#and i can just use it and save myself the strife

[feyarcher]

I think my new personal youtube rule is going to be that I unfollow and stop watching anyone who says 'corn' instead of 'porn' or says 'shit' and then censors the back half of the word. I understand that this comes from tiktok and has been imported into youtube not wanting to promote/ put pricey ads on videos deemed "mature", but I'm a full grown adult and I feel like I'm losing my mind from this trash. And I just have to tap out of it at this point.

[silentspectres]

currently taking -1hp psychic damage from hyperfixation

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 17

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst (so much angst I made myself cry), panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids breaking your heart, references to babies, swearing, references to the military, fighting and marital strife, PPD, references to sex (but nothing explicit)

Seresin Residence, Miramar, 12 years ago

Jake sighed as he pulled his truck into the driveway of the little beach bungalow he had scrimped and saved to buy for his family. Normally, he was excited to get home after a long day of training, but lately? Lately, it seemed like all they did was fight. Some days, it was him fighting and Buttercup sitting there, taking it. Others, it was all out warfare, each of them screaming at each other. And after the fight they had had that morning, Jake wasn’t too pleased to be home.

The fight had worn on him all day. He had been absolute shit in the cockpit because of it, and he’d already had a verbal dressing down by just about everyone. Cyclone and Warlock had ripped into him pretty good. Rooster and Phoenix had taken pleasure in seeing him knocked down a peg or five. Maverick had only shaken his head at him in disappointment, and that had probably hurt the most.

With a groan, Jake got out of his truck and grabbed his duffle, heading to the front door. Three months ago, he would have kicked his boots off with a playful, “Honey, I’m home!” before racing to snuggle his daughters, pecking his wife on the lips as he went. But not today. Today, he toed his boots off and tossed his duffle into the laundry room.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Maybe they were all asleep. He wouldn’t be mad about it if they were. Maybe if Buttercup got some quality sleep, she’d be in a better mood.

Jake sighed and flipped on the light in the living room, startled when he spotted Buttercup sitting in her preferred armchair.

“Hey,” he drawled. “You surprised me. I thought you were asleep. Where are the girls?”

“Asleep,” she murmured, eyes tracking him as he grabbed a beer from the kitchen.

“Good. They eat okay today?”

“Charlie doesn’t like not breastfeeding, but she’s getting used to it. Abby’s still not eating enough.”

Jake ignored her cold, indifferent tone. “She’ll get there.” He flopped onto the couch and reached for the remote.

“Jake…”

“Buttercup, it’s been a long day,” he groaned. “I really don’t want to fight tonight. The girls are asleep. Go have a bath or something, let me watch TV, and I’ll order us a pizza for dinner. Okay?”

“So, that’s it then?” Finally, her voice had a touch of a bite to it. “No comment, no nothing from you? You said no and that’s that? Your word is law?”

Jake groaned and let his hand flop back onto the sofa. “I don’t know what else you expected me to say. I’m part of the U.S. Navy. Meaning I have to be in the United States. I can’t move to England just because you got a job interview for a publishing job. There are dozens of publishers that are stateside. Why not go for one of them? I’m sure they’d let you work remotely. I don’t see why you want to move to a different continent.”

“They’re the only ones who have offered to take a look at my writing on top of my publishing responsibilities,” she hissed. “Which you would know if you paid any attention to me.”

“Okay, so you can do your whole writing thing from anywhere, can’t you? Skip the whole publisher thing and focus on writing! When you’re done writing or whatever, you can send it to a publisher! You’d at least get to stay with me that way!”

“How am I supposed to focus on my writing, Jake? I barely get a chance to breathe, let alone sit down at a computer and write!” Buttercup’s voice was weak and desperate, and grating on Jake’s nerves. He hated it when she sounded like that, and she’d been sounding like it more and more. He would’ve done anything to make it better, but he was too tired to try. “You’re not around during the day, so you don’t know what its like! One of them always needs me, and Charlie is fussy, and Abby’s not eating enough, and I can barely breathe! And you want me to what? Follow you around from base to base, taking care of our daughters on my own while you’re on deployment after deployment?”

“That is what you signed up for when you married me!” Jake shouted, his frustration and exhaustion finally bubbling over. “I thought you would’ve known that based on how often your brother gets to go home! This is what it means to be in a military family! This is what you signed up for!”

“I signed up for you!” she shouted. “I signed up for a man who loves me, who is home to share the load with me! Not a man who has his head shoved so far up Uncle Sam’s ass that he can’t see the sun!”

“Don’t you dare!” Jake stood. “Everything I do is for the safety of this country and for you and our daughters. Don’t you want our girls to grow up in a country that is safe?”

“I would rather our daughters grow up knowing their father! They barely see you anymore! And it’s only going to get worse as they get older!”

“I’ll be promoted by the time that they’re older! That means less time deployed!”

Buttercup was shaking her head, shrinking back in her seat. “You’ll never give up flying, Jake. You wouldn’t take a promotion that meant you were grounded. It’s not who you are.” Buttercup’s voice shook. “Just like sitting at home, waiting for my husband to come back while I take care of our home and children isn’t who I am. I need more.”

Jake scoffed, red creeping into the edges of his vision. He felt like he was running on autopilot, unable to stop himself or control his anger. “So, what? We’re not enough for you?”

“Don’t do that!” Buttercup snapped. “Our family is everything to me, but I need more! I need something outside of just being a mom and your wife!”

“Okay, so London is that then? Will London be enough for you?” Jake was wrangling every ounce of his strength to pull himself back, to not do this. They were both tired, both stressed. She hadn’t been herself since the babies were born, and it didn’t help that he had been deployed when they had sworn to him that he would be grounded for his first few months of fatherhood. If they could just get on the same page again, everything would be okay. But that would only happen if he could get Hangman to take a backseat and let Jake handle this.

Buttercup’s eyes flooded at his mocking tone. “Fuck you, Jake.”

Loud cries echoed through the house and Jake huffed before heading down the hall. “Go take a bath, Buttercup. I’ll take care of the girls.”

In the nursery, Jake pulled Charlie into his arms and sighed, rocking his red-faced baby girl in his arms. It would all be okay. The first year was always going to be the hardest. If they could make it through that, they would be stronger than ever.

It didn’t hit Jake that it was too late until a few days later, when he came home to find a teary-eyed Buttercup standing in the kitchen, handing him a pile of divorce papers.

Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

Early morning sunshine danced across her eyelids, and she tried to bury her face in the pillow beside her. It was way too freaking early to be conscious after the night she’d had, she was bone tired, and she was sore in a deeply satisfying way. The dull ache in her muscles and the muted throbbing between her thighs were better than any soreness she had ever gotten from an extended workout. It was an ache that she hadn’t felt in years.

Stretching like a cat, Buttercup slowly sat up against the headboard and blinked against the sun streaming through the grey curtains, and three things hit her in quick succession.

She was not in her bedroom. Her curtains were not grey, and her window did not face east.

She was naked. Her usual t-shirt and shorts were absent as the cool cotton sheets kissed her skin.

The soreness she was feeling was accompanied by a series of hickies and bruises that decorated her body like confetti. Her neck, her chest, her breasts, her stomach, and her inner thighs were littered with the dark purple marks, leaving her feeling like a teenager the night after prom.

Buttercup felt her stomach roil as the memories from the previous night washed over her like a tidal wave. The barbecue, fighting with Jake, dancing with Jake, having 3 a.m. grilled cheese with Jake and splitting a beer with him before giving him permission to kiss her…Jake carrying her to his bedroom and making love to her sweetly and gently, then rolling her over and fucking her hard, then taking her again in the softest, tenderest way as the sun slowly began to rise.

What had she done? What had she done? This wasn’t who she was. She had never been the type of person who just fell into bed with a guy, and certainly not when that guy was her ex-husband. But then, she had always been helpless against him. Back before things had soured between them, she had been almost as good as Maverick at keeping all of the Daggers in line, but one flash of those bright green eyes and those dimples, and she was basically Jello. She had never been able to tell him ‘no’, except for once.

Buttercup pulled her legs up tight against her chest and pressed the heels of her palms into her closed eyes until she saw stars. She was so stupid. So weak. She had put in over a decade of work to make herself stronger, strong enough to withstand being alone, strong enough to be a single mother, strong enough to hold her ground against him. And yet, like a teenage girl, she caved at the sight of gleaming abs and a cocky grin, and the sound of sweet nothings he had whispered in her ear.

What would the girls think if they found out? Would they think they were getting back together? Of course they would, that had been their plan since the beginning. But a one-night stand did not a relationship make, and neither did attraction. Attraction and chemistry had never been their problem. Communication had been, and, though they had clearly gotten better at it over the past decade, it didn’t solve all the problems that still remained between them. Past hurts and past histories and words that had been said that couldn’t be taken back.

God, how she wished she could take them back. She had been sick in the head and sick in the heart when she had uttered those poisoned words to him, wanting him to feel like she did in the most toxic way. She was toxic to him, not the other way around like so many had thought would happen. Her own brother had warned her away from Jake Seresin the minute they met, cautioning her that he would ruin her life, but he hadn’t. He had given her the greatest year and a half of her life and two daughters that she wouldn’t trade for the world. She was the one who ruined him. Just like her nickname, she was a poison, and she would only destroy him more if she stuck around.

Tears began to well in her eyes, but Buttercup quickly dashed them away as she scrambled from Jake’s bed and began searching for her clothes, which she found neatly folded on the antique wingback chair in the corner of the room. Her heart ached at the sweetness of this man, who had opened his home to her for a week so they could both get quality time with their daughters, who had ended his engagement because his fiancée had been cruel to their girls. He didn’t deserve this. Maybe the old Hangman had been cocky and brash and bold, maybe Hangman had left a trail of broken hearts behind him, but her Jake didn’t deserve to have his heart broken because she was so weak and selfish. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving him, of only seeing him at events for the girls, of eventually seeing him engaged to a woman who did deserve him. But she didn’t deserve him. She wasn’t strong enough to be his reason for living once the girls graduated.

The realization had her slowly pulling her clothes on, choking back sobs and dashing her tears away. He needed more than her. He needed someone who was strong enough to hold him up while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life once the girls had moved on. He needed someone who wouldn’t panic at the very suggestion of him going back to the Navy. She needed to walk away so that he could find that person. Despite the pain lancing through her heart and the heaviness in her limbs, she had to. She wouldn’t poison him anymore. Not when she…

More tears streamed down her face as she stumbled into his ensuite and desperately tried to make herself look like less of a heartbroken mess. He would be okay and, eventually, so would she. The girls would struggle, but she would fight like hell to make sure her girls still had so much love and support from both of their parents, even if they lived on opposite sides of the globe. They wouldn’t suffer just because their mother was toxic.

A deep wash of her face and multiple splashes of cool water later, Buttercup, resolved and heartbroken, strolled out of the bedroom and made her way back to the kitchen, finding her daughters sitting at the island while Jake flipped pancakes.

“Morning, Mom!”

“Morning, Mum!”

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake followed up the sweet chorus of their daughters’ voices with a shy grin, so unlike him but still so fitting that it made the ache in her chest deepen. “Did you sleep okay?”

Buttercup fought to keep her face straight as she regarded him with as much cool indifference as she could muster. “Yes, thank you. And good thing too. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Plates clattered as Charlie set the island for breakfast. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

Buttercup fought the pain and panic rising in her throat as she looked at the smiling figures of her broken family. “A-Abby and I are going home tomorrow,” she croaked out. “Our flight leaves at 9 p.m.”

Silence fell like a heavy, suffocating fog over the kitchen. Abby had frozen in her seat, a juicy red grape dangling almost comically from her fingers halfway between the bowl and her mouth. Charlie wasn’t doing much better, a plate suspended in midair while her face flushed. And Jake? She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, to see the anger or pity or fury that was undoubtedly marring his handsome features.

It was Charlie who broke the silence first. “What?”

The question was so simple, but Buttercup had to brace herself before answering. “We promised you a week together, and it’s been a week. Our flight has always been leaving tomorrow.” She managed a weak smile at her daughters. “I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

“Mum…” Buttercup’s heart nearly shattered at the broken, pleading sound of her baby’s voice. “Couldn’t we stay? Please?”

For the time being, Buttercup was winning the losing battle against the tears that were clogging her throat and flooding her eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we can’t. You start school next week and I have deadlines to meet. Uncle Bob and Auntie Nat have to go back to work too. But your dad and I have figured out a good schedule for visiting. You get more school vacation than Charlie does, so you’ll get to come here for a few breaks, and Charlie will get to come visit us when she has breaks, and then we’re going to split the summer in half, okay? I—” Buttercup’s voice cracked, and she turned her eyes skyward to prevent the tears from falling again. “I know it’s not what you want, but it’s the best we can do.”

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Charlie’s cry was loud and harsh. “That’s complete bullshit! You could both stay! Everyone should stay!”

Buttercup’s breath stuttered in her chest as she looked at her daughter, so full of pain and anger. “I know that you wish we could, sweetheart, but we can’t. I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry?” Charlie was crying now, hot tears running down her red cheeks. “I only get two weeks with you after 12 years and now you’re leaving and you’re sorry? That’s bullshit!”

“Charlie…” Jake’s voice was a soft warning.

“What?” She whirled on her dad. “It is! She could stay here if she really wanted to! But she doesn’t! She doesn’t care. Not about you or me or anyone! If she cared, she wouldn’t have left us in the first place!”

“Charlie…” Buttercup couldn’t stand the way her voice crackled with tears. “Charlie, I—”

“I hate you!” Charlie turned on her, green eyes full of anguish. “I hate you!”

“That’s enough!” Jake didn’t yell, but his voice held that military tone that immediately silenced everyone in the kitchen, save for Charlie’s ragged breathing and Abby’s soft sniffles. “You do not get to talk to your mother that way. You can be angry all you want, but this is a joint decision between your mother and I, so if you hate her then you hate me too. And no matter how you feel about us, I know that I taught you respect. We do not lash out at other people because of the way we are feeling in this family. We talk it out, and if we can’t manage how we’re feeling then we take a beat before we have a calm conversation. So, go take a beat. Take a lap of the ranch and cool off, Charlie.” Jake’s tone was no-nonsense and left no room for argument. Chest heaving, Charlie stomped away and let the door slam behind her. Jake sighed and looked at his oldest daughter, sniffling quietly in her seat. “Why don’t you go with her, Abby?” His voice was gentler now. “I think maybe some fresh air and a walk will do you both some good.”

Not saying anything, Abby nodded meekly and shuffled out of the kitchen, the front door barely clicking shut in comparison to the slam that had rocked everyone to their very foundations.

Buttercup stood stock still in the kitchen doorway, hand wrapped around her throat as she fought the tears that were falling slowly.

“Buttercup…” She flinched violently away from Jake’s gentle hand on her elbow, and he held his hands up. “Buttercup, it’s alright. It’s all gonna be alright.”

She shook her head, clutching at her throat to get the words out. “She’s right. It’s all my fault.”

“Now, I thought I told you I didn’t want to hear any of that anymore,” Jake said, gently but with a hint of stern resolve. “Now, why don’t we sit down and talk about this?”

“There’s really nothing to talk about, Jake.” Buttercup’s sigh was bone-weary as she sank into one of the island stools. “We have to go home. Abby’s got school, Bob and Nat have work, I have deadlines that I’m already behind on and signings I promised to do months ago and they want me to do edits for a script for one of my novels…We promised them a week together, and that’s what they got.” She shrugged helplessly. “There’s nothing we can do to change that.”

“I get where you’re coming from, darlin’, I do…” Jake leaned against the island across from her. “But…it wouldn’t be too difficult to get Abby signed up for school here, and Bob and Phoenix are grown ups, they don’t need you to take them home. And you…” He sighed heavily. “You can write from anywhere, so why can’t you write here with us?”

Buttercup’s heart cracked wide open, years of heartbreak and loneliness and anger pouring out of her like hot lava. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that again! What about the life I’ve built for myself? My professional reputation? My friends? Abby’s friends? I have a life in London! I like my life in London!”

“I know that.” Jake kept his voice even and calm, even as he wanted to reach out and calm her. “I know I fucked it up the first time. I know I didn’t get it the first time, how much the job and the move and everything meant to you back then. But you’re an award-winning author now, Buttercup. You’re like…number one draft pick in the NFL. You would have dozens of publishers falling all over themselves and each other to publish your stories now. Hell, with the way technology has improved in the last decade, nothing would stop you from keeping your publisher in London and Zooming into meetings with them from here. Isn’t it at least an option?”

Everything he was saying made perfect sense. It was all logical and well thought out, and, for a moment, she could picture it. Staying in Clifton, on the ranch. Turning the guest bedroom into an office for her to write out of while staring out at the pretty scenery, waking every morning in the cradle of Jake’s arms and cuddling with him until their daughters dragged them from bed. Giving them a real shot.

But a real shot meant the possibility of real pain. Pain that she had barely healed from the first time. Pain that she had put him through. Pain that he didn’t deserve. He didn’t deserve any of it, but to protect him, she would have to hurt him.

“I can’t just give up my job, my life because of a one-night stand.” Her voice was cold, belying the white-hot pain that was shooting through her heart, her very soul.

“I thought I meant more to you than that?”

She could hear the pain in his voice and ducked her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “You do…” she whispered, so quiet that he wouldn’t be able to hear her. The words “You did” came at a louder volume. “But I worked too hard to get to where I am now, and so did you.” She gulped down air, feeling like the walls were closing in on her. “I…I finally healed from everything we put each other through, and we can’t just fall back together again because it’s easy.”

Jake scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew what she was talking about. They had put each other through a lot, and it had taken over a decade to even start to heal from that, but they had healed. Wasn’t he worth giving it another go? Weren’t the girls worth trying for? He tamped down the anger he felt growing in his gut and asked, “When have we ever been easy?”

“You know what I mean, Jake.” Her sigh was heavy, bowing her shoulders like she was carrying the weight of the world. “We’re familiar. We’ve been living in the same house for a week, and, in a moment of weakness, we let ourselves fall back into old habits. And it felt good. But we’ve been down this road before. We know what lies at the end of it.” Tears pricked her eyes again and she blinked them back. “Besides, you were just engaged to another woman. You were planning on going back to the Navy. I…I can’t be the thing you hold onto just because you’re afraid of what your life will look like in six years.”

Jake felt the anger within him rise, and he relied on every ounce of his military training to remain composed, to not let the anger seep into his voice. “I don’t think I’m the one who is afraid here. You’re running.”

“Jake—”

Despite the way she was shaking her head, hands covering her face, Jake moved around the island and gently put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I know you felt something last night. I felt it too. Just because we didn’t work out the first time, doesn’t mean we won’t work out this time. You don’t have to be afraid of what might happen either, sweetheart.” His voice was filled with so much warmth and passion that Buttercup felt the tears fall faster and harder down her cheeks. This sweet man. She had never deserved him. His hands stroked her upper arms as he continued. “You’ve done such a good job on your own. Abby is incredible and your books…” Jake shook his head in amazement. “You’re incredible. But you don’t have to be strong and do it all on your own anymore. I know you can, but you don’t have to. Let me help. Just stay and let me help.” He was begging and he knew it, but he couldn’t help the tightness in his chest that told him that he had to convince her to stay. That he couldn’t lose her again. “I know you felt it last night,” he ended in a murmur.

Buttercup buried her head in her hands and sobbed. He was saying all the right words and she could feel the warmth and kindness pouring out of him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she would ruin it all again. “I…I can’t,” she cried. “We have to be the adults here. I can’t just leave my life behind and stay with you. Not again. We tried that once and it didn’t work, and we owe it to our girls to be better this time. We have to be better this time. For them. What we want doesn’t matter.”

Breath whooshed out of Jake’s lungs as he took her in. His Buttercup looked so small and broken, sobbing at his kitchen island. He had done that to her. He had broken his strong, independent, fiercely loyal and kind woman. No matter how badly he wanted to keep her, he couldn’t hold her back again. “This…this is really what you want?”

With doubt clogging her throat, she murmured, “It is.”

Jake’s shoulders bowed, and he grunted to clear the tingling in his throat and in the bridge of his nose. “Then…as you wish, I guess.”

Buttercup nearly ran down the path towards the dude ranch cabins. After a tense breakfast, one where no one said anything to each other, Buttercup got changed and got out of the ranch house as quickly as she possibly could. She felt like she couldn’t breathe with the weight of Jake’s disappointed gaze upon her and Charlie’s hate-filled words hanging in the air around them. Not even her sweet Abby had been able to look her in the eye, so she fled the moment it was acceptable to do so.

Now, she was marching to her brother’s cabin to talk to him and his best friend, to get some sort of reassurance that she was doing the right thing. She quickly climbed the two steps up and came up short when the door swung open, Javy emerging in his jeans, carrying his shirt from last night.

“Oh…” They both froze and stared at each other. “Hey Buttercup.”

“Hey Javy…”

“You, uh…” Javy shuffled his feet. “You good?”

“Not really,” she admitted, staring down at her toes. “Is Nat in there? Or Bob?”

“Bob spent the night in Mickey’s cabin with him and Yale. But Nat…” A shy smile pulled at Javy’s lips as he shrugged. “She’s asleep upstairs. I’ve gotta run to practice though. Can you tell her I said goodbye? And that I’ll see her for dinner tonight?”

Despite her own broken heart, Buttercup found herself smiling. “I’m glad you two were able to work it out. I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks, Buttercup.” He grinned and placed a light jab against her shoulder as he passed. “And hey? I’m sure whatever’s bugging you will work itself out in the end.”

“I don’t think so, Javy. But thanks.”

Buttercup let herself into the quaint little cabin and headed straight for the bedroom, where her friend was just waking up. Buttercup thanked whatever not-completely-evil god that was out there that her friend was wearing a t-shirt. After the morning she’d had, the last thing she wanted was to have her friend flash her by accident.

“Hey…” Natasha yawned as she stretched her arms over her head. “What’re you doin’ here? Where’s—” Natasha cut herself off, looking away from Buttercup.

“Javy had football practice. He says he’ll see you for dinner.” That was all Buttercup managed to get out before flopping onto the bed and sobbing.

“Jesus Christ, B!” Natasha scrambled up and pulled her crying friend into her lap. “What the hell?” A gentle hand ran up and down the length of Buttercup’s spine. “You’re alright, girl. C’mon.”

“J-Jake and I hooked up last night,” Buttercup blubbered, burying her face into the plaid comforter that covered her friend’s lap.

“And…was it…not good?” Try as she might, Natasha was struggling to see the problem.

“It was great!”

Both ladies were surprised at the strength of Buttercup’s sobs. It was unlike her to cry so much, but clearly, she had to exorcise some demons, and crying seemed to be the best way to get them out.

Natasha sighed and patted her friend on the back. “Then I am confused.”

“Join the fucking club…” Buttercup muttered, wiping her face on the bedspread before sitting up, her tear ducts seemingly empty. “We…we’re going home tomorrow. I can’t believe I was so stupid as to hook up with my ex-husband right before we’re going back home.”

“Not gonna lie, lady, but you were basically eye-fucking him all night. I’m not surprised that you two fell into bed together. The sexual tension was too great.” Natasha propped herself up against the oak headboard and stared at her friend. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Lots of couples do one last fuck fest after a breakup or divorce.”

“Is that what you and Javy were doing last night?” Buttercup bit out, no malice in her voice, only exhaustion.

Natasha bit her lip. “Actually…it was more of a ‘lets try this thing again’ than a ‘lets get this thing out of our systems’.”

Buttercup blinked her bloodshot eyes. “How are you two going to try it again when our flight leaves tomorrow?”

One of Natasha’s calloused fingers gently traced the scar that ran over her eye, something that she only did on the rare occasion that she was nervous. “That’s the thing…I’m not getting on that flight. Bob said that he could get me a refund with the airline since it’s, y’know, his airline.”

“You’re staying?” Of all the things she expected her best friend to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “What about your classes? Your friends?”

Natasha shrugged. “One of the other instructors can take over until they hire someone else. And there’s a gym in town that needs a new female personal trainer. Javy’s pretty sure they’d take me on the spot. And honestly, B? What friends? I had work friends that I only hung out with occasionally off the clock, and I had you and Bob. I lived in your home, ate your food, and hung out with you. No offence, because you know I love you, but not going back isn’t that big of a deal to me.”

Buttercup nodded as she looked at her friend. “I hate that you’re leaving me,” she mumbled, pulling Natasha into a fierce hug. “But I’m proud of you for giving him another shot. You just make sure he knows that if he hurts you, I’m only one transatlantic flight away from kicking his ass.”

“Or…you could always stay too and be just a walk down the road away from kicking his ass.” Natasha’s voice was gentle and kind, but Buttercup was already shaking her head. “Why not?”

“Because we tried, and we failed.”

“So did me and Javy,” Natasha nudged her.

“But you don’t have kids who will suffer if you try again and it still falls apart.”

“Fair point…” Natasha hummed and turned towards her. “What if it doesn’t fall apart?”

“I can’t risk it, Nat,” Buttercup murmured, tears welling in her eyes again. “I can’t hurt Abby and Charlie like that. They have to come first.”

“I get that.” Natasha reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand comfortingly. “But you have spent over a decade putting Abby first. You have been an amazing mother to that girl. Maybe it’s time to start putting yourself first instead.”

Buttercup squeezed back, snuggling down in her friend’s bed and sighing. If only it was that easy.

The next 24 hours passed in a blur of emotion. Charlie still wasn’t speaking to Buttercup, despite Jake’s private talk with her when she returned to the ranch house after her walk. Abby wasn’t faring much better, quiet but not angry the way her sister was. More…resigned. And Jake…well, Jake did what Jake always did. He walled up everything he was feeling behind thick, military issue shields and pretended. It was what he was trained to do. Compartmentalize and prioritize. His priority was making sure that his girls didn’t leave the ranch sad.

Buttercup’s eyes remained bloodshot for the rest of the day, and it broke Jake’s heart to see his girl so distraught. Part of him wanted to ask her to reconsider, to ask if her decision to leave was what was making her so miserable, but he didn’t. His Buttercup had only made one rash decision in her entire life: staying with him in Miramar. Every other decision had been meticulously thought out, including going to London to start over. He couldn’t blame her for that, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to return to her life abroad, no matter how much it felt like it was killing him to let her go again.

So, Jake pushed it all down and tried to make it the best 24 hours he possibly could. He took his three girls on a trail ride after having a small goodbye lunch for their remaining guests. Fanboy, Yale, Payback and his family all enjoyed a small gathering despite the tense atmosphere. That atmosphere remained throughout the trail ride, though Jake had hoped it would help cool Charlie down. Dinner was similarly quiet, the five of them eating their spaghetti and meatballs in relative silence, though it seemed that both Rooster and Charlie were cheered to hear that Phoenix would be staying. Jake couldn’t help the glance he spared at Buttercup when that news was shared before Javy swept Phoenix out the door to keep their dinner reservation in town. He knew he couldn’t question why Phoenix was brave enough to stay and try to work things out, not when he knew why Buttercup was doing the brave thing by leaving. She was doing it so that the girls wouldn’t suffer from the fallout if they couldn’t keep their shit together a second time, and Jake couldn’t blame her. He would do anything to make sure Charlie was happy. Problem was that this decision didn’t seem to be making anyone happy.

Nobody got much sleep that night, the tension growing over the house like a big black storm cloud, what ifs and maybes swirling like a tornado. Day dawned without sun; the metaphorical storm having grown into a real one that had rain lashing at the windows. Breakfast was a silent affair, and Jake could barely choke down any lunch, one final meal before he had to say goodbye to his girls.

Bags were piled at the front door, waiting for the airport limo Bob had called for, complimentary because of his position with the airline. Six adults and two children stood in the doorway of the ranch house, waiting for the telltale sound of tire on gravel to signal the end. When Jake caught sight of headlights bouncing through the darkened sky, he sighed and gathered Abby into his arms.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured into her hair, and his heart broke as she clutched him tighter. “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving, okay?”

“I love you too, daddy.”

Jake opened his eyes and saw Buttercup ringing her hands as she approached Charlie, who had her arms crossed stiffly across her chest.

“I…I’m sorry, Charlie,” he heard her soft words and his chest ached for her. For both of them. His two girls were so strong and so stubborn, and they were both in so much pain. “I love you, sweet girl. I hope you remember that.” When it became clear that Charlie was not going to embrace her mother, Buttercup sighed and pressed a kiss to her hair instead. “I love you, darling.”

Buttercup turned to Rooster, who wrapped her in a tight hug. “You take care of yourself, alright, Buttercup?” he gravelled.

“I will. You take care of them for me, okay?”

“You know I will.”

A similar exchange happened with Javy, though Jake was sure that it included some sort of threat about treating Phoenix well, based on the slight grimace on Javy’s face as Buttercup turned and hugged her friend.

It was at that point that the car pulled up to the front door and Jake forced himself to release his daughter.

“Go say goodbye to everyone while I take your bags out,” he whispered to her, trying his best not to crumble at her tear-stained face.

She nodded and ran over to Phoenix, almost knocking her over. “I love you, Auntie Nat.”

“I love you too, kid.”

She squeezed Rooster next, the two of them having a whispered conversation as Jake passed, taking the bags out to the limo. He didn’t care that his white t-shirt was becoming see-through. He didn’t much care for anything at the moment. He was completely numb, just like he had been when he watched Buttercup and Abby walk out his front door the first time. He took his time loading the bags into the trunk before heading back into the house, feeling like he was walking to his execution.

When he stepped into the foyer, his eyes went straight to Abby and Charlie, embracing by the stairs. He sighed and turned to Bob, shaking his ex-brother-in-law’s hand before turning to Buttercup, who was watching her daughters with a sad sort of smile.

A gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her attention to him right as he pulled her into a hug. She folded into him the same way she always had, like she belonged there. Jake told himself that her trembling was because he was soaked to the bone, and if he felt moisture soaking into the front of his shirt, he told himself that was just the rain too.

She pulled away a few moments later, surreptitiously wiping at her eyes as she murmured, “It’s time to go, Abby.” She met his eyes for a fleeting second. “Thank you, Jake.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he murmured and escorted them onto the covered porch, where he gave Abby one more hug before pulling Charlie into his arms as they watched Bob, Buttercup and Abby make a run for the limo.

Bob held the door open as Abby slid in. Buttercup glanced over her shoulder at Jake and Charlie, standing like statues on the porch. She waved a sad goodbye before sliding in beside her daughter. Bob gave him an understanding nod before joining them and slamming the door shut. The limo roared to life and started down the dirt drive, rain and wind whipping at the windshield as they went. Abby and Buttercup huddled together on the leather seats as Bob gave instructions to the driver, and then they were silent.

Jake’s chest heaved as he watched them go, watched two-thirds of his heart walk away from him again.

“Wait!” Charlie cried, throwing off his hold and taking off down the wet and muddy driveway. “Mom, wait!” Jake lunged after her, grabbing her up in a hug as the limo disappeared between the trees, the falling rain too loud for them to hear her pleas.

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[aloonaram]

Here’s an edited wip of my Birdflash oneshot.

Fair warning, this will probably change in the final product as I try to figure out at what point in the timeline I want this fic to take place.

—

“You look like shit, Dickie.”

“Gee, thanks, Walls. You’re such a loving boyfriend,” Dick retorted. He tried for a smile, but Wally watched sadly as it twitched and fell before it could become what it once was–what Dick’s smile used to be.

Dick opened his door wider in invitation and Wally rushed in and examined the place. Gotham wasn’t ever known for its beauty, but even with that in mind, Dick’s apartment looked pretty rough. Empty containers of takeout and miscellaneous trash littered the floor and countertops. His couch was sprinkled with brown spots that he almost assumed were polka dots before he realized they were most definitely patches of dried blood. Clothes were strewn across every surface, their musk permeating his senses. Dick brushed past his side and made his way to the kitchen, opening his rickety fridge to expose the meager amount of food he had. Wally would bet his life savings that each of the five items had gone bad too, based on the state of the place.

Dick turned to toss Wally a water, “So…what, uh, brings you here?” Dick’s awkward tone hangs heavy between the two. Now that Wally could get a good look, his lover was in rough shape. Even worse than his apartment; which was a feat, his mind whispered. His hair laid limp and greasy along his neck and his bags seemed to have bags of their own. A couple of dark bruises peeked through the collar of his shirt, some leading down to his left arm if the strange way he seemed to carry it was anything to go by. Dick clutched his own water bottle, doing his best to look anywhere but at him.

“You haven’t been responding to my messages,” Wally started, “I texted the other Robin, uh Tim, I think? But he never got back to me either, so I got worried, you know? Figured I’d take matters into my own hands. I don’t have super speed for nothing.” He waved his hands around, doing his best to lighten the mood. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to talk, let alone seen each other in person, but, you know, if this isn’t the best time, I can totally leave. I know this is kinda spur of the moment.” Wally wished he could slap himself the moment his lips stopped moving. Some of the younger heroes had started calling him a professional yapper and he wished it didn’t fit so damn well.

Wally watched as Dick took a breath and rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. He winced. Yeah, this probably wasn’t the best time to show up out of the blue.

“No, I…You don’t need to leave, “ Dick sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been responding, Walls. Everything’s just been… a lot, to put it simply. I’ve been so busy trying to balance my day job, Bludhaven, and…and being Batman. I just haven’t had much time to myself lately, if you can’t tell by the state of my apartment.” Dick laughed pitifully and winced when it shook his aching arm.

He couldn’t help moving forward into the kitchen and enveloping Dick in a hug, something he definitely should’ve done the moment he’d arrived. His partner sighed shakily and moved to wrap his arms around Wally’s middle. He felt Dick’s face pressed against his chest and hooked his chin to the top of his greasy head. Dick had always been one for physical comfort, a miracle considering who he’d grown up with and the environment he’d been forced into at the ripe age of nine. Wally would be lying if he didn’t say Dick’s need for physical affection didn’t bring him relief and make him feel needed. Sometimes, he felt powerless amidst his lover's strife–Batman’s rule against metas in Gotham limiting his ability to help. Providing Dick a simple hug; feeling the tense muscles in his shoulders loosen and his breath hit Wally’s neck as he sighed in relief, was Wally’s respite from his perpetual guilt.

Wally knew about Batman’s…death. He’d been there when Dick hosted Bruce’s funeral, letting Dick squeeze the life from his hand as he listened to the speech from Alfred. With Bruce gone, the natural order of Dick’s family had seemed to fall apart. Dick had taken the mantle of Batman, a title Wally knew he had never wanted–never felt right for him. He’d be lying if he said he fully understood the magnitude of such a change–that he knew how large the chasms carved by trauma had grown to separate Dick and his siblings. And yet despite that, he knew one thing for a fact. Dick, his lover and the man he’s known for well over a decade now was not the type of person to let others shoulder pain on their own. He took and took and took until he knew only he carried the weight of the sky on his shoulders, letting his muscles feel relief only when his family no longer felt pain. And he’d continue to carry that weight with a smile as long as he knew his family would smile back, unaware of the sky creeping in on Dick’s tense shoulders.

Wally squeezed his arms tighter around Dick’s back, supporting him as his breaths became ragged in their silent embrace. As Wally did so, a sick thought entered his mind, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for his partner; a small part of him–microscopic even–was glad Bruce wasn’t here. Not because he reveled in the effects his passing had on Dick, nor because he wanted Dick to be forced into the role of Batman, but because despite his struggles, Bruce had never been good for Dick. Yes, he played the parental figure Dick needed when he was younger and yes, he provided the necessities for Dick to survive, but he never provided what Wally knew Dick needed most.

“Do you wanna move to the couch, babe?” Wally whispered, cheek pressed against Dick’s head. He feels Dick nod silently and Wally zipped them to the couch in less than half a second. Wally sat and patted the spot next to him, watching as Dick laid his head on his lap, pressing his cheek to Wally’s stomach while letting his legs hang off the side of the couch.

Never one comfortable with silence, Wally broke it first. “If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t push. We can chill, watch the Office, eat popcorn–whatever you want. I just worry…you know? Not being able to be here to help and hearing on the news, Batman and Robin this and Joker and Two-Face that…I just wish I could do more for you.”

Wally looks down to meet Dick’s pained stare and internally winces as Dick opens and closes his mouth, struggling to respond.

“Me and the bats have it handled over here, okay?” Dick starts quietly, aimlessly running his hand over Wally’s knuckles. “You don’t need to worry about me, honey. I know you have more than enough to deal with back at Central and I don’t want to stress you out with problems I have handled.”

Wally lets his free hand run through Dick’s hair, quickly relishing in the way Dick warms to his touch. “I can’t lie and say I wouldn’t be stressed, you know me too well for that, but I’m here to support you, Dick. To be your listener when you’re stressed.” He paused for only a moment before speaking again, “I know you, Dick. I’ve known you for almost every era of your life as you have, mine. I knew you when you were my scrawny, baby leader-”

“Hey-” Dick tried to interject, but Wally kept going.

“I knew you when you wore that god awful blue and yellow disco Nightwing suit-”

“It really wasn’t that bad-”

“And I know what it looks like when you don’t have things handled. You don’t need to soften the blow for me Dickie and you don’t need to play the perfect soldier.” Wally paused. Let it be known even the Flash is out of breath from time to time. “You were always there for me during rough times, so please let me be there for you.”

[rue-with-the-tarot]

So, not even a week after resuming my veiling practice, I experienced discrimination. I don’t wish to recount the experience to save my emotional energy, but I do want to go into why I’m glad I had this experience, and how it encourages me to continue.

Firstly, I want to acknowledge the fact that my preferred approach to veiling does in fact make me resemble Muslim women. And because of this, I want to give a heartfelt thank you to Muslim women worldwide for setting the standard for others who find empowerment and comfort in modesty. As a white person, I have been aware of and sympathetic to the plight of Muslim women worldwide, but it’s different when it happens to you. It cements it. My heart aches for your strife and is full by your courage. This is one reason I’m glad for this experience. It strengthens my resolve and compassion. Thank you.

Another reason I’m glad for the experience, is because it reiterates why I want to veil in the first place. I live in Midwestern America. Our bodily autonomy is quickly being stolen from us. Our bodies are hyper-sexualized and spoken about as if all I’m good for is having babies that the government can raise as cattle for the capitalist machine. It’s a physical symbol of rejecting that. I get to decide how I look to others. I get to decide who gets access to my body, not just in a sexual manner but as a whole. For me, it’s a radical act of feminism. It feels as though the fibers in my headscarves and coverings are woven together in a greater tapestry of women worldwide. I can feel it with Muslim women, whom I do not share a religion with, but share something more important: kinship, and sisterhood. My threads are woven with the Muslim women in France who are fighting legislation for their right to be modest (that is batshit insane) and also with those victimized by western imperialism (which gave birth to the Taliban). The tapestry is worldwide, including Jewish women and their tichels, other pagans with their bandanas and beanies, even traditional Christian women who wear lace coverings. But modesty and autonomy reach beyond the gender divide so I have home in those who are also men, nonbinary, gender-fluid, two-spirit, and many others. It is community. It filters out many people who show their true intentions and beliefs, and makes it so much easier to cut through the lies and masks of people whose support is conditional.

I have always been modest and prudish and now I can celebrate it, instead of being “othered” by it. I feel as though it is a symbol of my devotion, but also a form of radical self-care that I celebrate myself.

It is Hera’s Crown.

It is Athena’s War Helmet.

It is Hermes’ Winged Helmet.

It is Eurybia’s Cloak of the Ocean.

It is Hades’ Helmet of Shadow.

It is Hestia’s Veil.

It is Zeus’ Crown.

It makes me feel godly and holy. It protects me. It invigorates me. It gives me confidence.

Khaire.

[miquellah]

no its crazy the 180 i did on things just by finding trina. holy shit. i still have not reached endgame so disclaimer if my current reading somehow falls short, but

miquella IS an antagonist, yes, but hes not evil. its not that hes sought power for its own sake, but i think he just… hes fallible. hes NOT a perfect person, even though he’s tried so hard to be, and he HAS loved and HAS been kind. but

in a world so overtorn by strife, by the cycles of violence and devastation and war and genocides, theres only so much he can ever do. trina, who was a saint, who was also a part of him who did everything she could to help people— sleep was only a soothing balm. its not a permanent solution to anything at all. and i think both trina and he knew this

removing malenia’s rot? a failure. the eclipse? a failure. even the haligtree, i think, was ultimately a failure. i think he’d just grown SO sick of those failures that he’d grown desperate. threw off everything of himself that would cause him to second-guess whatever goal this now is, this form of godhood. abandoning even his love that propelled him toward this point

and some people (myself included) wanted to expect him to be a truly kindhearted, patient, steadfast, infallible person— but he’s not that. everyone thinks that of him, and what kind of pressure did that place? someone expected to solve everything, loved so dearly, who placed all hope in him to finally be the one to save them. and he just. he still can’t

like, yeah. i think it would break just about anybody in some sort of way

so idkkkkk i take back what i said about thinking fromsoft implemented everything horribly. still NOT sold on the radahn stuff yet but. i think leading us on to have only the best view of miquella for so long, seeing him the way everyone else with that unabiding faith in him did— only to suddenly, finally, realize just how short he’s fallen of those expectations. yeah, that IS an engaging narrative, that IS art. okay!!!!! Fuck

[ltash]

Venom

Part 12 "Truly Yours"

Simon Ghost Riley x female OC

Now in each other, solace they find, Enemies to lovers, hearts intertwined. For in the ashes of their bitter strife, Bloomed the sweetest love, giving new life."

"Don't you ever do this again, Simon," she said firmly, taking his hand and leading him towards the bed.

He followed her, feeling the weight of her words. "Anastasia, I'm sorry," he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

"Save your apologies," she said, guiding him to sit down. She knelt in front of him, continuing to clean and bandage his wounded hand. "Just promise me you won't hurt yourself like this again."

He looked into her eyes, seeing the depth of her concern. "I promise," he said quietly, feeling a strange mix of relief and vulnerability.

As she finished wrapping his hand, she stood up and gently guided him to lie down on the bed. She sat beside him, her fingers softly tracing the bandages.

"You don't have to face this alone, Simon," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We can face it together."

He nodded, feeling a flicker of hope. "Thank you, Anastasia."

"Why are you like this, Simon?" Anastasia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "This sudden change... I don't know this side of you. I only knew the person who hurt me, who stabbed me and left me to die."

Simon looked at her, pain flickering in his eyes. He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Anastasia, I know I've hurt you in ways that can never be forgiven. I was following orders, lost in a darkness that consumed me."

She frowned, not entirely convinced. "But now? Why are you different now?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because seeing you like this, vulnerable and real, it made me realize the depth of my mistakes. I see the person I've become, and I don't want to be that man anymore. You've shown me a different side of myself, a side I thought was long buried."

Anastasia studied his face, searching for any sign of deceit. All she saw was a man battling his own demons. "Simon, it's not easy to just forget what happened. The pain, the betrayal..."

"I know," he interrupted, his voice heavy with regret. "And I don't expect you to forgive me easily. But I want to try to make things right. Not just for you, but for myself. I need to change, and you being here, giving me this chance, it means more than you can imagine."

She looked down at her hands, conflicted. "I don't know if I can trust you, Simon. It's not something that happens overnight."

He nodded. "I understand. I just want you to know that I'm here, and I'm trying. For both of us."

Anastasia remained silent for a moment, then finally met his gaze. "I'll give you a chance, Simon. But it's up to you to prove that this change is real."

"I will," he promised, his voice steady. "I'll show you that I can be the man you deserve."

"Have you ever loved someone deeply before?" Anastasia asked, her eyes searching his face for answers.

Simon hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I have. And you? Have you ever loved someone?"

Anastasia shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. "I never got the chance. Makarov turned me into a weapon, but I was still a woman. I had a heart."

Simon reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "You're more than just a weapon, Anastasia. You deserve to be loved and to love in return."

She looked down at their joined hands, her heart aching with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "It's hard to believe that sometimes. I've spent so long being used, manipulated... It's hard to see myself as anything else."

He squeezed her hand, his gaze intense and sincere. "You are more than what he made you. You have strength, resilience, and a heart that's capable of so much more. Don't let him define you."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. "It's not easy to forget the past, Simon. But maybe, with time, I can learn to see myself differently."

"Take all the time you need," he said softly. "I'll be here, every step of the way."

Simon's eyes darkened, memories stirring within him. He hesitated, then nodded, deciding to share the story with Anastasia. "Her name was Sierra," he began, his voice tinged with a mix of pain and nostalgia. "We met when we were both in the Task Force. She was fierce, fearless, and had a heart of gold."

Anastasia listened intently, her own heart aching at the depth of emotion in his voice. "What happened to her?"

"We were on a mission," Simon continued, his gaze distant as he relived the memory. "Things went south. We were ambushed. She... she didn't make it. She died in my arms, and there was nothing I could do to save her."

Anastasia's grip tightened on his hand, offering silent support. "I'm so sorry, Simon."

He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "After that, I built walls around myself. I put on the mask, both literally and figuratively. It was easier to be Ghost, to shut out the pain and the memories."

She nodded, understanding now the haunted look in his eyes. "And you think you'll lose me too, don't you?"

Simon met her gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes raw and unguarded. "I'm terrified of it. I've lost so many people, Anastasia. I don't know if I can bear to lose someone else."

She cupped his cheek, her touch gentle. "You're not going to lose me, Simon. We're in this together now. We can help each other heal."

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "Thank you, Anastasia. For being here, for understanding."

She offered him a small, reassuring smile. "We both have scars, Simon. But maybe, just maybe, we can help each other find a way to move forward."

"How can I move forward, Anastasia? I have blood on my hands. I kill people and I feel satisfied. I can sleep peacefully now. I don't have nightmares anymore," Simon said, his voice laced with an unsettling calm.

Anastasia reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she placed it on his. "You were a soldier, Simon. It was your job to protect. Don't beat yourself up about it."

He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "I don't deserve you, Anastasia. I'm not Simon anymore. I am Ghost now. An evil entity."

"You're not evil," she insisted, her voice firm but gentle.

He laughed bitterly. "I lost my love. I lost Soap, who was like a brother to me. It took everything from me."

Anastasia's heart ached for him. She could see the torment in his eyes, the internal struggle he faced every day. She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reach him.

"Simon," she began softly, "we all carry our burdens. We all have regrets. But acknowledging them is the first step toward moving forward."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with pain and confusion. "I don't even know who I am anymore. Ghost is all I have left."

"You're more than just Ghost," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "Deep down, you're still Simon. You still have the capacity to care, to love. You showed me that tonight."

"But what if I can't change? What if this darkness is all I am now?" His voice was a mere whisper, filled with fear and uncertainty.

"Then let me help you find the light," Anastasia said, leaning closer. "We don't have to do this alone. We can help each other, support each other. Maybe together, we can start to heal."

Simon searched her eyes, looking for any hint of insincerity, but he found none. Her words, her touch, her presence were like a balm to his wounded soul. He took a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. "I don't know if I can do it, but I'll try. For you."

Anastasia smiled, a small but genuine smile that reached her eyes. "That's all I ask, Simon. Just try."

He put his head on her lap, the weight of his sorrow almost tangible. She softly stroked his hair with her fingers, trying to soothe the tumult within him.

"Everything that I ever loved was taken away from me, destroyed," he said, his voice breaking. "My whole family, my mom, my brother and his family. All were taken away. Murdered in cold blood."

Tears fell from his eyes, unbidden and raw. He sniffed, the sound of his sobbing cutting through the quiet room. Anastasia's heart clenched as she listened to his words, feeling his pain as if it were her own.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This strong, stoic man, who had seemed so invulnerable, was breaking apart in her arms. "Ssh! It's okay, babe. It's okay. I am here," she whispered, her voice tender and reassuring. She wiped the tears from his face, her touch gentle and loving.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. She leaned down, peppering his face with kisses, each one a silent promise of comfort and presence. Her heart swelled with love for him, a fierce, protective love she hadn't realized she was capable of.

She couldn't believe that the man who had once been her enemy, who had inflicted so much pain upon her, was now so vulnerable, so human, in her arms. The irony was not lost on her, but neither was the profound connection they shared in this fragile, intimate moment.

He looked at her pretty little face, caressing her cheek with a tenderness that belied his hardened exterior. Slowly, he sat up and scooped her into his arms. She seemed so tiny and delicate compared to his imposing frame, a stark contrast that only made his protective feelings towards her stronger.

He carried her to the bed and gently laid her down beside him. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it softly, his lips lingering on her skin. "I don't remember the last time I confessed my love," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "It was only her... and now it's you."

Anastasia's heart skipped a beat at his words. The raw honesty in his eyes, the vulnerability he was showing, made her realize just how much he had come to mean to her. She reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, her touch gentle and reassuring.

"I never thought I would find someone like you," she whispered. "Someone who understands my pain, my past. But here we are, finding solace in each other."

She smiled faintly, her hand gently squeezing his. "Rest now. We'll figure everything out. But first, you need to take care of yourself."

He watched her as she moved to turn off the lights, her silhouette framed by the soft glow from the streetlights outside. As she returned to the bed, he felt an unexpected sense of peace.

Lying there in the darkness, with Anastasia beside him, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way out of the darkness. And for the first time in a long while, he closed his eyes without fear of the nightmares, knowing she was there with him.

He woke up in the morning to the sound of soft clinking and the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he realized Anastasia was up before him, making breakfast. Curious and amused, he silently got out of bed and, using his skills of stealth, approached her without making a sound.

Just as she turned around, she let out a squeak of surprise, nearly dropping the spatula she was holding. "Oh my god, Simon! You gave me a heart attack," she exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb against her pink lips. "You already gave me one with your looks," he teased, his voice low and affectionate.

She blushed, a small smile playing on her lips. "What are you making now, by the way?" he asked, peering over her shoulder to see what she was cooking.

"Pancakes," she replied, turning back to flip one on the griddle. "I thought it would be nice to start the day with something sweet."

He grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. "Sounds perfect," he murmured. "Let me help."

"Oh no I'll do it. You just help me with the tea." She smiled.

He chuckled softly, enjoying the lighthearted moment. "Alright, I'll leave the pancakes to you," he said, stepping back. "I'll handle the tea."

As he moved to the kettle, he glanced back at her, watching her flip the pancakes with a focused expression. Despite everything, seeing her like this, trying to bring a sense of normalcy to their chaotic lives, brought a rare warmth to his heart.

"Do you want it strong?" he asked, filling the kettle with water.

"Yes, please," she replied, smiling over her shoulder at him. "I need something to wake me up properly."

He nodded, setting the kettle on the stove and preparing the teapot. As he measured out the tea leaves, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was part of something meaningful, something worth fighting for.

As the tea brewed, he leaned against the counter, watching her move around the kitchen with surprising ease. "You know," he said, his voice soft, "you're pretty good at this. It almost feels... normal."

She looked at him, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Maybe it can be," she said quietly. "Maybe we can have moments like this, despite everything."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Maybe we can," he agreed, turning back to the tea as it finished brewing. He poured two cups and brought them over to the table, just as she finished plating the pancakes.

They sat down together, a sense of calm settling over them. For a moment, they allowed themselves to forget about the world outside and simply enjoy the peace they had found in each other's presence.

Anastasia sat across from Simon, her expression pensive as she divulged her plan. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted the determination in her eyes, contrasting with the dimly lit room around them. Simon, still shirtless from the morning's intimacy, listened intently, his mind churning with memories of past encounters.

"I'm searching for Makarov," Anastasia began, her voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. "I don't know his current location, but Melina might. She's his financier, and she has intricate knowledge about him."

Simon's gaze sharpened as he processed her words, recalling their violent past involving Melina. "I remember her," he murmured, his tone laced with grim recollection. "Soap and I raided her office. It was a bloody mess, but she mentioned Makarov was in Vostok back then."

Anastasia nodded, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her tea cup. "Exactly. If I contact Melina, perhaps I can extract valuable intel without raising suspicion."

Simon's jaw tensed slightly, his thoughts drifting to the dangers ahead. "Be careful," he cautioned softly, his hand reaching out to gently touch hers. "She's not one to trust easily."

Anastasia went to stand by the kitchen counter, sipping her tea as the morning light filtered through the windows. "I need to run some errands. I need groceries first," she said, her voice steady but carrying a hint of concern.

Ghost looked up from his tea, his gaze serious. "I will go with you," he replied, his tone protective.

She hesitated, worry flickering across her face. "You aren't safe out here. If Makarov knows about this, he won't let you live in peace."

Anastasia nodded slowly, her decision made. She finished the last sip of her tea and set the cup down. "Alright, let's go."

"But first I need to get ready."

She uttered the words softly, her voice carrying a hint of determination as she turned away, leaving him standing in the kitchen. Simon watched her retreat, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of concern and admiration for her resilience.

[darkdemeter]

Child Reader hcs! If S/O was playable, I could imagine her being like some low HP and ATK but speedy rogue-like person due to Strife training her with a knife and stealing items from enemies. She could also be used to crawl small places and be lifted up by War or Strife to reach high spots. And she could even have her own little bag of collecting souls that she uses not for herself but to gain some discounts on amount of Souls the Horsemen would need on upgrades. Such a sweet cinnamon roll! 🥰

CHARACTER CINNAMON GUIDE HER WAY HOME ─ THE GAME HEADCANONS

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE (Platonic!) Strife and War x Female Child!Reader

NOTES ↳ ANON ANON ANOOOOOON! YESSSSSS! OMG I LOVE THIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSS! This is a concept I'm absolutely obsessed with -- that being the reader is a playable character in the Darksiders franchise. I'm so glad I'm not the only one who thinks like this and I finally get to put these ideas into a post! I went a bit crazy with the hcs amount that I had to stop myself.... there is so many ideas I have with this concept alone...

────────────────────────

✘ Nicknamed Cinn/Cinnamon.

✘ Your size is used to your advantage. Being so small, you are able to sneak past enemies (unless their level is higher than yours or they're a boss).

✘ If you have enough skill points put into your stealth, you can also utilise your "Deft Mittens" ability - this ability will morph into "Deft Hands" and then "The Phantom Hand" the higher your level is and the more valuable loot you'll be able to pickpocket from higher level enemies.

✘ You're also quick and have a short but 2 charge evasion sprint ability much like Strife. A very rogue-like build that utilises stealth and the element of surprise. You're armed with a single dagger that can eventually be upgraded to dual wielding through Strife's training.

✘ When War and Strife near a small crawl space, they will beckon you over to have you travel through and reach whatever objective you must accomplish.

✘ If you find a spot you can fit through but it's higher up and out of reach, you can call over either War or Strife to lift you up, your character delivering the voice line, "Uppie!" and you'll be hoisted up.

✘ you have the cutest voice lines... hands down. FACTS.

✘ If your health gets down to 1 point, there is a chance that either War or Strife will use an ability called "Guardian Wings" that flies them to your immediate aid to either block an attack combo or to grant you a healing potion if they have any.

✘ If you lose all your health or are inflicted with a powerful debuff that compells you to be stunned or paralysed while very low on health, this can potentially trigger Chaos and Anarchy for several seconds. If the enemy is downed within a certain time frame, then you will be resurrected without needing to start from your last save point. If not, then you "pass out" and need to load from your last save.

✘ A cute little mid-combat cutscene will occur if you have a healing potion and give it to Strife or War. Yes, you will want to stack up on potions just to see it because it's so cute.

✘ Uhmmmm especially in the genesis type cutscenes -- you are the cutest ray of sunshine. Anything and everything you do is the fucking cutest thing.

✘ You have a very shallow health pool and a weaker attack rate compared to your Horsemen counterparts. This means you will need to be very careful about your strategy going into fights. The more you rest at camp and train your abilities, the stronger you will become.

✘ Eating food at camp grants you buffs.

✘ Tool tip! remember to always search for treasure. Relics found in these chests can be traded into Vulgrim for health upgrades.

✘ If you go to Dis, she can also upgrade your gear and potentially grant you buff if you complete little return quests for her.

✘ Being human has its advantages. You have a passive "tinker" ability that's very weak to begin with but can be upgraded further on with your levelling and your story. This ability allows you to craft useful tools and gadgets.

✘ Dialogue options with Strife and War when you're out and about on your adventures are worth the many playthroughs! You get choices (much like DS2) where you can ask them questions about your surroundings, battle advice and special banters can be triggered in certain places and areas and if you do the hidden misc questlines.

✘ SPOILER HC! You can use the snow sphere given to you by Samael to use as a light source in dark areas. Go to Samael to upgrade this sphere and it can grant you a clairvoyant ability that can either lead you to higher level loot or if you're stuck, show you onto your current objective's path.

✘ You have a little satchel/drawstring bag that has a default number of 5 inventory slots. These can be upgraded at higher levels by Dis OR you can partake in small misc quests by Strife who will teach you the passive ability to increase your inventory space.

✘ You can also collect souls into your little bag that can give discounts for Strife's and War's upgrades on their armor and their abilities.

✘ War can also teach you a few abilities the higher your level is and if you put skill points into your strength but by default, you're role is a close ranged rogue type.

✘ You can choose whichever Horsemen you want to ride with and this gives you control over the movement. There are chase sequences where you can only evade oncoming attacks, but you can learn horseback combat that will allow you to either throw your dagger or cast a spell/ranged gadget.

✘ You can pet and feed Ruin and Mayham. Cause if the developers didn't allow you to do that, then that's just cruel.

✘ When travelling through swampy areas or anywhere that is too dangerous for you to traverse by yourself, you can engage War or Strife and they will carry you across.

[lady-embers]

I just read your post about Nesta and parentification and would like to add a point:

Nesta mentioned Feyre teaching (or atleast tried to teach) her how to use a bow and arrow. At some point of time both these sisters walked out into the woods and Nesta agreed to try her hand at hunting.

They were both young. Nesta did household chores (chopping wood etc etc like you mentioned) and Feyre hunted and provided for the family but Nesta wasn't just sitting on her ass the entire time. Feyre probably felt bitter towards her eldest sister for not stepping up but that doesn't mean her sister did nothing. Their way of making sure the family survived was different.

"Oh but Feyre said that the sisters spent money recklessly." Of course she did. They were poor. Living in a HUT that barely had a functioning roof. Every single coin spent for anything at all mattered. Their priority was to save money for everything. Buying coats or shoes or whatever is money being spent and that was bad. They were desperate and bitter. (Yes Feyre too. You can clearly catch that from the first few chapters of book one)

Personally speaking, I see the mighty High Lord and his pet General Cassian complaining about Nesta and her contribution – or lack of as they claim – wayy more than Feyre herself.

Nesta even went back to the forest when Feyre was under the mountain, she thought about crossing the wall because her sister had just returned from the fae lands and had barely stayed for a while before she went back.

IF NESTA HADN'T TOLD FEYRE ABOUT THE PREGNANCY I MYSELF WOULD HAVE JUMPED INSIDE THE BOOK AND TOLD HER. Nesta was pissed off and obviously she said it to point out just how shitty Feyre's mate is. But bruh Feyre deserved to know from the very moment Rhys himself found out. If I was in Nesta's position, my sister's husband would get punched in the face High Lord or not.

I totally forgot about Feyre trying to teach Nesta how to use a bow and arrow! Good point!!

Feyre was definitely bitter about being the one who hunted and brought in the income and therefore she deems her oldest sisters household efforts as useless or not enough in her thoughts. This is the same mentality though that a lot of men, and people in general, have towards SAHM. They claim SAHM just sit at home all day doing nothing but fail to take in that running a household is a full time job in itself because there is cooking, cleaning, mending/washing of clothes, keeping the house warm during winter, etc and if you were to outsource those jobs you'd be paying a LOT of money to do so.

As for the money point, Feyre says Nesta didn't need new boots as hers was "new" but in ACOSF its revealed that Nesta shoes weren't as new as Feyre portrayed them as. They actually had holes and were worn down. That shows us Feyre viewpoint isn't all that reliable during that time. She views her sisters spending the money recklessly but was that really the case? Now, I'm not saying they haven't spent money recklessly in the past, but Feyre is definitely blinded at times because of the bitterness she has towards her sisters.

I know Nesta herself said she could have done more and has regrets about that time and how she treated Feyre, but honestly, she did what she could during that time. They were all in a poor situation just trying to keep afloat and survive.

And Rhys and Cassian really have no room to talk. They weren't there. They only got Feyre viewpoint and judged the sisters without even really getting to know them. Feyre herself forgave her sisters and was trying to make mends in their relationship and all those two did was cause more heartache and strife and made it more difficult on them all.

I also think a lot of people forget Nesta went to the wall after Feyre, and even was the one to encourage Feyre to go back to Tamlin.

And yesss to your last little bit about the pregnancy situation. I will defend Nesta to my dying breathe over her finally telling Feyre the truth. I'm sure Feyre herself would do the same given she wasn't even mad at Nesta, or really upset at how Nesta told her. She was actually grateful that Nesta told her and pissed at everyone else for keeping it a secret. I love Feyre for that.

[hiswordsarekisses]

This is so important to get. We don’t realize sometimes that we are actually listening to the wrong spirit when we decide what someone is like, or what they are thinking.

If it’s a condemning thought it’s most absolutely not from God. Jesus said He did not come to judge or condemn - He said His Words will be the judge on the last day.

Many of us, without realizing, have grown up believing our every thought is true. Many believers carry that over into their walk with God and have assumed that their every thought is from God.

God has made it clear in His Word that NO ONE knows the heart of another person but HIM.

No matter how sure we are about another person - we are wrong.

We do not know their motives, or their thoughts.

The only way to learn about another person is by getting to know them - by asking questions, etc., but it takes a lifetime to know someone really well, and even then you can still be in the dark concerning a lot of the private side of that person, or their motives.

When I was a teenager I went to a new school and I was extremely shy, but still I smiled at people and was kind when anyone spoke to me. A few months after I started going there I became friends with a few of popular the girls and one day one of them said to me “You are so cool! When you first came here we thought you were stuck up!” 😳 I gave them no reason to think that but that’s what they decided about me!!!

I don’t ever want to do that about a person. To misunderstand their body language - or even their words or actions. When someone says something or does something that seems rude or mean - the best thing to do is ASK QUESTIONS. Don’t just assume you know what’s behind their words or actions. It’s not fair, and quite frankly, it is sin.

We are allowed to judge between right and wrong - but we are not allowed to judge a persons heart or motives.

1st Corinthians 2:15 says that “the spiritual man judges all “things” but HIMSELF is judged by NO ONE.” So we can’t be walking around saying God has revealed to us something about a brother or sister. We are listening to the wrong spirit if we do, the spirit of division and strife - maybe even pride and superiority.

There’s a lot of that going around these days. If we feel our brother or sister might be in trouble we should pray for them. God is perfectly capable of speaking to the heart of His children Himself, and we need to be bust examining our own selves.

“Do not speak evil against one another, brothers. The one who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks evil against the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge. There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and to destroy. But who are you to judge your neighbor?” James‬ ‭4‬:‭11‬-‭12‬

“But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart. Then each one will receive his commendation from God. I have applied all these things to myself and Apollos for your benefit, brothers, that you may learn by us not to go beyond what is written, that none of you may be puffed up in favor of one against another.” 1st Corinthians‬ ‭4‬:‭3‬-‭6‬

Jesus said: “You judge according to the flesh; I judge no one. Yet even if I do judge, my judgment is true, for it is not I alone who judge, but I and the Father who sent me. In your Law it is written that the testimony of two people is true. I am the one who bears witness about myself, and the Father who sent me bears witness about me.” John‬ ‭8‬:‭15‬-‭18‬

[1141520851813892291920]

Wow. We know that you, as a bee, have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as... Honey! - That girl was hot. - She's my cousin! - She is? - Yes, we're all cousins. - Right. You're right. - At Honex, we constantly strive to improve every aspect of bee existence. These bees are stress-testing a new helmet technology. - What do you think he makes? - Not enough. Here we have our latest advancement, the Krelman. - What does that do? - Oatches that little strand of honey that hangs after you pour it. Saves us millions. Oan anyone work on the Krelman? Of course. Most bee jobs are small ones. But bees know that every small job, if it's done well, means a lot. But choose carefully because you'll stay in the job you pick for the rest of your life. The same job the rest of your life? I didn't know that. What's the difference? You'll be happy to know that bees, as a species, haven't had one day off in 27 million years. So you'll just work us to death? We'll sure try. Wow! That blew my mind! "What's the difference?" How can you say that? One job forever?

I think the worst part of this is that, on some level, I am relating to the strife of this fictional bee. The indecision, the horror of realizing you are a cog in a terrible machine and have no choice to but spend the rest of your pathetic life churning out an endless feed of misery and monotony...

Perhaps, in a way, we are all worker bees in the hideous hive of circumstance.

I pity them, as I would pity myself if I were capable of such things anymore.

[covered-in-kisses]

(gif by chacha125 on dA)

So I wanted to post this because, among other reasons, I find the possible implications of this so funny and interesting.

A more thorough explanation of everything under the cut, but TL;DR: Suki wants to avoid embarrassing Toph in front of everyone and only has a panicked moment to come up with something.

(This is kinda a cheesy move, but please reblog this because I really want to see people's thoughts on this. Also, feel free to use this as a prompt or inspiration for art or a fic or anything.)

So, anyone seeing this will likely know the context here, but let me give a quick summary. Toph, who can't swim, falls into the water. Sokka yells that he'll save her, but Suki jumps in first and saves her. Toph kisses her as thanks, thinking it's Sokka, Suki corrects her, Toph wants to drown in embarrassment.

Now the main "what if" regarding this scene (primarily due to Tokka shippers such as myself) is that Sokka jumps in instead of Suki. But this one is a much smaller change, yet offers just as much, if not more, potential plot divergence.

Toph misses the cheek and kisses her lips, leaving a mark. Suki still clarifies the situation and Toph is still embarrassed. (Suki and Toph don't notice or clean off the mark because, frankly, they have more important things going on.) They return to the crew on the shore and someone, really anyone, asks something along the lines of "what happened?" Suki and Toph get a little nervous thinking they saw the kiss, then Suki has a momentary panic attack upon seeing the lipstick and suddenly has a dilemma on her hands.

Already, this scenario is hilarious, but how it develops from there is what really tickles my brain. So what does Suki do?

A) Tell (mostly) the truth and say that Toph thought it was 'someone else.'

B) Say it was an accident in the churning waves.

C) Panic and say that she and Toph confessed to each other in order to save Toph from embarrassment.

All of these could be interesting, so let's explore them a little.

A) The "Truth"

"Well, she thought I was someone else, and she was so thankful, and... well..."

So this opens the most shipping doors because it could implant the question 'who did she think it was?' into everyone's minds. However, Sokka did yell out pretty clearly, so I'd say you'd have to change a bit more for this to go any other way than everyone figuring out that Toph likes Sokka. Of course, that's not necessarily a bad thing, since this would create some drama and put the ball firmly in Sokka's court.

B) It was the waves!

"Oh yeah, the sea is pretty rough. It happened to push her into me at just the right time and uh... Y'know..."

With this one, it's easy enough for everyone to just go 'if you say so' warily and move on, business as usual. However, with a close call in front of everyone like that, it's harder for this to get swept under the rug. Suki actively hid Toph's crush on her boyfriend(?) to save Toph's feelings. What now? How does Toph's dynamic with Suki change? Does Toph have two crushes now? Does Suki now feel inferior or less qualified to be with Sokka because Toph is actually traveling with him and is more powerful? I see this leading to more unspoken, slow-burn, internal strife.

C) Sorry Sokka...

"I- Y'see- It's like... We'remadlyinlove."

Silly? Yes. Hilarious? Yesser. Convoluted? It's the yessiest! There are any number of haphazard stories Suki could concoct on the spot. They've been romantic pen pals for years. They met on a diplomatic trip and hit it off. They had a stunning realization when they held each other just then. Whatever the story, the end result is the same; Suki is now fake-dating Toph.

With this one, it can evolve and change in any number of ways. It's my personal favorite if only for the comedy of it. Until the situation resolves (which can be a LONG ASS TIME) it's a situation rife with comedic, dramatic, and romantic potential.

Oh yeah, Tumblr has polls now. It's a poll now!

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Jedi Kight Song

[To the tune of “The Major General Song”:]

Anakin: I am the very model of a modern major Jedi Knight 

My soul a beacon in the Force, my will of beskar shining bright 

A prodigy with a midichlorian count that’s off the chart

Saving everyone everywhere from the bottom of my heart

And I’m the model of a modern general to the 501st 

A leader and brother-in-arms who’ll stick with them all through the worst

They’re not expendable to me, I have their backs on the front lines

And know every one by chosen names and unique armour designs

501st Legion: And knows every one by chosen names and unique armour designs

And knows every one by chosen names and unique armour designs

And knows every one chosen names and unique armour desi-esi-igns

Anakin: Knighted at nineteen, a famous war hero at twenty-two 

At this point the impossible is basically just what I do 

In short, in terms of peacekeeping using the Force of the light

I am the very model of a modern major Jedi Knight

501st: In short, in terms of peacekeeping using the Force of the light

He is the very model of a modern major Jedi Knight

Anakin: Even flying half a ship you will not see me panic

For my whole life I’ve been a brilliant pilot and mechanic 

Though in my troubled history, a lot of things have gone amiss

I promise there’s no reason to have a bad feeling about this

I also just happen to be the one and only Chosen One

I alone could keep in check the strife of the Daughter and Son

Questions of free will aside, as fates go mine could be worse

Than destroying the Sith and bringing balance to the universe

501st: Than destroying the Sith and bringing balance to the universe

Than destroying the Sith and bringing balance to the universe

Than destroying the Sith and bringing balance to the univer-niverse

Anakin: I blend the perfect ratio of flair and practicality 

No enemy can faze me; Sith Lords are my speciality

Breathtaking lightsaber skills give me the edge in any fight

I am the very model of a modern major Jedi Knight

501st: Breathtaking lightsaber skills give him the edge in any fight

He is the very model of a modern major Jedi Knight 

Anakin: (slowly) Obi-Wan’s concerned about my violent inclinations

But I’ll do what I must to manage risky situations

Apparently love is a flaw, they say I’m too ‘possessive’

We’re in a giant kriffing war, I need to be aggressive!

Now, if I could stay calm through one session of mediation

And if my secret marriage had a legal explanation

(haunted) And if, upon my mother’s death, I’d kept my moral code in mind 

(back to normal) I’d surely be the greatest Jedi Knight that anyone could find!

501st: He’d surely be the greatest Jedi Knight that anyone could find 

 He’d surely be the greatest Jedi Knight that anyone could find 

He’d surely be the greatest Jedi Knight that anyone anywhere could find 

Anakin: And once I train Ahsoka to unlock all her potential

With her many accomplishments already consequential

And my Padawan is a soaring success, like me, but faster

I’ll be the very model of a modern Jedi Master

Ahsoka: Once I prove myself to be a big success, not a disaster 

All: I’ll/He’ll be the very model of a modern Jedi Master!

[holly-fixation]

Sharing my first FFVII experiences for fun: (spoilers for a 25 year old game below)

-I have no idea when or how I learned who Sephiroth was. I just knew "oh yeah that's Cloud Strife and Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII". "Cloud has a big sword called the buster sword. Sephiroth has a big katana". Literally Cloud got into Smash and I'm like "Oh cool it's Cloud" But I knew NOTHING

-let me be clear, I haven't played a kingdom hearts game either. WHY I knew them both, I do not know.

-my brother introduced me to to One Winged Angel about a year after Cloud got onto smash. And I fell in love immediately. With the song. Yes, the song. He said "hey you should learn how to play this on piano". It took me 2 years to learn but that's besides the point. He showed me the Advent Children fight and I thought it was cool and all but it was really the SONG that got me.

-soon after he showed me Aerith's death. Why? There's this mash up of Spongebob's "stepping on the beach" and OWA and it WORKED?? But in the video they photoshop spongebob's face on Sephiroth when he kills Aerith. Then he kinda had no choice but to show me the actual scene (again, I had no context)

-So my brother bought me VII after he played it under the condition that I do not look anything up. No online walk through or anything, He was my only guide. He didn't want me spoiling myself with anything else that happened in the game, which was fair. Because he purchased VII for me, I listened. He was my only source of help.

-This lead to a few problems. Recruiting Yuffie without a guide is just AWFUL. I got lost and confused so many times. I never learned how to breed chocobos. I never got Knights of the Round. I didn't understand that stronger summons were just summons you got later, not a higher level materia. I didn't know about the single save point you can set in the Northern cave.

-Most inportantly: I never met Vincent.

-I had no idea how good of a healer Aerith was, so losing her abilities hurt. Yes her death still made me sad even though I knew it was coming. Ill argue it hurt the same amount because I watched every piece fall into place up to her death knowing what was at the end of the tunnel. But after it, I was so mad I had no good healers, I made Cloud my healer so I'd never lose them again.

-Two words: Black Materia. God I was not ready.

-Because I played it on a modern console, it had cheats like max health + limit breaks at all times, turning off random encounters, and triple speed. I did use triple speed a lot for farming sessions. And Though I made it through most of the game without the (basically) god mode, I did use them for the two robots in the elevator of Shinra Tower.

-I also used them through the entire Northern Crater because I didn't think the game was over yet. The third disk just started, I went straight down into the crater, and I didn't see a single save point. This couldn't be the end of the game, right?

-I literally did not acknowledge this was truly the end of the game until One Winged Angel began. I turned off cheats immediately and genuinely tried with what might possibly be the worst materia set up possible.

-I used Ramuh against Sephiroth. RAMUH. The man was doing so little damage it was pissing me off because "This materia is maxed out! Why isnt it doing more damage??"

-So after probably 10 Supernovas and at least 45 minutes, I turned cheats back on. I did not care anymore. NONE of my characters/materia were strong enough for this and I'd been playing for probably 4-5 hours straight at this point.

-anyway I had already seen and not understood any thing that happened in Advent children, so once I finished the game, I watched the movie again a few days later.

-Skip a few years and now we're here.

-oh I also never got that scene with Zack in the bottom of Shinra Manor.

-use a spoiler free strategy guide, kids.

[flipping-the-coin]

Whats ur top 3 biggest regrets from before u died, Optimus?

[[TRANSMISSION RECEIVED: SUBJECT = QUERY…. SCANNING…. 45% THREAT LEVEL DELTA = NEGATIVE: CENSORING NOT REQUIRED = CATAGORIZATION: REROUTING…. SECONDARY SCANS COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION = 81% WITHIN PARAMETERES]]

[[TRANMISSION FORWARDED…. RECEIVED = SEEN]]

[[//RESPONSE IN PROGRESS… RESPONSE COMPLETE: TRANSMISSION SENT//]]

═════════════════

I have a great many regrets. So many that I doubt I could ever vocalize, much less write them all down even if I had the next four million vorns to do so. The war... is now a delicate subject for myself and many others. We may jest and make fun of the situation now that it has come to a close, but the wounds remain. Many of us carry scars that can neither be spoken aloud or shared. I may show nothing but strength to those under me, but I did not have my woes washed away with my rebirth.

My most wide regret is simply that I was unable to save more of our kind during the war. So many instances where I could have chosen a gentler option, all passed by because I feared the potential outcome. Cities shelled until they were nothing but rubble in the hope that it would slow the enemy down. Energon deposits poisoned and destroyed to harm both friend and foe in a self destructive act of rebellion. The screams of the innocent as they were destroyed in the crossfire, all written off as necessary sacrifices. There was no victory to be found. In the end it was all so very meaningless. I didn't think so at the time, and deep down I do believe that fighting was our only option. We would have been destroyed otherwise, Megatron would have killed me and my host and there would have been nothing left when he was through. Still, we fought because it was all we knew. We fought because...

We were told to.

My second regret is far more selfish. I doubt any other would understand me except Orion Pax himself. But I regret allowing Megatron to be killed. I know there was little I could have done considering it was Bumblebee who wielded the blade and I was mad with rage and loss. However, I wish it had not happened. I wish Megatron had lived for one simple reason.

Orion Pax made it hurt. Every moment of every cycle after that event felt as though my spark were being torn in two and both forced to endure the heat of a plasma pool as well as the chill of the arctic at the same time. It was too loud and yet so very lonely. It was red hot and yet frigid at all times. I could find no piece as every part of my frame shivered and was assaulted in waves of agony that I eventually was unable to discern whether they came from me or my host. Our emotions mixed so deeply during those cycles that I cannot remember much at all. All I know what that Smokescreen tended to me in between my deliriums and that never before had I endured torment as great as what I was being put through. I cannot even begin to properly explain how much I wanted it all to end, if only so that it would stop.

Yes, if there was a way, I would have liked to have kept Megatron alive. The agony I endured on a daily basis was nothing compared to what me and my host went through after Megatron's death.

As for my final regret... you might assume it was that I never had the chance to be with my beloved throughout the long vorns of strife. But no. That is not what I regret most amidst everything here. I am ashamed to admit it, but I never questioned my history. I never asked about Orion Pax. If I had done that, if I had asked anyone, things could have been different. Ratchet would have told me of Orion's relationships, Jazz could have told me about his ties to Alpha Trion. By Primus if I had just gone to examine Orion's hab and read through his journal or something of the like, we could have gotten along. We could have avoided war altogether.

We could have been happy. I could have gotten to know my host without pain and we could have eventually separated somehow. Or barring that, we could have at least come to an agreement. Things would have been better if I had just questioned something, anything.

One question was all it would have taken.

And that is where I failed in my design.

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[[TRANSMISSION SENDER = OPTIMUS PRIME = PRIME OF CYBERTRON: LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS: PRIMUS’S ANGEL: SAVIOR OF CYBERTRON: LOREKEEPER: SIRE]]

[[TRANSMISSION END]]

[sinful-morningstar]

Spartober Day 19 Eva/Trish (V & Trish)

Author's Note: This is VERY short and sweet, I'll be doing a mix of longer pormpts and shorter that way i don't burn myself out , hope ya'll understand I'll also be doing platonic pairings as well as the romantic and spicey, but this one is just platonic but you can make it Spardacest if you want its really up for interpretation, i'm doing this while on vacation heh but nonetheless Enjoy Todays (Yesterday's) prompt!

Prompts by Whatsanapocalae1 (I use a combination of SparTober and Devil MayTober Prompts) 19: Eva/Trish (V & Trish) V sighed from where he stood his raven hair blowing in his face as he tried to keep his composure, the tale of him coming to be as a human vessel nay a human part of Vergil was one of woe and strife. He shook his head gently before speaking to Trish.

“In separating and regaining my human soul, I’ve realised the gravity of the crimes I have committed…” he said reminiscing on all the wrong Vergil had done, he had done…working alongside Arkham in his youth, going against Dante, Time, and time again…and tearing the Yamato from Nero for further power to separate oneself.

he swallowed before continuing “I’ve realised how important everything was…everything I’ve thrown away in my pursuit of power…”

Trish watched V closely she had never met Vergil she had only seen him as a puppet for Nelo Angelo only a shell of the man that Dante and V spoke of. She knew that Vergil meant a lot to Dante the same way Eva did. Eva…the woman she was modelled after to torture Dante but in turn she gained a friend and colleague someone who would fight for her, and she would fight for them, that same fiery passion that was in Vergil’s mother’s eyes the day she stood strong and kept her boys safe.

she spoke simply not wanting to overwhelm V she could tell that reminiscing on his--Vergil’s. Past must have been a lot to process. “Is that why you went to find Dante?” Trish asked tilting her head curiously.

“Yes…Foolish” V replied as he nodded gently continuing with a exasperated sigh “I thought that he could change my. Maybe fix…” he stammered getting more frustrated as each word left his mouth, it felt foreign.

“Maybe…right my wrong”. He sighed in defeat as he slumped onto the ground to his knees looking at Trish made him ache with the very same sadness and loss that once filled Vergil that pain and grief fuelled it all, and he knew it too damn well, he knew of the fear of losing Dante the fear of not being enough.

ever since that dreaded day, he always felt like he could’ve done better to save Eva but what he didn’t consider and refused to accept …was that he and Dante were just Children when they lost her. But The pain; The pain never truly went away.

his emerald eyes met Trish’s, though she was not Eva, she still reminded him of her, of what could’ve been, if she became as strong as them in battle.

“Tell me…was this fool Before you Right?” V asked curiously mirroring the head tilt he had received from Trish earlier.

Trish blinked softly slightly taken aback, she couldn’t believe he sought out approval from her, it both warmed her heart and broke it to pieces because she knew it wasn’t her, he was asking, it was Eva…she sighed flippantly slightly offended by his question.

“I’m not your Mommy V, you’re a big boy…” she noticed the hurt look in those Emerald eyes before looking away for a moment then looking back with a slightly encouraging expression. One that mirrored Eva when she encouraged Vergil to wield the Yamato alongside Dante during his short-lived childhood.

“And you need to see this through” Trish gave further input as she patted his shoulder with a soft smile, she hoped her words somewhat encouraged him; before she turned away and sighed gently.

she walked past him as she went to move forward, she was stopped by his hand on her wrist, raising a brow she looked at him expectantly. “What now?” Trish asked clearly annoyed by his antics but part of her wondered, why?

V's eyes remained fixed on Trish, searching for something in her expression. He released her wrist, but his gaze remained intense, as if he was trying to find reassurance in her presence.

"I just needed to know if I'm on the right path, Trish," he admitted softly. "Not as a mother, but as someone who's been through the struggles, as someone who's had to confront the past."

Trish nodded understandingly, realizing that he was seeking validation and a sense of belonging. She, too, had her own battles with identity and the past, as a creation meant to torment Dante but who had found her own sense of self.

"You're not alone in this journey, V," she said with a reassuring smile. "We all have our demons to face, both within and without. And your connection to Vergil, to Dante, and to Eva, it's what makes you who you are. It's worth fighting for."

V smiled faintly, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. Trish's words provided the encouragement he needed to continue this path of redemption and self-discovery. He stood up, his resolve renewed, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.