#and how his dissociation gets so bad he doesn’t know who he is or who reader is and how reality is just a struggle for him

[sinnbaddie]

Please just give me mentally deranged Obito like I’m on my knees begging 🙇‍♂️ I need hcs of him being insane in general / in a relationship (preferably nby or male reader) so bad

[flicklikesstuff]

Have you guys ever thought too hard about Crunchy Chip’s over-the-top avoidance of sweets? Because guess what?

I SURE did-

We all know that eating sweets in the Dark Cacao Kingdom isn’t as unforgivable as Chip makes it out to be. The citadel literally has some sweets stored that Fishgatto took in his benefit before.

Caramel Arrow’s fav drink is literally brown sugar milk tea (Like meeeee :D). Not even Dark Cacao himself is strict on it since he has given Chip a pass on the treats a number of times.

As far as I know, I believe no other Dark Cacao denizen is actually that strict on that rule? (I may be wrong idk)

So then, why is Chip like this?

…….

This is going into more theorising territory, but it’s been heavily implied that Chip has spent his entire life (if not ever since his childhood) in the wild. His voice lines point to this. He lives in the mountains, can set up camp by reflex, hunts with the pack, and overall just has a love for being outside.

Also, most likely raised by wolves even? I feel like his story below was meant to be about how he first met and was saved by Dark Cacao since it parallels the bit when Wildberry shares how he first met and is taken in by Hollyberry. While it’s not stated how old he was in that time, I’m going to assume somewhat young enough near Wild’s age if we’re seeing the two stories as parallels?

(After all, this sequence is meant to show why these two cookies are the best, most loyal options to be entrusted with their monarch’s soul jam. It makes sense to me that they’re parallels of a first-meet.

AGAIN, this is my interpretation only!! This story could really be taken as something else too.)

And I’ve been thinking. Assuming IF Chip has spent his childhood in the wild, he must’ve been isolated from cookie civilisation/cookie social circles for a period of time.

Until he was ‘saved’ and then taken in to train and become a warrior and Cream Wolf Captain. With his childhood spent not growing up in a typical cookie home and instead, his heart being always in tune with the wild more, there’s bound to be some dissociation with his fellow Dark Cacaoians.

(This is also the guy who doesn’t know what a delegation is despite being a man in his mid 30s tops. Adding more into my theory that he’s somewhat detached from society.)

………..

Getting to the point, what if this isolation is the explanation? Chip has mentioned that his job has him needed at the kingdom’s borders, thus making him even more distant from other cookies.

And even then, the others even agree so that his rightful place and the place he’s most expected to be in, is in the mountains.

Not saying that this is a bad thing. Not at all! He loves his job. I’m sure Chip loves being in the mountains with his wolves. He’s mentioned how he’s missed and is fully content being there a bunch.

It’s just that…. Does he ever feel a longing to belong? After all, it’s an ingrained thing to desire connections. Not just with the wolves but also, with his very own people too. Does not growing up among other children cookies just like his other fellow warriors had, ever get to his head sometimes?

Does it ever make him feel….isolated and distant in a sense?

Unless, this could be fixed of course. He could really, really, really commit to the values every warrior should have. And Discipline is one of them! If he’s dedicated to the bit, then he could convince himself that he truly does belong and IS a Dark Cacao warrior.

He’ll prove it if he must! To the king, to the others, to himself!

He feels the need to greatly appeal and prove to Dark Cacao so much that he does have a place in this kingdom after all. Why wouldn’t he? He’s kept strict to every rule and expectation, right??

If we consider that the theory he grew up isolated in the wild as a kid could be true, this means Chip has felt like an outsider ever since he could remember.

Being a Dark Cacaoian by blood/jam. But at the same time, still not fitting in. Its tough. (Not projecting nope.)

Btw, this may or may not reminded me of someone else….

Mr. “Would rather be in the silence of the Royal Gardens than loud-ass parties and talking and I’m fully aware how weird that sounds coming from a Hollyberrian cookie.”

*coughs coughs*

Totally not spreading my Wildchip propaganda but I just thought it’d be neat if they talk about how they love their respective kingdoms and would die to serve them but also-also, it lowkey feels weird and kinda hurts to not actually fit in with your own fellow cookies. Also WHAT, you’re an orphan adopted by your Ancient too???

………….

So anyways, I probs dug too deep into what should’ve been a comedic trivial thing of a character and made it into a mini sad-fest. Whups.

Though, it could also be simply that Chip’s just really dedicated while silly about it buuuuuuuut, that’s not as fun to analyse.

TLDR: “I didn’t have normal childhood like other cookies so I sometimes feel like not truly belonging but that’s not true because I DEFINITELY am a Dark Cacao Warrior and I can prove it by overcommitting to the bit.”

Btw, Happy late Bday Crunchy Chip <3 🎉💖

[timmydraker]

CW: so much angst but it’s mainly for villains

Tim had Ana hunt with Bruce who tells him that he’s too young to understand how the world really works, with Jason adding sneakily that he’s also a rich boy who’s never struggled before.

Naturally, Tim takes this as a challenge and decides to help and/or ‘fix’ every villains that he thinks he realistically can.

He goes big straight away with Harley Quinn. He goes to her and pretends to be asking for advice on a friend who’s in an abusive relationship, saying no one else seems to be understanding eh situation but as a score she might. He smoothly describes her and Joker and lets her rant for almost two hours before pulling the rug form under her and saying that Jason forgives his ‘friend’ for him dying by her boyfriend because he knows she was hurt just as bad when she tried to save him.

Harley takes another two months to leave the Joker and places herself in Arkham to contour her role as a doctor for her fellow maniacs.

It takes the help of several doctors but he finds the cure for Freezes wife and hands it over while telling the man that his wife probably won’t forgive him for his various murders.

Freeze understands, saves his wife anyway and accepts her request for a divorce willing, just as long as she stays alive.

He gets Arnold Wesker a real doctor who can better treat his Dissociative Identity Disorder and helps him keep Scarface out of the front by playing along as if rhetorical puppet is real and under heavy custody.

Arnold starts to live for more moments of peace than he has in years, even if there are still some really bad days.

With Poison Ivy he doesn’t actually do anything as Robin, but instead goes to her as Tim Drake and asks for her guidance on how to make his medical company and by association Wayne Industries completely eco friendly and even help to stop climate change. Tim Drake was already borderline political, he might as well lead the charge on action for climate. He does say that if Ivy does any more large scale and fatal attacks he will stop everything, which she agrees to after a week of though with her plants council.

Pamala cries for hours when she sees Tim’s plan to de-plant the entirety of a forest that she had once tried to save.

Tim doesn’t tell his family about any of this until he asks them to visit him in his city office about a gala he wants to hold, his very first, and they find Pamala and Harley helping with decoration plans and Victor and Arnold discussing how their therapy has been going together.

Bruce nearly had a heart attack.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

waiter waiter!!! can i get more house md smut with a side of intox <3

I GOTCHUUUUUUU ive been thinking a lot abt it can you tell >:3

warnings: intox, hard drug use, cnc/noncon/dubcon, somno, gaslighting, humiliation, mentions of date rape and suicide, homophobia/transphobia, slurs, sph but make it t-dick, medical kink, 🏠 being 🏠

reader is a trans man/transmasc. anatomical terms used are cunt, slit, and dick/t-dick

so. house has no qualms drugging people for his own personal gain. he’s done it to wilson, cuddy’s mother, a nuisance neighbor, and god knows how many patients. but i don’t think he’d do it to have sex with someone. he has multiple reasons for this, the simplest being that he doesn’t need to.

“date rape is pathetic. if you can’t get people to sleep with you of their own free will, that’s what we call a ‘you problem’. you should worry about fixing your own life instead of ruining someone else’s. or, you could do the honorable thing and just kill yourself, like the noble samurai.”

he also wants his partner in the moment with him. someone excited, responsive, someone who will react to his every touch and beg for more. it’s an ego boost for him.

that being said, however, he’s absolutely into intox sex. it’s probably one of his biggest kinks. he’s fascinated by the effects of drugs, how a little bit of this or a tiny bump of that can augment the experience, either for himself, or a willing lab rat.

house gets off on documenting the experience. sometimes he’ll ask you questions about your high and put your answers in writing. sometimes he'll film the session (with or without your knowledge. i bet he has hidden cameras. depends on if he’s worried about participant bias). most commonly though, he'll narrate his findings into a voice recording.

he's fully clothed with you naked on his lap. your head's been spinning for a while now, thanks to that brownie he fed you earlier. he's got one hand pinching your nipple; the other lazily stroking your cunt, tracing up and down your slit, creating a baseline level of arousal for you. "current time is 11:57, almost 3 hours after ingestion. subject is presenting with dilated pupils, impaired motor skills, decreased cognitive function..."

he pinches your t-dick and jerks it aggressively, causing you to jolt upright and yelp in shock, "a-aah! f-fu-OH! fuck!” you start to leak into his hand.

"subject is self-lubricating adequately—" house’s fingers slip off your t-dick. he huffs in frustration, but gets right back to it, “perhaps even excessively, and presents with healthy erectile tissue despite underdevelopment.” he stops jerking you to suck on your neck and smack your cunt with an open palm. “you get that? that’s big smart doctor-speak for ‘you have a tiny dick.’” he starts to jerk you again. “an adorable, tiny little baby dick. it’s almost like you’re a real boy.”

it's not always a clinical trial with him, though. he’s also into more casual, personal, intimate intox play. things like drinking games or sharing a bong together. he loves pressuring you to do one more shot, take one more hit, let yourself slip further and further. he’s such a bad influence.

as you two get better acquainted over time, you’ll build trust in each other, and house will want to take more risks with you. he likes to call you on the phone at random with ideas.

he leaves you a voicemail, “you ever hear of ketamine? it’s a dissociative anesthetic. used as an antidepressant, a party drug, and horse tranquilizer. let me know if you’re interested, because i wanna give you some and then fuck you in the ass. alright! gotta go, talk soon. later, fag!”

after enough sessions together, he’ll pop the question: “how do you feel about loss of consciousness? are you okay with waking up to me using you?”

he invites you to spend the night, and you’re greeted at the door with some water and a mysterious pill.

“what’s this?” you ask.

“wanna find out?” he answers.

a few sessions like that, and then house will escalate. suppose an offer of a pill turns into a surprise injection in your bicep.

if you don’t pass out, you’ll have to guess what he gave you based on how it makes you feel. on edge? heart’s racing? a stimulant. dizzy? can’t think straight? a benzo. your body’s heavy, and the world seems like it’s lagging? ketamine.

but it’s not always obvious. you’ll be hours into a session, paranoid, overanalyzing your senses, trying to pinpoint what’s different than usual, but nothing sticks out. overall, you just feel… good. that’s all it feels like. no wacky colors or crazy thoughts, just good. but house always makes you feel good. in fact, his mouth is making you feel really good right now. what the hell did he give you? it’s gotta be something, right?

he’ll come up for air while he’s eating you out, “any guesses?”

you’re panting, gasping for all the air you can get in this brief moment’s respite, and you have no fucking clue. “i don’t… fuck, i don’t know. i can’t tell.”

“hm! sounds about right.”

“wh… wha?”

“i gave you a sugar pill, dummy. thought you would’ve figured it out by now. god, you’re stupid.”

[alirhian]

Ascended Astarion is true unlike Spawn Astarion who pretends to be good for Tav

If i see that opinion again i will explode🫠

It's funny because Astarion will only approves if you persuade him not to perform the ritual.

A lot of people don't understand the concept of grey morality and it shows. Many people justify him but this type of AA fan thinks worse of him than he really is. He needs the ritual not because he's a power-hungry villain, but because he needs safety for himself and his lover. Depending on Tav/Durge's actions, he either stays with the feeling of fear (AA is still afraid deep inside, the game files confirm this) or he fights against it and becomes truly free of Cazador and fear (spawn ending). The dialogue with Durge about not being afraid is wonderful and shows difference between SA and AA.

Astarion: This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear. Or else we never really live. Astarion: I'm not afraid. Not of you, not of your darkness, and not of our future.

The point of the spawn ending is that Tav/Durge saw him as more than just an outward image of a power-hungry killer incapable of becoming a better person. But if you can't see beyond that image, he will think that he has no choice but to continue living in the world that Cazador has built for him. If you think that AA is his best ending because he is evil then you have failed to understand his whole personality.

I feel safe with you. Seen.

Despite of his love of killing (he is a vampire after all), he repeatedly showed compassion and guilt for luring people. Before the ritual, he literally convinced himself that he should kill spawn for power. Astarion rationalises this to protect his psyche, because he’s clearly not the type of guy who can sacrifice thousands of people to the devil and not feel anything about it.

Durge/Tav: This isn’t you, Astarion. Not really. Astarion: It should be.

I really like that the player technically makes the insight check and that there’s an advantage when they're romancing Astarion. Tav/Durge could see through the image Astarion was trying to create. They saw an elf whose fear prevented him from seeing all the possibilities.

Astarion: When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now.

Just as Astarion saw Durge not just as serial killer, but as someone who could defeat Urge and become a better person.

Durge: I am myself at last. You don't need to fear anything from me ever again. Astarion: I knew you had that sweat heart all along. I was alarmed by you sometimes, scandalised even, but somehow by your side, I still only ever saw you.

AA fans also often ignore the fact that the game has good and bad endings in the companion stories. And it's not about morality. All companion quests are literally about how the desired and obvious path leads to a bad ending. And Astarion is no exception. In a good ending, he gets the chance to heal and finally acceptes himself and his vampire nature, in a bad ending, he gives up and regresses as a person.

Spawn Astarion knows what he wants and says it. SA is ready for a relationship and sex. Ascended Astarion can’t answer the question of what he wants, so he acts as a vampire lord should. AA is literally back to the state of the first act and has started manipulating Tav/Durge through sex again (even repeating the same phrases). This is why he doesn’t really want sex (he approves if you choose the no sex option and he definitely dissociated during the sex scene) unlike Spawn Astarion who initiated it.

Spawn Astarion is the same Astarion who enjoys “murder and terror” and you can see that clearly in his “hero” ending (more like “antihero”). And this is the ending without romance, he chose it himself. And the whole idea of him pretending to be good for Tav is actually meaningless without romance.

Ascended Astarion is the same Astarion, but stuck in a black and white world of fear and domination.

SA scene ends with hope music (instrumental version of I want to live) AA scene ends with chains.

And there’s so much more. Larian specifically showed the difference between good and bad endings in the dialogues, scenes after ritual, recent updates and even the interview so people would definitely understand, but they didn't🙃 Some AA fans (especially on youtube and larian forum) are on a new level of delusion.

[userlando]

my only sunshine — george russell

george russell x fem!reader [1.9k] summary: george feels like the whole world has come crashing down, but he luckily has you to pick him up. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, hurt & comfort a/n: i felt so so bad for george last night that i couldn't help but imagine how it'd be like to comfort him afterwards. i wasn't originally planning on writing smut but figured i'd throw it in there. anyway, hope you like this, lmk if you do!! <3

Silence. It’s all you’re in after the day has slid toward its end, the rumbling of the car providing you with the slightest comfort as you sit next to the man who’s given you so much. So much love, hope, inspiration and everything that you can’t seem to reciprocate at the moment because you can see that he’s dissociating, eyes staring off into the distance but it’s like he’s not looking. Just… seeing.

His hand in yours is warm, clammy, but he’s holding it tightly like he can’t seem to bear to let it go in fear of breaking down completely; Like your hold is the only thing tethering him to sanity. It makes your stomach twist and your heart ache with gruelling worry.

He mumbles hello’s and thank you’s as he guides the both of you through the lobby of the hotel, saying nothing as you press the elevator button. You can’t stop looking at him, wondering what he’s thinking but you know it can’t be anything good judging by his glassy eyes, red-rimmed with unshed tears.

George had been so close to podium, so close to getting that win he deserved and fought hard for. It had almost felt like reality slipped from your fingers as you watched his car lose control, taking him out of the race before any of you had time to blink. The garage had been in despair for your boyfriend and so had you, conflicted with Lewis’ win as he raced toward the finish line. Nothing has quite managed to break your heart as hearing your boyfriend’s voice over the radio, holding back tears for the sorrow he must’ve been feeling.

You stare at the tension in his back as he walks into the hotel room, shuffling through your thoughts and wondering whether you should speak or not. You know from experience that he’ll come to you eventually, and he will seek comfort in his own, wordless way but it doesn’t stop you from desperately wanting to reach out to him.

George turns when you drop your bags on the floor, giving you a slight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and you give one back.

“Go have a shower, I’ll order us something to eat.” You grab his hand in yours and watch as his fingers scramble to hold on, head nodding slowly. You press a kiss to his open palm. “Go.”

He goes without any preamble, leaving the door ajar and you walk around the room to redress into something comfier before calling for room service.

It’s a hot and stuffy night, but you welcome the slight breeze when you crack open the balcony doors and walk outside to take a look. It’s a gorgeous city filled with good memories, and you’d hate to think that tonight would taint them.

The sound of the shower running acts as background noise, and you get lost in your thoughts before the creak of the bathroom door pulls you out of them. You turn around and timidly walk inside, trying to tamper the sudden speed of your heart at the sight of your boyfriend walking across the room in his underwear; scrubbing his wet hair with a towel with way more aggression than necessary.

It’s the first sign he’d given you that he’s angry, ever since he first jumped out of his crashed car. He sniffles, the sound too loud in the silent room and you gingerly sit on the bed because you don’t know what to say to make it better.

You know that it’s something that he’ll eventually get over. Not completely, but the feeling of sadness and disappointment will dissipate with time. Right now, he just needs to lick his wounds.

He flings the towel in the direction of the sofa, missing it completely and it falls with a thump on the floor but you don’t focus on it for too long, watching George as he finally meets your eyes.

He’s been crying.

George’s eyes are red, watery and it makes your heart clench fiercely as you stretch your arms out for him to fall into. He doesn’t say a word as he lets you hold him, the shaking of his shoulders a clear indication that he’s finally broken down.

“You’re okay.” You whisper into his wet hair, holding his head so delicately as you fight your own tears off.

He doesn’t say anything as he cries and you don’t even know what you whisper to him, but it seems to work because his sniffling eventually fades off. You stroke his wet hair and kiss his head, pulling him in closer to you, like it’s possible to be any closer than you already are.

“I fucking had it.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it.

But it’s there, and he sounds angry with himself.

“I know.” It’s all you can say, knowing that there’s nothing else that can help him.

“I just had to go fuck it all up.”

You tighten your grip on him, guiding his head from your chest to look at his face. It’s heartbreaking to see the dried streaks on his cheeks, long eyelashes clumped together from the tears but he looks as beautiful as ever.

“You didn’t fuck anything up.” Your voice is firm, thick with emotion but you power through. “Shit happens, you can never predict the outcome of these races and you know it better than anyone. It was a long race, and you did your best. That’s all you can ask of yourself.”

He shakes his head.

“I should’ve done better.” His eyes fill with tears again, eyebrows scrunching up in anguish. “I could’ve done better.”

“Maybe so.” You brushed a thumb under his eye. “But you did your best at that moment, baby. It’s a tough track.”

He made a noise of dissent and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his warm cheek, keeping your lips there. The way he subconsciously leaned into it made your chest tighten in adoration.

“You’ll always be amazing to me, Georgie.” You whispered against his skin. “I don’t know if that counts for something, but it’s the truth.”

He turned his head so your lips caught the corner of his, making you smile.

“It means the world, and you know it.” He said, squeezing your hip. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You waited until he turned his head fully, accepting the kiss that he was quick to press to your mouth.

It was like a switch had been flipped the moment your lips opened up to each other, George placing both hands on either side of you so he could guide you up the bed until he was looming above you. You sucked in a well needed breath when he trailed his lips down, kissing and sucking your jaw and throat in urgency.

“George…” The sound of his name from your lips made him stop and glance up, eyes trained on you. “Are you sure you wanna do this now?”

His answer came in the form of a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs, your legs caging his hips in and bringing your crotches together. The shudder that he let out was like music to your ears, low and heavy. Almost like some weight had been lifted off his shoulder and just that alone made you want to do more, to distract him from tonights loss and show him how great he was.

“Nothing I want more.” He murmured against your lips, fingers slipping into your joggers and underwear, slicking up his digits.

A shudder left your lips, hands gripping his shoulders and spreading your legs wider for him to properly settle between as he slowly fingered you. It was quick, thumb circling your clit just the way he knew you liked until you were coming apart under him.

He loved on your lower lip as you cried out your orgasm, eyes trained on your face because he just couldn't look away from how pretty you looked. It made him physically hurt how much love he had for you, how grateful he was that you managed to pick him up so easily when all he wanted to do was close in on himself.

No one had ever managed to simultaneously fill him up with so much love and inspiration like you did, and the adoration he felt for you in that moment felt like too much to bear. So, he hurried his movements when he felt you starting to shudder from overstimulation, reaching down to push his underwear far enough to get himself out of the confines.

"George, please." Your pleas made his hands shake as he slid the length of his cock up your pussy, wetting it in the process and hearing you moan. "Please, just hurry up and fuck me."

He didn't need to be told twice, notching himself by your hole and glancing up at you; waiting for your nod of consent before he pushed himself inside. The both of you moaned in unison, George's mouth dropping open at the combined feeling on your tightness and wetness, the warmth enveloping his cock as you reached your hands up to grab at his damp hair.

"Oh, fuck." He bottomed out, arms shaking to keep himself hovering over you. "Fuck, you feel good."

You pushed your chin out and George almost smiled at the gesture, knowing what you wanted without you having to verbally tell him. He got down on his elbows instead, caging your head in before he leaned down and licked into your mouth.

His thrusts were jerky, like he couldn't focus on one thing and you really couldn't blame him. It was clear that he needed the release and you desperately wanted to give it to him, clenching around him and hearing him moan against your ear; voice hoarse and broken.

It wasn't long before he was burying his face in your neck, hips working into you harshly before he grunted and buried himself to the hilt. George came with a bitten moan, shuddering as he shot off inside of you and it made you tighten up weakly, prompting another sound from his mouth.

The both of you laid wrapped up in each other, listening to each other's breathing and the silence dragged out for so long that you'd almost expected George to have fallen asleep. But then he made a noise in his throat and picked his head up from your chest to peer up at you.

He looked more relaxed than before, but there was still a sadness in his eyes that nothing but time could wipe away. You picked up a shaky hand to brush a finger under his eyes, watching his long eyelashes flutter at the touch.

"Japan will be yours." You said in a whisper, like it was a secret and it made George smile sadly.

"Don't hold your breath." He said it so self-depracatingly that you shook your head in a stubborn manner.

"I'll hold my breath, Russell. Better yet, I'll be right there to scream the loudest for you."

That prompted a laugh out of him, pushing into your hand when you swept his bangs out of the way.

"Thank you." He murmured and your face softened at the sincerity in his voice. "I don't know how you manage to do it, but you always make my losses hurt less."

"I'll always be here, you know that."

He nodded because yeah, you always were and you had never proved him wrong. It made something spark in his chest, something that felt a lot like hope and determination for the next weekend.

He'd bring the win home. If not for himself, then for you.

[untilmynextstory]

sugar on the rim | stripper!honey summary: pope didn't really want to go to a strip club for his birthday, but maybe it's not so bad when he receives a private dance by the headliner, Honey.

T-Shirt | 18+ chapter summary: It wasn't until last week that he realized that Honey dressed in themes differently from the other girls. She didn't wear traditional lace and bodysuits.  Her attire was almost theatrical  - an experience. A part of him tried not to feel jealous at the thought of other men getting such an experience.

warnings: smut, mentions of assault (man grabs dancer), fighting notes: hi guys, somehow my writing inspiration returned after watching the pitt and I decided to rewatch animal kingdom. This character was originally for a jax teller story, but writing her with pope became easier! I also am not the best smut writer, and I was hesitant to include it in this, but it flowed better with it. i do for sure have two more little blurbs/one-shots, but I have gotten really attached to this iteration of this honey that there will probably be more. additionally, I have more versions of honey planned that I hope my inspiration stays for me to write. i also want to give a shout out to @girthgrudgefear as their small piece of pope x stripper!reader gave me the push to fully go through with fleshing this out more and to post this.

WESTERN

Like most jobs, there were the pluses and minuses. Stripping isn’t something Honey is ashamed of. Stripping is the one way for her to remain close to one of her loves in life, which was dancing. Dancing is her one escape in the world ever since she was little. Despite what most would think, there isn’t any cattiness backstage amongst the girls and the bartenders, bouncers, and owner ensured they were safe and cared for. Most girls wanted to come in, do a shift, and go home. The girls are trying to pay their way to college and pay bills. 

Being one of the older dancers, Honey is almost a mother figure to them as she would help them navigate the world of college, loans, and being a young woman. 

Besides, dancing keeps her in shape as well.

One of the job's minuses is the specific clientele. 

98% of their clientele are men, and 2% are women. 

Men could be grabby, rude, and over all assholes. Not all of them, but most. 

The women for Honey were always her favorite to dance for, especially at parties. The women are there for a good time, and their joy is infectious. It always felt more fun dancing for women, especially when they would try to join her in dances. 

Yet, most of the time, Honey dances for men who thought she owed them or was something to be bought. 

So tonight, she isn’t particularly looking forward to the private party she and a few other girls are booked for, especially when she knows that her fellow dancers have offered things off the menu. Honey doesn’t judge; she just cautions them to be safe and not to serve everyone. 

She is familiar with the party for which she was booked. The Codys are as infamous as the beaches in Oceanside. Honey was fortunate enough that she had been growing up just a little out of the age range of the boys’ social groups; out of all of them, she is more familiar with Craig due to his presence in the club, and he used to mess around with a few of her friends. 

They were more into surfing, and she lived at a dance studio. So her interactions with the Codys were few and between. 

Though it is one of the brothers’ birthdays, Andrew, or Pope, as he went by, she heard Pepper and Jasmine talking amongst themselves about one of the brothers specifically requesting girls who offered more. 

Honey is confused about how she landed in the middle of all this. However, the Codys had money, and even her boss isn’t ignorant that one of the brothers, Craig, was a frequent high-paying customer, and he wanted the best. 

She assumes this was why she is alone in a room with Andrew Cody. 

One thing she learned and honed in on as a dancer was to dissociate. It was easy to get lost in the music as she undulated her hips. And even though most girls found it a bit tacky, Honey made sure to have theme nights for herself. And tonight happened to be her Western theme. Besides being a headliner, she needed to give people reasons for coming back. She needs to provide these men with fantasies, as that is why they are here. They want to escape and feel powerful. 

And Honey finds it’s not hard most days as she gets plenty of offers from men wanting her to be their mistress, who will put her up in her place in the more exclusive areas of The Strand and Oceanside overall. 

Yet, tonight, she thinks her little outfit isn’t catching the eye of her customer. She has a bedazzled bra and ass-less chaps, yet for the sake of earning more tips, she has on a pair of black bikini briefs that she only untied at the end of private performances, and only for her loyal, high-paying customers. 

While dancing, it is essential to make eye contact, yet in dim lighting, it is easy to look over men’s shoulders and give the illusion of empty smiles. 

Yet, this customer sat stone-faced in his seat as his hands clutched the armrests. She wasn’t even sure if he was enjoying the dance, even as she undid her bra. Usually, that gets her a reaction; he does nothing except stare. 

However, as she moves from the stage to his lap, she assumes he is enjoying it, if what she feels beneath her is any indication. 

When the 30 minutes are up, he stuffs her hand with cash and politely waits for her to redress herself before they leave the room. 

He is her easiest customer for the night. 

CHEERLEADER

Honey doesn’t think about the Codys, or Pope, specifically, for the rest of the week, despite the enormous tip that Pope had given her. Instead, she focused on her routine for Sunday for her headliner performance. And it was the week her two longest customers, Mr. Briggs and Steven Carmichael, were making their routine visit. 

Mr. Briggs is an elderly investor, entrepreneur, and businessman who owns things in and out of Oceanside. He is old enough to be her father, and she is sure his youngest daughter is her age or younger. She knows he is married to a highly conservative Christian woman, who is highly involved in a local church. When Mr. Briggs comes to the club, it’s always through a special access door that leads to one of the private suites for privacy.

Since she showed up at the club at 23, he has requested Honey.

He is nice despite consistently trying to pay her for things off the menu or, worse, constantly offering her his home to be the weekend lover. She doesn't want to call him sweet, as a man like him has to be ruthless in business. Yet, she knows to be sweet and seductive with him, as one night with him, she makes her rent payment for the month. 

Steve Carmichael is a retired pro-surfer. Now, he has his merchandise line associated with surfing and sponsors local talent. He is single, but she is under no illusion that in all the places he owns a home, a girl is waiting in an empty house like the one he consistently tries to place her in. 

Although Honey blames herself for being young and naive and allowing him to be the only customer she ever slept with. 

Yet, she may have another regular customer. 

It’s late on Thursday night when she spots him. He looks awkward and out of place in his button-up. His eyes glance around the dancers. She watches as a few dancers try to approach him, but he rebuffs them.  She shakes her head in amusement as she approaches him. His eyes lock on her, and he trails down her body over her outfit, which was that of a cheerleader, as she walks to him. 

She throws him a coy smile. “Want a dance?”

He nods awkwardly before she leads him to a private room, nodding towards Cliff, who keeps guard of the area. 

She gently guides Pope to a chair. “So that you know, this is only a dance.”

He nods in compliance before she begins moving to the song playing. This time, she doesn’t fake eye contact with him as she moves around. She notices his eyes can't seem to stay focused on her face. In fact, he seems entranced by her belly ring. 

Despite his being here, he still seems stiff. 

While she cages his lap with her legs, she grabs his hands and places them on her hips. He looks up at her, alarmed, but she gives him a bemused smile. She leans down next to his ear, “Relax.”

It takes a few minutes, but he does. She smiles at him genuinely as she continues her routine, and not once does he move his hand from anywhere other than her hips. 

POISON IVY

“Do you always dress in theme?”

Honey looks at Pope inquisitively. She believes these were the first words he had ever said to her. She shuts the door to the private room and twirls in her costume for show.  

She is wearing a red wig in a half-updo with two buns on top. Her outfit is a one-piece monokini with a scrunch-butt bikini bottom. The bundle of leaves mixed with rhinestones is strategically placed to cover her breasts.  

She smiles at Pope underneath her eyelashes as she leans up to his ear and grazes the spot on his stomach above the lines of his jeans with her nails. “Do you like it?”

She thinks it is adorable watching the tip of his ears turn red. “It’s nice,” he settles on.

She laughs as she removes her elbow-length fishnet gloves and stuffs them in his front pocket. 

“Just nice?” She teases. 

Pope doesn't reply, but she can see the flush building in his cheeks. 

He is turning out to be her favorite customer. 

NURSE

Pope didn’t expect to become a regular at a strip club. He hadn't been thrilled when his brothers added that as a stop in his birthday celebration, and even worse when Baz announced he got him a private dance with the headliner, Honey.

He didn't know what to expect when entering the private room. Craig had already moaned about him getting to have a private dance with Honey. Apparently, Honey wasn't cheap, and Craig never had the cash for barely 15 minutes with her. 

Pope swears he remembers Craig coming to him with a busted nose when he was 16 from a girl named Honey. 

Pope didn't get to ponder those thoughts as he watched Honey come out in a lasso and assless chaps, fake guns in holsters to her sides. 

He had watched in a trance as she controlled her lasso and the way she moved her hips. The way her gold dripping honeycomb belly ring glinted under the club’s light. Worse, the feeling of her pert ass grinding on him and the smell of something sweet like marshmallows, vanilla, and caramel infiltrated his senses long after the dance. 

Yet, he noticed she didn't dance like she was scared of him or that she was dancing for a Cody. He felt normal just being a customer. Even with his brothers, they walked around on eggshells. In that room with Honey, he was just another customer. 

He thought that would be the last time he would see Honey. 

After another night of no sleep and another re-run of Planet Earth, he had idle time.

He had made his way to the strip club before his mind caught up. 

He tried not to feel disappointed that he couldn't spot her. A part of him felt foolish for having hope. Yet, he spotted a figure approaching him in a skimpy cheerleader outfit. She seemed happy to see him. 

He followed her silently into a private room and recalled the look she threw at him and her words, indicating that she only danced. He had nodded, as he did not argue, and he would never push for more despite knowing a few girls offered. 

Despite the warning, she did place his hands on her hips. He could still feel her heat and the smoothness of her skin. The smell of her perfume infiltrated his senses. He recalled her sweet smile and the way it reached her eyes. He can't remember the last time someone smiled at him. 

Returning home, he fell asleep easily that night. 

It wasn't until last week that he realized Honey was dressed in themes. She didn't wear traditional lace and bodysuits. 

Her attire was almost theatrical  - an experience. A part of him tried not to feel jealous at the thought of other men getting such an experience. 

He had to admit her poison ivy costume was his favorite. She gave Uma Thurman a run for her money. He recalled the bikini bottoms he itched to pull and wondered if she would let him. He knew that she would never let him touch her in that way. Yet, the fantasy of her and her sweet smile fueled him to feel longing, the craving of a soft touch. The way she sometimes giggled at him despite his lack of words in his responses was enough to forget the demons perched on his shoulders. 

Instead, he had pulled the green fishnet gloves out of his pockets, inhaling deeply for traces of marshmallows, vanilla, and caramel, and held them tight in his fist while he worked to find release. 

Walking into the strip club, he is curious about her outfit tonight. 

. . .

Tonight is a night of hell for Honey. 

Most would think it’s common for men to get quite grabby, but it's not. Sure, they had assholes every night,  but most strip clubs have their regulars who respect the rules and look out for the girls. It’s typically any out-of-towners, or fresh 18-year-olds, and drunk college boys that get a little too hands-on. 

Tonight is one of those nights, especially since some surfing events are happening. Everyone is on edge, especially regarding a table filled with some Portuguese surfers. Cole, their bouncer, had walked over to them several times, especially as one seemed to be getting rough with Jasmine. 

Honey typically had no problem taking over a rough table on such nights. She had done it for the green girls, who didn't know how to regain control. 

Yet, she feels she might have gotten a little over her head with these guys. 

At most, on the floor, Honey only goes topless. It is for private dances with loyal, high-paying customers that she ever went full nude. Yet, this table did not seem to understand the word no as the men kept tugging on the strings of her bottom despite the clear no-touching signs. 

She would usually redirect with a laugh and a quip, so that the men usually knew they were reaching their limit. After all, men loved to test boundaries. 

Yet, the man kept persisting with his friends, egging him on. 

“Sir, I think it's time for you and your friends to take your party elsewhere if you can't respect the club rules, " she tells the group. At this point, she knows Cole needs to escort them out. 

Yet, in her move of walking away, she makes a fatal mistake of turning her back. The man grabs her roughly, causing her to cry out in shock at the pain of his grip. 

She goes to scream for Cole, but she is ripped out of the man's grip. She is in a stupor as the Portuguese man is thrown on the floor. 

It takes her a while to recognize the bulky form of Pope. 

Cole is trying to intervene as Pope continues to punch the man. The club is silent as they watch Pope beat this man to death. 

Cole and Cliff finally manage to pull Pope from the man. Pope is heaving in anger. She can hear her boss telling everyone the show is over as he works to try to get the club to focus on the drinks and the dancers. Honey follows Pope, who is taken outside by Cole.

Cole frowns at her following them. 

“I'll be okay,” she answers his silent question. Yet, she knows Cole is still waiting on the other side of the door for her to walk back to him. 

Pope is silent and staring at the moon. 

She isn't sure what to say. She has seen her fair share of violence. She isn't queasy or revolted. It is just the intensity she had seen from him. And she is familiar with the Codys, particularly Pope, who is known for violence. 

“I'm sorry you had to see that.” He tells her without turning to look at her. 

Honey licks her lips and folds her arms around her chest. “Can you give me a ride home?” she asks gently. 

She is unsure if he even hears her, but he nods.

She holds out her hand for him. He looks so confused at her, but he does grab it as she leads him back inside. She doesn’t bother changing into her sweats and tank top and just switches her platform stilettos into her slip-on Converses and slides on her jacket. 

She follows Pope silently to his truck and thanks him quietly as he opens the door to let her in.

The ride is quiet, and she is unsure what to say, so she is silent as Pope drives her to her place. She lives in a small two-bedroom house on the Strand. It was a bit pricey, but it is her home since she returned to Oceanside.

Pope pulls up in front of her place. She notices that he is clutching the steering wheel hard, and in the light of the moon, she can see the blood on his knuckles. 

“Come inside?” 

He looks at her with wide eyes as if he is shocked she would ask that. 

 “Please.”

She almost misses his nod, but he opens his door and escorts her to her door. She wonders if she is making a mistake. 

Sure, she is aware of the Codys, but she doesn't know them. And most would think her crazy, out of all the brothers, she would have Pope in her home. 

She directs him to sit on her green velvet couch before she escapes to her bathroom for her first aid kit. 

Returning to the living room, Pope looks stiff and out of place. Reminiscent of how he was during their first dance. 

“Let me look at your hand.”

Pope seems to realize that his knuckles are bloody as he looks at them and flexes them. “You don’t have too…”

“I want to,” she tells him as she settles in front of him between his thighs. “Besides, it would be a shame for my outfit to go to waste.”

Pope’s eyes zone in on her outfit for tonight, which was that of a sexy nurse. The skirt is barely existent, and her top was of a pleather material that made her modest breasts look like a C cup. 

She notices his eyes are stuck on the zipper, threatening to burst. 

He doesn’t fight her as she begins to clean his hands gently. 

“Are you okay?” She asks him. She looks up to find him already staring at her. She feels her cheeks become warm. 

“This is nothing,” he replies quietly. “Are you?”

“Not my first bar fight, slugger,” she replies, almost laughing at his sour look. 

She finishes wrapping his hand and kisses his bruised knuckles. She can tell he is uncertain, and being in an unfamiliar place probably makes him more anxious. 

“Thank you.” He tells her as he gently flexes her hand.

“I’ll see you next week?” she asks, leading him to her door. He nods before making his way to his truck. She laughs as he doesn’t pull away from her house until she closes the door and is safe inside. 

PLAYBOY BUNNY

“It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

Honey, who has found her home on Pope’s lap, leans back in and raises an eyebrow at him. She is surprised when she feels his hand squeeze the fluffy cotton tail of her costume. His healing hands trail to the front of her strapless corset teddy. They look better than they did last week. 

Her hands trail up from his broad shoulders into his growing hair. She thinks she can distinguish little curls forming in his dark hair. She had been eager to see him since last week. It didn't help that the days were slower, as if the universe knew her feelings for Pope. 

She knows her tips were shit for the night as she barely worked the floor waiting for him to stroll through at 1 AM, an hour before closing. He had barely made it in before she was dragging him to a private room. 

She leans down to his ear, “Like you didn’t have a favorite playmate?”

He doesn’t give her a verbal response, but his hands tighten around her waist, especially as she grinds purposefully on him. It’s not the little teasing moves she makes on the customers. This is purposeful in movement. It’s meant to elicit a response. She wants his response.

At this point, Honey has concluded that Pope isn’t a regular customer. He intrigues her, and he is probably the only customer who has. She wants to know what's hidden beneath his guarded stares and the stories of his rough hands and scars. 

She can feel him beneath her, and she is sure a wet spot is forming between the two of them. His eyes trail over her form. She can see his want more clearly than any other night she has been on his lap.  “I don’t recall you being a centerfold.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, the air between them thick and heavy. “Take me home tonight?”

. . . 

It's under an hour that Pope has Honey naked in bed with his head buried between her thighs. Her clothes are scattered across the floor of her bedroom. Honey only managed to get his shirt off and jeans undone before he gently threw her on her bed. 

“Andrew,” she keens as he drags the flat of his tongue across her folds, fingers tightening on his growing hair. Her thighs are trembling with the promise of release as she arches her back. 

“Look at me,” he commands once he realizes her eyes are shut. 

Honey obliges with no complaints even if it's a struggle as he closes his lips around her clit.

“Fuck,” Honey moans as he sucks gently. “Oh, fuck, I'm gonna-”

Honey's back arches off the bed as she gushes against his mouth. Yet, before she can come down from the aftershock, she feels two of his thick fingers breaching her entrance and his lips closing around her clit again. 

She gasps as she protests, “It's too much.”

Pope's fingers are steadily pumping in and out. “You can give me another one.”

Honey is breathless as she whines and withers before him. Her body tightens again with the promise of release. However, Pope's thick fingers vanish and she feels her pussy flutter around nothing. 

“Andrew!” Honey's eyes snap open as she finds him standing at the edge of her bed. Admiring her slick form. She can see her release on his lips. His hair is mussed from her fingers.  

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks gravely. A part of her is in disbelief that he would ask her that after he was just buried between her thighs. Yet, as she catches her breath, she feels the question is filled with a heavier meaning than just sleeping with him for the night. 

“I want this,” Honey replies without hesitation. 

He doesn't second-guess himself, or her, as he removes his pants with his boxers in one move. She swallows as she sees his length, stiff and aching, as he places a condom on. 

She is sure he is the biggest she has had based on girth alone. 

He crawls over her slowly, hesitantly. Honey can't help but kiss his nose and nibble at his lips when he reaches her face. He pulls her into a deeper kiss as she spreads her legs wider, as she feels him heavy against her thighs. 

He pulls back and looks into her eyes. “It's been a while for me.” He says shyly.

She smiles softly, “Me too.”

Honey had been sure that he would have entered her in one sharp thrust. Yet, she is taken back as he sinks into her slowly until he is buried fully inside her. She can feel him trembling. She sighs as her body adjusts to him. 

“You okay?” He whispers as he kisses her neck. 

Honey nods as she takes a breath. “Please move,” she begs. 

He doesn't need to be directed twice as he begins a steady pace that has Honey sighing as her head falls back against her pillow. She brings her legs up higher, and she groans as she slips deeper into her. 

“Oh fuck,” she whimpers when his fingers begin rubbing circles on her swollen clit. 

Pope continues to push into her slowly, deeply. Honey winds her arms around his neck and pulls him into a kiss as her fingers tangle in his curls. Yet, she needs more. 

Suddenly Honey nudges him on his back and in one swift motion she sinks back down on his cock. 

“Fuck,” Pope groans as he nudges a spot deep inside that her her squeezing around him. “I'm not gonna-”

“Let go,” Honey whispers as she brings him into a messy kiss as she grinds down on him. 

Pope sits up and delivers a sharp thrust. His arms wrap around her tightly as his thrusts turn brutal. Honey's nails dig into his shoulders as she clenches around him abruptly, which triggers Pope's release as he fills his condom. She laments the use of the condom. 

She finds herself being turned to lie on her back. She shivers as Pope gently removes himself. 

“Sorry,” he says as she hisses at the feeling of the emptiness. 

She watches as he removes his condom and throws it in her wastebasket. She lets out a startled yelp when he picks her up bridal style. 

“What are you doing?!”

“You need to piss. Don't want you to get a UTI.”

Honey thinks she is going to fall in love with this man. 

CIVILIAN 

Honey wakes up feeling completely rested, but sore. She moans slightly as her body slowly returns to consciousness despite her wanting to stay asleep. However, she remembers why her body feels so sore, especially as she feels the weight and warmth of a person wrapped around her. Or more particularly a hand underneath the shirt she is wearing, gripping her tit. 

A grin takes over her features, and she thinks about last night with Pope. Pope had taken her a second time after she had made a late-night snack. To say it was intense would be an understatement. She knows she will walk funny and must take it easy when dancing. 

She grabs his hand and presses a kiss to his fingers, and she is startled when she feels it flex. 

“How you feeling?” His voice is rough from sleep. 

She turns to face him, a smile on her lips. “Good. How are you?”

“Best sleep I’ve gotten in a while.” He admits. 

Honey almost preens at his words. She knows he has just been released from prison, and his mom's place is too crowded from the little they speak. She can only imagine how that messed up his sleep cycle. 

She pushes him to lie flat, which he does with no resistance, and she straddles him. 

She giggles as his eyes focus on her breasts that are conveniently covered by the opening of his button-up shirt. 

In her haste to remove his clothes, she had broken the buttons with a promise to mend them. 

His hands grip her thighs, and his thumb rubs circles on the flesh, causing her to shiver. It's quiet between them, and she knows there is no going back. He isn't just a customer anymore. 

“You know, I think this is my favorite outfit,” he tells her. There is a vulnerability in his eyes. 

She smiles at him and rubs soothing circles on his chest. She can fill his heart pounding, “I think it’s mine too.”

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 14 - Save Me

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.2k words. Let's save Piper! Go team!

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, torture, descriptions of torture, descriptions of wounds, death, use of weapons, HORRIBLE military inaccuracies, dissociation, blood, medical inaccuracies, panic attacks, talks of death, Mr Jonathan “I can justify my actions” Price, bombs, angst, all hurt no comfort, fuckin’ Graves and his shadows are everywhere like a cancer.

AN: Name a chapter the omega hasn't cried in... I'll wait.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy!

Dr. Piper opens her eyes properly for what feels like the first time in hours. She’s alone in the room, though the camera is still set up. She looks down at her arm. He’s still bleeding her; she’s being killed by her own invention, a repurposed dialysis machine built to keep just enough blood out of her body so she can’t heal her wounds. Fitting really. 

She feels weak and her head is swimming. He can’t keep her hooked up to this much longer or it will kill her. Maybe that’s his plan? She wishes he would just shoot her, at least that way it would be quick. She wouldn’t be so lucky though. He needs to keep her alive. 

She looks around the room. The lights are harsh, bright white in her eyes. She remembers him recording the video, or at least him yanking her hair around. She can remember his demands too. It’s supposed to be a swap. It’s the worst case scenario. 

She made sure to put in the letter to John not to come and save her. She knew this was a death sentence, all to keep the omega safe. You are safe and you have your pack to protect you. It doesn’t matter what happens to her. She just wants to get this over with quickly. 

Hale gave them 48 hours. That means she’s going to have to suffer through this for at least another 2 days. The pain’s not too bad, when she doesn’t move. Her heart aches for you, though she knows you’re in the best possible place and with the best possible people. She hopes you’re on your way to the UK or wherever John thinks it's safe. 

She’s not religious but she’s praying to any God who’ll listen to keep you safe. 

The door to the room opens and Hale walks in. He’s changed clothes. There are no windows, no clock. She’s been unconscious too many times to try and keep track of what time it is or how long she’s been here. He puts a bottle of water down on the table, and it makes Piper's mouth go suddenly dry. She can’t remember the last time she had a drink. 

“No word yet,” Hale sighs. 

Piper looks up at him. Good. What is she supposed to say, ‘oh well, let's make another video.’  She doesn’t even want to look at him. 

“I guess you didn't really wait long before setting her up with an alpha,” he scoffs. She can hear the irritation in his voice. Yeah, she did it on purpose. Maybe John had figured it out, maybe not. She needed you to be in a pack to keep you safe. You needed to be claimed by an alpha, and she needed to make sure it was as difficult as possible for the Professor to get to you.

“Why bother with the contraceptive suppressants?” 

“A purebred is still pure, it doesn't matter who the alpha is,” he replies. 

She scoffs, shaking her head. 

“She would never have been able to carry to term. Her whole reproductive system is a mess,” she says, remembering what she saw on the ultrasound.

“I’m sure we would have been able to figure something out. You’re a good doctor,” he says, smiling. It makes her feel sick. She shakes her head, looking away. She’s a doctor first but she would never subject you to the surgeries he’s thinking about. 

“Do you remember the research we did on the betas? The one with the claiming?” Hale asks, picking up the water bottle and opening it. She nods at him. She learned how to do autopsies that week.  A smile grows on his face. It makes her angry—he shouldn’t be smiling. 

“We never quite figured it out did we?” he says, talking about their work like they’re old pals. He takes a sip out of the water then walks over to her. He brings the bottle up to her lips. She keeps her lips closed. She won’t take anything from him. 

“I don’t want you becoming dehydrated. You’re a doctor. Don’t be stupid,” he says. She looks up in his eyes, his dark, tired eyes. The eyes she used to see determination in.  She used to think he held the world in his hands, that the scientific marvels they would discover would change the world. Then you came along and his vision changed, and he became obsessed with creating the perfect omega. 

She wont accept anything from him again. 

He sighs, gripping her hair, yanking her head back. Her body tenses as he moves his hand to her jaw keeping her head in place as he forces the bottle past her lips. She doesn’t have time to clench her teeth as he forces the bottle in her mouth squeezing. 

She immediately chokes on it, water filling her mouth and nose, slipping down into her windpipe. He squeezes until the bottle is empty, most of the water being forced back out her mouth. She’s coughing and spluttering as she gasps for air. 

“I guess you learned to be stubborn from the omega,” he says, throwing the empty bottle on the floor. “I knew I should have never let you get close to her.” He sounds angry, his mood changing. His fuse is getting shorter. He’s getting impatient. 

“Why don’t you get it over with now then. You’re going to kill me anyway, there’s no swap,” she says between gasps, her throat raw. 

“I know that,” he says scoffing. “I expect the 141 to come here and try to save you. Then the omega will be left all alone in a base surrounded by people I pay.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m not worth anything to them,” she says, her voice shaky. 

“Sure you are. You’re their key to a cure,” he laughs. She looks at him as he walks back over to the door.

“Besides, they’re soldiers. They like to think they're the good guys. Rescuing you or letting you die? Which do you think they’re picking?” he asks, laughing again as he opens the door. 

“And when they turn up and kill you? Then what?” she spits back at him. 

“Four of them against all the security I have here? I’m not worried. You should be though, because when I get the omega back, I’m still not sure if I want to keep you around. It's always interesting to see what happens when a bond is forcfully broken.” His voice is low, the smile still on his face as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. 

She hangs her head. She was blindfolded when she was bought into the building. She has no idea what kind of system he has or how many people are here. She sighs letting fear rise in her. She knows he’s right. She knows they’re going to come. They are good people. They’re going to risk their lives to save hers. 

She doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve the rescue. She hopes John will listen to her message and just flee. It’s the only way you’ll be safe. Hale can’t chase you forever, especially when you’re being protected by your pack. 

John’s hands are gripping the cup as he hears your wails. Simon and Kate are sat at the table, Kate looking through the intel she’s managed to find on Hale’s Seattle home. His head is spinning. You’re in pain, mental and physical. He can’t do anything about it other than try and get Dr. Montgomery back.

It’s risky. You’re not safe when they’re not around you. Based on what Kate has been able to dig up, the place is definitely going to be protected. He needs everyone for the mission to be successful, which means he’ll be leaving you alone with Kate. 

He sighs, taking another sip of his tea. It’s cold, but he doesn’t care. Simon looks over at him, then back down at his own mug. He’s struggling. They all are, and maybe it’s normal. You being upset must affect the pack's mood in some way. He wishes Dr. Montgomery was here to help, or at least to explain. 

Kyle comes out of John's room.

“Did she sleep through the night?” John asks. Kyle shakes his head. John sighs watching him going into the bathroom. 

He’s not sure how long Johnny has been with you. The sobbing seems to have died down, though. Kyle comes out of the bathroom going over to the kettle. There’s a heavy feeling in the air. They can’t talk about their plans here. Simon and Johnny searched the place but they couldn’t find anything. John still doesn’t trust it. 

Kyle is boiling the kettle when Johnny comes into the common room with you in his arms. John’s heart breaks when he sees your pale, bandaged figure pressed up against his chest. He walks over to the sofa placing you down. You’re murmuring something under your breath as he pulls the blanket over your shoulders.

“S’aright lass, let’s get you that cuppa.” 

Your murmuring stops as he says that, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You look over at the table. You can see Kate and Simon's backs. Then there’s John sat at the head of the table. He looks over at you, and sadness bubbles up inside of you. You look away. The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. Johnny comes back, placing the cup of tea on the coffee table in front of your face. 

You don’t want it but you can smell it.  Johnny always makes it extra sweet. Johnny kneels down next to your head stroking your hair. He lets out a sigh.

“You need to try and drink something,” he says. 

You blink at him. You're not thirsty. You don’t want anything. You look away from him at the mug of tea. Johnny sighs, getting up and going to the kitchen table. 

It’s just so much pain. You keep your eyes on the mug watching the steam swirl in the air. 

“When are we leaving?” Simon asks. They’re keeping their voices low. You don’t know if you want to know what's going on. You close your eyes and you’re back in your happy place. 

The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep but you wake to John squeezing your shoulder. The mug of tea is still there. Your arm is numb. You force yourself to sit up. The moment you move John’s hands are on you helping you. You look round the room. It’s just John but you can see they’re getting ready to leave. Bags and weapons strewn everywhere.

“You’re leaving,” you say.

John sits next to you. 

“We’re going to get her back. We’re going to get her back and kill Hale,” he says, squeezing your thigh. You nod, trying to keep the relentless tears back. There’s a pain deep in your core, a throbbing in your body, something you’ve never felt before. It’s because your pack is going away. They’re going away to do something dangerous.

“Kate will stay with you.” His hand comes to your chin pulling your face to look at him. “You have to promise me if anything happens you will listen to her. You’ll follow her instructions. She’ll take care of you.” 

You nod, fear gripping you for a second. His expression softens. 

“Please save her,” you whisper, choking down the sob rising in your throat. He reaches over, pressing his lips onto yours. It's been a while since he kissed you. Even during your heat it doesn’t happen that much. You let yourself relax focusing only on the kiss, his soft lips, his warm tongue. You melt into it, letting him caress your tongue with his.

His hand runs up your back, firm and warm as it stops on your shoulder blades. You don’t want the kiss to end, you want to stay in this perfect moment forever with your alpha. He pulls away when your tears reach your lips. He looks at you sympathetically, thumb coming to brush the tears away. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. You nod. “Good, then trust that we will bring her back. I promise.” He presses a kiss on your forehead and gets up. You lay back down pulling the blanket over you as silent tears run down your face. You watch as he leaves the building and Johnny and Kyle come in to collect the bags.

John walks over to Kate talking to Simon. They stop talking as he approaches. 

“Are you sure you want to do this John, she did say not to come after her,”  Kate says. 

“We’re going after Hale too,” he reminds her. Simon crosses his arms.

“You know what to do. As soon as Shepherd gives the order you take her and run,” John says. 

“The truck’s hidden 2 klicks south. Here are the keys,” Simon says, handing them to Kate.

“You’re sure no one knows about it?” she asks.

“No. If it’s gone, head to the rendezvous point anyway. We’ll find you,” John says. She puts the keys in her pocket, reaching into her back pocket bringing out a phone. 

“Keep it off until you need it, you know the drill,” she says, handing John the burner phone. He smiles at her. 

“Stay with her, and do not let anyone near her,” Price says. “Try and keep her calm, if she panics—” 

“She’ll distress, I know I’ve been reading Montgomery's USB. Go John, she’ll be fine,” Kate says, almost pushing him towards the car where Johnny and Kyle are waiting. 

“Here,” John reaches to his side, handing her a pistol. He trusts her. He knows she’ll keep you safe, but it doesn’t make it any easier. They know as soon as Graves gets the word they’re at Hale’s house, Shadow Company will be after them. 

John nods at Kate and heads over to the car. He looks over at the barracks one more time. He knows the likelihood of them going back there is low. He gets in the back, Gaz already taking the driver's seat. 

“Laswell will take good care of her,” Soap nudges him. He looks up in the rearview mirror. His eyes meet Gaz’s and he nods. The car drives off. 

He really hopes that he’s making the right choice. 

It’s raining. Of course it is. The rain seemed to start the moment they made it onto the motorway. The sky turned darker as they drove the hour-long trip. The ride had been mostly silent. Even Soap’s chipper attitude seemed mulled out. 

When they made it to the location, the sky was almost black. Price checked his watch. It was almost 5, and it would be getting darker soon. That’s good, they can use that to their advantage. They park down a dirt access road hidden from the main road. 

The road runs about a kilometer, and then it’s dense forest all the way up to his house. The place is guarded by Shadow Company. There should be 10 or so people, not including Hale and Montgomery. They all get out of the car, picking up their weapons, putting on the rest of their gear. 

Ghost swings his sniper over his shoulder, checking his watch. He looks over at Price who nods.

“Ghost, head east. There’s an abandoned outhouse at the end of the drive that should give you a good vantage point to set up.” Ghost nods heading off into the woods as John heads to the north, following the dirt path until it merges with the trees.

When they make it to the house, it’s bigger than Price thought it was going to be. Modern and brand new. How he can afford all this, Price will never understand. He must have a mansion in every state at this point. Dr. Montgomery was right, no matter where they went, Hale would chase them, and you would never be safe.

They all kneel down in the bushes to the side of the high wall. The whole place is surrounded by walls, the only opening being the front gate. 

“Remember, the moment we make our move we’re on a timer. We find Dr. Montgomery and Hale then we get out.” Price says over the radio. “How are we looking Ghost?” 

“Got two Shadows on the main gate. You’re clear to jump that wall.” 

Price nods at Gaz who gets in place to boost Soap over the wall. Price hears him land on the other side before taking his turn. He turns at the top of the wall reaching down to help Gaz over. 

They all land in bushes keeping their backs to the wall. 

“Need help dealing with the Shadows?” Price asks.

“Negative. Side entrance looks clear,” Ghost says. 

“Copy,” Price says and they start to move over to the side door. At least the rain has slowed. Soap tests the handle and it’s open. Price nods and they go in. There are some lights on. They move in silence as they make their way through the rooms. The place is almost barren of any furniture, and what is placed around the massive rooms is covered with plastic sheets. 

“Think he’s renovating?” Soap whispers behind Price who shushes him as they reach a closed door. There is light coming through it. Gaz toes the door open an inch and Price can hear voices, at least 2 people, but he can’t see anything through the crack. He looks round at them both before nodding and putting his hand on the door.   

He pushes on the door as Soap and Gaz rush into the room. Two shots, two people down. They keep walking down the corridor. This place is like a maze and they haven’t even been upstairs yet. Price takes the lead as they continue through the rooms. 

It’s corridor after corridor, temporary walls and scaffolding all over the place. The smell of fresh paint is strong in the air. They make it through to a larger room. The whole place looks like it’s being fitted like a lab. It reminds Price of his old chemistry classroom back in school. He’s building a new lab. 

That's why they’ve been helping Shepherd track down ex-colleagues.

Price continues to lead through the rest of the ground floor, and they take out 3 more Shadows. Plus the 2 when they entered and the 2 on the gate Ghost took care of, there shouldn’t be many left. No sign of the Professor though. The corridors lead back around to the lab. They haven’t been upstairs yet but there’s a large metal door. 

Price goes over to open it and it’s a stairwell leading down. If Dr. Montgomery and Hale were going to be anywhere, it would be in there. 

Price goes down first. As he rounds the corner he sees a Shadow, firing off a shot taking him down before he has a chance to turn and see them. He continues down the narrow corridor. There are doors on each side. The first one is empty. The second, one more Shadow. There are fewer than Price thought there would be. It’s almost too quiet. 

“Soap, go back and shut the door,” Price says. They don’t need anyone sneaking up on them. Price peeks around the bend in the corridor. There is one room and then the corridor ends. Price turns back, pushing on the next door. 

When he looks in he sees Dr. Montgomery. She is still tied to the chair. She lifts her head up.

“I told you not to come,” she says, but there’s a smile on her face. Gaz puts his weapon down going over to her.

“Where is Hale?” Price asks. 

“Upstairs maybe. I didn’t exactly get a guided tour,” she says, gritting her teeth while Kyle cuts her ties. 

“The machine. You have to press the green arrow on the screen,” she says, nodding over to it. 

Price keeps looking down the hall.

“Ghost, we’ve found her. How's things looking out there?” Price says. 

“Quiet, no movement,” he responds. 

Soap comes round the corner, almost making Price jump. He turns back to look at Gaz and Dr. Montgomery. She looks beat up, pale, and she's attached to the machine next to her. 

“What’s that?” Price asks coming into the room and letting Soap take point on the door. 

“Drains my blood, making sure I don’t have enough in my system to heal myself.” She says leaning back on the chair. 

“The Professor sure is resourceful,” Gaz says, rolling his eyes. 

“It was my invention actually,” she says. Soap looks back at her frowning. “Did you forget that I'm not one of the good guys for a second?” 

“We need to get out of here,” Price says. She nods moving to sit forward in the chair.

“Soap, go check ahead. We still haven’t located Hale yet,” Price says going over to the door. 

Soap nods heading down the corridor. 

“Just pull it,” she says. Price turns to see Gaz holding her arm. She has bandages in her free hand. He lets out a breath and pulls something out of her arm. She grits her teeth letting out a groan as she places the bandages on her other arm. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Kyle asks. She moans nodding as she moves to stand up.

“Yeah,” she says as Gaz helps her to her feet. She’s unsteady, even swaying against him as he gets his arm under her armpit, so she can lean on him. An alarm rings out. 

“Soap!?” Price calls through the radio. 

“It’s not me!” he calls back.

“What’s going on?” Ghost asks. Price looks back at Gaz helping Dr. Montgomery. Fresh blood is dripping onto the floor. 

“Stand-by,” Price says as Soap comes back around the corner, Price leads with Soap watching their 6. They need to get out of here. Whatever set off the alarm it can’t be good. 

“Price you’ve got Shadows driving to the house,” Ghost says. Shit. There is no way Graves is here already. They must have been nearby. Not like the Professor to host his security inside his mansion. 

“Soap go ahead see if you can stop the alarm!” Price calls. Soap nods, pushing his way past them. Price waits at the top of the steps letting Soap go out first.

“How many Ghost?” He asks.

“10, maybe more, civilians too,” Ghost replies. 

Great, now they have to worry about civilians. He looks back down at Gaz supporting Dr. Montgomery. Gaz nods at him and they push through the door into the lobby.

Kate is nervous, and you’ve never seen her nervous before. She’s tapping her foot as she types on her laptop. It’s making you nervous. You get up off the sofa, wrapping the blanket around you and go to the table to sit with her. 

She looks up from her laptop as you do. You smile at her and she smiles back. 

“How long do you think they will be?” you ask. 

“I don’t know. They will call when they’re done.” 

“Do you think they can kill the Professor?” 

“Yes. They’ve had to do harder things,” she says looking at you.

“Like what?” you ask, curious. 

“Maybe you should ask John about that kind of stuff,” she says.

“What about you? Are you a soldier?” You realize you don’t know that much about Kate. 

“CIA,” she says, shaking her head. You’ve heard of them before. 

You sit there watching her type on the laptop and then your vision is pulled outside. It’s dark outside and you watch as the floodlights are coming on across the field you can see out the window. All of a sudden it feels like something has changed. A bell rings out and it makes you jump. 

Kate turns around in her chair looking out on the field as you see soldiers start running around. She looks back slamming the laptop closed. All of a sudden she’s out of her seat. Now you’re definitely nervous.

“Come,” she says, her voice level as she goes into John’s office. You nod, wrapping the blanket around yourself. She grabs a backpack and puts the laptop in, throwing it over her shoulder. She leaves the room without closing the door. 

“What’s going on?” you ask as she walks fast down the corridor, almost dragging you along as you head to the fire exit at the end. 

“We need to get out of here. Quick, put some shoes on. And do you have a coat?” she asks as you go into your room. You nod following her instructions, pulling some trainers on and a jacket. Almost as soon as you’ve zipped it up she’s gripping your arm again pulling you out the room.

“Wait,” you say, stopping her. You look around your room. You have a feeling you’re not going to be coming back here. You go over to your nest picking up Dr. Piper's scarf. It still smells of her. You wrap it round your neck, tucking it into your jacket. 

You go up to Kate. You're ready now. She nods at you, leading you out the fire door. You’re hugging the building as you follow her, trying to match her movements. Your heart is thumping in your chest. You don’t know why you’re being sneaky. You just follow her, keeping quiet. 

Before you know it, you’re at the exit you and John take to get to the forest. Kate pulls you up against the base’s wall. You’re hidden in the shadows. You listen to the trees swaying as the wind picks up. You can feel the electricity in the air, the rain moving in. 

“Stay close,” she whispers, inching forward to the corner of the wall. You’re holding your breath as she looks round the corner. You watch as her hand slides down her side pulling a pistol into her hands. You swallow the lump away as you watch her pull the barrel back. The pistol clicks and she brings it up to her chest. 

You keep quiet as you follow Kate as close as you can, your hand resting on her back. She’s peeking around the corner and before you have time to calm down, she turns, running through the exit gate. 

You follow her, holding your breath. As soon as you're through the gate you’re in full sprint forcing your body to move and keep up with Kate. You run past the path you would normally walk down with John and she keeps going.

You run with her until she turns to the right down what looks like a walking path. She slows to a walk and you let yourself suck in breaths of air, the cold making you shiver as the drizzle of rain falls on you. 

Kate doesn’t say anything, putting the pistol back at her hip as you continue to follow the path. You wonder what John is doing, what your pack is doing. You hope they’re okay. You don’t get long to worry about them as Kate takes a sharp turn off the path into the thick foliage of the forest. 

You wish you could enjoy the sounds of the woods, the smell of pine. You can smell damp, the ground after rain. It makes you miss John. You miss your alpha. 

“Where are we going?” you ask after a few more minutes of walking. 

“There’s a truck parked waiting for us. We need to get to it and meet up with John.” 

“Okay,” you say. You can hear the nerves in your own voice. You keep following her. You're not sure how long you’re walking for, trying to keep up with Kate as you stumble through the forest. Eventually you come across a truck. It’s one of the big ones with 3 seats in the front and benches in the back, covered in a tarp.  

You’ve seen them around the base. They always looked so out of place. You follow her into the front seat. It’s cold and the rain is starting to fall down hard now. You bring Dr. Piper’s scarf up to your nose. It smells of her, and you smile, breathing it in as Kate drives off down the dirt road.

“Ghost we need a way out,” Price asks over the radio leading Gaz out while Dr. Montgomery leans heavily on him. 

“Main entrance is a no go. Go back the way you came, through the side door,” Ghost says. Price shakes his head. They need to move fast. He’s frustrated. He can’t think with this stupid alarm almost deafening him.

“Soap, any luck finding the kill switch?” Gaz calls as loud as he can over the radio.

“Working on it!” he calls back, barely audible even though Price can tell he’s shouting. They make it up to the ground floor and the ringing just seems worse, the large empty rooms echoing, the sound bouncing off the walls. 

It doesn’t matter. They’ll be out soon. The building is like a maze, and Price has to really focus to remember the way out. He looks over at Dr. Montgomery. She looks worse. She’s going to need medical attention when they have time. 

Suddenly the ringing stops. There’s collective sighs of relief. Price’s ears are still ringing though. 

“This way,” Price says, leading them to a door with light coming through. It leads down a corridor. Now they’re heading to the west side of the building, which is good since that’s the way they came from. Price has to keep checking behind him to make sure Gaz is keeping up. 

He peeks into a room and sees Soap leaned over a table with a computer on it. There are monitors all over the wall and equipment everywhere. By his feet is a body with a knife sticking out of his neck. The whole room is covered in equipment. This must have been the main command room. 

“C’mon Soap lets go!” Price calls over to him.

“Wait Cap, you need to see this,” he says pointing at one of the monitors on the wall. Price sighs against his better judgment and walks in to see the screen Soap is looking at. 

It’s the Professor, his hands spread over a desk. He’s somewhere in the house, in an office watching from afar. Now Price needs to go find him. Shadow company are at the door. He needs to get Dr. Montgomery out first as he sees her walk into the room. 

“Hold on, let me,” she says, moving away from Gaz and over to the computer. Soap moves out of the way and she types something then presses a button on the console. The cameras move and everyone sees the door to Hale’s office lock. He can see him fighting with it as shutters on the windows slam down. 

She chuckles. She’s not done though as she continues to click through the computer until she finds something. 

‘Lockdown initiated,’ a robotic voice comes through.

“ Yes,” she says under her breath as a warning comes up on the screen. She clicks ‘accept’ and a big red button with a plastic cover on the console pops open. 

“I’m staying. There’s a kill switch here, and it’ll blow the place.” She steps back from the computer so they can see. Price isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at. Gaz and Soap step in to take a better look. 

“You can’t put it on a timer?” Gaz asks as he looks at the computer monitor. She shakes her head.

“That would defeat the purpose. It’s a suicide switch, a last resort. If anyone ever suspected the Professor, he would rather take everything down with him. He imagined himself going out in a blaze of glory, fighting till the bitter end. Covering up his transgressions as his world burnt around him. His last fuck you to the authorities.” She seems almost happy about it. Her energy seems to have picked up as she clicks through security cameras. 

“The investors are here,” she says as they watch the outside CCTV. They’re making their way to the front door. They don’t have long. They need to leave now. 

“It’s not your job to fix this!” Price says taking a step towards her. She backs up, almost bumping into Soap.

“I helped put the omega in the position she’s in now. It is my job to fix this,” she says, frowning almost like she’s annoyed. 

“It doesn’t matter, come on!” John snaps, grabbing her arm. It’s his job to fix this, not hers. She digs her heels into the floor holding her ground. 

“We could destroy it all, John. Professor Hale will be dead, and the chemical destroyed. The investors are here because he wanted to make this place his new lab. Everything is here, everything but the omega.” She looks him in the eyes as he thinks about it. 

He lets her arm go. Hale buried, the chemical destroyed. There would be no one left. They could end it right now. He can see the determination in her eyes. 

She knew this was a suicide mission. Now it still can be. 

“What, no! We’re getting you out of here,” Gaz says pushing in front of Price. She can see Price has already made up his mind. She smiles puling her arm away so Gaz can't grab her. 

“You would die too,” he says as a matter of fact. She nods as a beeping starts on the console and she swears under her breath, turning to the computer.

"Hale's trying to override the lockdown, he could trap you all in here. You need to go John." She says her voice filled with urgency, she quickly looks over at him before turning her attention to the cameras. Price can see the professor by his computer, the shadows are running up the steps to the front door.

“Is there anything you can do Soap, put this on a timer or something?” Gaz asks.

“With a homemade system like this it could take me hours. It’s impressive, built into the foundation of the structure itself,” he shrugs.

"I can keep Hale locked in his office. I can even cut off Shadow Company so you can get out." She explains turning back to look at Price. 

“Price, hostiles heading into the building. What’s your ETA?” Ghost says over the radio. Price can see they've breached the door. They need to leave now. 

“Your hands will be clean. You can take the omega and go on that holiday. You didn’t kill anyone, this will cover your tracks,” she pleads standing up and turning to look at him. The beeping stops.

“We’re leaving now,” Price says over the radio. 

“Cap, you’re not seriously considering this?” Gaz asks. Price can see the pleading in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Will you ever forgive him?

“What about the omega?” Price asks. 

She pauses and smiles.

“She’s your omega, you’re her pack. She doesn’t need me anymore.” She fights to keep the tears back. She’ll cry for you when they’re gone. Price's hand rests on her shoulder. 

“You’re a good person,” he says. She smiles at him looking down as he passes her a radio. “We’ll let you know when we’re clear.” 

She nods, taking it out of his hand. 

“Let’s go,” Price says, turning away and heading for the door. Soap lays his hand on her shoulder and squeezes. 

“I’ll make sure she never forgets you,” he says, coming into her view and smiling as he drops his hand. She smiles back at him. Gaz lingers for a few seconds watching her face as Soap jogs past him. He nods, his lips pressed together before he leaves the room too. 

Price leads them down the maze of rooms and hallways towards the exit of the house. Price tries not to think about you as he reconciles with the fact he's letting both of the people you consider anything close to parents die. 

The Professor was going to die anyway. Dr. Montgomery is a martyr, but it’s the right thing to do. Destroy it all, and then no one else can be harmed. No more chemical, no more Professor, no more unnecessary deaths. The investors will watch the building fall to pieces; they won’t want to invest in rubble. 

He can almost feel Gaz’s eyes burning into him as he justifies it in his head. They make it out the side door and back over the wall. 

When they make it over they follow the wall round to the front of the property. The blacked out SUV’s are parked at the end of the drive inside the gate. Price can see the investors waiting around as the Shadows have made it into the building. They’re going to be dead too. 

They follow the dark graveled road till they make it to the outhouse Ghost is set up in. He comes out when he sees them. They all turn to look down at the house a few hundred meters away. 

“Where is she?” Ghost asks. 

Price brings his hand up to activate his radio.

“We’re clear,” he says.

“John, promise me you’ll keep her safe.” Her voice comes through his ear piece. 

“I promise,” he replies. He feels guilt rise in him now, and he can feel everyone's eyes digging into him as Ghost figures out what’s going on.

“Simon. It’s okay you never forgave me. I never forgave myself.” Soap looks over at Ghost, watching as a breath leaves his throat. Price can smell the sadness in the air. 

“Price, what's going on?” Ghost asks. 

Price doesn’t say anything, the line goes silent. There’s heavy tension in the air, a distant rumbling and then explosions. The ground seems to shift as the explosions get louder. The building starts to crumble. The investors scream, running back towards the cars with whatever Shadows are still outside. 

“No, Price!” Ghost calls his voice catches in his throat. 

“Piper what the hell?” Ghost shouts over the radio.

“You’re a good man Si—” The transmission is cut off. The explosions are bigger now, he can see sections of the building blown off and then the building collapsing in on itself. Price can feel the eyes on him, the tension in the air. He doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn't want to face what he’s done. 

It’s for the greater good , he reminds himself as he turns to look at them. Ghost’s eyes are wide, Soap’s hand resting on his shoulder from behind. Gaz is looking down at the ground. 

“She’ll never forgive you,” Ghost says, his voice low as he composes himself, shrugging Soap’s hand off. Price nods. He knows what he’s done. Ghost shakes his head and turns to walk away. Everyone follows in silence. 

It’s for the greater good, he reminds himself, taking one last look at the ruined building as fires start. 

You’re waiting in the back of the truck with Kate. It’s cold even with the blanket you found. You know you’re never going to be going back there but even Kate has been vague with you. You were driving for what felt like hours before you ended up off a large road to a secluded spot in the forest. 

Now you just had to wait. Eventually a phone rings. You have almost dozed off when it jerks you awake. Kate answers it but doesn’t say much, just Yes, of course, see you soon. You’re playing with Dr. Piper’s scarf in your hand. You want to give it back to her when you see her. 

“They’re on their way,” she says, smiling at you. 

“Is Dr. Piper with them?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, I assume so.” 

You smile at her, that's good. Of course they rescued her. You never doubted them. You’re giddy, your body warming up as you think about Dr. Piper coming back. You even shrug the blanket off after a while. 

You hear them before you see them, the headlights of the car shining through the trees. You’re excited, smiling as the car pulls up, stopping. You hop out of the back of the truck following Kate as she walks over. They turn the car off and the lights go dark as people start to get out.  

John gets out first, then Simon, then Johnny. Your heart beats quicker, and your smile fades. 

You can’t smell her. 

She’s not with them. You swallow hard backing up next to Kate. You can smell sadness, guilt, anger. John walks over to you and stops in front of you. He hesitates. That makes the tears come again. There’s a chill in the air. Hidden under the canopy of trees it sounds like the rain is falling harder.

“We got to Professor Hale’s house. We found her,” he pauses. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to say it.

“And she was dead?” you ask, swallowing the sob building up in your throat. She was dead before they got there. There was nothing they could have done. That's what he’s about to tell you.

It’s worse, so much worse. He shakes his head. 

“While we were leaving she came across a room. A room she said could destroy Hale’s building, burying him inside,” he says. You nod frantically at him.

“The kill switch, she used to call it—” the words die in your throat as you realize what he’s getting at. The suicide room, she used to call it the suicide room. 

“No,” you sob. He takes a step closer to you, but you step back. 

“You stopped her right? You didn’t leave her to die?” Your eyes fill with tears. You take another step back looking around at everyone. Johnny and Kyle look sad, their eyes wide as the horror of what happened sinks in. 

“I’m so sorry,” John says, stepping forward. You shake your head, your hand coming to your mouth. 

“You could have saved her! You could have said no!” you snap at him, way louder than you expected. It even seems to shock him as you rub tears out your eyes. 

“I’m—” 

“No! You promised, you promised you would save her!” you shout at him. He starts to move towards you, but you hold your hands out, your anger strong in the air. He stops. 

You look at him. You can’t tell if he looks sad or not. You can’t tell how he feels. You can smell his alpha and it makes you feel sick. Your hand goes to the back of your neck where you can feel his mark. 

He let her die. He could have saved her and he let her die. You can’t look at him anymore. You turn to the woods letting your hand fall from your neck. 

You look out into the blackness of the forest. You can hear the wind and the rain, the air is cold. 

She’s dead. Dr. Piper is dead and it’s all John’s fault. You let the next sob die in your throat and sprint off into the dark.  

next

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren Sorry...

[callmezayka]

Simon Riley x BPD!Reader

Fighting in a relationship is always bad, but being who you are? Oh, it was hell.

Especially when you were the wrong one.

The stress from work had your mood swings to intensify, but getting oddly stable when it came to anger. You were constantly pissed for the past few days, and you didn’t even remember it, your brain working almost on autopilot for all these days.

But Simon remembered. Every. Little. Thing. And he had reached his limit.

You barely got time to ask him what was wrong before he started throwing everything you said right at your face, and the way his eyes glazed ever so slightly had you almost on your knees instantly, because you knew you were wrong. You had hurt him, and it broke you.

And you couldn’t even apologize, since he made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to hear your voice. He didn’t want to talk to you, so pissed he was. And you didn’t know what to do.

You couldn’t even cry, since he said with all the letters that you cried all the time, that it felt like you were using it to manipulate him. God, your heart was torn apart.

Hiding into your office, you waited for him to go to the bed so you could crash on the couch, not sure if he would want to sleep by your side or not, so you just took a spare pillow and laid on the couch, heart heavy and throat tight, spiraling into thoughts of self hatred and guilt, letting your demons eat you alive, reviving each one of his words again and again and again until you passed out from exhaustion.

You expected him to talk to you in the morning, to wake you up and tell you to go to bed before he got to work, but no. You woke up alone, with the sound of your alarm, the house completely silent.

He had left already, and still didn’t talk to you.

You tried following your day, putting on a composed face to the kids you take care of at the daycare you work on, but deep inside every second without a word from him felt like a piece of your soul was being ripped, a piece of you dying at each guilty thought.

You wanted to scream, brak something, drink until you passed out, hurt yourself… You had no healthy way to cope with it, to deal with how shitty you felt from hurting the man you loved so dearly. You just hoped he would speak to you when he got home.

He didn’t.

And you broke.

Shutting down completely, you made dinner but refused to eat. You sat by his side on the couch, with enough distance between the two of you, but you couldn’t focus on the tv. You were just there, staring at nothing. Spacing out. Dissociating from the cruel reality of what you’ve done. And you stayed like that for hours, without muttering a single word, without moving a muscle.

And he noticed.

Of course he did, Simon noticed everything.

And it tore at his soul. He hated seeing you like that, doesn’t matter how pissed he was, he just hated seeing you so desperate, so broke, And for something he had already forgiven you for, he just didn’t know how to start a conversation because communications wasn’t his biggest strength, but when he saw you like that, he decided it was enough. His birdie didn’t deserve it, he knew you never meant any of those awful words, right?

So when he was ready to go to bed, he kneeled in front of you, calling your name a few times until your gaze focused on him, tears already gleaming in your eyes.

–Let’s go to bed, baby, yeah?

He said softly, and it was enough to make you break down, hugging him like a lifeline as sobs ripped through your chests in a tidal wave of apologies. He held you tightly, reassuring you that it was okay, he knew you didn’t mean it, he still loved you and that he was fine.

That night, you two slept glued to each other, him fearing you to break down again, you fearing him to get mad at you again, but both just simply happy to be close to each other. To be together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A bit self inspired bc I'm bpd, fought with my bf bc my brain is fucked up and I'm currently wanting to di3? Yes. But at least writer's block is out!

[or0ch1maru]

Could you write an angst to fluff fic where mihawks wife gets injured and maybe he's like depended on her and now he has to manage while she is maybe in a comatose state with a happy ending

hiii babes :3

I would just like to start this by thanking all of who wished me a happy birthday yesterday. My day at work was great, and I gifted myself 2 pairs of hello kitty sneakers ^.^

Warnings: none

Let’s get into it🫵🏻

•

-you and Mihawk met a few years back. Running into each other after being set after the same bounty. And neither of you have looked back since.

-married life has been great, your husband being the absolute best man. Treating you with such care, love, and respect.

-both of you sharing the household duties, cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc.

-Mihawk always called you his sunshine, as no matter what, you always brought light into his heart. Which, over time, caused him to be more and more open about his past, and, his feelings

-which many would say is rare. No one living long enough to see any other type of reaction from him besides his usual stoicism

-but you, you got it all and a part of him knew he’d become dependent on your love that he’s not really sure to handle the situation he finds himself in currently

-both of you got called to handle a rather ‘difficult’ bounty as the marines put it. And things were going well until your opponent got the upper hand on you

-causing you to miss calculate your neck move and resulting in you being in a comatose state.

-Mihawk’s private doctor said you’ll come out of it, it just depends on when. He unfortunately wasn’t sure. It was a waiting game

-you had your own private room set up in the castle, being hooked up to this and that. A nurse would come by everyday to check in on you and handle a few things

-Mihawk would stand in the doorway every time like clock work. Watching as she tends to you

-it’s only at night, when it’s just you and him that he sits in the chair beside your bed and talks to you. He’s unsure if you can hear him but he doesn’t care. He speaks all his worries, about how much he misses and needs you. Scared that he won’t be able to do this much longer without you

-explaining that he’d wait as long as you need for you to come out of this. As long as he gets to hear your voice, witness your smile, be able to feel you touch and hug him back

-during the day, he keeps himself busy. Cleaning, reading, paperwork, more reading, going into town to shop, buying things for you, anything to keep his mind preoccupied

-he has good days and bad, most of them blending together

-poor guy has used dissociating to get through most of this as he truly doesn’t know how to come to terms without you

-the castle is too quiet, he misses hearing your sweet voice bouncing off the walls when you call for him, or when you come bounding down the hallway towards his office to ‘annoy’ him

-when he’s tossing and turning in your shared bed, he has one of your shirts or hoodies with him. One that has the scent of your perfume lingering on it. Which eventually gets him to sleep

-now, today has been a particularly difficult day for Mihawk. Marines constantly on his ass, giving him shit for not handling every single bounty they’ve been giving him. It annoys him as they know of his personal situation and don’t show any sort of respect towards it

-so by the time he gets back home, his mood is sour. He stands in the doorway, watching you as the nurse tends to you once again

-“any change?” He asks, and even though he already knew the answer. Watching the nurse shake her head and reply with her usual “no, I’m sorry”, is when the damn breaks

-no one has seen him cry, you witnessed a single tear roll down his cheek the day you two wed but that’s it

-he waits until the aid is gone for the night and that’s when the tears come flowing. Hard, and heavy.

-he’s sitting at his desk, his chest heaving as he tries catching his breath, and every time he thinks he’s calming down, more tears come

-Mihawk doesn’t realize it’s a panic attack, as it’s his first time experiencing one since he was a boy

-this goes on for hours, before he eventually falls asleep at his desk, his forehead resting against his forearms. A single hand resting on the photograph he keeps on his desk

-but he’s jerked awake around 3am. At first he thinks it’s a dream when he heard your voice from the room next door

-but when he hears a choked “baby?” He almost falls from his chair

-he wastes no time running into the room you’ve been treated in all this time

-and that’s when he sees you. Your eyes open, a look of confusion on your face as you take in the tubes you’ve been hooked up too

-“my love?” Are the first words that fall from his mouth and he nearly collapses when you look over at him. A small smile forming on your face when you see your husband

-as bad as he wants to run over to where you’re laying and hug you. He keeps himself composed. Approaching the bed slowly, sitting down beside you

-his large hand engulfs yours. His thumb rubbing circles against the inside of your wrist.

-after asking if you’re okay, and giving you some water, he catches you up on everything that’s happened the entire time you’ve been out

-you can see the toll this has taken on him and you feel horrible. You’re so used to your strong and composed husband, that seeing how stressed his been breaks you

-your free hand comes up, cupping his cheek. Something you’ve done during the entirety of your relationship. He instinctively nuzzles into your palm and that’s when he begins to cry

-you’re slow with your movements, being careful as you sit yourself up before having him climb onto the mattress beside you. Your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him against your side as you hold him

-listening to his broken sentences of how scared he’s been and unsure.

-he stays there for a long time before lifting his head to look at you. Pressing his lips to yours after not feeling you kiss back in what felt like forever to him

-“maybe it’s time that I retire.” You murmur against his lips before kissing him again. You’d hate to have something like this happen a second time.

-you never liked seeing your husband worried, let alone about yourself.

-“I think I might just join you.”

•

Okayyyyyy so it’s been a while since I’ve written any angst so I apologize if this isn’t great😭😭

[sharksfrommars]

I can literally never think of questions until I see posts asking for asks. So, how long was Ford in the asylum for?

Also, I remember it being mentioned that Ford is on some sort of medication, but I can't remember if you said what medication that was. I'm also assuming, though, that that would mean he was diagnosed with stuff whilst in the asylum but I also can't remember if you said anything about that.

I reckon Ford was in the asylum until just before the twins were born. After release though, he was still receiving treatment with them. He has a therapist, as well as a parole officer that he has to check in with every week. He’s still not fully discharged, and they reckon he’s probably going to be an outpatient for the rest of his life.

Ford is on what I assume are Anti-Psychotics, as well as a cocktail of whatever his psychiatrists thinks will help at a time. Probably some mood stabilisers and such too. I don’t know too much about psychiatry tho so that’s free for interpretation.

Ford doesn’t really have a particular diagnosis, on account of most of his problems being caused by a literal demon messing with his head. The doctors don’t actually know what’s up. They reckon Bill must come from some kind of dissociative disorder, seeing as Ford can’t always remember the things he does. They also believe he suffers psychosis and paranoia. Their best guess is some kind of traumatic brain injury, or deeply rooted childhood trauma that no one knows about.

most of the doctors don’t believe a word Ford says, and don’t have very much respect for him. It takes a long time for them to find Ford a therapist he will actually co operate with. Most of them quit. Ford gets a therapist he likes in ‘95 and has had the same one since. He’s the one who recommended Ford get outpatient treatment, which honestly helped a lot. Ford did a lot better living with Shermie, having some sense of agency. He spent time working on making gadgets in Shermie’s garage and selling them. There have been a few instances since where Ford had had ti be institutionalised again (thanks Bill), but they’ve been for shorter periods of time.

Turns out some of the Antipsychotics blocked bill out of Ford’s mind, at least temporarily. It took bill time to crack it, but when he did things would get bad for Ford all over again.

[ludolka]

More H&HAU thoughts !! Now regarding Grian/Xelqua and identity issues

H&HAU Grian is an interesting character when it comes to identity. He has three personas that he switches between

The first and “true” one is just Grian, the one he most sees as his authentic self, the one he identifies with the most. This is the one he only shows around people he feels the most comfortable with. He’s affectionate, very jokey, unhinged, blunt and honest to a fault. He’s also confident and kind of arrogant, but he doesn’t overestimate or oversell himself or his abilities. He’s very expressive and gets passionate very quickly. He also demands respect from anyone who expects to be respected by him and he doesn’t take anyone’s shit. He can easily stand up for himself or others

The second one is PR Grian. This is how the public sees him, he acts this way in all of the Bad Boys interviews and on camera. This version of him is very reserved, private and while he seems friendly enough, he’s also very unreadable and appears bored or uncaring most of the time. He also seems arrogant and confident, but kind of in an untouchable and admirable way

The third one is Xelqua, the one Grian swears is the least like how he views himself. Xelqua is the identity his cult gave him when he was a part of that as a teenager, so it makes sense that he’d dissociate this part of him from himself. Xelqua is unserious to a fault, he’s very eclectic and overall very all over the place. He’s arrogant and overconfident that is bordering on a god complex. He’s untouchable and unattainable, keeping everyone at an arm’s length, but at the same time keeping everyone hooked. He’s rather confrontational, he acts like he’s either above or on the same level as everyone, no matter their status

But the thing is that these three personalities aren’t as distinct as Grian would like to believe, there are a lot of similarities, especially between the “true and original” Grian and Xelqua. This is rather clear for everyone who knows him enough to have seen or known both sides of him for a longer time period. Xelqua is like an exaggerated version of his “true self”, the one where he feels safe enough to act however he wants without any real consequences because only a handful of trusted people know his civil identity and he’s clever enough not to get in too much trouble with the police to get him arrested. The one he feels most in power and control in, the one he feels he truly is safe from harm. The one where he can pretend he is someone completely different, without all the troubles and traumas of his actual life

So, piggybacking on that last sentence, Grian is very careful on keeping these personas (especially his civil vs vigilante identities) separate. They don’t mesh, they are in different worlds, they are different people. Because if they bleed into each other, he will break. All of these personas are their own respective safe spaces and escapisms from the others, keeping them so far from each other is self defense for him

Mumbo, Jimmy, Joel and Lizzie know that he’s Xelqua and no one else from his civil life does. Doc, from the hero/villain side also knows that he’s Grian as they have been working together pretty much ever since Grian started doing vigilante stuff. And Doc is clever enough to know how much of a taboo this is for him, that Grian is more than willing to go scorched earth and burn every bridge built between them if he is even threatened with his civil identity being revealed or leaked. This is also the biggest and pretty much only rule Xelqua has for working with Doc, respect his private life and don’t get any people he cares about involved. So Doc has the Bad Boys (+ their manager) and Mumbo on their protective/do not go after list that everyone in his guild is required to respect unless they want to be kicked out and handed to the police or killed

Xelqua is dangerous and deadly when he wants to be, but for the most part he doesn’t care enough or take this whole vigilante thing seriously enough to want to. But as soon as his “real” life is involved, he switches and no one is able to stop him from tearing everything and anything apart

[moonstruckme]

any chance you'd be willing to do disassociating!reader with sirius as a fade into you prompt?

Thanks for requesting!

join the party

cw: mentions of blood, reader is in shock/dissociates after injury-related trauma

Sirius Black x reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’ve long since stopped shaking by the time you get back to your apartment, but it still takes you a few tries to get the key in the door, your movements robotic and seeming somehow separate from you. 

“Hey, you’re home late,” Sirius greets you as you walk through the door. “I was just starting to think about dinner. How would you feel about…shit.” He stops as he comes into the living room, gaze snagging on your legs, dried blood staining them from the knees down. Your shoes, which used to be white but are now a rusty brown. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not mine.” 

“Okay.” He’s still standing a good few feet away, like you’re characters in a play, reciting your lines without moving. “Whose is it?”

“Macy’s.” 

“Alright.” The word is meaningless, but not any more than the rest of them, you suppose. Sirius steps closer, slowly, as if wary of spooking you. “Is she okay?” 

“She, uh.�� You swallow. “Yeah, she’s okay. Or she will be. She fell and hit her head, but they said she’ll be okay.” 

“Who said, darling?” 

“The nurses. I just got back from the hospital.” You remember the ambulance ride there, the ridiculous quiet of it all. You’d thought that when someone was hurt that bad, hospitals were all beeping and yelling and people running around. But they’d only asked Macy questions in calm, measured voices, no beeping or alarms to be heard. What did you have to eat today? Do you know why you fell?

“Sweetheart.” Sirius looks gutted, and you don’t know why he’s using that tone with you. You’re not the one who cracked your head open. “You should have called me, lovely. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

“You were at work.” It’s simple, a fact. “Anyway, there was nothing you could do.” 

Sirius takes your face in his hand, and it feels like he’s touching someone else, your skin waxy and foreign. “I would have left work to be there with you. It sounds like it was an awful thing to have to deal with by yourself.” 

You guess it probably was. You’d had to put pressure on Macy’s head until the paramedics got there, kneeling in a pool of her blood as it seeped from the wound and time seemed sluggish and unreal. You know, objectively, that it was one of the more awful experiences you’ve had, and you’ll probably be dreaming about it for years. But it doesn’t feel that way right now. Nothing feels any sort of way right now. 

“How long were you at the hospital for?” Sirius asks. “When did this happen?” 

You don’t know. It was…the sun was still out, when she fell on the sidewalk. But the length of time you were sitting there with her, or the time in the ambulance, is all stretched out and murky. You know you got back to your car and drove home, but you can’t recall any part of the journey. You leave that last bit out of what you tell Sirius, but his frown deepens anyway. 

“That’s okay,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? Here, let me take those off.” 

He bends over, untying your shoes for you, and you watch as dried blood flakes off the laces where they bend unwillingly. Sirius doesn’t comment on it, slipping your shoes off one after the other and setting them by the door. His hands are delicate about your shoulders as he steers you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. You’re distantly cognizant of him moving about, opening and closing a cabinet and turning on the faucet, but it’s not until he crouches in front of you that he enters your awareness again. 

Sirius takes your ankle in his hand and begins just below your knee, rubbing a warm, wet washcloth over the blood staining the skin there. He’s talking, still, in a low voice, but the murmurings don’t seem to have much importance other than placation. It’s more ambient noise than anything else. He works the washcloth down your leg, the rough fabric scrubbing gently at your skin. He presses harder in some areas where the blood is stubborn, and that’s where you feel it most. The beginnings of real sensation, connected to you rather than some shell that you occupy and that moves when you tell it to. 

By the time he starts on your other leg you feel as though you’ve been thinking through a dense fog that’s beginning to lift; you’re able to feel the warm droplets of water running down your calf and make out some of the quiet words spewing from your boyfriend’s mouth. He finishes with your legs, and you hold up your hands, now trembling again. The blood there is cracked around the lines of your palm, and Sirius takes your hand in his, wiping it away gently. You can feel the cloth even more there, where it brushes against your sensitive fingertips. You can tell now that Sirius is telling you stories, various anecdotes of when he or his friends had gotten hurt. 

“It’s scary to see someone you care about in pain,” he goes on at a murmur. “Even when you know they’ll be alright, I think it hurts worse than when we’re in pain ourselves.” 

A tear dribbles down your cheek, landing with a splat on your thigh, and Sirius looks up, surprise morphing into heartbreak when he sees your expression. He drops the cloth on the floor, rising to an awkward height so that you can put your head against his shoulder when his arms come around you. 

“I know, baby.” His voice sounds almost fragile, as though he’s feeling this as acutely as you are. “I’m so sorry you went through that. Are you feeling a little more like yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you sniff. Your tears are still coming slowly, and you know the majority of your panic is still buried somewhere safe inside of you, but this is enough for now. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

Sirius pulls back, thumbing away your tears as he studies your face, eyebrows set close together in concern. “I think you’re in shock, sweetness. It makes sense, that’s a lot for anyone to have to see.” He strokes at your hairline, just beside your eye. “Do you want to talk about it? If not, we don’t have to. We can just watch a movie or something, try to forget about it for tonight.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to find the voice inside yourself that usually tells you who you are, what you want. It’s still quiet, but you think that’s answer enough. “The second one, please. I don’t think I’m ready to think about it yet.” 

“Alright, whatever you want.” Sirius nods, rising and offering you his hands to help pull you up. You take them, and he presses a kiss to your forehead as soon as you’re standing. “Whenever you feel ready, lovely, I’ll be here.” 

[cripplecharacters]

Regarding fictional disabilities: since there is no way to research a disability that doesn’t exist, how do you go about writing it in a way that makes it good rep and not offensive? For some context specific to my story, magic based abilities are biological rather than learnt and can manifest at any age, though if it develops at a young age it can cause development issues or brain injuries. One of my characters experienced this and developed a power that was psychological in nature, but because he was so young and couldn’t cope with the actual power, it left him with memory and intellectual problems. I was originally looking into stuff like dissociative amnesia or maybe even alzheimers but since the symptoms don’t fully line up I can’t just rely on it completely. My overall point here is that if resources for a fictional disability don’t exist, how can you write it while still taking into consideration real life disabilities? My bad if this is worded weirdly, I tried to keep it as specific as possible without delving into the full on details of the story and character. Have a nice day!:3

Hey!

First rule would be to not do harm. So not propagating misinformation or nonsense about the real life disabilities that the fictional one resembles (here that would probably be pediatric brain injury and/or intellectual disability). I don't think anyone expects realistic representation from a made up condition that they don't have but if you're deciding to associate it with one that's real, you have to be mindful of it. Even if it's a fictionalized version of a developmental disability you can't just go (example, not trying to insinuate you want to do that) "this character is an adult but is mentally 4 because of this fictional disorder that is made up and totally not close to anything IRL so it's ok to say", it would just look pretentious to pretend that it's something completely unrelated to a real disability if the character has symptoms that strongly align with one.

If your fictional condition is made of symptoms that exist in real life (but maybe not for the same reasons/don't really exist together) try to research them one by one. If he has memory problems, research how this specifically affects people with it - Alzheimer's comes with a myriad of other things that might give you an incorrect idea on how just that one symptom presents. For brain injuries, check what parts of the brain do what - damage to different parts might cause very different symptoms. You can read about this here in the context of strokes. Having an actual symptom list of things that your character has will be more helpful than thinking of it as "condition x if it was condition b/ condition c if it didn't have [major part]", even if that's how it's explained in-universe to help the other characters/readers get it - you as the author should know the ins and outs so that you can actually keep track of how your character functions and not have continuity errors.

It'd also be interesting to figure out what other symptoms this kind of scenario could cause that didn't happen to this one character (unless he's the only person this happened to). Developmental disability is a really big spectrum, and so are memory problems. I imagine that there would be other people more and less disabled than him who would have the same condition - this could affect how his is seen in-universe. Is he a very mild case, and not receiving the kind of support he needs because it's "not that bad"? Or is he on the severe end, and other people pity him and send condolences to his family? Think about the grander scheme of things.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[tuckboroughdays]

Hobbits with someone who deals with derealization and or Alice in wonderland syndrome? I know this is prob like a BIGGG ask but I just wanna know ciz I deal with both

Frodo ::

He understands more than you’d expect. After carrying the Ring, reality sometimes feels distant to him too. So when you tell him everything feels strange or like a dream, he just gently says, “I know.”

Makes you tea and lights candles when it gets bad

Reads aloud to you so you have an anchor in the room

Walks with you barefoot in the grass to help you reconnect with your body and your senses, his hand firmly grabbing your arm, and his arm wrapped around ur shoudlers

Sometimes shares his own intrusive memories so you feel less alone.

Sam ::

Pure grounding king. When things feel “wrong” or stretched or unfamiliar, he doesn’t question you or try to fix it. He just says, “Alright then. Let’s sit a spell, yeah?”

He always brings you back with simple, sensory things. Fresh bread, dirt under your nails from gardening

Yeah, most of the time, he teaches you gardening, putting your hands into the fresh earth. "earth is the most real thing in the world"

Plants a special garden just for you, with colors and textures that feel soft and safe

Gently tells you the names of things in the room when you're disoriented, “That’s the kettle. That’s your favorite mug. I just put the fire on. You're alright.”

Merry ::

At first, he might not totally get it, but he’s quick to learn. He reads up, asks questions, wants to know what it’s like for you so he can help. “So... when the room feels stretched, is it like—like when you’re dizzy? Or is it different?”

He’s incredibly in tune with shifts in mood or energy. You don’t even have to say you’re dissociating, he feels it. One moment you're chatting normally, the next, your voice falters or your eyes get that faraway look, and he immediately shifts into calm, steady mode

Uses humor to break the fear a bit, “If everything’s floating again, at least I hope I’m wearing pants this time.”

Carries grounding objects in his pocket just in case. A rock from Buckland, a piece of string, a pinecone. “Feel this. Heavy, right? That’s real. You’re here.”

Pippin ::

He panics a little the first few times you dissociate or describe AIWS symptoms. Like, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR HANDS LOOK TEN FEET LONG?! SHOULD I CALL GANDALF?!”

But then he realizes what helps is staying with you, being warm and silly and real. He starts holding your face gently and saying, “Focus on me. I’m the ridiculous one with the curly hair and too many freckles, remember?”

Makes up absurd stories that match your strange perceptions so you don’t feel so freaked out,“You’re shrinking? GOOD, I’ve been needing a pocket-sized best friend.”

Even a bit jealous sometimes. But don't be mad at him. He just doesn't know how hard it is to deal with it. He loves it when you see the world differently. “You can see the trees breathing? Seriously? I’m JEALOUS.” And he means it. He thinks it’s beautiful, and he tells you all the time.

Hugs. So many hugs. And he always makes you laugh, even if you’re crying.

ily girl 🫶🫶🦃

[heavensbeehall]

Mockingjay Haymitch Reread, Chapter 11

Buttercup becomes a celebrity. Just like Katniss. Great entertainment, both of them.

This is when Katniss realizes Peeta is being tortured because of her. Previously she thought they would be trying to get rebel information out of him. He doesn’t have any information, Haymitch made sure of that. I am not quite sure how she squared this in her mind. It’s more than a little bit frustrating that EVERYONE (even Prim) knew this but no one told Katniss. Maybe they thought she already knew, but I know some of them could have. Haymitch, for one. Gale is another. He seems SO aware of what the Capitol will do, like when he predicted the strike on the hospital in 8. And even though I am annoyed with Katniss for being a bit slow here, I am glad that she is not someone who would think of torturing someone for “no reason.” She’s very utilitarian. She’d only ever torture someone to get important information. She doesn’t see torture as something that could be just for fun or mind games or even just cruelty.

I guess that is another thing I don’t like about shipping her with Gale, because I don’t want her to be introduced to the Capitol way of thinking. She has been through a lot but Peeta is right that she is still “pure”. Like pure of spirit. I don’t want yuckiness to get on her. Frankly, I am sorry it got on Gale. I am not sure this is making any sense.

Finnick time! I am happy to see him even though he is another person who could have told Katniss the above earlier. (He’s like, “duh, Katniss, Annie doesn’t have any rebel information either.”) At least he apologizes and explains that he thought the romance was an act. Finnick is unwell with Annie in Snow’s clutches. And it occurs to me that they say Annie is the “mad” one, but she seems to do better on her own (after the war) than he is at this moment.

Have I talked about my “Finnick has a dissociative disorder” theory here? I must have. Katniss says he says something in his “real voice” after asking her if she wants a sugar cube in his Capitol voice. As far as I can tell, he has the seductive Capitol voice, the deeper arena voice mentioned in CF and his regular manner of speaking. I also wonder if he’d have a younger, more vulnerable side that might only come out around Mags and Annie, since he had to grow up so quickly, but that’s just an idea. Not sure if they are full “alters” like someone with DID, or just a coping mechanism developed when he was older, since DID almost always starts when a kid is very young before their sense of self is established—though if he is an orphan like Haymitch saying Mags “basically raised him” suggests, it’s possible other bad stuff happened before the Hunger Games even came into his life.

TLDR, Finnick has just as many if not more or more mental problems than Annie (she “only” seems to have auditory hallucinations) and Gale still thinks this is him flirting with Katniss. Like a weirdo. She thinks he is mad she didn’t go to him instead of Finnick. But Finnick is the one with the similar situation, so it feels weirdly possessive? Like if you love someone and another person can help them better than you can, don’t you want them to seek that person out? Or maybe he thinks they were fucking. I don’t get Gale.

Haymitch first speaks to has how much of an “edge the boy’s warning” gave them? I smile at him because I think he knows the answer already and just wants everyone else to know. Boggs says ten minutes and Katniss puts it together that Gale and Prim would not have made it. She thinks she “owes” Peeta for that which makes me roll my eyes because Peeta said to stop with the owing him shit in the first book. But I think this feeling of owing, particularly in regards to Prim, contributes to her breakdown, though I would point out she did become the Mockingjay to get him immunity so it’s not like she hasn’t been thinking about protecting him. She just didn’t know what Snow does until recently, and now feels like she should’ve never gone on camera.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, Plutarch, the soldiers and the crew all sigh when Finnick tells them she figured it out. I’m just so mad at them. They didn’t warn her or even hint. They took advantage of her naïveté pure and simple.

The line “the only person I want to comfort me is Haymitch because he loves Peeta too” always makes me tear up. It’s sweet but it’s also a reversal of how mad she has been at him. Perhaps because she realizes now that Snow was using her and Peeta against him too and there just is no good way to navigate it. After reading SOTR I can’t help but notice he calls her sweetheart when he tries to comfort her, and he’s not being sarcastic.

Haymitch is with her when she wakes up from sedation and his eyes are bloodshot, so he has probably been awake, watching her, the whole time. The last thing she said was “it’s my fault” and we know that is how he’s been feeling for years. I wonder if he can see that it is not her fault, and therefore it is not his either, but I doubt it.

They are going to rescue Peeta but it is the “same” as the arena, according to Haymitch. People will have to die to keep her going. Except now she knows.

What do we think about Haymitch trying to volunteer for Boggs’ team? Somehow I don’t think this is JUST a joke, but he hasn’t gone into any of the combat situations thus far (like 8). He stayed above it all. It makes me wonder if now he feels like he needs to DO more but he is not equipped to do so.

Gale, at the very least, is good at doing things.