be on their way considering it was a Devil’s Night tradition for the whole city to burn. Yet no one was there. It was almost unnatural.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard not a scream but groaning, murmuring and the collusion of masses coming from the back side of another building. 

With caution, you started to make your way towards the sounds. Leaning on another building for support, gaining distance from the heat.

Hearing the unknown sounds starting to grow louder and louder, you could see the silhouette of different bodies laying on the ground. You didn't know if they were dead or unconscious.

Deciding to grab a nearby wooden stick. Just in case.

Two men suddenly bursting in front of you, struggling against each other. They rolled around the dirt floor, one trying to get the upper hand on the other. Both eventually getting up and starting to throw hands. 

You couldn't decide whether to intervene and try to break them up or start running, but once again your body worked against you. Forcing your mind to turn blank and stay in place. Making you now watch the whole thing go down.

At first glance, you couldn't recognized who the men were yet you couldn't help the strange feeling that you were meant to be here. Somehow this was related to you. You felt it deep down.

You tried analyzing them as they continued, trying your best not to be seen.

One of the men was a lot shorter than the other and had greasy shaggy dark brown hair underneath a worn out black knit hat with baggy clothes.

While the other one taller, and more muscular. Mostly wearing tight fit leather. His dark brown hair was longer than the other one, resting just above his shoulders. Black and white paint covering his face as some type of mask.

His hits being more calculated and precise going against the others, who was becoming more and more sloppy by the minute.

As the two men start to taunt each other. Somehow neither seemed to notice you as you stood there in fear. Your heart sinking when you hear one of the men starting to speak. You recognized that voice, clear as day.

The short man was Skank. He was apart of T-Bird's gang, who worked for none other than Top Dollar.

Shit. You need to leave now.

Finally, you were able to slowly make yourself move backwards as your feet stumbled on themselves. You tried your best not to make any noise, not even risking breathing. You couldn't help your eyes from being glued to them.

"I-I know you. You're that guy we had to straighten out cause you and your partner were protesting Top Dollar's tenant relocation program. B-But you're supposed to be dead. We killed you, dead." Skank mumbled, slightly laughing in disbelief at the end.

This made you stop. Your body turning cold.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Remember a few months before the attack, gathering other tenants to protest. But that wasn't what was making your nerves go wild.

It was who Skank was fighting with.

No. There was no way. He has to be talking about someone else.

You didn't even want to think of the possibility of seeing Eric again. Knowing that there was no possible way that could ever happen.

But why did he look so familiar? When you heard the strangers voice, deep down you knew.

"I guess not all things that die, stay dead." His voice was deep and raspy, showing off his classic sarcasm that reminded you of Eric before his death.

How could this be happening? There was no way that could be Eric. No way.

As your thoughts battled it out in your head as to if this was a dream or not, Skank began to laugh hysterically like he was losing his mind as well. Slowly starting to move his hand behind his back to retrieve the loaded gun resting on his waistband.

While you hadn't noticed, Eric did. Giving off an eerie smile before springing into action, darting right for Skank.

Not being quick enough as a gun shot ring out, causing you to let out a small shriek. Placing your hands upon your ears in an attempt to shelter them from the sharp pain booming through it. Dropping the wooden stick in the process. Closing your eyes to try and hid yourself, knowing fully well that it was useless.

Not being able to contain your breath anymore, you started to hyperventilate. Trying your best to get your breath under control but finding it almost impossible as it kept escaping you.

Not even realizing that the two men had turned their attention to you. Eric taking a second glance as he couldn't believe his eye. He was in complete disbelief that it was you standing right there. Eric assumed you died as well that night, seeing you there made his blood drain from his face.

As the pain in your ears started to die down, you slowly forced your eyes open. Blinking a few times before getting a clear picture as to what was going on. Seeing the two men wrestling to take control of the gun. Eric grabbing at Skank's face, trying to block his vision. Somehow Eric seemed completely fine for being just fired upon.

Was he hit at all? Was he hurt?

Panic fueling your body to run but when you looked at Eric, you knew that wasn't going to be possible.

Now you needed answers.

What was he doing here? How is he alive? How long has he been alive? A day? The whole year?

Not knowing if it was the sense of curiosity or the excitement of seeing Eric in the flesh that made your heart pound. Being completely convinced that this was all just a dream. 

Hearing another bang piercing through your ears once again, causing your body to flinch out of instinct. All this followed by a tight pressure coming from the side of your thigh. Even though it wasn’t painful, it was still enough to send your body to the cold ground. 

At first not realizing why until you began to see a pool of red liquid starting to collect underneath your leg. Knowing fully well now that you were Skank's target. Lucky for you, he has terrible aim. 

Hearing who you assumed to be Eric and Shank struggle against each other once again but you couldn't find the courage to look away from your wound.

Now feeling a strong burning sensation beginning to form on the right side of your thigh, pinpointing exactly where a bullet had ripped itself through your leg. Leaving a nickel sized hole in its place.

Quickly placing your hand on it, in an attempt to somehow ease the intense feeling that throbbed through your entire leg. Feeling a wet sticky substance slipping through your fingers.

Your body starting to jitter uncontrollably as darkness began to form around the edges of your vision. The world starting to go blurry around you.

A comforting hand suddenly resting on top of yours, causing you to jerk yourself back. Only for you to make eye contact with the worried gray eyes of Eric.

A sense of relief washing over you, a small smile resting on your lips. Quickly fading, when he applied a slight pressure to your injury, trying to stop the bleeding. Causing the pain to become more intense.

Your thoughts moving to Skank, hoping he was no longer a threat. You scanned the area, your sight landing on him running down the alleyway and disappearing as he rounded the corner of a building. Your vision starting to become more and more faint as you tried to focus.

You felt a gentle hand caressing your cheek, pulling your sight back to Eric.

"I need you to stay awake, y/n." You could hear the panic in Eric’s voice.

You tried to respond.

You wanted to tell him you were trying, that you missed him, that you loved him. Yet nothing but a slight whine came out.

The energy starting to leave your body as a dull ache started to form at the back of your head. Losing all control off your body as it went limp.

The darkness completely consuming your vision as your heart pounded.

Eventually not fighting it anymore and allowing sleep to take over as the world disappeared. The last thing you remembered was hearing Eric calling your name.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

brbrbbr i don't have as much of an idea for this but maybe like. reader has anger problems and is easy to piss off so eduardo is not the best person for them to be around but they were dating jon so they dealt with it for him, but now it's after his death and they and eduardo are both trying to mourn so they just start taking it out on each other and mark has to try and intervene before it goes too far (whether physical or someone just says something over the line)

Ironically you've given me an excellent angsty idea :3

...............

"I thought she said we were stupid."

"....I'm gonna-"

"Punch you in the face?" You scowled at Eduardo before he could fully finish the threat. "Because that's exactly what I'm gonna do if you dare fucking finish that statement."

He just returned the glare in kind. "You couldn't even hurt a-!"

"H-Hey, please don't fight here." Jon spoke up. He didn't like seeing the growing tension between you both, so he hugged your arm and tried to pull you away. Even though he knew you just had a bad temper, he was scared you'll actually hurt somebody one day.

"Come on, [y/n]...let's forget about these dumb ghosts and spirits and go back inside." He pleaded.

You glanced back at your boyfriend, sighing. "Whatever. He can deal with it on his own."

If it were up to you, both of you would've moved out so you didn't have to see Eduardo's stupid angry face all the time. But Jon insisted on staying, reassuring you that he might just be "jealous" for now..despite Mark telling you that he's always been like this and won't change.

You decided to suck it up whenever you visited them, occasionally bringing over diet cola so Eduardo would shut up and not bother you. Usually it worked, but other times he'd just glare at you and Jon--especially Jon--with envy.

After heading inside and going to Jon's room, you both cuddled on the bed together. Though you noticed he was still pouting as he put his head on your chest, which made you frown slightly.

"What's up, Jonny?" You ruffled his hair. "Talk to me."

"[Y/n], can you..at least try to get along with him better?"

"....I..umm..I don't-"

"I know he's not the best person to be around but..I-I'm just scared you'll leave me because you don't want to deal with him anymore. And I feel like..all the fighting is my fault."

"Wha...Jon, it's not your fault at all." You hugged him closely. "I love you, and there's no way in hell I'm breaking up with you just because of anything that dumbass says. I've been trying to manage my anger better, I promise. He just makes it..hard for me to have self-control sometimes."

"I believe you." Jon snuggled with you more. "But can you promise me you'll try? If I'm not around I..don't want you tearing the place up. Sure, there's Mark but I'd feel bad if-"

"Okay, okay. I promise I'll try to get along with him. For you."

"Yay! Thank you, sweetums." He giggled, smiling as he closed his eyes. "I know Eduardo can be a real jerk but I don't take what he says to heart. I think it's just his own..special way of showing friendship."

'Friendship my ass.' You thought, but you just sighed and tried to relax.

Maybe it was only jealousy. You'll never know for sure.

But if he had faith in you and Eduardo getting along then..you'll believe him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"You know, if it weren't for him I would've torn this place apart by now."

"Then what's stopping you? It's not like he's gonna walk through the door anymore."

"Don't go there, Eduardo..just don't." Clutching the necklace Jon had gifted you, you glared at Eduardo. He was sitting beside you, just blankly staring into his empty soda can. The bags under his eyes have become more prominent as time passed.

As every day since Jon's death passed.

Even now you could still recall that day clearly: he was dying in your arms, making a joke when Eduardo pleaded for him to say something, before begging you two to get along as his last wish.

Sadly, neither of you got to tell him whether you'll keep that promise.

In fact, given the exchange you two were having now, that promise seemed almost impossible to keep.

Of course, Eduardo had every right to grieve. But you couldn't understand why he's suddenly so remorseful after the fact..only after the damage was done and he couldn't take back what he said to Jon.

"I wish you were dead."

His words were just out of earshot to you, though you knew damn well who he was talking about and chewed him out for saying such things.

Little did you know...that bastard was gonna get his wish granted.

"Look, [y/n]...Jon was-"

"Was what?" Your impatience only grew. "An idiot? Your punching bag? Don't tell me he was your friend when all you've done was treat him like shit..like he was stupid."

"I didn't always treat 'im like that," Eduardo looked equally annoyed. "I valued him as a friend!"

"Well it's too damn bad he never got to hear that." Tears brimmed your eyes as you held the necklace to your chest. "You only care after he's gone...heartless bastard.."

Of course you were going to regret those words later on, but you didn't care. You didn't think the person who wished your boyfriend death had any right to feel this way.

His hands trembled as he held the mug, staring at you with wide eyes. "Y-You think..I'm heartless?!!"

"Yeah, you are! I bet you wanted him dead, didn't you?!" Your voice rose despite its shakiness. "All because you were so fucking jealous that he actually got a date and your lonely ass can't even keep a partner for a month!"

"S-Stop it.." Now you were pushing his buttons, reminding him of things that he didn't want to remember.

"I bet you're happy he's gone, I bet you're happy that explosion killed him-"

"WELL I WISH IT KILLED ME INSTEAD!!" He finally shouted at the top of his lungs, throwing the can to the floor and standing up. With clenched fists he glared down at you, seething red and his eyes tearful. "Every damn day I wish I died instead of him!! I-I may not be a good friend..I'll admit I'm fucking terrible. But god I never hated him or you!!"

You were stunned into silence, never realizing that's how he felt all along.

That he wanted to be the one who died instead..

Although your own hands were shaking, you didn't know what to do or say. But in that moment Mark decided to come in after hearing your argument turning for the worse.

"So much for my afternoon nap..." He rubbed his eyes, before gazing at you two sadly. "That's enough, guys. You can't keep doing this."

"Sh-Shut up, Mark." Eduardo stammered. "This doesn't-"

"I'm still living under this roof, so it concerns me too." The blonde sighed. "Listen, we're all hurt over losing Jon, regardless of how we may have acted towards him. This is not what he would've wanted..to see you two tear each other apart."

He was talking like a disappointed parent would, but there was truth to his words.

Eduardo just sniffled and wiped his sleeve over his eyes, sitting back down while being as far away from you as he could. You averted your gaze to fiddle with your necklace; there was a deep pit of regret in your stomach.

Only now you were starting to see the hypocrisy in yourself: you were hurting him by saying things you couldn't take back.

It never occurred to you until now, but...damn.

'Jon would never want me to turn out like him..'

Mark sat in the space between you both. "I understand you two don't have the best chemistry but..at least try to honor his wish. It would make me happy and less..awkward every time I walk in the room."

As he put both arms around you, he brought you and Eduardo closer. You just exchanged glances, still feeling bitter and sad about the words you've spoken.

Honestly, he could've kicked you out of the house and told you to never come back.

But he didn't.

Maybe he truly does want to get along with you, just as much as you wanted to get along with him.

In due time you might forgive each other and try again.

For Jon's sake.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Jealousy Isn't Good

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Tom Holland (characters) x fem!Reader (Arvin Russell and Peter Parker)

Words: 1953

Summary (requested by @peeves6261427): “jealous tom/arvin/peter where the reader knows they’re jealous and tries to tease them but then tom/arvin/peter just go FULL dom” 

Warnings: jealousy, smut, fluff, dom!Tom Holland (+ characters mentioned)

A/N - I fucking love a good angsty + smutty imagine... hope you like just as much as I did writing it AHAHA :) x 

TOM HOLLAND: 

Now, when it came to Tom’s jealous side, he was terribly awful at hiding it.

To your complete surprise, it was actually a recurring thing... It wasn't that Tom had trust issues, he just would notice how others would try to “flirt with you”, according to him.  

However, you struggled to see this and saw no harm in these interactions, as most of the time you believed people were just being friendly. 

When he did become jealous he acted like a complete, stubborn child.

He would give you short, sharp answers, always be temperamental. 

Often in the moment you’d catch him making quick glances at you as you’d be talking to whomever. 

He’d take a deep breath in, his fists would clench to the point his knuckles turned white. 

“Tom, love, you’re doing it again...” 

Tom knew how to calm himself, however his mood would be foul for the day. 

He had a reputation to hold and did not want to jeopardise that, even if it took him all his strength to not even speak against it. 

He really hated the way some would stare at you, eyeing you up and down, especially at premieres where you were all dolled up. 

Tom would become super protective, especially amongst places where there were crowds upon crowds of people: you found that his arm would always be tightly wrapped around your waist. 

Occasionally, a verbal fight would even break out between the two of you because of this... Until Tom would realise your perspective. 

“And what about you Tom?! What about the millions of girls across the world that worship you? Do you see me complaining and whining?” 

You were happiest with Tom, and you’d mentioned it repeatedly to him... He knew you were with him for the long run, he just despised the fact that people didn’t realise this. 

He’d be the type that needed reassurance that you only had eyes for him, and to make up for his childish behaviour... Sex was the only answer.  

This also was the best way he could showcase his dominance over you: he was always in complete control when it came to sex, especially after an episode of jealousy. 

Tom would definitely be the type to leave love marks all over you, hickeys were his thing. He’d try not to leave them in obvious places where your skin would be exposed, again for his reputation especially with kids, however on the rare occasion that he’d lose himself... There wasn't nothing that a decent palette of makeup couldn’t cover up!

God sometimes he’d even surprise you with a quick, soft bite on your skin... He was playful like that. 

Definitely loves to spank you, again seeing his red hand-print form on your ass cheek just sparks joy in him like nothing else. 

And Tom, definitely loves being called Daddy. 

Nonetheless, it was a flaw in Tom’s character... He was the jealous type and it was something you were okay to live with. 

ARVIN RUSSELL: 

Now this man... Would literally go off. Not immediately, it would just constantly be building up inside until he could no longer keep the fury bottled up. 

Having to pick up Lenora from school, you also took to this privilege, which always meant Arvin would be waiting right outside for the two of you. He was protective like that. 

He was also, however, an impatient man: thus, on the occasional days that a few of your colleagues took up your time after school for a quick chat, often about an assignment or homework... He’d grown quite enraged. 

Especially due to the fact that he'd rarely see you during the weekdays from being busy with school. He didn’t want to attend and rather just work, although it took a toll very so often that he’d miss you. 

Being such a small town, didn't help the cause, whether it was walking down the street arm in arm, or catching up at the local diner, someone would stop and chat, minimising your time together even more. 

However, the jealousy would strike most with other male counterparts. 

Arvin, according to his own words “knew what these boys in this town were thinking...” 

For his age, and greatly due to his unfortunate circumstances growing up, Arvin mentally and emotionally matured rapidly for his age. 

Physically, he was also quite strong and didn’t hesitate when faced with a threat. 

Especially after the incident with Lenora and the boys at school... Arvin had a reputation that was built on sheer intimidation. No one dared to mess with anything that even remotely “belonged” to him. 

And he’d made it very clear that you were his. 

However on the downside, when a boy was “downright stupid” (again according to Arvin), and took a chance on you, or even tried to take advantage of you... Arvin would violently lash out. 

It was hard to intervene, especially when matters got physical. 

Arvin was obviously the dominant one: he’d precisely plan his attacks, when exactly to strike. 

Word would spread, and yet everyone would keep quiet... Some would even argue that Arvin did the right thing for standing by you.

“I-I just don't want people thinking the wrong things about you, baby.”   

However you did mention how upset you’d become, witnessing Arvin taking matters into his own hands: and worst of all, you’d hate seeing him hurt with minor wounds to show. 

During these times after the altercations, would be the most intimate. Arvin would apologise and promise to try never to lash out again, although you knew that was a lie. 

It was these moments he showed his most vulnerable side: he’d confess to how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to keep you safe and overall, how much he’d love you. 

“You are the absolute world to be Y/N, baby... You need to know I’d do anything for you.” 

Bless him, you thought. You knew violence was never an answer, although considering Arvin’s upbringing, it was mostly all he’d known, all that he was exposed to. 

“God, Arvin... I can take care of myself, you know that. A-And if I do ever get in trouble, you know you’ll be the first one I come to.” 

However what he dreaded the most was being apart from you. The fear that when you weren't together that’s when something terrible would befall you, killed him deep down and regardless of what you said, or no matter how confident you were of protecting yourself... He knew he’d always be there until he planned for the two of you to leave this “godforsaken town.” 

And of course, the sex helped him a lot. 

Arvin was the dominant one in the relationship throughout everything. He felt he needed to be in control, and obviously still took into consideration your thoughts and feelings.

However when it came to matters of life and death or even remotely close to your safety, he took serious. He prioritised your safety over his own, and that said a lot. 

When I tell you this man would have a breeding kink, I meant it: having children did frighten him a little, although the thought of having them with you, made him feel motivated to have a family of his own. 

He loves when you dry hump the fuck out him, seeing how you moan his name as your face to face with one another, the way your tits be jiggling/jumping the more intense you got. 

He preferred to have sex in remote, isolated locations. He preferred to silence and peace of mind. Only being in each other’s company. 

Often the sex happened in his car, and the moments after would be intimate just like after a fight. 

He loved you and you loved him... You both knew you were meant for one another. 

PETER PARKER: 

Having met Pete, there was no way you’d thought there could ever be a bad bone in him, however it seemed even the perfect Peter Parker struggled with a few minor flaws. 

Peter tended to get jealous, however over specific people that he saw as a threat. 

He was extremely calculative, and knew who posed a risk to his relationship with you.

He often wouldn’t speak up about it, letting it slide and seeking advice from Ned and Aunt May on what to do, however they’d often persuade him to believe it was nothing major to worry about, and that you only had eyes for him. 

And they couldn't be more right. 

Peter trusted you greatly, as you did with him. 

He didn't trust the cocky guys that would shoot their shot with you, and often it did infuriate him. 

At nights, when he was out overlooking the city for whoever would need the help of their friendly, neighbourhood Spider-man, he’d take the time to contemplate to himself. 

However, if he got really desperate for some help, he’d even ask his fellow Avengers... Tony wasn't much of a help, he’d just tell him to either spoil the hell out of you, “take her out to a nice restaurant, the chicks dig that intimacy shit.” 

Steve, on the other hand, was actually the most helpful. 

And they had all met you (and adored you), so they knew exactly who Peter was dealing with.

“Just talk to Y/N, I’m sure she’ll be most understanding... Usually when a guy feels this way about a girl, it means you want to take things seriously,” Captain reasoned. 

And from their Peter knew exactly what he had to do. 

Dates was a regular think, you made sure of that! Despite needing to balance school, work and Peter’s hectic life as an Avenger... You both proudly managed well. 

So taking both Tony’s and Capt’s relationship advice into consideration, Peter thought it would be perfect to just say what he needed to say.

“L-Look Y/N... I know I may not often say it or be the perfect boyfriend, but I-I just wanted to say...” 

God you loved how nervous he'd get. 

“What is it Pete?” You intervene with a bright smile on your face, trying to encourage him to just speak his mind. 

And it seemed to have worked, as his tense shoulders had finally relaxed and he returned with a smile. 

“I-I love you, Y/N. I mean, I-I really am so in love with you. It just bothers me that I see you talking to some guys a-and to think that maybe, one day... They might convince you to leave me.” 

Your heart broke silently to a thousand pieces: not only was this the first time Peter actually said the words “I love you”, however to hear that this was what had been worrying him this entire time. 

“Peter, please don’t ever think that! I could nor would I ever, leave someone as brilliant and caring as you... I love you, Pete, you need to know this.” 

And after what would have been the most sacred dates of your life, you knew exactly how to end the perfect night. 

As you both had politely left the restaurant, thanking the staff for their incredible food and service, you turned to Peter, your hands cupping his chiselled face. 

“Now how about you show me just how much you love me, huh?” 

Sex with Peter was often gentle and very personal. 

He wasn't over-the-top in control, always making sure you were comfortable and relaxed. 

However when you both had gotten into the rhythm of things... A whole, new side of him would peak. 

Definitely a boob guy... He’s rough hands would always be massaging your tits, especially when he ate you the fuck out. 

[issaxcharlie]

If you could only know I never let you go

Pairing: Ghost! Luke x Ghost! Fem reader

Summary: Y/N lost her life the same day as her best friends and her boyfriend, wandering for 25 years finally finds them again doing the concert they never had a chance to do, just to find out they are dying all over again and she just doesn't know how to react.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. 25 years wandering around this city, looking for him. And now here it was, shining on stage just like the last time she saw him. Flashbacks from that last night flooding her head.

She couldn't help feeling strange seeing the way the love of her life was looking at someone else, but on the other hand, seeing the three of them again, happy and doing what they love the most in the world, made her feel blissful.

Their number ended and her best friends disappeared from the stage. At that moment the young ghost decided that her best move would be to follow the beautiful singer who accompanied them, Julie.

She couldn't believe it when she saw the place they came to. For years she visited this garage day after day hoping to meet her beloved band, but after 10 years she decided to give up. Y/N didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony of the situation, but as soon as she appeared in the studio she decided that the best option would be crying.

The three of them lying on the ground, suffering, in so much pain, without strength. Julie crying at their side begging them to do something about it.

“You dorks can't even stay ghosts? You are definitely a lost case."

Julie turns to see her surprised, her face is full of tears and she squeezes Luke's hand hard as she strokes Reggie's hair. Reggie and Alex try to turn their heads towards their friend's voice, while Luke keeps her eyes closed.

"I have Y/N’s voice in my head just like the first time we died, I guess it’s time to say goodbye, boys."

“You are not dying on me again Luke Patterson, not freaking way.” Luke snaps his eyes open when he hears her voice for the second time and she teleports to his side.

“This is actually happening?” He asks while using the little strength he has left to caress her cheek.

"That's the same thing I thought when I heard you guys singing pop-rock." The three ghosts let out a painful laugh, touching their chest in a gesture of pain, with the exception of the guitarist who endured it so as not to stop touching the woman in front of him.

"What a pleasure to know that even after death and that your best friends and your boyfriend are about to disappear you continue to maintain your horrible sense of humor." Alex comments with a slight smile.

“You are not going to disappear. I’ve been waiting for you for 25 years, I’m getting the feeling that you are running away from me." All three know that joking is a defense mechanism that she activates when she's scared. Y/N tries to be calm but she’s shaking and tears are falling one after another from her face.

“I'm so happy that I got to see you one last time, firecracker." She reaches him desperately trying to hold on to the love of her life, and he uses the strenght he has left to hug her one last time.

But the unexpected hits them again, and a bright yellow light envelops him as he regains his strength. The others quickly approach and the five form a messy hug. When they break the hug the three ghosts look much stronger and in better condition, even smiling between tears.

"I leave you alone for 25 years and you manage to find a way to lose your soul forever, I will never underestimate your power to get into trouble again."

"I thought we had shown you how capable we are in that department, Y/N." Reggie replies while hugging his friend.

"Julie, Y/N is our best friend, composer of half the songs and Luke's personal headache."

"Hey! I thought that were you guys! But it’s a pleasure to meet you, Julie."

The singer hugs the new ghost and smiles, looking relieved to have her friends better thanks to her.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?” Y/N asks Luke, that only looks at her in silence.

“You look just like I remember you. how much time passed from our death to yours?” he manages to ask almost in a whisper, as if hoping she wouldn't hear him to not hear the sad answer.

“Same night. Let's say driving after you found out your boyfriend and friends died is a terrible idea.”

“Oh god, Y/N.” Alex hugs her and looks at his friends in silence.

“I thought you were somewhere in this city with a house, a husband, even children. It seems impossible that you are in front of me right now."

“What can I say? Lifers are no longer my type, and none of the rockstar ghosts I ran into rock sleeveless shirts like you.”

He chuckles while blushing, finally coming to terms with the idea that his person was actually in front of him, looking just as precious as 25 years ago, even though for him it had only been a few weeks since he last saw her.

All these time he had been blocking his memories of the young composer, but now that she was next to him he had the luxury of remembering one.

1995

"Can you explain why you have been running away from me? I thought we were stronger than this, if there is something that bothers you, just tell me Lucas, I’m a big girl."

The guitarist couldn’t help but smile at the grand entrance of his girlfriend. Y/N has always had a pretty chilling personality but at the same time she was as explosive as him, sometimes even more.

“First of all, Lucas, really?” The girl lets out a small laugh when she sees her boyfriend's expression, and her body looks visibly more relaxed.

“Second of all, I’m sorry beautiful. It's not that I'm running away from you." She rolls her eyes.

“I’m just... embarrased. I’m not in a good moment right know, and even some fries are out of my possibilities. It makes me angry that I can't give you anything you deserve.”

The young woman's strong and joking personality fades and her face only shows concern. She takes her boyfriend's face carefully and brings his face close to hers, their lips almost touching.

“All I want is to spend time with you. Nothing makes me happier than when you wink at me in the middle of a performance, or when you sing softly in my ear to help me fall asleep. You are the only thing I've ever wanted.”

At that moment Luke takes her by the waist to bring her even closer to him and finally close the small space that remained between them, savoring the lips of the woman who from the day he met knew was going to be his biggest addiction.

"Also, when you are the legend I know you will be, we’ll be able to buy all the fries in the world." He laughed in her lips and kiss her harder.

From the moment he met her when they were 12 years old, Y/N was the one who always kept him on his feet, trusting blindly and faithfully in Sunset Curve, sometimes even more than the 3 boys. That strength, humor and energy was what made Luke's life happier despite going through unpleasant moments. And now here she was, picking them up once more, 25 years later.

2020

Luke returned his attention to his friends just in time to intervene.

“Reggie, please tell me you are doing that country song!” His girlfriend was not only supportive with him, but also with his best friends who loved her as much as him.

“Not happening firecracker, stop encouraging him.” He said putting his hand around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

“What? I heard you sing pop, Luke. I’m pretty sure the kid can sing country If he wants to.”

“Preach it!” Said Julie with a smile while Reggie started laughing.

“Buuurneeeed” Alex replied giving his friend a high five.

“And what’s up with the suits? Not that I’m complaining, you look hot popstar.” She asks teasingly, giving her boyfriend a cheeky wink.

“That’s it Y/L.” Luke teletransported with his girlfriend, appearing back at the roof of the Orpheum.

They both stared for a few seconds until a smile invaded their faces.

"I know I didn't act like a normal girlfriend in there, just, it's hard to pretend you're okay after such a shock." The guitarist rests his forehead on his girl's, gently stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"I knew you needed to breathe , and I've never expected you to act like a normal girlfriend anyway. You weren't even a normal friend." He replies, her laugh does the trick and calms him down instantly.

“Luke?” Y/N asks brushing his lips with the corner of hers.

“Yeah?” He replies, hypnotized by the woman of his life and now death.

“Kiss me.” Luke didn’t know that even in death you can feel more alive than ever with the right person, but now he was ready to do it every day of his afterlife. The firecracker and the ROCKstar(as he claimed) were together again, and nothing is going to separe them this time.

Add yourself to taglist HERE

[robininthelabyrinth]

prompt: after their father died, the Nie bros were raised by Wen Ruohan, and are forced to survive in the backstabbing tangle of Nightless City politics.

Congratulations! You have also won the “I didn’t mean to write this much” fic prompt lottery, to the tune (again) of about 30k. I hope you enjoy!

Note: any fic warnings will be only on Ao3

-

Fire and Light (ao3) - part 1

“It’ll be all right,” Nie Mingjue murmured to Nie Huaisang, who was curled in his arms, shaking and terrified. The carriage rumbled and lurched around them, traveling down the long path to the Nightless City, where they would now be staying. “It’ll be all right. We’ll manage, somehow.”

He didn’t believe a word he said, of course. How could everything be all right?

Their father was dead. Murdered – it was rather unquestionable at this point. Wen Ruohan had broken his saber from a distance, driving him mad, and Nie Mingjue had known it was Wen Ruohan, but no one had believed him. No one had wanted to help, to intervene, to take action. Even at home, they’d just started resigning themselves to having to take care of Lao Nie as he died by inches when the murderer himself had shown up at the Unclean Realm to ‘help’ them in their moment of need.

Even half-mad, their father had tried to fight back.

Wen Ruohan had put him down like a rabid dog, wringing his neck and tossing him aside.

He’d then announced that Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, now orphans, would be brought back to the Nightless City and taken into the Wen sect to be his wards, to be appropriately reeducated and brought up well. Brought up properly.

And as for the rest of the Nie sect –

At least they survived, Nie Mingjue reminded himself. Even if they have to work for the Wen sect, even if the sun banner flies in the Unclean Realm…at least they’re not dead.

At least Huaisang is with me.

He didn’t know what to expect when they arrived. He didn’t think it would be anything good.

-

Their rooms in the Nightless City were large, but cold.

They were wards of the great Sect Leader Wen, they were told when they arrived. That meant that they would be treated with respect, as if they were truly young masters of the Wen sect. They would get the best tutors, the best clothing, the best food and drink…they would be masters of the world, if only they bowed their heads and were obedient.

(If they were not obedient, they would be punished. The exact nature of that punishment remained – unspecified.)

“Are they going to hurt us?” Nie Huaisang whispered late at night, curled up in Nie Mingjue’s bed. He’d been hiding in his own, shaking and terrified, until Nie Mingjue had crept out to check on him, daring the unspecified punishment if it meant confirming his brother was all right. Obviously Nie Mingjue couldn’t leave him like that, so he’d brought him back. “Are they going to do to us what they did to a-Die?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, with moderate confidence. “They’re not. They’ve put in too much effort, made this all too public, to kill us now. Though I’m not ruling out the possibility that they might freeze us to death by accident. How is it so cold here? It’s south of Qinghe! The climate should be more temperate, not less! And have they never heard of tapestries?”

“Da-ge…”

“Don’t think I don’t feel those ice-blocks you call feet at my waist!”

Nie Huaisang giggled, as Nie Mingjue had intended. “You’re being silly, da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue pretended to huff angrily, tossing his head like a bull, and it made Nie Huaisang giggle again, the way it always had. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll keep you warm, I guess. It’s my duty as your da-ge, isn’t it?”

“What’s my duty?” Nie Huaisang wanted to know.

“To be my spoiled brat of a didi, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, the way he always did, but this time Nie Huaisang shook his head in denial.

“Now that we’re here,” he clarified, looking at Nie Mingjue with wide, trusting eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

Nie Mingjue knew, as Nie Huaisang did not, why their lives had been spared: it all lay in that word, reeducated. They would be indoctrinated into Wen sect beliefs, Wen sect customs, and by the time they were sent back to rule Qinghe as Wen Ruohan’s puppets, they would be more Wen than Nie. Even for him, it would be difficult to resist; for someone as young as Nie Huaisang, with his childish memories already slipping through his fingers like sand, it would be virtually impossible.

Asking him to resist would serve no purpose but to torment him when he inevitably failed.

“Be happy, didi,” he finally said, and pressed his lips to Nie Huaisang’s forehead. “Be happy as you can, as you always have. Don’t let them take away your smile.”

-

The next day, they were introduced to Wen Xu and Wen Chao, the actual young masters of Qishan, sons of Wen Ruohan. Wen Xu was a handful of years older than Nie Mingjue, eighteen to his nearly-fifteen, while Wen Chao was less than two years older than Nie Huaisang. Neither of them seemed happy to see them, scowls fixed firmly on their faces, sneers of disdain twisting their lips.

“Do you train the saber?” Wen Xu asked Nie Mingjue, who raised an eyebrow of ‘what do you think I train’ in return. “A boorish weapon, but then I suppose your ancestors were butchers.”

“I look forward to taking classes with you,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking to himself that one didn’t have to be especially clever to know the history the Nie sect proudly proclaimed at every turn. “They’re clearly very enriching.”

Wen Xu blinked at him and then turned his face away, his lips pressed together – whether in annoyance or, possibly, a sense of humor very deeply buried, it was difficult to tell.

“Father has expectations of you,” he finally said instead of responding to Nie Mingjue’s jibe, and there was no humor in his face now. “You’ll meet them, of course.”

Unspoken was that they couldn’t afford not to. Either of them.

Nie Mingjue lowered his head. His entire sect – all his cousins, aunts, uncles, whether surnamed Nie or not – were back in Qinghe, closely watched by Wen sect commanders. There was a sword to their throat, and therefore also to his.

He, too, could not afford to disappoint Wen Ruohan.

Wen Xu’s shoulders relaxed a little when he saw Nie Mingjue’s submission – he had clearly been charged with their care, and had just as clearly worried about his ability to fulfill his mission should they choose to rebel – and he nodded, more to himself than to them. “There’s classrooms, and training grounds,” he said. “I’ll show you where they are, as well as the dining room – there are set times for meals, and attendance is mandatory – and of course the necessaries. You don’t need more than that, at least to start.”

“Are there rules we should keep in mind?” Nie Mingjue asked, thinking about his brief visit to Gusu.

“Many,” Wen Xu said. His expression was stormy. “Some of them are even spoken aloud.”

-

“Da-ge! Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang ran up to him, lip quivering and eyes glistening wet with tears. It was a very sad, even heart-rending sight; it used to send Nie Mingjue into a frenzy to see him like that. But by now he’d learned better and he didn’t even blink, even though Wen Xu faltered, his sword twisting off in the middle of their spar as if he expected Nie Mingjue to lose focus at a key moment and injure himself. He wouldn’t, of course, and he instead used the moment to tap Wen Xu’s sword pointedly with Baxia, claiming the point. “Da-ge, I fell down again!”

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue said to Wen Xu, and turned to kneel before Nie Huaisang. “Did you, now?”

“Uh-huh!”

“And did you hurt yourself?”

“I did!” Nie Huaisang stuck his hand out. There was, maybe, a bruise on his wrist. If one squinted. It was probably just mud, actually. “It hurts awful, da-ge. Kiss it better?”

“That doesn’t really work,” Wen Chao scoffed, only a few steps behind Nie Huaisang.

“Shut up, it does,” Nie Huaisang shot back, temporarily forgetting that he was supposed to be pitiful, and turned back to Nie Mingjue. “Well, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue nodded solemnly. “It’s my job,” he agreed, gathering Nie Huaisang up into his arms and pressing his lips to the ‘wound’, using the motion to infuse a little bit of spiritual energy as well. Not enough to actually make a difference, and certainly not enough to justify Nie Huaisang promptly declaring himself all better, but he liked to do it anyway – a little connection between them.

Wen Chao looked at them both in suspicion, his brow wrinkling. “That doesn’t really work,” he said again, but his voice was weaker this time, more questioning.

“It does too work,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Maybe if you’re really nice, I’ll let da-ge fix you up too next time you fall down.”

“I’m not going to fall down! I’m not a baby like you!”

“Everyone falls down sometimes. There’s nothing shameful about it,” Nie Mingjue said, and pointed to a bruise on his own face. “I myself fell down just a little while ago. Your brother helped. Several times.”

Wen Chao gaped at him, even as Nie Huaisang giggled.

“And Huaisang? You’re already very good at being a big baby and we all know it. You can stop practicing your skills at any time.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him, still laughing.

Nie Mingjue ruffled his hair and sent them both away, Nie Huaisang in the lead and Wen Chao following after, the latter shooting strange looks back at Nie Mingjue over his shoulder.

“You’re too soft on him,” Wen Xu said from behind him, even as Nie Mingjue rose to his feet. “He won’t thank you for it, later.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Later is later,” he said philosophically. “Now is now. Can you show me that move you did earlier, kicking out my feet? It was very well done.”

Wen Xu stared at him. “The one – where I knocked you to the ground?”

“That’s the one. Do it again, just slower; it’ll be hard for me to pick it up, otherwise.”

“You’re just asking – no, never mind. Don’t you care that I beat you with it?”

“…no?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. Was this some sort of weird Qishan Wen hang-up? “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t lose?”

“In training, like everyone else.”

“That’d only teach me how to win when everything goes right,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “I want to learn how to win even when I’m losing. Here, you show me that and I’ll show you the trick I did this morning, with the disarming.”

Wen Xu tensed up. “I don’t need your tricks.”

I don’t need your pity, he meant, and Nie Mingjue didn’t understand him at all. Wen Xu was at home, his little brother safe, his sect secure – why would Nie Mingjue pity him?

“Consider it a favor to me, then,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking back to how his uncle used to handle the especially prickly tempers in their sect, which was never short on them. “My grasp on the move isn’t that good – teaching it to someone else is the best way for me to improve my own understanding.”

Wen Xu hesitated for a while, thinking it over as if he thought there was some sort trap in the offer – what trap it might be, Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure – but then he nodded.

“All right then,” he said arrogantly. “I won’t even count it as a favor. Consider it a gift, since you’re so new here.”

-

They were there for about a month by the time they met some other people their age.

It was enough time to start to get used to the monotony of it all. They woke up in the morning and were free until breakfast – Nie Mingjue often got in some extra saber training, Nie Huaisang usually slept in – at which point they would meet in the cold, miserable dining hall with enough space to fit two dozen people but which only ever had the four of them, being served by voiceless servants.

They would remain there for enough time to burn a stick of incense at minimum, half a shichen at the maximum, and then they would proceed to their classes. There would be alternating classes and training, all based on some mystifying schedule that seemed to change every day but which clearly had some sort of order based on the boredom with which the Wen heirs regarded it, but always lunch and dinner in the same cold dining room, all alone, same as ever.

It was therefore a surprise when they came down for breakfast and found two other children there: a pale-faced girl about Wen Chao’s age or a little older and a skinny, shy-looking boy closer to Nie Huaisang’s. They were wearing Wen colors, but that didn’t mean anything – so were the rest of them. Neither Nie Mingjue nor Nie Huaisang had been allowed to bring any of their Nie robes to the Nightless City other than the ones they’d been wearing, and those had been splattered with blood. Nie Mingjue had carefully preserved them and still intended on finding a time to go try to see if he could salvage them in the wash, just as soon as he figured out where the laundry was.

His own new robes, in garish Wen colors that made him feel sick every time he looked down, itched and pulled on his body when he moved – they were badly sized. It seemed the seamstresses of the Nightless City hadn’t been expecting someone of his size and shape, although the array of robes he’d found in the closet made him realize, with gut-churning nausea, that he had been expected, that Wen Ruohan had prepared in advance to receive his new wards long before he had committed the act of murder to obtain them.

He hadn’t complained about the discomfort of the badly sized clothing – he hadn’t dared – but Wen Xu had been irritable about it for days now. Based on his rants, it seemed like he suspected that someone had made the robes ill-fitting on purpose to restrict Nie Mingjue’s full range of motion, a scheme designed to make Nie Mingjue humiliate Wen Xu in front of his father when the right size clothing finally did come in.

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the calculations Wen Xu made, the paranoia involved – who would do something like that? why? what would even be the point? – and he didn’t especially want to, either.

He looked at the other two children. The girl stared down at her food, not making eye contact, but the boy stole glances at him – perhaps he and Nie Huaisang were as much as of a surprise to them as they were to him.

“Good morning,” he said to them. “My brother and I are surnamed Nie. What about you?”

Wen Xu snorted loudly, rolling his eyes. “They’re Wen,” he said scathingly. “Our cousins, from one of collateral branches of the family; the ones in the mountains. Father has taken the two of them on as his wards on account of their unfortunate circumstances and promising talent.”

“Unfortunate circumstances?” Nie Huaisang wondered aloud, and Nie Mingjue sighed to himself at the sheer rudeness of the direct question. “What’s so unfortunate?”

“Our p-parents are dead,” the boy told him quietly, stuttering a little.

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Ours too.”

There was a moment of silence, the entire room disbelieving, and then Nie Mingjue started laughing.

The sound of his laughter verged on the hysterical, hurting his throat, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Not because it was funny, of course, it wasn’t funny, would never be funny, it was still raw and burning and painful. It probably would be for the rest of his undoubtedly short life. But news travelled fast in the cultivation world, and while he couldn’t say for sure, Nie Mingjue suspected he’d be hard pressed to find someone who hadn’t heard about Wen Ruohan murdering the old Nie sect leader and taking his children by now.

Judging by the horrified expressions on the Wen cousins’ faces, they definitely had, and the sheer awkwardness that paralyzed the entire room just made the entire thing pathetically – well, laughable.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang hissed, cheeks turning red, but he was smiling a little, too, mostly out of the infectiousness of Nie Mingjue’s laughter. “Don’t embarrass me!”

Nie Mingjue leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Extra etiquette lessons for a week.”

“No!”

“Someone has to teach you to think before you speak,” Nie Mingjue said, still chuckling involuntarily with the aftereffects of his bout of inappropriate humor. “Not every thought that passes through your brain has to reach your tongue, you know. Consider holding some back. Cultivate an aura of mystery.”

Nie Huaisang grumbled and went back to picking at his food.

“Aren’t you going to punish him?” the girl asked suddenly. She was staring straight at Nie Mingjue. “You didn’t embarrass him. He embarrassed you.”

“I’m his older brother,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “If he’s not embarrassed by me and I’m not mortified by him, something’s clearly wrong –”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wailed.

Nie Mingjue put some extra meat into his bowl to apologize for teasing, and Nie Huaisang subsided, making faces at him as he did.

“You’re weird,” Wen Chao announced.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think so, but all the Wens averted their eyes away from him as if they were silently agreeing, so maybe he was.

-

It turned out that the girl’s name was Wen Qing and the boy, her brother, was called Wen Ning.

“Don’t any of you have courtesy names?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little desperately, and it turned out that the Wen sect had the strange tradition of referring to people by their given names until they were properly acknowledged. Acknowledged as what wasn’t specified, but they all seemed to have a sense of definitiveness about it, as if expecting it to happen at some distant date.

Qinghe had the exact opposite tradition – given names were for immediate family only, sometimes a secret kept just to the parents, and everyone else went straight to using the courtesy name almost immediately after the first month ceremony.

“But you haven’t done anything by then,” Wen Ning said, worrying his lip with his teeth. Nie Huaisang had been devastated to discover that despite being small and thin as a stick, Wen Ning was exactly three weeks older than him – he’d been looking forward to calling someone didi for once, and now he was off sulking about finding himself the youngest yet again. Nie Mingjue was sure he’d get over it quickly. “Nothing impressive, nothing worthy of acclaim…what can a baby possibly do to deserve getting a name so early?”

“They were born, they are alive,” Nie Mingjue said. “What more do they need to do? Isn’t that worthy of recognition all on its own?”

He got strange looks again.

It turned out that Wen Qing was the talented one of the pair – she was training to be a doctor, and all her teachers spoke very highly of her.

“That’s wonderful,” Nie Mingjue said, and meant it. “Medical skills are a rare pearl that ought to be treasured; with the world always in need, there can never be too many doctors. I look forward to being treated by you in the future.”

Wen Qing blinked owlishly at him. It appeared that she was unaccustomed to praise.

“If you ever need someone to practice on, let me know,” he tried – he knew pretty words were far from his forte, and actions were better anyway – but that didn’t seem to help.

“I’m not good at anything,” Wen Ning volunteered, wringing his hands. “Jiejie refused to leave me at home by myself, but I’m not - good. At things.”

“Everyone is good at something,” Nie Mingjue assured him, the words coming much easier this time – he knew this particular routine well, given Nie Huaisang’s routinely poor physical performance in a sect that placed such a premium on it. “Some have strengths that are lauded by society, others merely ones that give color to it, but both are valuable and worthy of praise. You will find your talent, given time.”

Wen Ning appeared rather dazed by the concept. “But – what if I look for my talent and it turns out I really am no good at anything?”

“Then you’ll be good at being cared for,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “Someone has to keep us older siblings in business with something to do.”

“Oh,” Wen Ning said, hugging himself until his face turned red, and then he ran away.

Nie Mingjue watched him go, feeling a little helpless. He hadn’t meant at all to be cruel, or condescending, or whatever it was that had so affected Wen Ning. Why was it, he wondered, that whenever he addressed those surnamed Wen, everything he did seemed to end up having the wrong reaction?

[petersasteria]

Raising You - Holland!Reader

Holland!Reader || Main || Taglist

Requested? Nah. 1,941 words TW: character deaths, swear words, nothing super bad

I was supposed to post this on Mother's Day, but it wasn't ready by then and I didn't know the direction of this story. But yeah. Here it is now. Enjoy.

* * * *

“I hate you!” You screamed. “Why do you always ruin things for me?! You’re no fun at all!” Tears were streaming down your face as you ran up the stairs to go to your room.

Tom followed you and said, “Tough luck, Y/N! I love you and whether you like it or not, I’ll always meddle in your life!”

“Go away!” You shouted, went into your room, and slammed the door. Tom furiously knocked on the door and let out a frustrated sigh when he heard you lock it.

He rubbed his face and went downstairs to cool off. He walked in the living room and saw a framed picture of both of you. He smiled at the sight and immediately went to grab the picture. “When did you grow up?” He asked himself quietly.

Things were different. His life was difficult. He no longer had parents and his brothers perished in a terrible accident. All he had left was you. He could’ve followed his dreams and took his talent to Hollywood, but life was cruel. He never got a chance to do that because his family mattered more to him than any film career.

Tom couldn’t remember a time when he had a decent break. To him, he was always working and on the go just to get by. But he knew that his parents would be proud of him for stepping up at being the best brother for you.

Tonight was just different.

He got a call from your school saying that you left prom with one of the douche-y dudes. It was just fitting that Harrison was with him, so he had some help in dealing with you.

“Haz, I’m really worried. She could be anywhere!” Tom said as he paced back and forth, clutching his phone.

“Mate, calm down. We’ll find her, alright?” Harrison said calmly. “Have you called her?”

“Yes, and she didn’t answer. I left 20 fucking voicemails, Haz! Fucking 20! Still no answer. I called her friends and they said they didn’t know where she went and obviously that’s bullshit! What if she was kidnapped? O-Or killed somewhere and she’s dead in a ditch in the middle of fucking nowhere??” Tom rambled, running a hand through his hair frustratedly.

Harrison looked at his worried best friend and only said three words, “Check your wallet.”

“What?” Tom stopped pacing to look at him. Harrison shrugged, “Check your wallet.”

“We have no time to shop online right now, Harrison.” Tom said through gritted teeth, but grabbed his wallet anyway. He opened his wallet and he still didn’t know what he was supposed to look for. As if reading his mind, Harrison added, “Check your credit card or debit card or whatever fucking card you have. Check your cash.”

Tom did what he was told and groaned in frustration, “Y/N took my credit card and she took the fake ID that I confiscated from her.”

Harrison nodded and pointed to the phone, “Call the bank and ask for your recent activity.”

Tom called the bank and asked what his recent activity was. They told him that he checked into a motel about three minutes ago and gave him the address. Tom has certainly never been there and it baffled him on how you wound up in a place like that. Tom thanked the bank and hung up.

“She’s at a motel.”

Just like that, the two best friends got in Tom’s car and drove to the motel. Tom was too nervous to drive, so Harrison drove instead. Tom was looking out his window to see where the motel was and they eventually found it. Harrison parked the car and they both got out.

They went to the person in charge and asked if they'd seen you. “She was wearing a prom dress and she’s with some guy who was probably wearing a tux.” Tom explained.

“Yeah, I know those two.”

“Where are they?” Harrison asked.

“Room 2A.” The man said.

“Okay. Can we please have your spare key for that room?” Tom asked. “It’s an emergency.”

“No, sorry.” The man replied and sipped his coffee. Harrison glanced behind the man and immediately saw the key for room 2A. He walked around the desk and grabbed the man from behind. “Tom, go!” Harrison shouted as the man tried to get out of his grip.

“What are you doing?!” Tom shrieked.

“GET THE FUCKING KEY.” Harrison nodded his head toward the key and Tom’s jaw dropped in realization. Tom quickly jumped on the desk and grabbed the key for the room. When he grabbed it, he ran outside; followed by Harrison.

“Return that key!” The man shouted.

Tom and Harrison went up the stairs and walked around until they found your room. They stood in front of the door and Tom whispered, “What now?”

“You go in there and just take her. I’ll be out here for back up.” Harrison whispered back and Tom nodded.

Tom knocked on the door and said ‘housekeeping’ in a high pitched voice. Harrison slapped his arm and mouthed “what the fuck”.

“It’s improv! I can’t just barge in like a freak. I’m an actor, Haz.” Tom defended quietly, earning an eye roll from his best mate.

“We’re busy!” A male voice said which enraged Tom.

“Alright. Now, I can barge in.” Tom said as he used the key to open the door. The chain was in the way, but he managed to break it by pushing the door open.

“Y/N!” Tom shouted.

“Tom! What are you doing here? How did you find me?!” You shrieked. Your hair was messy and your dress wasn’t as neat compared to when you left the house. The guy with you was just watching the whole scene go down.

“That doesn’t matter now. Get in the car!” He yelled.

You shook your head, “No! I’m staying here with Brad!”

“Over my dead fucking body, Y/N.” Tom said before he grabbed your wrist and dragged you outside. Brad intervened and grabbed your other hand, “Let go, man!”

Tom was stronger and he was able to pull you out of Brad’s grip and told Harrison to take you to the car and give the key back to the man downstairs. You and Harrison went to the car and Tom stayed to lecture Brad.

“Chill out, man. Nothing happened!” Brad exclaimed.

“Okay and what if something did happen, hmm? What if you got her pregnant? Can you pay for child support? Do you plan on marrying my sister in the future? Are you ready to take care of a fucking baby?! I DON’T THINK SO.” Tom said angrily.

“She’s 15 and she has a great life ahead of her! I’m not going to let some boy ruin that. If you look at her or even blink at her, I will end you, Brad.” Tom threatened before leaving.

Tom sighed and put the picture back. Harrison left when you got home and that’s when your screaming match with Tom started. He walked up to your room and knocked on the door.

“Go away!” You said.

“You know, saying that will only make me knock on the door again. Just let me in. Let’s talk this out.” Tom said softly. He waited for a few seconds and he heard you unlock the door. He smiled at himself and let himself in.

He stared at you as you lay in bed with red eyes and puffy cheeks. He went further in the room and closed the door behind him before sitting down on the foot of your bed.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there, but I was doing it for your own good. You'll thank me in the future." Tom said and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady." He gave you a pointed look. "I'm serious. I guarantee that if it happened, you'll regret giving it to someone who isn't special after all. So you're welcome, I saved your ass."

"You're not the boss of me. Don't you remember what it's like to be young?!"

"Yes, I am the boss of you and of course I remember what it was like to be young. It was five years ago when I was 19!" Tom raised his voice and stood up. He paced around your room to calm down. He didn't want to fight, but you were being stubborn.

He looked at you and put his hands on his hips. “I never got to truly explore or- or experiment with different things, alright? I was robbed of my youth because I have to step up. I’m the eldest so it’s my job to take care of you; all of you.”

“Do you know how shocking it was for me?!” Tom shrieked. “I never got to grieve properly because I had to be strong for you and Paddy and Sam and Harry. It was too much for me to handle, but I forced myself to push through because I had no choice but to move forward.”

“Sam and Harry had their youth taken away too because they had to help me. When they were your age, they worked and picked up a few side jobs just to help me pay the bills. We’re lucky that we get to keep this house because it was already paid for by mum and dad before they died.”

“I had to give up everything for all four of you and you have no idea what that’s like, Y/N!” Tom yelled. He was clearly frustrated and it dawned on you that he never released those pent up feelings and you just let him shout.

“Sam and Harry were there sometimes, but they were also too busy trying to make something of themselves. Most of the time, it was me! They were working and going to school for their future and I was at home with you and Paddy because both of you were still too young. All my friends were out partying, dating, going to university. Meanwhile, I’m at home too busy being your mum and dad and brother.” He cried out of frustration, causing you to cry too.

He sat down at the edge of your bed and wiped his tears as you stared at him., not bothering to wipe your tears. “Now three of our brothers are also gone and it’s fucked. They never got to reach the finish line of their dreams and goals.” He said quietly. Tom looked at you and gave you a tight-lipped smile, “I don’t want to fight anymore, okay? It’s just you and me now and we have to be a team. We should help each other, so before you do anything stupid ask yourself if it’ll put stress on me. If the answer is yes, then don’t do it. I don’t need more stress.”

You only nodded. He got up from your bed and said, “Good night.” Before he left your room, you walked up to him and gave him a hug, “Thank you for your sacrifices and I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass.”

He chuckled lightly and hugged back, “I’m sorry for being strict, but it’s all part of the parenting thing.”

“You’ll be a great dad.” You said softly before yawning. Tom’s heart melted when you said that. “You think so?” He asked.

“I know so.” You told him. He smiled and kissed the top of your head. It may be sad that five of your family members left both of you, but it was okay. You had each other and that’s all that matters.

* * * *

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @thatforgottenangel @turtoix @runawayolives @chewymoustachio @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @alexx-stancati @rumplebutterbaby @dummiesshort @thevelvetseries @quxxnxfhxll @angelsgrxzer @dreamy-clousds @bora-world @caitsymichelle13 @wannabemobwife

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @alinastarkrovs @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg @emmastarz

[96thdayofrage]

The day Derek Chauvin held his knee against George Floyd’s neck for more than nine minutes in front of a Minneapolis convenience store, he did not act alone. Former officers J. Alexander Kueng and Thomas Lane helped Chauvin restrain Floyd’s body and legs, respectively, and former officer Tou Thao kept the angry crowd from interfering in the fatal arrest. 

Even as Floyd told the officers he couldn’t breathe, none of them tried to stop their fellow officer from taking a life. Now, they’re going on trial this week for their lack of action.

All three ex-officers are facing federal charges for allegedly depriving Floyd of his civil rights the day he was killed by failing to provide the 46-year-old Black man with medical assistance. Thao and Kueng are facing an additional charge for failing to intervene. Lane, who asked, twice, on bodycam video if they should reposition Floyd so he could breathe better, managed to avoid the additional charge. 

A jury will ultimately decide how much of a role their inaction had in Floyd’s death. If found guilty, they face up to life in prison.

The vast majority of U.S. police departments require officers to intervene when their colleagues go too far, but police culture and strict adherence to its hierarchy have made that a rare occurrence. Those who do step up and call out bad behavior have been ostracized and even pushed out of the profession for not falling in line. Since Floyd’s death, however, more officers appear to be stepping up. The trial will now set the expectation for whether a failure to intervene can result in serious charges.

“We know a murder happened because Chauvin was convicted. The prosecutors are going to say, ‘If it wasn’t for Thou holding the crowd back and Lane and Keung holding George Floyd, this wouldn’t have happened as it did,’” former federal prosecutor and current president of the West Coast Trial Lawyers Neama Rahmani told VICE News. “You don't have to be the one who had their knee on someone’s neck or anything like that.”

The officers’ defense, on the other hand, will argue that Chauvin’s actions alone ultimately killed Floyd, and the other officers, who were much less experienced, were simply following orders.

The federal trial, which begins with jury selection Thursday, will mark the first time any of the former officers will appear in court for their part in Floyd’s murder. Despite their attempts to be tried separately in 2020, a judge ultimately decided against it. It’s also rare to see a federal trial take place well before the start of state proceedings for the same crime.

When Chauvin was convicted of second-degree murder last April, prosecutors’ arguments were fairly straightforward: that the former cop used excessive force and showed disregard for human life when he killed Floyd. 

After all, Chauvin was the most senior officer—and the only who kneeled directly on Floyd’s neck, despite his protestations that he couldn’t breathe. 

Kueng and Lane, for example, were less than a week on the job, and Thou had a cumulative nine years on the force. While Thou had more years in the force compared to his co-defendants, his seniority pales in comparison to Chauvin’s 19 years as a Minneapolis police officer.

“They made these arguments in pre-trial motions that these were trainees,” Rahmani said. “They weren’t in the position to question Chauvin, who had many years of experience and was their training officer.”

Thou will also likely use his relative distance from Chauvin’s actions as his primary defense—even with his record of receiving complaints and citations for sloppy and problematic police practices.

“Thou’s going to argue ‘I was nowhere near George Floyd, I was just making sure that the officers weren’t attacked, I was just doing crowd control,’” Rahmani said. “I don’t think it’s a good argument, but it's an argument nonetheless.”

Jurors can expect to see all relevant footage recorded the day Floyd died, May 25, 2020, including the body camera footage of the officers involved and video recorded by teen bystander Darnella Frazier, who went on to win a Pulitzer for capturing the moments that put Chauvin away for his crimes. While the footage was easily the most damning piece of evidence in Chauvin’s conviction, it could help the defense make its case, particularly for Lane, who questioned whether they should roll Floyd onto his side. 

“Lane could easily be found not guilty,” Joseph Daly, an emeritus professor at Mitchell Hamline School of Law in St. Paul and former Hennepin County prosecutor, told VICE News. “It shows that he had some concern for the victim. He was recalling that there was some aspect of when a guy is laying on his stomach, you lay him on his side. That was part of his training.”

Then again, prosecutors could also flip the evidence against Lane.

“They may argue that it indicates that he knew there were big problems with the arrest and that he was deliberately indifferent to Floyd’s serious medical needs,” Daly said.

In addition to similar evidence as Chauvin’s trial, a few of the same witnesses are also expected to be called. The off-duty EMT who asked officers to let her provide Floyd with medical attention as well as the Hennepin County Chief Medical examiner Andrew Baker, are slated to take the stand again.

Jurors, however, won’t hear testimony from the now-10-year-old girl who witnessed Floyd’s death and took the stand last spring. Lane’s attorney requested she be barred from testifying, and U.S. District Judge Paul Magnuson granted the request last week.

Starting Thursday at 9:30 a.m. local time, a total of 256 potential jurors will be questioned for a group of 40 that both prosecutors and defense attorneys will narrow down with preemptory strikes. A final panel of 12 jurors and six alternates will be selected.

The dangers of COVID-19 will also impact the trial. Only five reporters will be allowed in the courtroom at a given time as a precaution. Judge Magnuson has also asked both sides to run a tight ship as they begin arguments to avoid having to call a mistrial.

"Move the case along and get it tried in a much shorter time. The longer we are in this courtroom, the more potentiality we have with exposure to COVID," the Judge said in court last week, according to the Tribune. "And if we get to that point and we don't have 12 people sitting here, you know what happens. We all go home."

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 4: Baby Badger-Viper

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

I actually updated on AO3 yesterday, but I was too lazy to post the new chapter here.  So here’s the new chapter now.  Chapter 5 won’t go up until after I move next week, though, because I’m going to have to focus on packing and whatnot.

Again, this fic is inspired by @muffinlance‘s fic Salvage and fanart that @agent-jaselin did of it.  A component of this chapter is thanks to this art that jaselin did.

——————————————————————————————

              Hakoda should have known that whatever Tuluk had to say was trouble. The crewman had come into his cabin while he was responding to letters from the Northern Fleet – without knocking.

              “Chief?”  Hakoda set his pen down.

              “Yes?” he asked.

              “The kid’s up the mast again.”

              “The-” Hakoda’s eyes widened.  “Zuko climbed the mast?”  Tuluk nodded.  “He’s four!” Though, now that Hakoda thought about it, Zuko’s current age wasn’t as much of an impediment as it would have been to someone else.  This was, after all, the boy that had managed to bruise multiple crewmen while battling hypothermia.  Hakoda got up from his desk and followed Tuluk onto the deck.

              “You need to wear something!” Toklo called.  True enough, Hakoda could just make out a very young boy, sitting on the crossbeam of the main mast.

              “Tui and La, how did he get up there?” Hakoda breathed.  Much of the crew had stopped to watch the spectacle of a toddler up very high, in a very precarious, very dangerous situation. Even those who were taking longer to warm up to Zuko were visibly concerned for his safety.  The crewmen that had bonded with him, like Toklo, looked like they might have heart attacks.

              “No!” Zuko shouted down to Toklo.  His voice was petulant, but not in the way a prince would speak.  He sounded every bit the toddler he was.  “I won’t wear it!”

              “It’s the only thing in your size, Zuko,” Bato argued.  Hakoda walked to his second-in-command’s side.

              “What happened?” Hakoda asked.  Bato sighed and uncrossed his arms.

              “The little brat won’t put on a coat.”  Bato looked up the mast to shout again.  “Do you want to get sick again?”

              “Yes!” shrieked the small firebender.

              “Son of a-”  Bato rubbed his forehead.

              “Why won’t he put on a coat?” Hakoda asked.

              “The one he likes is still drying,” Toklo said.  “We had to wash it earlier.”  Washing it was the right move.  The last Hakoda had seen of the coat, it was covered in messes that only a clumsy toddler could make.

              “We got him another coat last time we docked,” Hakoda pointed out. Panuk snorted softly.

              “Yeah, and he hates it.”

              “Are you talking about me?” Zuko shouted.  “That’s not nice!”  Scattered snickers came from the crewmen.

              “I’ll get him,” Hakoda said wearily.

              For the second time, he climbed up the mast to retrieve a stubborn firebender. When he arrived at the crossbeam, Zuko glared at him.

              “Zuko, you can’t stay up here.”

              “Yes, I can!”

              “No, you can’t.”

              “Yes, I can!” Zuko said stubbornly.  Hakoda sighed.  He’d forgotten how difficult toddlers could be.  After all, it had been a while since his children were this young, and up until now, Zuko had been on his best behavior.

              “It’s not safe for you,” Hakoda said, forcing calm.  Zuko glanced down at the deck uncertainly, then met his eyes again with that distinctive glower.  But Hakoda had seen the brief flash of fear across the boy’s face. Zuko didn’t want to be up here any more than Hakoda wanted it.  “You’re coming down with me.”

              “No.”  Zuko fidgeted.  On a crossbeam.  That a fall from would cause serious injuries.  Hakoda fought the instinctual urge to grab the boy.  He waited.  Zuko clearly had more to say.  “…I’m scared,” Zuko finally whimpered.  “It’s taller than before.”

              “Well, you’re shorter than before,” Hakoda pointed out.  Zuko fidgeted again.  “I’ll carry you down, okay?”  After a moment, Zuko bobbed his head.  He scooted closer to Hakoda, who scooped him into one arm, stifling a sigh of relief.  Zuko buried his face into Hakoda’s shirt, hiding from the height or the eyes of the crewmen, Hakoda wasn’t sure.

              Once back on the deck, Hakoda set the boy down.  This incident with the mast was vastly different from the first; for one, the boy shivering in the cold wind looked nothing like the proud prince they’d fished from the sea.  With his blue clothes drying, Zuko was in his green Earth Kingdom attire again.  His hair, which Hakoda felt certain grew faster than normal, was tied back in the traditional wolf’s tail.  It took the shortest amount of time of any hairstyles the crew knew, and Zuko was too fidgety to sit still for a longer one.

              No, Zuko didn’t look like a prince.  He looked like a refugee.  Like one of the orphans that picked up a heritage from any adult willing to help them, and as a result, blended many backgrounds into one.

              It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, Hakoda considered, to think of the former Fire Nation Prince as a refugee.

              “Put on your coat,” Hakoda instructed Zuko, pushing away his musings. Zuko scowled.

              “N-n-no,” he said, his teeth chattering from the cold.

              “Wearing a coat you dislike is preferable to catching your death,” Hakoda said shortly.  Zuko opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but closed it again.  He nodded reluctantly.  Toklo, who had been standing nearby with said detested coat in his hands, moved forward and draped it over Zuko’s shoulders.

              “I can put it on myself,” Zuko whined as Toklo busily dressed him.

              “I’m just helping you with the buttons,” Toklo chirped, buttoning up the coat. He pulled the hood over Zuko’s head. “There!  Now you can stop shivering.”  Now that the coat was on, Hakoda could see why the boy hated it.

              “It looks even better than I thought it would,” Bato said, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice.  “We’d better keep you away from the birds.  They might think you’re a predator.”  Zuko scowled.

              “Of course you like it, you bought it,” he mumbled.  Bato grinned.  The coat was one made for children that enjoyed dressing up in costumes. It had ears on the hood and a tail on the back.  Overall, it brought to mind a simplified version of an animal Hakoda had heard of, but had not seen.

              “You make quite the fierce pygmy puma,” Hakoda remarked.

              Zuko pulled the hood further down his face, pouting.

----- 

              “He’s here, Chief,” Aake rumbled as he walked onto the deck, carrying Zuko over his shoulder.

              “Put me down, put me down!” Zuko shrieked, kicking his legs ineffectually. “I don’t need a nap!”

              “You sound just like Sitka when he gets overtired,” Aake said.  “That’s a sign that you do need a nap.”

              “No!” Zuko whined.  Aake handed the squirming toddler to Hakoda.

              “Zuko, we’ve been over this,” Hakoda said wearily.  Zuko wriggled fiercely in Hakoda’s arms.  A few sparks burst into life, meeting Hakoda’s skin and causing him to instinctively drop the toddler.  Unlike the first time he’d fallen to the deck, Zuko didn’t stay quiet. He burst into tears.

              “What is going on with him lately?” Panuk muttered.

              “He’s overtired, for one thing,” Aake said.  Hakoda picked Zuko up again and brought him to the infirmary, ignoring the boy’s crying.  “Toddlers always get worse when they need a nap.”

              “Yeah, but he’s been acting out even when he’s not tired,” Toklo pointed out. Aake shrugged.

              “Maybe he’s given up on pretending to be a teenager.”

----- 

              It took a long time for Zuko to calm down.  The moment he did, he fell asleep, exhausted from his temper tantrum. Kustaa shook his head.

              “It’s back to being the baby badger-viper you were when you first joined us, huh?” he asked the sleeping boy.  Zuko snored in response.  A thin line of drool dribbled down his cheek.  “At least you’re too small to bruise us every time you throw a fit.”  Zuko snored again.

              Satisfied that his young charge wouldn’t wake up for some time, Kustaa took out the book he’d been given by Healer Yugoda.  It was a record of every known instance the Northern Water Tribe had of someone being spirit touched.  Hopefully, he could find something in it to illuminate what had happened to Zuko. He sat down at his desk and began to read.

              Yugoda’s book was very, very detailed.  It included names that Kustaa half-remembered and others that he had never heard before, tales from both poles, ancient legends, and even recent instances, such as the Moon Spirit saving the life of a Northern Tribe Princess.

              The reasons spirits intervened in mortal affairs were varied, but a common one was for personal growth.  Spirits, despite being immortal, could be impatient with the pace of human development. Any human that had been marked as having a significant destiny was watched closely.  Should that human dawdle on their journey, a spirit might intervene.

              Kustaa wasn’t too familiar with Fire Nation customs, but he had heard that the royal family were thought of as being blessed by the Sun Spirit, Agni. Zuko, a Fire Nation Prince, would undoubtedly have a destiny the spirits might take interest in.  It seemed most likely that Zuko had been reverted to a child as some manner of speeding his journey.  After all, the other frequent cause of a spirit intervening – to save a life – didn’t apply.  Zuko had been hale and hearty the day before he woke up as a toddler.

              Unfortunately, there were no records that Kustaa could find of spirits returning someone’s youth.  Which dashed the hope that he might be able to figure out whether Zuko’s change in behavior was as troubling as it seemed.  Zuko didn’t seem to notice, but the rest of the crew had picked up on the firebender’s increasingly frequent meltdowns, immature speech patterns, and juvenile reactions.

              He could be upset about something, and slipping into more age-appropriate behavior as a coping mechanism.  It could be a delayed effect of this specific spiritual intervention. Or even an effect that only happens after being in a spirit touched state for an extended period of time. Maybe it’s as some crew are suggesting, that he’s given up hope of returning to his proper age, and as such, opted to give up acting as if he were that age.

              With a soft sigh, Kustaa closed the book.  There were too many possibilities, and he wouldn’t be able to narrow them down unless Zuko opened up.

              Fat chance of that happening.  There was faint stirring from Zuko’s furs.  Kustaa looked over.  A small face popped up.

              “Did you enjoy your nap, nephew?” Kustaa asked pleasantly.  Zuko yawned widely and stretched.  He nodded.  “Good.” A sudden stricken look crossed Zuko’s face.

              “Um…”  Zuko fidgeted.  “Can- can I stay in here for a while?” he asked sheepishly.  Kustaa raised an eyebrow.  “I…I behaved poorly earlier,” Zuko mumbled.  After he’d let Zuko wallow for a moment, Kustaa nodded.

              “I have some herbs that need sorting.  If you’d like, you can do that.”  Zuko beamed.  Kustaa fought back a smile in return.

              The kid was a beast when he was upset, but far more endearing than he had any right being.

              Like most young children.

----- 

              Hakoda browsed the selection of the store, in his peripheral, keeping an eye on Zuko.  The first few towns, he hadn’t been the only golden-eyed child, but as they progressed down the coast, his obvious Fire Nation heritage turned more and more heads. Luckily, any glares sent Zuko’s way were replaced by sheepish looks once they saw his scar.  The fact that Zuko preferred warm clothing, and thus dressed in Water Tribe attire more often, helped as well.  But Hakoda remained on edge.

              Someone tapped on Hakoda’s shoulder.  He turned.

              “Excuse me, sir, but is he your son?” asked the woman who had approached him. She pointed at Zuko, who was ogling a display of exotic spices.  Hakoda nodded.  “Ah.” A sympathetic expression settled on the woman’s face.  “It was very kind of you to keep him.”

              Hakoda knew what the woman was implying.  It was the lie he’d given over and over, that Zuko was a war bastard. But the lie suddenly tasted bitter. He’d seen the golden-eyed street urchins.  He knew that war bastards weren’t always kept.  Still, Hakoda couldn’t shake loose the dirty feeling that had come over him, at the suggestion that a mixed-blood child growing up in a home was an anomaly, not the norm.

              “Of course I kept him,” Hakoda said softly.  “He’s my son, regardless of his parentage.”  The woman smiled.  Zuko stood on his tiptoes, reaching for a bright red spice.  “Nuktuk.”  Zuko spun around.  The woman Hakoda was talking to let out a soft gasp.  “If you want to get a closer look at something, ask and I’ll get it for you.”  Zuko scowled. “We can’t have you knocking things over again.”  Zuko nodded reluctantly.  Hakoda walked over.  “What did you want to look at?”

              “That,” Zuko mumbled, pointing out the red spice.  Hakoda handed it to him.

              “This?”

              “Yeah.”  Zuko stared intently at the small bottle.  According to the label, it contained ground chilis and fire flakes. “I like this.”

              “Do you want it?” Hakoda probed.  After a moment, Zuko nodded.  “Then ask.”

              “Can I have it?” Zuko asked quietly.  Hakoda raised an eyebrow.  “Please?” Hakoda nodded.

              “Since you asked so nicely…”  Zuko handed Hakoda the bottle, already brimming with excitement.  “You can keep looking around, but remember to be careful.” Zuko nodded.  He toddled over to a wall of jars containing pickled vegetables. Hakoda turned to the woman he’d been speaking with.  Horror filled her eyes.

              “I’ve seen burns on refugees before, but never something that bad on someone so young,” she whispered.  “I’m so sorry.”  Hakoda paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond.

              “Thank you.  But it’s something we’ve done our best to move past.  Dwelling on it only makes it worse,” he said diplomatically.  The woman shook her head, still visibly disturbed. She walked over to Zuko and crouched next to him, speaking to him in a low voice.

              Hakoda watched for a few moments, nervous that Zuko might say or do something that made it obvious he wasn’t a regular toddler.  But the woman didn’t seem perturbed, so he resumed shopping. The woman eventually left Zuko’s side and went up to the register.  She stopped by Zuko again on her way out of the shop.

              Hakoda brought the supplies up to the register.  Zuko sidled over to him, a large stuffed animal turtle duck in his arms.

              “That thing’s almost as big as you,” Hakoda remarked.  Zuko scowled and hugged the toy tighter.  “I can’t buy it for you, you know.”

              “Not a problem, sir,” said the cashier, counting out Hakoda’s change. “Lily got it for him.”

              “The woman that was in here earlier?” Hakoda asked.  The cashier nodded.

              “Yup.  She’s got a soft spot for refugee kids.”  The cashier shook his head.  “It’s a shame what good people like you and your family have to deal with.  Leaving your life behind, taking only the barest of necessities…”

              “It’s war,” Hakoda said dryly.  The cashier handed Hakoda his change.

              “That it is.”

----- 

              Zuko’s poor behavior began to die down after that stop.  His stuffed turtle duck came with him almost everywhere.  It reminded Hakoda of the blanket Sokka had been overly attached to as a child.

              “Who would’ve thought the kid just needed a toy?” Bato remarked.  Some of the men were training on the deck. Zuko was watching, heckling those he thought could do better.  His sharp words were undercut by how tightly he hugged his stuffed animal.

              “A complete stranger in a store,” Hakoda said softly.

              “You mean the woman that bought it for him?”

              “Yes.  She was under the impression we were refugees whose only real possessions were the clothes on our backs.”

              “Huh.  Well, with Zuko, that’s actually pretty accurate.”

              “Exactly.”  Hakoda watched Zuko tease Ranalok for losing a sparring match.  “I don’t think Zuko qualifies as a refugee, but he’s pretty close to one.  His world’s been turned upside down multiple times.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of giving him a toy or blanket or-”

              “Hakoda, he’s been trying to act like a teenager for most of his time as a kid,” Bato pointed out.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.  The good news is that the kid’s finally calming down again.”

              “We never did find out why he started acting up.”

              “Don’t look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth,” Bato said with a shrug. Hakoda didn’t respond.  Zuko yawned widely.  Hakoda walked over.

              “Zuko, would you come with me?” Hakoda asked softly.  Zuko nodded.  He followed Hakoda into his cabin.  Hakoda lifted the boy onto the chair opposite his desk, then sat down.  Zuko looked at him, his eyes getting slightly bleary from tiredness.

              “What is it, Chief?” Zuko asked.  Hakoda steepled his fingers.

              “I want to talk about your behavior.”  That shocked him out of any sleepiness he might have had.  Zuko straightened, eyes wide with fear.  “Before you say anything, I’m not punishing you.  You’ve been very well-behaved since we last docked.” Zuko relaxed slightly.  “But for a rather long time, you were not.”

              “I’m sorry,” Zuko mumbled.

              “I don’t want an apology.  I’m just wondering if you could share with me the reason,” Hakoda said.  Zuko squeezed his stuffed turtle duck.  “After we parted ways with the Northerners, you began acting in ways you hadn’t before.  Why?”

              “Why are you asking me now?” Zuko mumbled.  “You should have asked while I was misbehaving.”

              “Do you remember how you refused to cooperate with something as simple as taking a nap?” Hakoda asked.  Zuko reddened.  He nodded. “That’s why I didn’t ask then.  I’m not going to judge you.  But if you know why you were behaving so poorly-”

              “I was upset,” Zuko blurted out.  Hakoda waited.  The boy didn’t say anything else.

              “Why were you upset?” Hakoda prodded gently.

              “Uncle,” Zuko mumbled.  He squeezed his toy again.  “I…miss him.”

              “Do you want to see him?”

              “Yes.  No. I-”  Zuko looked away.  “The spirits cursed me, and I don’t know why, and Uncle cares too much, and he’d ask questions I don’t know how to answer, and-”  Hakoda held up a hand.  Zuko fell silent.

              “You were conflicted,” he said.  Zuko nodded.  “You want to see your uncle, but you’re worried how the reunion might go.”  Zuko nodded again.  “You could have told us.”

              “No.  I’m already four.  I don’t need any more indignities thrust upon me.”

              “Zuko, when something troubles you so much that it affects your behavior, it’s something you need to share,” Hakoda said patiently.  Zuko scowled.  Hakoda felt like he was back in time, trying to convince Sokka to talk things out before escalating to a fight.  “Are you better now?”  The young firebender blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the apparent change in topic.

              “Sort of.  I mean, I still miss Uncle and feel…conflicted,” Zuko confessed.  “But it’s not as bad now.”  He looked down at his stuffed animal.  “I had one like this before.  Lu Ten gave it to me.”

              “Lu Ten?”

              “My cousin.  He- he died during the Siege of Ba Sing Se.”

              “Ah,” Hakoda said softly.  Zuko looked at him expectantly.  Hakoda raised an eyebrow.  “Yes?”

              “Am I excused?” Zuko asked.  Hakoda nodded.  Zuko hopped off the chair and rushed out of the cabin.  Hakoda leaned back.

              Despite all his protests to the contrary, he’s just a boy.  A boy that feels a bit safer when he has something of his own to cuddle.  Hakoda grimaced.  I can’t tell Toklo and Panuk that toys are apparently the key to getting Zuko to open up. They’ll bury him in stuffed animals.

----- 

              “Zuko.”  Zuko sat bolt upright.  He looked over at Kustaa.  The healer was still fast asleep.  Wondering if he’d imagined it, Zuko laid back down.  “Zuko.”

              Who’s saying that?  Zuko fought free of his pile of furs.  He slipped on a coat to protect himself against the night wind and snuck onto the deck as quietly as possible.  The night shift did their chores, not paying any attention to the toddler padding past them. Something guided Zuko’s feet to the edge of the ship.  He clambered onto the railing, ignoring Hakoda’s voice in the back of his head telling him to stop climbing things.

              The full moon shone in the sky.  Its mirror image on the still ocean was just as bright.  Zuko cocked his head curiously at it.  Normally, he could feel the influence of the moon decreasing his bending capability.  But tonight, he didn’t feel stifled.

              It’s probably because my bending is even weaker than usual right now. Zuko tilted his head back to look up at the stars.  A memory flashed in his mind: the first time he’d seen the spirit lights in the South Pole.  Uncle had been thrilled and dragged Zuko out of bed to watch.  He blinked, and the memory faded.  No colorful ribbons split the sky in two.  Stars scattered across the heavens like they had been spilled from a jar. The moon hung heavy.  Zuko sighed.  I should go back to bed.

              “Not yet, Prince Zuko.”

              “Just Zuko,” Zuko said instinctively.  His eyes widened.  A figure began to form out of the moon.  A young woman, about the age he’d been before the spirits cursed him.  She smiled sweetly.

              “Not cursed, Prince Zuko.  Blessed,” she said.  Her voice echoed across the waves.  She floated closer.  “And why would I not call you Prince?  It is your title.”

              “Not- not anymore,” Zuko stammered.  He resisted the urge to fidget.  Clearly, he was in the presence of a spirit.  He had to be on his best behavior.  The spirit settled next to him on the railing.  Zuko winced slightly; her bright glow hurt his bad eye.  Her eyes widened.  The glow surrounding her dimmed from the force of the full moon to a soft foxfire.

              “I apologize,” she said.  “This is the first time I’m really acting as a spiritual intermediary.”

              “But…you’re the moon spirit,” Zuko said, having finally recognized her. She smiled sadly.

              “Not always.  You can call me Yue.”

              “Yue.”  Zuko looked down at his hands.  “Yue, I- I can’t be the prince anymore.”

              “Why not?”

              “I just- I can’t.”

              “Hmm.”  Yue looked out across the water.  “If you want to renounce your title, it might behoove you to wait until you have a firm reason for doing so.”

              “…Maybe,” Zuko mumbled.  He took a deep breath.  “Why- why are you here?” he asked.  To his displeasure, it came out as a weak squeak.  Yue smiled fondly at him.  Her white hair billowed behind her, despite the complete lack of breezes.

              “It’s time you were told why the spirits have intervened with you.” Zuko whipped his head up to stare at Yue in shock.

              “That doesn’t happen very often.”

              “The general consensus is that you might not pick up on it on your own,” Yue confessed.  Zuko flushed in embarrassment.  “Prince Zuko, your personal journey, one that the spirits have been invested in, is unlearning what you were taught by your father.”

              “Like what?” Zuko asked.  “Give me an example.”  Yue’s mouth twitched.

              “They’re all examples.”

              “What?”

              “Children your age wear their hearts on their sleeves and don’t hide their intentions,” Yue said, changing the topic.  “They have no difficulty accessing the emotions that you grew up learning to stifle.  If you wish to be a kind, just ruler someday, you must relearn how to be vulnerable and open. You must abandon the idea that rage and fear are all that will make you strong.”

              “But that’s where firebending comes from.  Anger.”

              “Is it?” Yue asked, cocking her head.  Zuko blinked.  “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

              “It sounds like you want me to stop being Fire Nation.”  Zuko rubbed the back of his neck.  “Which…I sort of already have.”

              “No.  The Fire Nation is no more inherently bad than any other creed.”  Yue put a hand on Zuko’s back.  “It has a rich culture whose good aspects have been masked by the bad ones for a hundred years.”  She began to fade.  “Our time is coming to an end.”

              “What?  But you didn’t- you didn’t tell me anything!” Zuko protested.  Yue began to float away.

              “I did.”

              “No, you-”  Zuko huffed. “What am I supposed to do?  Am I even going to return to my proper age?”

              “That’s something only you can control,” Yue said softly.

              “Wait!” Zuko shouted at the spirit.  She was growing smaller, moving away from him, back to the moon hanging in the sky. “Wait!”  He got to his feet clumsily.  “That’s not a real answer, it’s-”  His already precarious balance on the rail failed as the ship hit a rough wave. Zuko toppled forward, falling overboard.

              Again.

              At least he was rescued quicker this time.  Ranalok had seen him lose his balance and fished him out of the ocean immediately.  Tuluk stood ready nearby with a towel.

              “Kid, you have to think of some new ways to drive us up the wall,” Tuluk said as he removed Zuko’s dripping outerwear.  Thankfully, he didn’t take off all of Zuko’s clothes, even though every stitch was drenched.  The crewman allowed Zuko some of the piddling amount of dignity the former prince had left. He wrapped Zuko tightly in the towel and dragged him to the infirmary.

              When Kustaa awoke and saw the soaked boy, he merely raised a silent eyebrow.

              “The baby badger-viper fell overboard,” Tuluk explained.  Kustaa sighed.  “Hopefully he won’t get sick this time.”

              “Hopefully,” Kustaa repeated.  Tuluk left.  Kustaa turned so that Zuko could undress and dry off.  “You realize what this means, right?”

              “…No,” Zuko said warily, scrubbing his hair with the towel.

              “Your clothes need to dry again.”  Zuko froze.  “Including your favorite coat.  So…” Zuko scowled as the coat he did not like one bit was tossed at him.  “Time to dress up like a pygmy puma.”

[the-odd-job]

Close Your Eyes to This Disaster Chapter 4: …Trapped in Your Cage

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use, Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers G1 Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Megatron, Soundwave Additional Tags: Dubcon, Sticky, Abusive Relationships, Mind Games, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 5290

( Previous )

After the little incident with Megatron, some smartass decided that it wasn’t safe to assign the twins to the longer patrols. Or the mid range patrols, even. Or any that went outside of highly populated areas. The only good thing about that was that they were stuck on asphalt roads and not abusing their undercarriage on someone’s orders.

Those restrictions alone would have been annoying enough, but on top of them they got a command all the way from the Prime himself that they weren’t to leave the Ark’s vicinity even during their free time.

Because it wasn’t safe. Primus forbid something happen to the twins. Their own concerns over the situation were rapidly drowned out by everyone’s intent to fragging coddle them, as if running into Megatron without backup was the worst thing that could ever happen.

Granted, it would likely end very badly for them one way or another, but slagging pits shouldn’t they have been the ones to make the choice on whether or not to take that risk? Did the command really care for their wellbeing that much, or was it about their value to their faction? They may have lacked rank, but not skill. They were an asset on the battlefield, and held no illusions to the contrary. Losing them would be a notable hit for the Autobots.

Whatever the underlying reasons that they ultimately cared little about, the brothers didn’t last long before their frustration mounted to uncomfortable levels. They sparred and sparred some more, got even more promiscuous than they usually were, but their efforts to expel their energy only pushed back the inevitable. There was a whole planet right there, and they were forbidden from making the most of it? For god’s sake, it wasn’t as if they were traveling in fragging space and stuck on a ship because of that! It would’ve been a good reason to just put up with the whole slagging thing, even if it would have started to get tiresome.

This? This didn’t have a good reason, no matter what some others seemed to think. They endangered their life every time they stepped on the battlefield, but they wanted to effectively lock them up until risking the battlefield was the only risk they were allowed to take? They hadn’t signed up for this.

Things came to a head, but not violently—for once. Instead they approached Cliffjumper when the minibot with Brawn were scheduled for one of the longer patrol routes. There was no love between them, and they predicted right that Cliffjumper didn’t give two frags about their safety in relation to Megatron. He was happy to change shifts with them after Sideswipe bribed him well enough, not one word said about the what if.

What if something did happen?

Who the frag even cared at this point. They sure didn’t.

It was a nighttime patrol, half intentionally on their part—late hour and most of the mecha were following the planet’s day-night cycle and opting to recharge. Less sparks to catch them sneaking out, to the effect that they did indeed get out of the Ark without anyone stopping them.

They were far enough from the downed spaceship to relax when none other than Prowl pinged their comms. They could guess what that was about, and when they opened the connection, sure enough…

::Twins. Turn around and return to the Ark and your assigned duties.:: Prowl’s tone was clipped in the way it had a habit of being when he was pissed.

Were they anyone lesser they may have even listened… But they weren’t. ::Nah, don’t think I will,:: was all Sideswipe said as they continued onward, following the patrol route like good little mechs.

::That. Is. An. Order,:: Prowl not quite hissed, not quite growled, but still managed to make it clear he was getting angrier with every word. Disobedience just didn’t set so well with him.

::We’ll be back after we’re done with the patrol, don’t worry,:: Sideswipe assured him, as if Prowl wanted assurances right then.

::Should the end of Cliffjumper and Brawn’s patrol be your time of return, I promise you, you will regret it.::

Honestly, they probably would, knowing Prowl. Did they care?

After being cooped up because of someone else’s will, not really.

::We’ll return after the patrol,:: Sunstreaker growled. ::Do what you will then.:: With that, they cut the connection, blocked out their comms, and drove faster—just in case Prowl got the bright idea to send someone to fetch them back, unlikely as that was.

But they got what they wanted in the moment: they were on a patrol that should take them most of the night. If it wasn’t a chance to let loose and unwind, Sunstreaker didn’t know what was. So they drove… And drove… And drove, along roads near abandoned by the humans, enjoying the starlit sky and the crescent moon, the lights of a city in the far distance. The cool night air washed through their vents, taking the heat from their roaring engines.

Two and a half hours and absolutely nothing happened. They weren’t lulled into a false sense of security during that time, but still holding onto their caution or not, that helped them none when the sound of a jet approached them at a concerning speed.

It wasn’t an Earthen jet. No Earthen jet sounded like that.

They went for their comms immediately, but those were already thoroughly blocked. A bit of a déjà vu?

They could never outrun a fragging jet, so the twins stopped instead, in the middle of absolute nowhere with nothing in the form of cover nearby.

In other words, they were screwed.

But that didn’t mean they’d go down without a fight. Transforming out of their alt-modes, the brothers turned to face the flier that could be no one but Megatron, a fact confirmed not with the help of a signature—there was none to be found—but with their optics once the jet got close enough. They could recognize it well enough. Cybertronian in design, making not the slightest effort to blend in on the organic planet, and colored in simple silver. Soundwave was likely aboard, judging by the effectiveness with which their communications were obstructed.

Megatron flew all the way to them, only slowing down to transform some paces from them. Soundwave did indeed appear on the same move, landing next to his leader. The Decepticons wasted no time, approaching as soon as they were on their pedes.

The twins held their ground, Sunstreaker’s deep growl sounding his rising anger in time with his field lashing out with the same emotion. Slagging Megatron was the fault they even had gotten written off patrols like these, and now that they had managed to get on one anyway? Look who’s here.

They drew their weapons, all four of them, a rather clear indication that this wasn’t going to be a friendly meeting. Sunstreaker squared his shoulders and took two steps closer to the Decepticons, ready to meet them with the violence that was really the only appropriate response in situations like these, no?

But… “You haven’t changed,” Megatron said unexpectedly—almost fondly.

That was enough to halt Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe by extension, the both of them frowning in confusion.

Changed from what? “The pit’s that supposed to mean?” Sunstreaker demanded, his engine revving in warning when Megatron was mere inches away from the range of his sword. No surprise, Megatron didn’t take heed, and unlike last time, took the first attack.

Sideswipe would have attacked the warlord with him, had Soundwave not moved to intercept him, forcing his brother off to the side where he wouldn’t be able to intervene without going through the Third first. It was to be just Megatron and Sunstreaker, again. This time Sunstreaker was expecting it and quickly took notice that it didn’t look like Megatron’s goal had changed—injure, cripple, but don’t kill.

Well, Sunstreaker was out to kill. The bastard had managed to become a personal problem on top of being the embodiment of the entire enemy faction. He had no reason to hold back, and every reason to give it his all. He made Megatron work to cut down the amount of damage the tyrant was receiving, but, unfortunately and as before… It was quickly Sunstreaker that began to gain the greater number of injuries despite his best efforts, even if he managed to stay out of the way of the worst of it—block this or dodge that with only half of the damage intended actually landing on him.

Half the damage too much. Megatron wasn’t faster than he was, he wasn’t as agile, but he was several times stronger, not to mention more durable. He could take more punishment than Sunstreaker could ever dream of, and there was strength behind his attacks that Sunstreaker simply couldn’t match, and couldn’t take in full force. One strike of Megatron’s sword across his chest cut him too deep for comfort, even if it was clearly not intended to stab him in a way that would have endangered his spark. Another sank into his thigh, barely missing components that if damaged, would have given him one mighty limp. His shoulder got the same treatment.

Pain or not, Sunstreaker didn’t allow himself be distracted. That would only result in… Well, not death by the looks of things, at least not instantaneously, but definitely in Megatron succeeding at whatever the fuck he was trying to achieve with all of this.

However, he paid a bit too much mind to the warlord’s sword, and with Sideswipe occupied by Soundwave, his brother couldn’t alert him to Megatron’s intent before it was already too late—a servo armed with wicked claws struck forward, catching into the gape on Sunstreaker’s chest Megatron’s damned blade had left behind, and thrusting up.

And this time his spark was definitely threatened. Sunstreaker could feel the claw tips pressing against his spark chamber, and didn’t fool himself into thinking Megatron wouldn’t have had the strength to pierce through all of the shielding and snuff his spark within seconds.

An ugly snarl twisted Sunstreaker’s faceplates, but he slowly and with very clearly broadcasted motions placed his sword back into his subspace. Dropping the thermal blade to the ground would’ve only started a wildfire, a fact he trusted Megatron was aware of, and the tyrant did indeed allow him to subspace his weapon fully.

He was staring potential death on the fragging optic by meeting Megatron’s gaze. He couldn’t read it, though. He couldn’t read his damn field for that matter, the current thoughts and emotions of the nemesis of their race veiled from him. Expecting the worst all the same, Sunstreaker tensed from helm to pede when Megatron retracted his own sword and reached for him–

But instead of ripping his helm off his shoulders or whatever, his servo came to his chin and the tyrant’s thumb–

Brushed across his lower lip.

If Sunstreaker wasn’t still before, he sure as fuck became still as a mech already grey at that move. The surprise that hit them like a freight train had Sideswipe stumbling with a gasp, and Soundwave ruthlessly took the chance to send him crashing down and pin him there. His brother cursed, but quickly confirmed he wasn’t going to escape the hold with his life intact, and… That was it for them, was it not? They’d lost good and proper.

But they weren’t dead. That was one small victory, but time would show whether it would remain that way.

It would just be lovely to know what the slag Megatron was doing.

“Do you not remember me?” Megatron asked, his thumb running over his lip again, this time with just a touch more force. Sunstreaker scowled and tried to jerk his helm away, but Megatron both caught his chin and pressed the servo in his chassis deeper, clear in not allowing something like that.

Sunstreaker scowled harder. “What kind of question is that?” he growled back, quite effectively submerged in a pit of confusion. Somehow he got the feeling Megatron wasn’t just meaning his formless status as the enemy leader, or the times they’d seen each other in the battles here on Earth.

Megatron didn’t look pleased or displeased by his answer. He merely… Glanced to the side, at Soundwave and Sideswipe, and nodded.

At once Soundwave had forced one of Sideswipe’s ports open. “Hey–!” was all his twin managed before the telepath plugged into him, both him and Sunstreaker flinching at the potent intrusion into Sideswipe’s systems and psyche. Sunstreaker jerked to go help instinctively, a snarl rising from his engine–

But Megatron stabbed his digits upward just so and Sunstreaker’s vents seized when the tyrant’s claws truly did pierce into his spark chamber’s shielding. Not deep, not deep enough to take his life, but the warning was beyond clear. Sunstreaker had to still himself, his optics flicking between Megatron and Soundwave, uncertain which of them he was supposed to glare at when Soundwave went about rooting in Sideswipe’s systems.

There was a method to what he was doing in his brother’s head. He cleanly cut through all of Sideswipe’s internal defenses and went deeper and deeper into his programming, Sideswipe shivering beneath him from the sensation. The look in his optics was distant, and Sunstreaker had a front row seat to the way the red twin could do nothing but watch as Soundwave descended into the deepest reaches of his… Memory files?

He aimed into the distant past, yet ignored everything he came across until he arrived to the long span of blank they had never had an explanation for. Where they had simply assumed something had wiped those memories from existence entirely, Soundwave now focused on the empty space and… Uploaded a patch into Sideswipe’s systems? He went on to install it on that empty space, which had to mean there was something there after all–

And after a few more commands forced upon Sideswipe’s inner workings, it all came back. Every memory of that time was restored to its full glory and Sideswipe could do nothing but gasp as it all reintegrated with him.

Their optics widened at the same time, the memories of Sideswipe’s frame bleeding through to Sunstreaker as knowledge.

Knowledge of where they had been at that point of their life, what they had done…

With who they had been.

True recognition flooded in. Emotion, old emotion bled into Sunstreaker’s field before he could stop it, and as it swelled past his control, Megatron purred. “There you are.”

Sideswipe was wheezing and didn’t even try to get up when Soundwave released him. The telepath came over to Sunstreaker instead, and he wasn’t sure he would have fought the opening of one of his ports even if Megatron’s servo hadn’t remained as a warning in his chassis. Now knowing where to look, Soundwave took little time to locate the same blank in Sunstreaker’s memories. The same patch was uploaded and installed into his systems, and the memories, every last one of them, restored to their rightful places. It wasn’t just Sideswipe’s memories anymore, vaguely passed by their spark. Now they were all ones belonging to Sunstreaker’s own frame.

And Primus, there were so many. Vorns worth of them, and it would take a while to reintegrate all of them, but when he made a query—Megatron, Megatronus—the amount of returns was… Something else. The sheer size of the role Megatronus had in those memories spoke volumes of everything he had forgotten, and quite well explained Megatron’s seemingly abrupt interest in them.

It wasn’t abrupt. Just opportunistic. Old.

But as he shifted through the memories as fast as he was physically capable, a trend quickly made itself known. Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed up at Megatron who was staring at him with something expectant–

And Sunstreaker said: “You’re a real jackass, did you know that?”

Megatron raised just one optical ridge at him. “Really? That’s the first thing that comes to your mind?” There was still an undercurrent of a purr to his voice, his field pulsing with something entirely suggestive, and when the warlord’s thumb pressed against his lower lip again, Sunstreaker could make an educated guess of where his thoughts were supposed to go, according to Megatron.

But he wasn’t going to just play along. “Was it not supposed to be?” he asked instead, cocking an optical ridge of his own. “The last I remember you were trying to prevent me from going to a goddamn party.”

“You put up quite a fuss over that—and then you disappeared,” Megatron said, and now there was… A hint of a growl. Anger. Sunstreaker didn’t feel like it was directed at them, this time, but rather at whatever—whoever—had so stolen them from Megatron’s clutches.

If nothing else, the servo in his fragging chassis was carefully pulled away. Sunstreaker shuddered at the stabbing pain it caused, but couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved to not have the tyrant’s claws threatening his lifeforce anymore. Memories or not, he couldn’t bring himself to trust the mech any further than he could’ve thrown him. He carefully rubbed at the gaping wound once he was free to do so, not that that achieved anything more than more grating discomfort.

And he glared.

“You look different,” Megatron commented in the silence that followed, and oh dear but he didn’t sound happy about that.

“Yeah, well, if you haven’t noticed I’m not a Pit fighter anymore,” Sunstreaker grumbled, because this was one topic where he didn’t find himself in disagreement with Megatron’s obvious displeasure. He’d liked his looks, but of course, he very well couldn’t look quite so Kaonite among the Autobots.

So here he was instead, not looking as he had.

“Did the Autobots do this to you?” the warlord asked, now outright growling and gripping Sunstreaker’s jaw tighter until the smaller mech was grimacing. Oddly, Megatron’s hold immediately loosened.

“They didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to,” Sunstreaker argued back, but he knew his discontent was too visible. There was no way Megatron would buy that, even if it was the truth. Mostly.

“Did you have the option to refuse?” Megatron asked, confirming that no, he didn’t buy it.

But the golden twin just barked a laugh. “Some slag, coming from you.”

“I would have never stripped you of your edges like this.”

“What about all other shit you would do and have done?”

“Such as?”

“Primus, you really need to ask?” Sunstreaker growled and tried to jerk his helm away, not that Megatron was having any of it. “I can think of a goddamn laundry list off the top of my head, but we’d be here the whole night if I started repeating all of it. How about that party incident though, or how many times you straight up forced me into an interface?”

“And how many times did I give you pleasure? How many nights did we spend together?”

“Is that supposed to–“

Before he could say more, Megatron had leaned down and pressed their lips together, softly, gently—but when Sunstreaker tried to turn his helm away with a low snarl, Megatron only grabbed one of his helm fins and kept him right where he wanted him. Still Sunstreaker refused to return the kiss despite Megatron’s glossa requesting entry; the twin stubbornly kept his mouth closed. Megatron didn’t seem to care too much about that, and while he kept his control of Sunstreaker’s helm with one servo, the other began to… Travel. It started from his neck, blood soaked, dangerous claws brushing against the cabling there and then wandered down—carefully playing in the open cuts left on him by Megatron himself until Sunstreaker shivered from the shy increase of pain.

Then it moved on, slipping to his waist, dragging along seams… Lower still.

There was no question of what Megatron was after.

“Why?” Sunstreaker snarled, then gasped when the servo flashed between his legs, scraping the edges of his valve cover.

“Do you not miss this? Miss me?” Megatron murmured against his mouth, but didn’t give him a chance to answer before his glossa thrust in past his now parted lips.

Sunstreaker shook. There was no way that he could have missed something he didn’t even remember, but now he remembered.

He remembered the attraction, the danger, the strength—the bad and the good. He hadn’t made a habit of ogling the enemy leader, but now he didn’t need to have done so to know every detail of Megatron’s frame. Unlike Sunstreaker’s, it had barely changed over the millions of years the war had ravaged their species.

The millions of years they had been apart.

Had his spark had the time to forget those emotions? All the perilous thrill that had come to such an abrupt end, the magnetic allure that had never cooled back then in spite of everything, and perhaps still hadn’t. He couldn’t strike from his mind the way Megatron’s physique had always titillated him, how he’d loved every curve, every spike in his thick armor, making him look as dangerous as he really was—the embodiment of everything it was to be Kaonite, a gladiator.

Now it was wrong. They were on opposite sides of the massive chasm their race had been torn into by the same damned mech now touching him–

And still he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny the way his spark quickened in its rotation, pulsing urgently.

It hadn’t forgotten.

Megatron’s touch never turned rough as he toyed with Sunstreaker’s valve panel, teasing and coaxing until Sunstreaker was squirming in place, unable to pull away with the grip Megatron maintained of his fin—and the tyrant still kissing him with heat. Where Sunstreaker had forgotten, Megatron had no reason to have done the same, but it looked like the warlord hadn’t gotten over his own feelings for him any more than Sunstreaker’s spark seemed to have.

Whatever those feelings actually were. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure what he should have called it, recalling all of the behavior Megatron had always displayed. Was it just his version of genuine love, or only possession and obsession?

If one day he might know, now wasn’t that time. In the present Megatron was expertly turning Sunstreaker’s frame against him, and before long he could no longer pretend his valve wasn’t slicking, that his ventilations weren’t turning unsteady. It wasn’t just about the physical sensation, either. That had to be the worst part. Memories, so many of them of situations just like this, pushed to the forefront of his mind—reminded him of just what Megatron could do to him, the ecstasy he could bring. His spark responded too, pulsing with vim even as his mind rebelled against it all to no notable effect. Good sense said he shouldn’t be doing this, that this was everything he shouldn’t be doing–

And yet, on one scratch across his cover, Sunstreaker couldn’t keep himself from groaning, and couldn’t keep his panel from retracting.

Megatron’s digits dipped in immediately, encountering all of the lubricant that had already gathered, and the tyrant purred with clear pleasure. Indeed, what reason did he have to not enjoy the way he could turn Sunstreaker on with such ease, as if he was irresistible to Sunstreaker… And maybe he was. The past sure suggested he was.

He should have fought it. Maybe that would have gotten him exactly nowhere, but he should have fought it out of principle. They were enemies. They had to be. Megatron was a Decepticon. Sunstreaker was an Autobot.

This was wrong.

But still, despite knowing that with every reasonable thought he had, Sunstreaker didn’t fight it when Megatron pulled from his mouth only to take a hold of him and gently lower them to the ground until Sunstreaker’s back hit it with barely a thud. Megatron didn’t quite pin him even as he caught Sunstreaker’s servos in his own and pressed them to the ground a little above his helm. Despite the tenderness of that and everything else, Sunstreaker wasn’t certain he could have actually pulled away if he had tried.

But he didn’t even try, not even when Megatron’s spike cover transformed aside. Sunstreaker didn’t look. Not like he needed to to know exactly what he was getting into.

Megatron released one of his servos to run his hand down Sunstreaker’s frame, all the way to his hips that he then lifted, aligning their equipment. The tip of the tyrant’s spike nudged against his valve entrance and Sunstreaker shuddered with his entire frame, his helm tilting back as Megatron began to push—slowly, but never once stopping. The entry was controlled, methodical, and Sunstreaker did no more than feel every inch, every caliper that expanded, gave way to the wide length pushing into him. Among the Autobots, few on top of Optimus could compare to this, and Sunstreaker wasn’t sure his frame and spark didn’t welcome Megatron with far more affection and eagerness than they had ever done with the Prime.

He was gasping by the time Megatron’s hips were brought flush to his. The warlord rumbled as he stopped there, simply enjoying the heat of Sunstreaker’s frame and the uneven clenching of his calipers as they adjusted around his girth. Sunstreaker gladly took the moment to try to arrange his thoughts into some sort of order.

Tried to remember he wasn’t supposed to want this for so many reasons.

Then his once lover began to move, pulling back leisurely, pushing back in with the same calm ease—gentle as he ‘faced him. His mouth came to Sunstreaker’s again, lips pressing against lips. Sunstreaker’s parted before conscious thought caught up and Megatron claimed the invitation it wasn’t.

They kissed until Sunstreaker couldn’t find the will to not return it.

“Oh, how I have missed this,” Megatron breathed, pulling away from his mouth only to dip his helm to the side. “Missed you,” was whispered directly into his audial.

Sunstreaker moaned—just a small sound, but he moaned all the same, as if those words were something he wanted to hear.

As if they brought him pleasure the same way the steady thrusts of Megatron’s hips did.

“You were mine once upon a time,” the tyrant continued. “Do you remember how I cared for you? Protected you, from your owner, from your inexperience—taught you until you could win every fight to the death.”

“Don’t take all the credit,” Sunstreaker would have liked to growl back, but the words only came out as a husky groan. “You weren’t the only one we trained with. You weren’t–“

“But I was the best and the only one who loved you. Recall my affection. Recall everything I did for you and still claim I didn’t have your best interests in mind.”

“Oh, I recall,” the twin managed to hiss. “Every time you tried to order me around, all the control you tried to exert over me. Tell me what to do, what not to do, when this, when that, who to associate with–“

“And you never listened to me. Don’t you see you left me no choice if I wanted to keep you safe?”

“My safety wasn’t your concern–!”

“But it was. Your misguided attempts to deny my help were just that: misguided. Was that not what led you here? Without your memories, no knowledge of all the time we spent together, as lovers, in love?”

Sunstreaker’s arguments died in his throat as Megatron sped up the steady rhythm of his hips, while still remaining as gentle as he knew the mech to be capable of. The softness… He doubted many had ever seen it.

But Sunstreaker had. It had belonged to Sunstreaker. Wasn’t it proof that not everything Megatron said was a lie? That maybe the now-tyrant really believed what he said? He’d brought terror upon their entire species, all but torn their planet apart, killed millions… Yet he fucked Sunstreaker so gently.

Kissed him with such care.

Sunstreaker could find no words to speak against the grey mech’s lips as the charge climbed higher, as his spark danced in all those long forgotten things he had been given back…

His overload was sudden and anything but insignificant. Sunstreaker’s back arched as the whiplash of energy exploded in his frame, sending him higher than he could remember being in a stupidly long time. He groaned deep from his chassis and Sideswipe repeated the sound to the side of them, where he still lay and now pressed his face into his arm as the overload claimed them both.

And the arrhythmic tightening of Sunstreaker’s calipers had Megatron growling two thrusts before he pushed in as deep as he could go and Sunstreaker felt the transfluid pumping from his spike, into the very back of his valve.

He slumped against the ground once the energy stopped exchanging between their frames, venting heavily. His optics fluttered back open, only to see Megatron already looking at him, his gaze the deepest red, reflecting nothing but his immense power.

Just as Sunstreaker remembered—and like he had never feared the intensity in it, all the promises it held of what Megatron was capable of… He didn’t fear it now either.

Megatron’s digits came to brush the side of Sunstreaker’s face, still so loving, at such complete odds of what he knew most thought of the warlord. Megatron wasn’t loving. Megatron wasn’t gentle.

Megatron was violence and brutality, ruthless in his pursuits. Nothing stood in his way.

And yet here he was… Anything but that, just for Sunstreaker.

Well, aside from the “nothing stood in his way” bit. Certainly Sunstreaker’s reservations were of no concern to him when they didn’t align with what Megatron wanted.

“Don’t forget me again,” Megatron murmured with one last stroke along Sunstreaker’s jaw before he withdrew from his valve, leaving the twin to shiver from the sensation of his retreat against sensitized sensors, and that of copious amounts of lubricant and transfluid both leaking out of him afterwards. Sunstreaker didn’t get up even as Megatron rose to his pedes, merely propped himself up on his arms and quietly watched as the warlord walked over to… Sideswipe.

Sideswipe, who still hadn’t gotten up himself, but was staring at Megatron with rapt attention. Their old lover crouched in front of him and hooked just one digit under Sideswipe’s chin, gently guiding him up onto his knees before laying a kiss on his lips too. It was a fierce thing, desirous, and Sideswipe mewled into it, unsure of how he was supposed to react—aside from the knowledge that he certainly, certainly shouldn’t have allowed it.

But he did. He did allow it, and when Megatron pulled away with one final bite on Sideswipe’s lower lip, his twin’s arms were shaking from the inarticulate bundle of emotions violently ricocheting between them. They could only name desire and qualm out of it all.

Megatron said nothing more; neither did the brothers. Or Soundwave, for that matter, whose presence they had managed to mostly forget with how still and unresponsive the telepath had been through everything. They only registered him again now when he transformed onto Megatron’s servo, the tyrant following that with his own transformation around his Third.

Then he was off, all over again, just like that… Except this time he had gotten what he wanted.

And by the pits the things he had wanted—and however more he would still want, now that they remembered. Now that they knew, again.

Megatron was their past, and after all this they wanted to make no guesses as to what their future would be.

( Next )

[xiyao-feels]

Part Three: Claims about JGY

Intro - Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

JGY

1) JGY has the authority to teach NHS the SoC

He does teach him, and there's no suggestion from anyone involved that he didn't.

In MDZS, the SoC is explicitly one of the Lan's exclusive teachings, and NMJ objects to LXC teaching it to JGY on those grounds; LXC's response to this includes the fact that it can't be leaking it since JGY is their sworn brother, a consideration which would not extend to NHS. I'm not saying that LXC would necessarily deny NHS the chance to learn it (if he were in fact capable of playing it; it's noted as very difficult), but there is no way that JGY has the authority to teach it to NHS without LXC's permission. Nor does NHS seem to be making any efforts to hide what he's playing (in front of both NMJ and some of the Nie men JGY was just playing in front of), so it doesn't seem as though JGY was playing on that to get NHS to keep in a secret. I grant you the plan is stupid enough as it is, but if he'd obtained permission from LXC to teach NHS that would elevate it to new heights of idiocy.

In CQL, the guqin conversation is missing a great deal of what we see in MDZS, and that includes the exchange about it being a Lan exclusive teaching. Nevertheless, we're not given any reason to suppose it's not—and all later discussion of it pretty much follows on MDZS, where it is.

2) JGY involves NHS in his killing of NMJ

He teaches him the corrupted SoC. Now, as in part one, I think MDZS canon suggests this would result in NHS actually helping NMJ, but that's clearly not what the movie is going for.

In MDZS, JGY consistently defends NHS from and to NMJ, as you've seen in some of the quotes in the previous sections. Moreover, after NHS burns his hands when NMJ burns NHS' things, he's the one who orders medicine prepared and comforts him, advises him to go back to his room and rest, and tries to keep him from provoking NMJ; and then, after NHS has run off and locked himself in his room, refusing to open it to anyone to allow them to deliver the medicine, and while NMJ is still furious about NHS' defiance, accepts the medicine and plans to take it to NHS' rooms after he's finished with NMJ (ch 49-50). He does not involve NHS in his plan to kill NMJ.

In CQL, again, we see rather fewer of JGY and NHS' interactions during this time period—which doesn't mean that they don't happen, just that we don't see it. Again, when CQL doesn't say something, I tend to assume it matches MDZS unless I have a specific reason to believe otherwise—CQL kind of relies on this, in fact, otherwise you have questions like "wait what the heck was JGY trying to dig up in the temple". Regardless of whether you agree with that argument, JGY does hold NHS back and prevent him from running towards a qi-deviating NMJ. Although I've seen it interpreted as cruel, he likely prevents NHS from getting himself killed or injured (as happens in MDZS, where NMJ wounds NHS (ch 50)). And this is of course not strictly part of the text, but I'll observe that ZZJ has said that he thinks JGY would regret allowing NHS to witness NMJ's qi-deviation. There is, regardless, no evidence in CQL that JGY used NHS in his plan to kill NMJ.

3) JGY can straightforwardly prevent NMJ's violence via the SoC

We see him do this when NMJ is about to punch NHS; he's obviously hurrying a little, but the SoC works clearly and quickly.

In both MDZS and CQL, he shows no sign of an ability to do this. Instead he just has to deal with NMJ attacking him. When he can prevent NMJ's violence towards him, it's literally just that he manages to talk him down; JGY is, in fact, incredibly vulnerable to NMJ's violence.

We see more of NMJ targeting JGY in MDZS (see next point), but in neither MDZS nor CQL does JGY show any sign of being able to stop NMJ's violence by playing a few quick measures.

Granted, this is mostly a replay about the SoC being able to stop NMJ's violence quickly even when used by someone with weak cultivation. But it's a very important point.

4) Someone other than JGY is the main target of NMJ's violence.

This isn't an explicit claim, but while NMJ is violent on more than one occasion, at no point is JGY his target, nor (from what I can tell) is it suggested he usually is. Rather, NHS and the Nie men are made to stand out as NMJ's victims.

In MDZS, JGY is absolutely the main target of NMJ's violence;* although he does burn NHS' things, leading to NHS' hands being burnt when he tries to save them, and later injures various people (including NHS!) when he qi-deviates, he does this latter /because he is hallucinating they are JGY/. He calls JGY out at the stairs and /publically/—in front of various Jin disciples!—and not only humiliates him but also kicks him down the stairs then draws his sabre on him with intent to kill him (all this after trying to hit him very first thing after they go outside). Earlier, of course, we see him try to kill MY after MY has just killed WRH and saved his life, and his final qi-deviation is immediately preceded by him kicking open a door to slaughter JGY on the spot for the crime of being upset to LXC about how NMJ treats him…ostensibly combined with him being polite and friendly to NMJ's face, but the last time JGY was anything but, NMJ tried to kill him, and indeed LXC is advising JGY against "provok[ing]" NMJ "again," presumably by talking back to him as he did at the stairs (ch 50).

In ch 118—before the stairs incident, and I think it must have been before the Chang clan are killed too—XY asks if JGY's bruise is from NMJ. Although in fact it is not (and observe JGY's response: “If he were the one who did it, do you think I could still be standing here and talking to you?”), the possibility of NMJ's violence towards JGY is clearly present. In ch 32, when WWX sees some kids playing, although we're told that LFZ is the most popular character and although the text is replete with indications that at this point in time he is both powerful and well-respected, there is /still/ the general knowledge that NMJ is going to threaten JGY and JGY is going to flee:

“Nie MingJue” raised swung his fist, “So what if you’re the Chief Cultivator. You’re still my youngest brother. You’ll have to run away whenever you see me anyways.”

“Jin GuangYao” did indeed cooperate and maintain his character. Flinching his shoulders, he quickly ran away.

See also WWX's comment in the first Empathy chapter, when he's surprised at watching NMJ and MY get along: 'Wei WuXian had heard too much of those jokes of how “LianFang-Zun fled whenever he heard that ChiFeng-Zun arrived”.'

We're even told that the brotherhood oath they swore was unusually violent!

NMJ's determination to kill JGY lasts even into his own death—that's /why/ JGY dismembers him and sets such strong seals on him, so that NMJ's fierce corpse won't kill him. NMJ's violence towards JGY is a central part of both of their narratives, and shows up all throughout the text.

*Well, NMJ is also very pro-Wen-killing, but on an individual level.

In CQL this is a little more complicated. NMJ seems perhaps generally less violent? Certainly we are shown less of his violence, and in e.g. the confrontation in Sun Palace he is not constantly attempting to get to JGY while LXC blocks his blows and explains things. In episode 36, although we still see the children playing, the exchange is a little modified; we're still told JGY is scared of NMJ, but the NMJ kid doesn't raise a fist or anything like that, and the JGY child doesn't run away. Nevertheless, NMJ is clearly hostile to JGY, and his violence at the stairs is the same: attempting to hit him the moment they arrive outside, kicking him down the stairs, and then drawing his sabre on him to try and kill him. The difference is that in CQL, JGY survives because NMJ qi-deviates, whereas in MDZS he would likely have died had LXC not intervened. The emphasis on NMJ's violence towards JGY is much less present in CQL; nevertheless, JGY is still the primary target of what violence we do see.

5) JGY is easily replaceable, indeed at all replaceable, as a subordinate

FJ does not explicitly say this, but NZH seems to be very well-integrated and to have been there a while, and there's no suggestion he is in any way less than a perfect subordinate, or that JGY was better. As though to emphasize this, we see him dive in front of NMJ to take a blow (as with MY in CQL)—and, of course, he has the good grace to die when NMJ tries to kill him. One of the rather underspecified Nie cultivators also flings himself in front of NMJ, taking a blow to save his life (although, to be entirely fair, willingness to take a blow for NMJ is probably the way in which MY /is/ most easily replaceable).

In MDZS, MY's competence as NMJ's subordinate, and indeed the extraordinary level of his competence, are fundamental to his and NMJ's relationship. Consider these quotes from ch. 49:

After he left, Nie MingJue switched to another deputy. Wei WuXian, however, felt that the new one was always a few beats slower. Meng Yao was an unusually clever talent. He could understand what wasn’t said, and perform to the best with the simplest orders. He was efficient and never slacked. Anyone used to him wouldn’t be able to refrain from comparing him with others.

and

Nie MingJue was never close to people. He rarely opened up to anyone. Though he finally managed to obtain a competent, trustworthy subordinate, whose character and capabilities he approved, he found that the subordinate’s true colors were nothing like what he had thought they were. It was only natural that his reaction was so extreme.

Moreover, it's WWX's conclusion in ch 49 that part of the reason NMJ agrees to swear brotherhood with JGY is JGY's extraordinary talent:

From [WWX's] observations, aside from how Lan XiChen brought it up, having always hoped that the two would reconcile, the most important factor was probably the gratitude of saving his life and writing the letters. To be precise, in his past battles, he had more-or-less depended on the information that Meng Yao sent over through Lan XiChen. He still thought that Jin GuangYao was a talented person whom one would rarely come upon, and intended on leading him back onto the right path. However, Jin GuangYao wasn’t his subordinate anymore. Only after they became sworn brothers would he have the status and the position to urge Jin GuangYao, like how he disciplined his younger brother, Nie HuaiSang.

This is also part of LXC's attempt to reassure JGY that NMJ has not entirely turned against him, in ch 50:

Lan XiChen, “He has always cherished your talent, hoping that you would choose the right path.

JGY's extraordinary competence is very much central to their relationship, and the /fact/ that he has to be so extraordinarily competent to achieve any recognition is central to the themes of the text.

In CQL, again, this is less explicit. However, in episode 10 NHS praises him and WWX and JC are impressed by his talent; the captain, the only other high-up Nie man we get an individual sense of, seems rather less impressive. Moreover, at the stairs, when confronting JGY about XY's imprisonment, NMJ says what did I tell you back in Qinghe (about wanting XY dead), i.e. when JGY was his servant, suggesting he still views JGY in the framework of that relationship and at least possibly suggesting that he still misses JGY in that position.

In the interests of justice I will also bring up the important claims about the characters I noticed that /do/ have significant textual support: first, that NMJ is very good at fighting; second, that NHS and NMJ are each other's most important people. (It technically also gets that NHS hates practicing the sabre, but given the way it contextualizes this I'm not giving them any points for that one.) FJ also claims that lying to someone to keep them from knowing something that would hurt them is an expression of love—although in MDZS this goes rather the other way around, with NMJ keeping things from NHS, considered in isolation it does fit in with similar expressions of love in CQL/MDZS.

Now, I want to be clear, I'm not actually being as thorough as I possibly could. To do that, I would have to watch it multiple times and think things over for at /least/ a month, and even aside from the poor anon who's waiting on the answer to the question "what do they erase about NHS and JGY," I have absolutely no desire to spend that kind of time with the film.

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