#and latches at the end of the hammer instead

[raisedbydirew0lves]

welp i realized they made eye contact with mason during that scene as if it wasn't scary enough already :D

[smuttysabina]

Tropical Passions with Lisa

(Lisa x Male Reader, 5.3k Words) Tags: Incest with your older sister Lalisa; A conflicted sibling relationship; A forceful start to the sex; Makeup sex; Creampies; Virgin sex; Getting deflowered by your hot older sister is fun; Blowjob; Intimate sex; Technically some cucking going on; Written in one sitting; Step-sibling sex is for cowards, make them blood related; A wholesome and loving conclusion

You had always hated your older sister Lalisa. She had constantly hogged your parents' and peers' attention, gorging herself on their praise while your own achievements had been duly ignored; and of course, she had been an unrepentant slut. It was a rare night that your sleep had not been uninterrupted by the sounds of Lisa fucking some lover of any gender, her bed creaking so badly she required a new one every year, how she managed to remain unimpregnated was beyond you. Naturally, growing up with such a whore of a sister had caused you to follow the complete opposite path, so while she had ascended to sex-drenched idol-hood, you had instead quietly completed school and gotten yourself a pure and sweet girlfriend. Not that you had done anything yet. Sex before marriage? Appalling! Public displays of affection? Disgusting! Mutual Masturbation? Nauseating! Hand holding, fingers locked? Perverse! Only the chastest of kisses, and wholesome hugs were allowable, and it brought you no small amount of joy that she wholeheartedly agreed with you. So it infuriated you to no end that you were unable to bring her along with you on yet another family vacation to some tropical retreat, no doubt your parents were overly worried about how she would react to your harlot of a sister, but you looked forward to seeing her again. You just had to make it through dealing with whatever mindless debaucheries your big sister Lisa had cooked up for this trip...

Awareness comes slowly to you, reality slowly bleeding into your dreams as you gradually become aware of your surroundings, your nerves tingling as they lazily report upon the myriad sensations assaulting them. The exquisite softness of the sheets encasing you, the gentle cold air of the AC caressing your face, the burning sensitivity of your staggering erection digging into the mattress, and the strange patch of warmth in the bed beside you. You start, flinching away from the person curled up mere inches from you, scooting to the edge of the mattress as they groan softly in protest. Lisa blearily raises her head up from her pillow, squinting at you in confusion before collapsing back onto it and letting out an indignant whine, wriggling to find a comfortable position before falling back asleep. Your heart hammering, you slip carefully out of bed, doing your best not to disturb your sister, all the while cursing your parents for forcing you to share a room with her, this was certainly not helping you two bond. The fact that there was only bed was a further annoyance, it was a huge one to be sure, but Lisa seemed to unconsciously seek out heat in her sleep and latch onto her target like a leech, so in reality you ended up far closer together than you would have liked. Which made dealing with your morning wood all the more awkward, since you were loath to masturbate, your member tended towards truly spectacular erections come the dawn, urging you to give in to your vile thoughts and pleasure it. Ignoring your disgustingly drooling penis was difficult at the best of times, but with the scent of a woman in your nostrils, no matter that she was your sister, made resisting your wicked meat nearly unbearable. Every morning you would cover it in an ice-cold washcloth, but even then it would defiantly stand strong for many minutes before ungraciously retreating. Needless to say, your testicles were in constant agony.

After dealing with your unwanted visitor, you check your phone, lovingly responding to your girlfriend's messages before learning that your parents once again had skipped off on some early morning jaunt and would only be back by evening. So, yet another day you would have to spend solely in the company of your whore sister, wonderfully. Though, to be fair to Lisa, you had yet to see her engage in her usual wanton behaviour, you did not doubt for a moment that she had been busy messing around while you were not looking. With a resigned sigh you order breakfast, spend the next hour idly munching upon it, waiting for your sister to finally get her lazy ass out of bed. Eventually she stirs, and yawning a good morning she stumbles into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as usual so you are forced to listen as she voids her bladder. Lisa plops down into the chair across from you with a smile, wearing little more than an overly large shirt and her underwear, an outfit which makes perfect sense considering the heated locale. Cheerfully devouring some fruit, she kindly asks if you had any ideas what you wanted to do today? After all, yesterday you two had such a great time at the aquarium, Lisa hadn't seen you that excited in years! In the face of such relentless enthusiasm you give in, and tentatively raise the idea of going snorkeling together? Beaming, your sister happily agrees.

You had always felt somewhat disgusted whenever your sister had worn something showy, a natural reaction for a sibling to have, but also one born out of disapproval of her loose living. Still, you grudgingly had to admit that Lisa looked absolutely stunning in her yellow bikini, no wonder so many men were desperately enthralled by her. Her tanned skin gorges upon the sunlight, the dappled reflection of the water only serving to enhance her beauty, even with the giant goggles and snorkel goofily attached to her face she still turned heads as you strode deeper into the surf together. She even held your hand as she guided you into the ocean, something you could barely tolerate, yet over the past few days, and against your better judgement, you had felt yourself warming up to your benighted sister, but just a little bit. You get a faceful of Lisa's ass as she smoothly switches from walking to swimming, and a slight tingling fills your groin; perhaps you should not grow too relaxed around this slut lest you be corrupted... But the next few hours pass in a delightfully wholesome fashion, the pair of you leisurely swimming along the reef and admiring the reefs and flourishing wildlife; it was almost enough to make you forget what a whore Lisa was.

It was only later that day though, that the old Lisa you knew so well started to shine through this charade she was putting on. You were relaxing in a small, shaded pool, secluded by shrubbery with your sister curled up intimately close to you, chatting idly about how the day had gone when she finally pops the question. Wearing the sly grin universal to older siblings everywhere, Lisa asks, "So, tell me about this girlfriend of yours, is she cute?" Blood rushes to your face immediately as you sputter at the sudden inquiry, which only makes your sister's smile grow ever more predatory. She squishes herself against your side, throwing an arm around your shoulder and cooing, "Don't be shy, show me a picture of her, c'mon!" Flustered, you haltingly pull up a picture of you beloved on your phone for Lisa to hem and haw at appreciatively, her eyes flicking all over the screen as she judges her in a thousand minute ways before nodding in approval, "She looks pretty enough, has she been treating you well?", Lisa gives you a knowing smirk, "How is she in bed?" A surge of outrage fills you as you angrily inform your dear sister that you and your girlfriend had not engaged in any such foul activities, nor would you be until you were happily! Lisa gawps at your outburst, cold fury crossing her face before giving way to worry, "Is it... not working for you two in bed," she places a hand on your thigh in support, mere inches away from a bulging pressure in your shorts, "Are you... unable to get it up with her?" You repay her honest concern with open scorn, grumbling angrily, you surge up out of the cozy pool and storm off back to your room, leaving Lisa yelling platitudes at your retreating back. Really, she really just did not understand!

Lisa watches her baby brother stomp away with hurt roiling in her stomach, what the fuck was wrong with him? Well, she partially knew, honestly how could she not feel more than a little guilty about being an awful older sister growing up? Being the village bicycle had satisfied her powerful sexual needs, but it had no doubt given her brother all sorts of unwanted pressure and attention. Of course, once she had become an idol, her sexual appetites had grown voracious, and no doubt embarrassing to her younger sibling back home, but she had always made sure to try and send gifts to cheer him up. Instead he seemed to loathe Lisa, and no matter how hard she tried to patch things up, things always fell apart, usually whenever he caught her slaking her desires with some new lover. But not on this trip! No, on this trip Lisa had been on her best behaviour, applying every ounce of her willpower to keep her lusts in check, engaging in only the most innocently enjoyable activities with her brother; displaying nary a glimpse of her usual sex life. In spite of that, he had been downright weird since he had gotten here, well, more so than usual. She had expected the customary puritanical song and dance, but with him having a girlfriend for a couple years now, she had hoped he would have opened up a little. But no, instead if anything he seemed even more repressed than normal, getting hard constantly and always on edge about everything. He was leaking so much at night Lisa could smell his precum staining the sheets in the morning, and she was honestly surprised his raging erection had not torn a hole in his boxers whenever he scrambled out of bed to use the restroom. Hell, he hadn't masturbated even once since they had gotten to this tropical paradise, most guys would have blown a few loads in the shower and dispelled the tension, if anything Lisa was not sure if he had cum even a week before the trip!

The constant reek of pent up semen in their room was starting to get to Lisa, she was already feeling twitchy, having deprived herself of sexual stimulation for so long, this was probably the most days she had gone without fucking in years. She really should take her own advice and at least masturbate, but the last thing she wanted was her brother sheepishly returning to apologize only to find her knuckle deep inside herself, so she endured. Still, something was obviously wrong in her little brother's relationship, and she was determined to fix it; after all, even as warped as she had become, she still felt responsible for him as his older sister. But first, Lisa needed some advice, and not from the other girls in Blackpink. Jisoo would give some well-meaning yet ultimately useless suggestions, Rose would offer up some complicated scheme that would really just be a front for sadism, and Jennie would simply message 'On my way', before showing up and traumatically fucking the life out of your brother in under half an hour after landing. No, Lisa needed to ask some of her more.... normal friends; well, relatively normal. Minutes later she was chatting avidly on the phone with Jihyo and Nayeon, both of whom were appalled by the situation their dear friend was in. Jihyo was apoplectic that Lisa's brother was not putting such potent loads to good use and impregnating his girlfriend, while Nayeon was practically drooling at the thought of being the first one to receive said load. But after a solid hour of intense conversation, the trio had produced a solution that would undoubtedly solve Lisa's darling brother's problems. It would merely require Lisa to break one of society's oldest taboos, but having broken so many already, what was one more?

You feel thoroughly wretched as you lay upon the massive king bed, your sister had been only showing you concern, and yet you had brutally rebuffed her kindness. Normally it was so easy to hate Lisa, you would only need to turn a corner while fetching ice and find her being publicly spitroasted by strangers like some sort of cheap whore, but this time at least there had been none of that. She had been the sweetest older sister a brother could ask for, constantly indulging him, taking him to see all the sights and lavishing him with love and attention; it made you uneasy. Surely Lisa was hiding something, some depraved scheme that she was enjoying while being outwardly wholesome, it had happened before, more than a few times actually. But this time she had seemed genuine, which only left you all the more conflicted, were you the one in the wrong this time? Your morose musings are halted only when Lisa enters the room, who quietly joins you on the bed, patting you reassuringly on the shoulder, "Hey, I'm sorry if I upset you earlier today, why don't we have an early night okay? I'm sure things will be better in the morning." Mulishly, you nod in assent, and slowly join her for a simple dinner at the small table, which passes by in awkward silence. Lisa only speaks up as you get into bed, "Leave your shirt off, I think something is wrong with the AC, it feels really stuffy in here..." She's right, so with reticence you take it off, and snuggle in under the covers as Lisa joins you in bed. She gives your forehead a kiss, "I love you baby brother," before flicking off the light. Perhaps the morning would heal your rift?

Once again you awaken with an inconveniently large erection impaling the mattress, with a now-familiar hot spot behind you. Groggily, you attempt to wriggle out of bed to douse your morning's embarrassment once more, but find your way barred by an arm thrown around your chest. Your confusion only grows as you realize the heat from your sleeping sister was not from her laying nearby you, but rather because she was pressed up against you, with two hard points supported by surprising softness pushing into your back. Unable to process this development, you attempt to escape Lisa's clutches, but her arm holds you tight against her warm body, and your struggles only serve to wake her up. Your big sister stretches languidly against you, which only serves to emphasize what exactly her supple form feels like as it slides against your skin; you were not the only one going shirtless it seems. You feel a perverse fascination with the sensation of Lisa's breasts, and are distracted enough that when she casually pushes onto your back and slips atop you, you offer little resistance. She gives you a sleepy smile, her face mere inches away from your own, and gives you a kiss, "Good morning baby brother, it's time to make things better..." Displeasure wells up within you once more, and you tartly ask for her to get off you, and to put some clothes on. Lisa laughs gently at this and sits up, allowing the sheets to cascade down her smooth body, revealing her perky tits, the lighter skin making the dark of her erect nipples stand out all the more; and further down... Further down the bare skin of her thick pussy lips squishes against your gargantuan hardon, the warmth of her sex burning against your shaft. You stare up in shock at your older sister's nude body, as she patiently allows you to drink in the sight of her, before sliding her hands up your chest, "Are you ready for it? Just relax, and let your big sister do all the work."

Belated realization finally hits your brain hard enough to dispel the fog of arousal filling it, and you snarl in denial at Lisa, get the fuck off of you! But your sibling ignores your demands, and when you try to push her away she catches your hands and pins you down with surprising strength; as she frowns in annoyance, "Fuck, calm down! I am sick and tired of your weird chastity bullshit, it's not normal, so I'm going to take some responsibility as your older sister and fix things," Moving your hands above your head so she can keep them down with one of hers, she smoothly reaches down and pulls out your filthy dick, which drools disgustingly in excitement. Running a finger through the bubbling precum, Lisa seductively licks it clean, before giving you a sharp look, "Wait, when was the last time you came? Just how pent up are you?" Flushing with impotent fury and embarrassment, you answer truthfully, it had been two weeks since your treacherous manhood had last filled your sheets while you slept. Your sister shakes her head incredulously, "Yeah, that is fucking weird, you have a cute girlfriend, use her you moron; or just masturbate like a normal guy!" Lisa sighs, "Okay, let's do this, time to get your cherry popped little brother!" Regaining her usual cheer, your sibling ignores your struggles as you writhe and buck beneath her, her panties shoved into your mouth to stifle your continuous screams of outrage, as she slowly lines herself up. Your older sister gives you the sweetest smile, "I love you," before taking your virginity.

The sordid heat of Lisa's cunt engulfs your sensitive member, its soft folds slobbering all over your shaft as it devours every inch of you until her lower lips kiss your crotch. You groan in despair as your innocence is lost, you had intended that your first time be with your beloved on the night of your marriage, but instead your slut of a- Your body abruptly silences your internal raging as it floods your brain with pleasure, responding to the overwhelming and novel stimulation coming from your cock, it reacts naturally. You groan as your hips slam treacherously upwards, and the fattest load of your life explodes into your sister, richly rewarding her pussy for taking your virginity. Lisa lets out a soft gasp as you creampie her, she had barely even sat on your dick and you were already cumming in her; she smirks, virgins always finished so quickly. She opens her mouth to congratulate you, then pauses and glances down, where your balls continue to pulse; slowly, she slides herself back up your shaft as you gradually fill her pussy with your seed. Post-coital bliss wrestles with horrid guilt, as the catastrophic euphoria of your orgasm fades, remorse stabbing at you for so enjoying being forcibly assaulted by your own sister. Lisa meanwhile is ogling as she tentatively pokes at her sloppy holes, even filled to the brim she was barely leaking, "Fuck, just how much did you cum in me? If this was your girlfriend, she would be knocked up for sure; shit, this might be enough to be risky even for me!" She reaches down to pat your cheek affectionately, "But see, that wasn't so hard was it, didn't it feel so nice just letting it all out? So now that you're nice and drained we..." your older sister trails off as she glances down at your still rock-hard erection, "Oh."

Lisa lets out an astonished giggle as she teases you, "Wow, just how badly do you want to fuck your sister?" Then she stops, and gives you a quizzical look, "Wait, is that it? Is that why you've been so moody around me all this time?" You growl angrily up at her, and she winces as she remembers your gag, once removed however, you fervently deny her claims, while a creeping horror fills you as a little voice in your head agrees with her. But no matter what lies your mouth might say, your cock was entirely truthful as it lets out another leak of precum, beyond eager to be inside of your sister once more. An awkward silence falls as you both stare at your engorged manhood, before looking at one another for a time. Lisa's face crumples as she sobbingly embraces you, holding you tight as ugly tears course down her face, "Oh, you silly idiot, you should have told me! You've spent all these years watching everyone else have their turn with your big sister, but never you! Fuck, I should have known you would be jealous! I'm so sorry for being such a failure of a big sister!" Tentatively, you delicately bring you arms around Lisa, torn between shoving her off of you, or accepting that she may very well be right. Were you so violently against any hint of sexuality because you felt that your sister had spurned your unnoticeable advances while growing up; was that why you loathed her, out of fury at being denied? Your doubts shrink as Lisa kisses you once more, the wetness from her tears anointing your cheeks as her tongue pushes deep into your mouth, sloppily making out with you before pulling back. She gives you a loving smile, "Don't worry, your big sister will take responsibility for this, I'll fix things I promise!"

Beaming, your older sister sits on your cock once more, but this time Lisa was intent on not stopping until you were fully satisfied. You both moan as your member pushes through the goopy remains of your last load, and you share a knowing look; this well and truly was incest now, and it felt so right. Your sibling holds your hands as she rides you, eschewing her more showy techniques for a more primal slamming; your wildly bucking hips would have ruined any complex movements. Semen sprays everywhere as your ferocious sex expels it from Lisa's pussy, making an absolute mess as it drizzles over your skin. Your sister groans, "Fuck, no wonder you were pumping the sheets full of precum every morning, it must have been torture for you to be so close to me yet unable to relieve yourself," she gives you a wicked grin, "But now you can pump your sister full every morning instead!" The perverse thought of fucking your own sister for the rest of your trip fills you with excitement, and you swiftly grasp her petite waist to hold her steady as you pound away at her sopping cunt. Lisa's eyes roll back as she lets you have your way with her, her pussy spasming in anticipation of your next load, her hands hurriedly putting her hair into a messy bun to get it out of her face. Grunting, you creampie your older sister once more, slathering her folds with thick semen as she climaxes from the sordid pleasure of getting pumped full of cum by her baby brother. Shuddering, the pair of you makeout as your cock softens, but it is quick to surge back into full rigidity as Lisa idly rocks back and forth atop you, "Again?" she asks with a perceptive smirk.

You pump between Lisa's supple thighs with virginal passion as your sister simply lays back and takes it. Her legs wrap tightly around your waist as her hands roam your back and chest, spurring you on as you slam deep inside of her, "Oh fuck yes baby," Lisa gasps "It's your turn now, you've watched everyone else take their turn with your big sister, but she's all yours now!" You kiss her fiercely in response, as you unceasingly plow a furrow in your own sibling, your balls drenched with your congealed sexual fluids. Lisa shudders as she climaxes once more, her folds greedily massaging your shaft as you continue to fuck through her orgasm. You bite and suckle upon her neck as she holds you close, urging you on, "God, don't stop little brother, just keep fucking me until your drained! I don't care how nasty you want it, your big sister will do anything to satisfy you, I promise!" You take her up on that, as you feel your next load churning through your balls you abruptly pull out of the warm confines of your sister's pussy, before hurriedly scooting forward to shove your leaking cock into her face. Lisa knows exactly what to do, and opens her mouth in invitation as locks eyes with you, nodding encouragingly as you furiously stroke the cum out of your cock. Groaning, you jizz on your sister's face, the same face that was plastered on billboards and advertisements around the world, was now getting painted with fat ropes of your semen. Lisa doesn't blink, even when your salty load splashes against her eye, lovingly staring up at you as you cover her million-dollar face with your seed.

Lisa stops you from retreating, and with affectionate care cleans your cock off with her mouth, diligently sucking the dregs of your load out of you; before simply sucking on you for the fun of it. You quiver as your older sister gives you your first blowjob, her tongue skillfully caressing the underside of your member, as her naughty lips wrap tightly around your shaft. The sensation left you giddy, and Lisa's eye's narrow with satisfaction as she notes your obvious pleasure as she slurps up and down your length. But like any boy, you wanted to go deeper, and your sister was more than happy to oblige you. You moan loudly as Lisa deepthroats you, holding onto her bobbing head for support as you struggle to stay upright; gasping her name as she skillfully works your next load out of you. The pressure becomes unbearable, and you nearly collapse as you fill your older sister's mouth with your cum, streamers of semen even spewing directly into her stomach as she takes your spasming cock to the hilt; her salacious tongue hard at work coaxing your balls. Lisa doesn't even bother to wipe off the jizz drying on her face after you finish clogging her mouth with sperm, she can tell how much it arouses you.

You would have thought you would be satisfied by all that, but your bulging erection said otherwise. Giggling, Lisa merrily allows you to bend her over, hoisting her ass into the air and arching and spreading her cheeks to reveal your sloppy seconds leaking out of her gaping lower lips. Perverse pride permeates through you at the sight of your sister's cunt crammed full of your seed, how often had you seen someone else's load drooling out of your sister? But now she was yours, you had placed your own claim on her pussy, and you were eager to continue doing so. You shiver with barely controlled excitement as you grab her surprisingly curvy hips, you realized now how much your sister's perky ass aroused you, your cock head already glistens with precum when you push into the sloppy mess inside of Lisa. Who smirks as she feels you enter her, she can feel how eager you were to fuck her from behind just from how you penetrated her, and she knows exactly what her little brother wants, "Mhmm that's it, I bet you've been waiting to fuck me doggy this whole time, every guy does," her smile grows smug as she feels your dick stiffen, "I just love showing it off, I'm sure all your friends were blasting fat loads to my ass all the time..." she abruptly twists backwards and lovingly touches your cheek, "But now it's your turn to give your sister a good pounding, so don't hold back, okay? Lisa blows you a kiss, and moments later you are fervently fucking your older sister as if your life depended on it, who obligingly curls back down into her sharp arch to better pleasure her little brother's cock. You plow Lisa's perky butt, her cheeks slapping loudly against your skin as you work out yet another urge that had festered in your heart for years; this time, Lisa's ass was yours. Lust burns through you as you jackhammer your slut of a sister, the sheer eroticism of finally fulfilling your darkest fantasies driving you to orgasm faster than you anticipated. Howling your sister's name, your balls exert themselves once more and douse your sibling's cunt with sperm, who squeals in delight as she revels in the sensation of being filled, "Fuck yes! Fill your big sister up, cum in me, breed me!"

It was that last phrase that had you thrusting away again even before you had finished recovering from your climax, gritting your teeth as you force your tiring cock to rise to the occasion once more. Lisa looks back at you in bemusement, curious as to your sudden second wind, until she realizes, "Oh... does breeding me excite you that much," she giggles in delight, "You dirty pervert, it isn't enough to just fuck your older sister, you want to impregnate me as well?" Your increased pace is all the answer she needs, and Lisa ponders it for a moment before giving you an enormous and degenerate smile, "Why not? If you manage to knock me up, I'll keep it, it's the least your big sister can do... wait did you just cum in me again? Lisa laughs as she feels your cock spasming inside of her, "Fuck, you really want to put a baby in my belly don't you? At this rate even an idol like me might get fertilized!" Perversely, you feel yourself getting hard once more, your older sister was right, the thought of knocking her up aroused you immeasurably; but she stops you before you can continue fucking her, "Hey! Let it settle in me, how is the sperm supposed to reach me if you keep fucking it out of me? Why don't we switch holes for a little bit," Lisa smirks as she feels your manhood become nearly as stiff as it had been at the start, "Yes baby brother, you can use my asshole as much as you like!" You groan as urgently mount your older sister's tight asshole, you fucking love your sister, Lalisa!

Lisa purrs contently as she strokes her younger brother's hair as he sleeps soundly upon her tender breasts, his semen drying inside both of her holes. The familiar ache of her over-used body soothes her, she hadn't expected her sibling to have as voracious a sexual appetite as her, but she had certainly enjoyed it. But as his big sister, she still had some work to do while her dear boy peacefully slumbered, so humming quietly to herself, she gets to work. First she informs her friends of her success, Jihyo is already enthusiastically hoping her egg gets fertilized, while Nayeon is frothing at the mouth with jealousy for such a spectacular deflowering. Next she uses her brother's phone to send his girlfriend some select clips from the recording she had made of their coupling (Her brother could be so oblivious sometimes, how did he not notice her phone pointing at them the entire time!), cheerfully informing her what happened as well as telling her that she expected at least five nieces and nephews to spoil rotten. An hour later, his phone pings, and she enjoys a minute-long video of the "pure and innocent" girl squirting wildly to the sight of her boyfriend fucking his sister; no doubt she would be getting pumped full of cum within an hour of the couple reuniting. Finally, Lisa muses upon the enormity of what she had just done, she had forced herself upon her own brother, and engaged in depravedly incestous sex with him, oh and there was a very slight chance she might be carrying his baby as well. She was sopping wet at the thought of doing it again and again for the next week.

Lisa was looking forward to not leaving their room for the rest of the trip...

[crownofgildedlilies]

knowin' that it probably isn't true -> cool about it [4]

in which: a son of jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: cursing, angst, slight panic attack?

word count: 5.3k

a/n: how can this possibly be the final part. like what? also, it's been forever since I've read the ending go heroes of Olympus so I cannot for the life of me remember how canon accurate this is.

one two three [four]

There was one rule Jason was always willing to break.

For you, he had murmured into the side of your head, just above your ear, as he pulled you close the first night it had happened. You hadn't been able to help the roll of your watery, red-rimmed eyes. Or the skip of your heart.

Big declaration, Jase, you had fired back, pretending your voice wasn't shaking, that you hadn't made a much bigger declaration by seeking him out after curfew.

Leave it to the daughter of thieves to break and enter into the praetor's private room.

The first night it happened, you had gotten a rather stiff and formal letter from your mother, explaining why it was simply the better choice for you to stay at camp over the holidays. In front of everyone, you had kept it together.

Alone in your bunk, you broke down.

It was an easy decision, then, to go find Jason. A natural instinct, practically, was leading you through the bunkhouse on silent, swift feet despite the tears staining your face. When you had slipped into Jason's room, he had bolted awake.

You were prepared for a lecture. Instead, he just opened his arms.

So there was one rule that Jason Grace was willing to break.

Curfew.

You were careful not abuse your privilege, only searching him out when needed.

And right now, he was needed.

Your feet carried you soundlessly through the corridors, your heart hammering in your chest and bottom lip caught between your teeth, almost bloody with worry. The dream had been fast, uncontrollable, terrifying.

Not once had you ever bothered knocking on his door, and you didn't start now, twisting the knob and careful to only open it as much as you needed to slip through, because if you went any wider the hinges would squeak and Reyna could only overlook so much.

The sight of him, asleep in bed, hair tousled and face almost peaceful, was nearly enough to settle you. But then flashes of your dream came back, and you knew you needed more.

Easing the door shut, you made sure the latch clicked in place as silently as you could manage. The absolute last thing you needed was some nosy Lar floating by seeing you breaking the rules alongside Jason.

The teasing would never end.

Despite praetor's getting the privilege of having their own rooms, they remained in standard issue sized bunks. Which meant that you couldn't help but press against him as you climbed under the covers, body already half-hanging over the far edge. The movement of the mattress jostled him awake, like always, and he slowly blinked his tired eyes open.

You remained silent as he got his bearings, bottom lip caught between your teeth to keep from spilling out the gory details of your desperation to see him before he even realized what was happening.

He twisted, copying your position of laying on his side, one arm curled underneath his head to prop it up just slightly.

"Hey, you," Jason mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. He stretched slightly, using the movement to reach out and brush his thumb across your cheek, as if he was checking for tears he couldn't see in the dim room. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Sleeping was the problem," You shook your head, kicking your leg forwards under the blanket to knock against his, just the barest excuse to touch him and confirm he was real and alive and laying before you.

"Nightmare?" Like he ever needed to ask. So few things got you worked up enough to risk getting caught sneaking into his room.

"Mhm," You hummed, anyway, eyes tracing the barest outline of his face visible to you in the dark of the room. The moon provide some light through the window, but you had Jason's features memorized from the time you were fourteen.

"What was it about, this time?" He asked, and you wished you could hate him for the way he sounded genuinely concerned and like he wanted to know. The pounding in your heart as he knocked his leg forwards against yours, a mimic of your own actions seconds earlier, would be easier to deal with.

"You." Without cracking, you managed to force the word out at a volume barely audible in the otherwise silent room. Your stare was focused on his chin, because you couldn't meet his eyes as you confessed, and his nose was too close to his eyes, and looking at his lips made you want to do something incredibly stupid.

His chin was neutral territory, even if you wanted to kiss there, too.

"Me?" He sounded like he didn't understand, which you gave him grace for. Yes, your nightmare was about him, but not because of anything he did, so much as what happened to him. Not the first of its kind, but after the fight with Krios, it stung a little deeper.

"You went on a quest, without me, again." Your murmured, gaze still fixed on his chin. He stayed silent, knowing you better than you knew yourself, knowing that you needed him to wait for you to find the right words. "And... and you didn't come back to me, Jase, you had promised, but you didn't—"

Your shudder took you by surprise, eyes squeezed shut tight to try and fight the stinging quickly growing there, your lungs burning with the effort to contain your sobs. You tried all your usual tricks to keep from crying. Counting silently, deep breaths through your nose, hands squeezing into fists so tight your nails cut crescent shaped marks into the heel of your palms leaking the slightest bit of blood.

It didn't work. The image of a broken, ruined Jason returned to you at the edge of camp burned into your memory. You knew it had been a dream, that he hadn't actually died, but the thought—

"This is stupid." You huffed, voice watery and tight and so incredibly pathetic you half expected Jason to strip you of your title of centurion. It was all so very un-Roman of you. "I'm too old to be crying over bad dreams."

"Hey," Jason murmured, voice gentle, and it worked in combination with his warm hands wrapping over yours to calm the tempest that was raging in your mind enough for you to open your eyes. His handsome face was twisted in concern, in understanding, and the tears welled up in your eyes all the bit faster. "I'd be a wreck, too, if I dreamt that I lost you."

Why can't he just say the words, you lamented bitterly in your mind. Why can't I say them, either?

"I hate crying." You managed to force out after a few beats of silence, broken only by your pitiful sniffles trying to keep the tears from finally falling down your cheeks and staining the pillow you shared with Jason.

"I know," His voice was soothing, gentle, and you let him manipulate your hand until he had your open palm splayed, pressed against his chest, his own covering the back of yours to keep you from pulling away. Not that you ever did anything but crawl impossibly closer to him each day.

You were Jason's and Jason was yours, but never in so many words.

"Feel that?" His quiet question startled you from your mind, the terrible sleep-created images replaying on a loop. Reyna apologizing for not protecting him, the weight of his golden coin pressing heavily into the center of your palm.

You're the only one he would have wanted to have that, Reyna had said in your dream when she handed off the magic weapon. And if something ever really did happen to him, you couldn't help but morbidly think that he really would want you to have it—

"Don't leave me here, now." Jason, real Jason, the one living and breathing and holding your hand against his chest—right over his heart, you realized with the sudden jolt. The beat was steady under the tips of your fingers, and you closed your eyes to focus on the rhythm, to try and match your shallow breaths to his deep and even ones. "There. Welcome back, solider."

"We can't be soldiers right now." You shook your head, eyes still shut but voice almost back to normal. And though you knew Jason didn't understand it, he didn't question.

You couldn't be solders. You couldn't be only little heroes destined to fight and bleed and die at the whim of others, of gods with self-imposed rules keeping them from helping their own children. Being soldiers had been what had ruined your dream, that had sent you racing through the dark to find him. Soldiers weren't lovers. Soldiers didn't hold each other.

Jason was trained to be a soldier. But maybe, with you, he could learn to be other things.

"Thank you," You murmured, voice almost silent as you peaked open your eyes. You had known Jason had moved closer to you, had heard his cheek brushing against the pillow you shared and felt the heat from his skin warm yours, but you hadn't anticipated the blow to your chest you received when you opened your eyes and found him close enough to taste, if you had been born into a braver body.

"After my little stunt on the War Games field with Damien last week? I figured I owed you." He teased, and the absurdity of Jason Grace finding it in himself to make such a casual joke after you had climbed into his bed mid-panic attack had a lopsided grin work its way onto your face.

"Shut up." You wanted to lean forward and press your lips against his skin, but you held back. You always held back, but only when it came to Jason. Most of your bunkmates had vocalized that they wished you had the capacity to control yourself more. "How many times have you kept me out of the brig?"

"Fair point," He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and reminding you that your palm was still pressed against the cotton of his sleep shirt.

As much as it pained you, you slipped your hand out of his, but something took control of you and changed direction. Originally, you had planned on tucking your fist underneath your own chin, cocooning yourself in your own arms and trying to justify staying a little bit longer.

What ended up happening was your hand falling to rest on Jason's cheek, thumb brushing over the pearly white line of his scar. The tips of your fingers tingled, might have even shook, as they touched his lips.

All the humor was sucked from the room with your gentle declaration of such intimacy. Sure, you and Jason had long since passed through each other's barriers of personal space. Neither one of you exactly had nurturing childhoods and found relentless comfort in the other.

Touch starved, someone had once explained it as. Two people making up for lost time and a need to feel loved and held. Jason was the only one you let into your space, and as far as you knew you were the only one Jason wrapped himself around. The thought of him locking pinkies with someone besides you made you queasy and tossed you back into the moment, your palm on his cheek and his eyes on yours.

It was almost too much. You hoped he couldn't hear your heart hammering in your chest, feeling as if it was about to burst with how much you loved him.

You loved everything about him. From his smiles to his dedication and his innocent charm. To the way he fought like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, because it did, and how he let you break the rules in his bed because he knew you better than you could ever hope to know yourself, sometimes.

"I bet it was a wolf bite." You murmured into the quiet, words tumbling past your lips before you could even think of what you were saying.

"Hm?" He must not have expected your words, because he hummed questioningly, sounding half-distracted but your touch lingering on his skin. The idea of distracting Jason Grace made you smile. It felt like an achievement.

"Your scar," You clarified, still tracing it with the pad of your thumb. his skin was warm and soft and it helped ease your remaining nerves to hold him so gently after the gruesome horror show of your nightmare. "I bet it was a wolf bite."

Jason grinned, then. Wide and bright and if you hadn't seen him call down lightning personally, you would have thought Phoebus Apollo was his father from how much blinding sunshine radiated from him, even in the middle of the night, half-asleep.

"If Lupa bit me, I don't think the scar would be so small." He teased, knocking his forehead into yours gently. You snorted, closing your eyes as you leaned closer to him, trying to remain casual as his nose brushed against yours.

"Still, it's a good story." You hummed, shrugged slightly. Jason huffed a laugh, and you felt his breath on your skin, on your lips.

"Yeah, it's a good story." He agreed quietly, his own hand reaching up to hold your face, mimicking your position with a gentleness that made you question if you should ruin the only gentle thing to ever embrace you by slotting your mouth over his, over every inch of his face.

Instead, you moved your hand from his cheek to the back of his head, holding him as close as you could without being greedy.

You knew you'd have to leave soon, or else risk getting caught, and you couldn't do that to Jason.

But you let yourself have a few minutes. You never knew how many you'd ever have with him.

It was peaceful, if only for a moment.

It had only been war, for hours.

Your voice was shredded raw from shouting orders, rallying troops, keeping Romans from turning on Greeks like Octavian had wanted.

It was the final battle, you knew. The air tasted of it, of that heavy weight that came with saving the world. You had felt it when you had gone into battle against Krios to keep the Titans from rising, and you were sick with it, now.

This time, you didn't have Jason by your side, covering your weaknesses while you watched his. You didn't even have Reyna, anymore.

I need you to stay here, Reyna had ordered you when you had argued your case for joining her on her quest to the Ancient Lands after Jason and the others. Your desperation to accompany her went beyond a bone-deep ache to see Jason again; you were going absolutely crazy sitting around at the Roman encampments surrounding the Greek demigod camp, waiting for a battle you were certain shouldn't be taking place.

If I stay here, I'm going to kill Octavian. Or he'll get someone to kill me, you countered, and two weeks earlier you could have played it off as a joke. But Octavian had become drunk on power, had appointed himself to a rank higher than praetor, and was absolutely gunning for a reason to get rid of you, one way or another.

Don't let him, Reyna had said, as if it was ever that simple. I need someone here that I can trust. Jason needs you here, too.

Your frown had deepened, no matter how impossible it had seemed.

That was a low blow, you mumbled, pissed off and exhausted, only getting more pissed off and exhausted by your own shitty attitude.

Reyna had grimaced, but did you the favor of not pointing out that it had worked. You had stayed behind, had remained with your soldiers and dodged Octavian as much as you could, knowing how very weak the leash you held your anger on was. He was looking for any excuse to put you on trial. You couldn't give him one.

But that didn't mean you didn't do everything in your power to undermine Octavian's control.

The fighting that soon followed was inevitable.

You had known from the start that it was either going to be against the Greeks or the monsters, depending on how successful Jason and his new group of friends were. If they got back in time to unify the camps like Annabeth had promised Reyna they would, then the monsters would be feasible to take on.

But Octavian started the war early. Started against the Greeks, then was forced to split forces when the monsters began their assault, too.

The groundwork you had laid against Octavian was almost unnecessary as he doomed the Romans to fight an exhausting and expensive battle they could never win. It had been almost too easy for you to take control, to knock Octavian out with a single punch and order Roman troops to fight alongside the Greeks, to use them as another weapon against the monsters.

Defend their camp as if it is our own!, you had shouted through the roar of battle, perched on the highest point you could find—an upturned chariot. The fighting had paused at your words, Greeks and Romans alike trying to see which way the attacking army would sway.

One girl on the Greek side of the fight gave orders to her soldiers not to attack your Romans, just as the daughter of Ares had promised on the few nights you had snuck into her camp to discuss that very moment.

Clarisse La Rue had been all too willing to talk war with you, double agent against Octavian, you were.

Reyna and Nico arriving with the Athena Parthenos had only sealed the deal, but even with Greek and Roman forces combined the never-ending monster army was a force to be reckoned with. Gaea herself was even pulling you in, feet sucked into the earth to tire you out faster with each step.

By the time the flying trireme arrived, your exhaustion was bone deep and felt like the only substantial thing in your life.

It was a blur, from then on. Fighting still raged. Screams still tore through the air. Battle continued and stole and ached.

Then came the explosion.

One minute you were fighting for your life, prepared to enter into the next one, and then suddenly the world had stilled around you. Whatever monsters weren't falling under the swords and arrows of demigod heroes had turned and ran, and it was almost jarring how silent the battlefield got.

Or maybe you were just too tired to process any sound. You thought you could see Reyna's mouth moving, a few dozen feet in front of you, but all you heard was a low buzzing, the thrumming of your heart, as you searched the carnage.

You weren't sure if the Romans stopped to gawk at you because you were stumbling through the mess or because you were, against all odds, still standing. You had been on the front lines from the start, had led wave after wave of assault.

By all accounts, you should have been lost to the fight. But you never gave up all that easily.

You knew there still were a million and six things that remained to do before darkness fell. First and most important to you was organizing your legion, taking count of who had survived the battle. Mourning walked hand in hand with victory, and you were well acquainted with the pair.

Except, you only made it ten steps before you saw him.

Jason Grace had completely forgotten you. Despite his promises, his sweet words and even sweeter touches, he had forgotten you and all that you meant to him. He didn't know how he used to pinch your arm to keep you awake in your more boring classes. He didn't know that he used to swap plates with you at least once a week because you regretted what the Mess Hall sprites had brought you.

He didn't know how he brushed his hands through your hair when you got worked up, and he didn't remember what the touch of your skin on his felt like.

But he was heading straight towards you, as if the destruction around him could wait and all that mattered was you.

It was enough to root you to your spot. With shaking, brutalized fingers you took off your helmet. You meant to hold it under your arm against your hip, but suddenly Jason was within five feet of you with the most determined stare, and you barely registered it dropping to the ground.

You had counted the days since you had last seen him in Charleston. It had been too long and not long enough, because no matter how much you loved Jason with every inch of your being, it also hurt too great to have him in front of you and know he didn't remember how gently he had once used his thumbs to smooth the worry lines from between your knitted brows.

"Soldier—" You started, desperate to take control of the conversation, but he was speaking over you before you even finished the second syllable.

"It's not a wolf bite." His words were firm, almost pleading. But they were also so unexpected, so out of place, you jolted back half a step. He quickly made up for the space you tried putting between you both, halting only a few scant inches from the exhausted lines of your body.

"What?" You managed to gape, chin tilted to look up at him, face twisted in grief and confusion and hope so dangerous you contemplated the blow to your reputation if you turned and ran.

"The scar. Not a wolf bite." He clarified, and it took nearly everything in you to tear your stare from his to drag down his face and find the beloved mark on the corner of his lips, right where it had been since the moment you had met him. You had felt that bit of raised skin underneath the pad of your thumb more times than what could have been considered as just friendly, had made up stories for its existence just to distract yourself. "When I was two, I tried to eat a stapler."

"Jason," The sound that left your lips could almost have been mistaken for a laugh, if someone only plugged their ears and closed their eyes. It was a haunted, aching, desperate sound, mixed with a short exhale that had Jason leaning even closer to you, somehow.

"I just thought you'd want to know." He murmured, and you weren't sure if the warmth burning your skin was from the exertion of battle, the rays of sun beating against your cheek, or the intensity of Jason's stare on you.

Familiar. He looked... familiar. Maybe a little Greek, but he was still Roman. Still an unwavering force, one that had defeated a Titan and still had enough power to tear down his seat of power in search for your battered body, almost lost to the rubble.

He looked like he knew you.

"You… you remember?" Fingers curled into fists at your side, almost buzzing with emotions you could barely even begin to decipher. Everything was a knot inside of you; thoughts, feelings, strength. You'd given everything on the battlefield, but you had been running on fumes from the moment Jason had been stolen from you. It was nothing short of a miracle that you were still standing.

"I do, now." His nod sent a shuddering gasp through you, but still you couldn't get yourself to lift a hand out and reach him. You had already had this dream—this nightmare—so many times. What happened next would likely be his dismissing you. Or worse—you would wake up.

But Jason moved first, one hand you knew like your own raising to wipe a spot of grime off you cheek before cradling your head gently. It was all the permission you needed before your own hands notched under the sides of his armor, a familiar movement always used to tug him closer to you. Metal clanged together as his chest plate hit against yours, and though you suddenly loathed the equipment that had saved your life more times than you felt you deserved, you couldn't let go of Jason long enough to free yourself from it. That part would have to wait.

"Got hit on the head a few times, talked to a couple of gods. It all helped the pieces fall back together." He explained, and you pressed your knuckles into his sides as a silent reprimand for making fun of himself getting hurt. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision of Jason, and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. A reprimand for yourself, too. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Jase." You would have shaken your head, but you didn't want to move out of his hold for a second, and instead pressed your cheek tighter against his palm still holding the side of your jaw.

He looked ready to argue, but you flashed him a glare so fierce he thought better of it. You had been living in anger and fear for months. Having Jason back already helped, but it would take more than a few minutes for you to right yourself.

And you still stood on the battlefield.

"I remember that last argument we had." He knocked you back to reality in the gentle way only he ever knew how to do with you. Out of shame, you ducked your gaze to the ground, but he didn't let you hide. With the hand that wasn't on your jaw, thumb brushing reassuring strokes over your cheek, he held your nearly quivering chin between his index and his thumb. The way he tilted your head up to meet his stare was tender, but that had never been a question when it came to him. "Where I said there was nothing for us to do but be soldiers."

"Yeah," You were pretty sure you were speaking, but you couldn't focus on anything over the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears or the beautiful burn of his skin against yours.

"I was wrong." He admitted, but you knew what those words meant just the same as he knew that you would understand. "I remembered fragments of you. The sound of your laugh. How your hair shone in the summer sun."

"Sounds like you might be in love, or something." You tried for teasing but sounded like you had just been hit by a bus. Jason had only been back for a few scarce minutes and already was bulldozing you with his sweet words. If he hadn't just disappeared on you for upwards of seven months and came back to save the world, you would have threatened to kick his ass for disorientating you so much so quickly.

"Oh, I am." He grinned a little nervously, a little lopsided, and you couldn't wait any longer.

You moved first, hands darting from the sides of his armor to the sides of his face, palms flat against his skin as you tugged his head down you meet you while you pushed yourself up on your tip-toes to meet him halfway.

Kissing Jason was as inevitable as it was all-consuming. You had played dumb with Dakota whenever he brought it up, but deep down you had always belonged to Jason Grace, and he to you, from the moment he broke the rules to sit with you in that small, restricted stretch of grass when you were ten years old.

Your fingers knotted into the hair on the back of his head, grown out just enough during his time with the Greeks. You thought it suited him, and it was soft under your touch, and you mentally made a note to plead with him later to leave it alone. From the way he was kissing you like he would starve if he didn't, you had a feeling he'd agree easily.

He was warm and sweet and tasted like mint. He was everything you had imagined, everything you had never once dared to hope for. Strong hands and gentle touches, unyielding intelligence and unwavering kindness.

He was everything. Your everything.

Despite the weight of Jason's mouth on yours, you still were dimly aware of where you stood. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and no matter how close you pressed against Jason, you couldn't hide from the fact that you were a centurion and your legion needed you.

You had been left by almost everyone in your life, but never had letting someone go been as painful as it was to step back from Jason long enough to catch your breath and clear the fog from your mind that was a direct reaction to his touch.

"I've got to—" You shuddered, voice catching, but Jason nodded, knowing what you meant. Knowing you, knowing your mind, always. You almost shivered again at the reminder that he remembered. He knew what you were going to say, but you forced yourself to finish your thought so you could convince yourself it was real. "I've got to find my legion. Count survivors. Take stock of injuries. We've been—we've been fighting for hours."

You didn't want to leave him. You never had wanted to before, but after he had been stolen from you for so long? Now that he had confessed his love and kissed you like his life depended on it?

Now you were worried that the next time he left your side, he'd disappear again, no matter how unwillingly he went.

"Okay," Jason smoothed his thumbs across your cheeks, face ducked low towards yours as your hands fell to wrap loosely around his wrists, desperate to hold him in anyway you could. "Okay. We can do that."

"We?" You questioned, then immediately felt stupid for doing so. Of course, he meant we. It had always been the two of you against the world, and he had just gotten his memories of you back. There was no way he would let you out of his sight so soon.

"You told me the day we met that there was no getting rid of you." Jason reminded you, as if you could ever forget meeting him, as if the gods themselves had been able to keep him from remembering you. "I'm holding you to that promise."

Words failed you, but the way you surged forward to press your mouth to his in a quick, urgent kiss that you had dreamed about sharing with him for years, didn't.

"Just for the record, I love you too." You offered an exhausted imitation of a smile as you pulled away, finally dropping your touch from him. Because maybe you had Jason back, but you still weren't sure how many of your soldiers had been lost. Mourning and victory, always a solemn pair.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but someone called out your name, and the edge of desperation and worry in their voice cut through you like a knife. And Jason remembered you, knew you, and saw everything written on your face.

"We'll figure out this mess together." He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip before nudging your shoulder in the direction the voice had come from. "Lead the way, Centurion."

Your stomach was still in knots, so you pressed your lips into a firm line. But Jason was a warm strength at your back, and he kept his promise of together, and followed you dutifully.

War took and took, but sometimes it gave.

Jason, your Jason, was back. And maybe there were still a million questions to answer, boundaries to fix and homes to rebuild, but you knew Jason would be by your side through it all.

An unwavering force behind your relentless dedication.

War took and took, but things would be okay.

Things would be okay.

a/n: im allergic to sad endings (jk I just can't write them they always feel unfinished when I try) also this took me forever bc I was so incredibly worried that the finale would flop but I kinda love this so im just gonna full send

tag, you're it! @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester @bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake @maybxlle @p-rspective @lauptimist @dontstopxx @apollosfavkiddo @ebony-reine-vibes @poppysrin @valromanoff @jesuschrist2006 @pariahsparadise @killaari @marshmummy @sofiacblair

[user16121215]

Typical Trial Against the Killers

TW - Unhealthy displays of affection, Abuse (Mental and Physical), General dickishness

Herman Carter (The Doctor)

• You are the absolute last person to go.

• The good doctor won't even look in your general direction until everyone else has been taken care of.

• He's just waiting until you're on your own and he has all the time in the world to play around with you.

• Entity forbid you end up at Léry's Memorial Institute. That place was his home, he knows every little crack and corner by heart. There's no possibility of hiding, and he's faster than you are.

• If you somehow manage to escape without him getting a hold of you, be prepared for absolute hell next time you're placed against the doctor.

• He's a very prideful man and doesn't like losing in general, but when his obsession manages to slip through his fingers, there's no force on this realm, or any other, that can hold him back.

• He may even forget about everyone else and focus on you right from the start if he's angry enough.

• If this man can get you on a medical table, or anything similar, may the Entity have mercy on your soul.

• Herman likes the chase as much as any old killer but when he's had enough, it's time to claim his reward by strapping you down and inflicting his special kind of treatment he tailored just for you

Max Thompson Jr (The Hillbilly)

• Completely focused on you from the start

• As soon as he realises you're there with him, he goes mad trying to catch you.

• Most of the other survivors will escape if you're in a trial with the hillbilly because he won't leave you alone.

• This does mean that you'll probably get left behind since no one can really help you out.

• Your survival depends entirely on how fast you can run and how well you can hold your breath in a locker.

• Once he manages to catch you, he'll take his time and won't rush over to any hooks. He likes to hold you.

• He will grab you as much as he can. Instead of bashing you on the head with an oversized hammer, if he can latch onto your arm or just yank you back by your shirt he'd much rather do that.

• Your skin is so much softer than his own. So he'll delight in, not so gently, grasping any exposed flesh. Watching how it squishes between his fingers.

• This does of course lead to some rather oddly shaped bruises.

• He doesn't necessarily want to hurt you and is definitely less malicious than his colleagues. Max has never been exposed to any kind of positive relationship in his life and doesn't know how to handle these emotions he feels around you so he reacts the only way he knows.

Evan Macmillan (The Trapper)

• He'll chase you, but you won't get hooked right away.

• You'll either be left in one of his many traps or just crawling your way to help.

• Evan loves watching you limp and crawl away as he casually chases after you.

• If you're particularly annoying during a match, he might hook you just to get you out of the way, but he would much rather take his time with you and will most likely let someone unhook you just so he can chase you all over again.

• One of Evan's greatest delights is making you watch as your team dash through the exit gate without giving you a second thought.

• The look of betrayal and anguish is one he could just eat up on anyone but it has a certain extra hit when etched into your face. Especially if it was his own hands that carved it there.

• He finds it an absolute delight to watch you crawling towards the hatch, only for him to yank you back by your ankle as your fingers just brush against the metal. He gains extra satisfaction of he can yank a broken ankle, most likely given to you by own of his traps.

• He doesn't mind so much if you do escape. Obviously he doesn't like losing, but he knows you'll be back. You're his little toy after all, and he will get to play with you again.

Philip Ojomo (The Wraith)

• Mmmm did somebody say stalker?

• If you're uncomfortable with the feeling of having somebody's eyes on the back of your neck constantly, well tough luck.

• Trials with this boy are usually short and sweet.

• He's more focused on watching you and how you work than paying attention to the Entity's nagging.

• He's going to try and get as close to you as possible. Meaning that if you're not observant, he's going to be standing behind you as you're going about your business.

• He might even crouch down next to you and just stay there observing your face as you get your work done.

• Probably one of the only killers that will allow you to escape a trial. Or he'll go easy on you at the very least.

• Doesn't mean he won't ruthlessly beat the shit out of you if you get too cocky after you escape from him a few times. Mistaking his generosity for some kind of skill on your end is just not going to fly and he needs to make you painfully aware that any victory you celebrate is down to him.

• A 'Thank you Mr. Wraith.' Would be nice if you could just StOp SqUiRMING FOR TWO SECONDS.

• He just needs you to remember that although he may take certain liberties when it comes to you, he's still here to do a job and that job is to kill you.

Anna (The Huntress)

• Anna doesn't treat you much differently in a trial, even if she's fond of you.

• Not familiar with any human interaction outside of the very limited experience her mother provided have left her ignorant to anything beyond primal instinct.

• Death is just part of her understanding of affection.

• She loved her mother, her mother died.

• She loved the children, the children died.

• She may love you, and you suffer the same fate.

• Though you are different because you come back from death.

• Which only inspires her to kill you again.

• The hunt is courtship, the pain is yearning and death is love.

• And while she hunts, hurts and kills other survivors, you remain special to her and although nothing is different in the executions between you and your fellow sacrifices, to her it is night and day.

• She expects you to know that.

• She doesn't understand that you can't see the difference.

[the-kr8tor]

Idk why I hadn't thought of this before but uh, this my 2nd request:3

Bitter Orange for Hobie with💧who thinks he escaped alive with R (from wherever it's up to you but i can suggest like after getting some supplys or being stuck somewhere for a while because it was infested with zombies) and got back to their base safely but little did he know, they didn't tell him that they got bit ;3

I'd like to add to the request I just made (Bitter Orange Hobie w 💧) and uh, this can be optional ig? but can they be best friends who've been pinning over each other but now Hobie never got a chance to confess his feelings n stuff and maybe they do it in those last moments?

Thank you for requesting this heart wrenching fic lmaoo hope u like it!! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Zombie apocalypse AU, Zombie AU, CW blood, CW injury, TW death. Angst.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Hobie comes back to you after three days, he's drenched in sweat and grime. But it's all worth it for the two bags full of supplies that you two need. They're at least a month worth of survival, a month without needing to go out and put yourselves in danger. He could've brought you with him if not for your raging fever and cough, he had to go alone. A part of him was glad that he went alone, he was stuck in a warehouse for an entire day while waiting for the hoard to pass by. You would've hated waiting in the dark and damp place especially with your sickness.

You said you were fine to be left behind, that it was just a simple cold that you can fight with the leftover meds. But when he opens the unlocked door that he specifically told you to barricade, the rotting smell of flesh and decay greets him instead of your smile. It tells him that shouldn't have left. It tells him that his greatest fear has come true.

The bags he painstakingly heaved from the city to the cabin in the woods where you two had been surviving in for months now drops like a death knell on the dilapidated floors. It was home for you and Hobie, he still remembers the day you found it. His heart hammered in his chest when he turned around only to find you gone. And then your scream turned him into the fastest man alive, only to find you jumping for joy in front of the old hunter’s cabin.

He knows exactly why he was so afraid that day, even though it was just a second of you not by his side— he has never been without you. Through the years, way before the world ended, you've been by his side. Always latching on to him, always smiling at him. Or was it the other way around? Was it him latching onto you like paint on a wall? Or was it him who always smiled at you? Nevertheless, he loves you, he loves you even when the world ended. He loves you enough to drag himself across town to come get you while the world around him was burning and crumbling.

But he shouldn't have left, he shouldn't have stayed a day more to find you that bottle of shampoo you have always been on the lookout for. It was a surprise, a happy one this time, none of the walking dead jumping at you from a corner. He would do anything to see you smile again, just like when you found the cabin. You've been trying hard to stay positive for him, but he knows, and you knew that it was all to reassure him. He takes care of you and you take care of him, he wouldn't like it any other way.

Grief already clings to him like a vine snaking along a tree. It grips him tighter with every step he takes. Hobie's hand shakes as he reaches towards your shared bedroom door. He hoped that the smell would be gone by then, but it only persisted as he got closer and closer to the last place he saw you.

He should've told you he loves you.

Your milky white eyes are the first things he sees. He grips the door for balance, chest heaving, heart plummeting to his stomach.

You growl at him, skin no longer bearing life, skin shrunken around your nail beds, claws reaching towards him in a rush.

Hobie freezes and awaits your teeth tearing into his flesh, he'd join you, would that be so bad?

Yet, death doesn't come for him. Chains rattle behind you as you growl and desperately try to tear him apart. Hobie, now realizing what you've done to yourself, cries at the sight of your ankles bound on the bed. Your deathbed. You died alone and sick, you died without him by your side, you died crying for him. But it still crossed in your hazy mind to tie yourself down so when he comes home he doesn't face the same fate you had.

His sobs echo among your inhuman groans, tears streaming down his cheeks as you relentlessly try to grab him even in your bound state. Hobie refuses to look at you any longer, refusing to remember you like this. His eyes flick down at your feet. There's medicine scattered along the floor and bedside table. And there's still water left in your glass. A bloody bandage is still tightly wrapped around your thigh. A testament that you fought to stay human until he gets home, that you tried to cure yourself even though you knew it would be futile.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asks in a broken voice, a voice he doesn't recognize as his own. “I could've stayed for you.” He knows that you didn't stop him because you didn't want him to see you slowly ebb away into a husk. That your death will break him apart right in front of you while he refuses to let you go. That his sorrowful face would be the last thing you ever saw. “I could've been here for you.”

You spared the both of you pain and suffering.

Hobie doesn't know what to do now, you're dead and gone. And there's no one left.

“I should've—” he inhales, slipping down from the wall to the floor. “I love you. I hope you knew that.”

You continue to slash at the air, chains rattling, bed frame pulling you away from him. Hobie sees a resemblance of you behind your foggy eyes, he can't help but think if you're still in there, that you're still fighting inside. He thinks you knew he loved you, he thinks that you might've felt the same after all those years with him. But that's all from his mind, all he wants now is to hear your voice again.

He just stays there on the floor, grief sinking him further down, eating him alive with every guttural growl you yell.

He shouldn't have left.

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 4) + Special Message at the End

The rest of the Salty’s crew bursted out of the cake as if it was a morbid twist on a piñata: instead of a paper-mache sculpture full of candy, it was a perfectly good birthday cake desecrated by violent thugs ready to enact their revenge! Mr. Boss shielded the Queen as Charlie and the sailors charged into battle, accompanied by Smormu wielding a mop as if it was a spear; Suffice to say that the party quickly turned into a war zone. The Fun Twinz ran rings around Chris who still-had-yet to overcome his intoxication, Ketchup ganged up on Tomar before the latter grabbed a chair and bashed it over his opponent, Smormu was clashing her mop at Crazy Cup’s sword much to the latter’s surprise at how durable the mop turned out to be, Salt and Pepper where mildly annoying Mr. Boss while entertaining the Queen and to top it all off, Charlie and Mustard engaged in hand-to-quip combat. “Aw, can’t a poor Mustard like me have a little fun?” “I was having fun until you and the rest of the asshole squad crashed my party!” “To be honest, this party was already crashed to begin with, we came and spiced it up for ya!” “Yeah, thanks a lot, really nice of you guys to take a crap on my parade.” “I gotta hand it to ya, whoever’s navigating the ship all freestyle sure is hammering on home how this party’s gone off the rails!” Charlie stopped in his tracks and looked around, seeing Mr. Boss with his Grandmother, he asked: “Who’s behind the wheel?” It was none other than the stealthiest member of Salty’s team: the elusive Century Egg, aided by the rest of the crew as a distraction so he can deliberately crash the ship into the jagged rock bed nearby. Charlie completely forgot about Mustard as he picked up at the empty glass bottle of Salty’s purloined booze and rampaged at the Century Egg, smashing the bottle back against his head and breaking it, thus making the bottle an even more dangerous weapon to use while unleashing a furious roar: “YOU PIECE OF SHIT, THIS SHIP BELONGED TO MY PARENTS!” The Century Egg sure was seeing stars with a briefly blurry vision to boot, but he wasn’t done yet, he grabbed Charlie by the ankles as Mustard, who turned out to have been latched onto his back without him paying attention, pounded on Charlie’s head and grabbed his arms. “On three!” Mustard and Century Egg swung the KO’d Charlie on both limbs out of the ship and into the ocean. Pim, who was on the edge of his seat, gasped and jumped back into the water to save his crush with the rest of the Meeplantican quartet following suit.

Pim spotted the yellow landcritter plummeting down before floating off, carried by the weight of water, Pim immediately swam up and grabbed him by his shirt and pulling upward. Realizing the size difference between the two, Pim took his cloak off and wrapped it around Charlie, using it as a maneuver while once again swimming upwards to the surface.

…

“That was some show out there, huh gang?” Graham Nelly chuckled until he noticed the somber atmosphere of Pim, Alan and Glep inspecting wether or not Charlie bit the dust. Pim’s lip quivered, on the verge of tears he asked: “…is he dead?” Graham Nelly joined in with his diagnosis: “Gee ‘cous, I dunno….I can’t make out a heartbeat.” as he held Charlie’s foot to his ear. “No look, he’s breathing!” Pim chirped as he saw the briefly-displeased look on Charlie’s face, Pim caressed the larger critter and passionately gazed upon the half-awaken critter. “He’s so…familiar…” Pim felt as if his heart fluttered like a bird soaring above the sea, he was unambiguously in love with this man.

“What could I give to live where you are?….what would I pay to stay here beside you?…..what could I do to see you….smiling at meeeee?”

Alan, upon realizing what was unfolding and how much trouble they’d all be in had the rest of the Royal Family found out, felt his jaw drop to the ground until Graham Nelly picked it up off the ground, closing it back up as he gazed upon the heartwarming scene, touched seeing his passionate cousin freely express his feelings.

“Where would we walk if we could run, where we could spend all day in the suuuuun?….just you and me, and I could be….part of your woooooorld~”

From Charlie’s point of view, all he could hear was an angelic voice ringing back into his consciousness, until he opened his eyes to a pink critter with a soft round face, big beautiful eyes and strands of rosey-colored hair singing to him as this angelic mystery critter gave him a small peck on his bruised-up nose before he shut his eyes once again to the sound of his crew calling his name. When he opened his eyes again, they left. Charlie spat up some ocean water and looked around wondering who was that and where did they go as the rest of the party rushed to his side. “There you are, man!! We thought you were a goner!” cried Chris, aiding Mr. Boss in helping Charlie back up as his weeping grandmother ran to him with a hug full of familial embrace. “Oooh Chawlie my boy, I’m so glad you’re alive! I couldn’t bear losing another member of my family!” Charlie’s mind was in kind of a daze until he remembered how he was rescued. “This little pink critter rescued me, and they had the most beautiful voice!” Mr. Boss chuckled, “I think you might have drank too much…seawater or booze? I dunno.”

Alan, who was panicking as if the world was ending tomorrow, piped up: “Guys, if either the King or Queen ask, we all just gotta forget this whole thing ever happened….they’ll never know! None of you will tell them, I won't tell them! We will all stay in one piece.” Of course, Alan’s words went ignored by the lovestruck Pim, lying on a rock by the island, and watching the partially damaged ship sail away. With the wind blowing in his hair and the sunrise breaking dawn across the starry sky, Pim was overcome with strong and passionate feelings. “I don’t know when…I don’t know how…but I know something’s starting right noooooow!!!!” The waves picked up by the wind, seemingly on cue of Pim’s now-triumphant voice as salty tears where escaping the grasp of his bulbous eyes as they where fueled by a powerful trinity of sweet remembrance, a foreboding farewell and a ray of hope that filled Pim with determination: “Watch and you’ll seeee, someday I’ll beeee~ PART OF YOOOOOUR WOOOOOOOOORLD!!!!!!” That last note beamed out of Pim like the perfect wave that splashed right behind him as the sun came out on cue, rising as that last note began to wane into a soft-spoken, sparkling cadence of longing. Glep clapped in applause, Graham Nelly got misty-eyed himself with tears of pride for his cousin and Alan meekly uttered: “We are so screwed.”

~

“Oh this is WAY to easy! That little pink fool’s fallen in love with a land critter!” Grim relished as he was once again spectating all the tea through his crystal ball, Gnarly chuckled: “And not just ANY land critter either!” both of them bursted into a wicked cackle: “A COMPLETE GUYFAILIURE!” Grim sarcastically monologued: “His daddy’s gonna love that.” “Yeah, hate to be in his scales.” Gnarly added. “That headstrong lovesick boy is gonna make the perfect pawn to bait King Steven into our trap!” snarled Grim, clasping his hands together plotting his revenge. Gnarly followed up with: “So we hold him for ransom and tell Kinger to fork over the trident, right? Easy as pie.” Grim, greatly unamused, corrected Gnarly ever-so-politely and totally not into his ears or anything: “THAT’S JUST GONNA GET BOTH OF US TURNED INTO A GODDAMN SUSHI PLATTER, WHALE-SHIT FOR BRAINS!! UGH! just hear me out and listen: Go find that bulbous-eyed ginger and sell him our idea-“

NOTE: Chapter 5 is in the works, I haven’t finished it yet because of all the projects I am balancing atm, so the fic will take a brief hiatus until two-or-three weeks from now, then I will have more time to work on the story AND finish the rest of those requests I need to post, thank you so much for supporting this story of mine, it means so much to me! Happy Pride!! 🌈

[grimalkinmessor]

The thing about Age Swap AU that I really like is the fact that both Mob and Reigen are inherently so much more unstable.

On Reigen's end, most of it is from the fact that he's a kid—he doesn't have the same amount of emotional intelligence because he has less experience overall, and the fact that his relationship with his parents isn't,,,,great, even in a canon setting. A boy still mucking around in the trenches of parental abuse/neglect is always going to be more rickety emotionally and mentally than a grown man who's been given years to heal and distance himself from it.

And then there's Mob. Mob is a bit more a wild card in this area, just because without Reigen his childhood is more or less an unknown. Did Mogami find him? Would it have made him crueller if Mogami mentored him instead? What about Claw? Did they take him in? Is he still with them, did they fall, does he regret it? Is he jaded or riddled with guilt or stuffed so far back in his shell that it takes a little blond boy wielding a huge emotional and verbal hammer to start breaking through it? Either way, I definitely don't see him being as emotionally stable as canon Mob. He likely hasn't reconciled with Shigeo, he probably never truly accepted his powers, and thus has the emotional maturity of a ten year old—Reigen still beats him on this. Mob's only point of positive advice would've been Ritsu, and that's....I mean, it's Ritsu. He hasn't had any significant good influences in his life so he absolutely struggles on how to be one himself.

The potential for these two to be codependent is SO much higher and I love it. Unhealthy dynamics are my absolute JAM (one of the reasons I have this animatic rotating in my head at top speeds 24/7 365) so the inherent prickliness of whatever Wrongness™ these two have going on just. has me. Reigen clings because it's all he knows how to do—even if Mob banishes him from the office, he's a persistent kid that hasn't learned you shouldn't chase after moody grown men with emotions so repressed it manifests as a literal eldritch alter with no morals to curb its desires. And Mob has had to go even longer alone in this sort of universe than ever, and Reigen is likely the only person who's never been afraid of him; he's latching onto that kid like bear trap and never letting go. He's still tenderhearted, but it's plagued with years and years of loneliness and inner turmoil that he's had no one around to soothe; he's over a decade too late for 'healthy'. Not that Reigen minds <3

[latibvles]

'a kiss attempting to convince the other party to stay' viv x bucky 🙏

WHEN YOU GO.

didn't mean to beat them with the angst bat but alas . anyways discussions of grief in this one and bucky is HAMMEREEEED he's done-zo. viv being a normal amount of upset over the fact that she's extremely down bad but won't admit it. ohh someone save bucky from his bad coping mechanisms.

—

It could be worse, Viv reminds herself, it could be raining.

Bucky was well-behaved in the passenger’s seat of the jeep, and Buck took one of the bikes to get to the mess to grab a bucket. Bucky seemed to be happy to follow her so long as he got to half-drape himself over her like this. She really isn’t built to support the weight of a 6’2” man, but she’s damned if she doesn’t try.

He’s really feeling it today, is what goes unsaid between Buck and herself. Sometimes there are just losses that… set people off. It doesn’t always have to be ninety men in an afternoon. Sometimes it’s just one crew, one fort, one person, and there’s a new crack in the armor. She didn’t get around to asking him about what it might’ve been.

Viv knows how loose-lipped Bucky can be when he’s like this, but she’s not in the means of taking advantage. She’ll take the chance when he’s sober.

“Y’know… you’re really somethin’ Viv,” he murmurs into her hair as she opens the door with her foot.

“So you’ve said.”

“M’not just sayin’ it,” Bucky drags out. He stumbles on entry. “You’re just real special, y’know?”

“Mhm. Thanks Bucky.” Really she’s just focused on getting him in the door. She’s not trying to be dismissive. It’s just… late. And she’s tired and worried and unable to ask the questions she could get away with if he was sober. Luckily the few men in the hut are asleep, and Viv knows enough about drunk men to know several of the guys in these racks are likely knocked out cold.

She won’t be loud, but she doesn’t have to worry about being silent.

Bucky’s cheek is pressed into the top of her head, muttering nonsensical sweet nothings into her hair as he stumbles towards his cot. It squeaks with the weight of him laying down, and she could leave him there, logically, but she doesn’t do anything half-assed.

Viv sits on the end of the cot, puts his heavy leg in her lap and starts undoing one of his boots.

“Tryna get me outta my clothes?” He teases as Viv yanks the boot off and sets it aside.

“Trying to get you into bed.” He’ll really be feeling this tomorrow. That much is undeniable. He might not complain, but he’ll definitely feel it. She takes his other leg and does the same thing: removing the boot and then she sets the pair right by his cot. She has to get up to undo the zipper of his jacket, looming over him as he stares up at her. The one lamp she’s turned on isn’t enough to light up the blue of his eyes, but he’s smiling as he squirms, trying to aid her even in his current state.

Viv wishes he wouldn’t look at her so softly when she does this for him. She’d almost prefer him nonsensical, rambling about things she couldn’t comprehend, the way that most drunk men she’d known would do. Instead, he laid his affection on thick and saccharine sweet — it made her want to crawl out of her skin, that unapologetic intimacy he offered in such a state.

Not out of resentment, no, but it was harder to wave this earnestness off as a joke.

Bucky won’t remember this tomorrow and that’s the one comfort she has. She pats his chest twice, gives him a smile and a nod. She shouldn’t linger here too long. Buck could handle the rest of this and it didn’t look like he was going anywhere.

“Told you I’d tuck you in.”

“Mmmhmm, you’re sweet like that.” He mutters, and Viv is straightening up to walk away, but she doesn’t really get the chance.

His hand goes to latch onto her wrist. It didn’t hurt, but she wasn’t expecting it. He shifts onto his side, tugging at her arm a bit, and Viv bites the inside of her cheek hard as he brings her wrist lazily to his lips. Right over her hammering pulse, his lips brush against it — ghostlike, but still, it burned. Viv’s tasting iron in her mouth, wondering if he can feel the all-at-once way her pulse has quickened, hammering against the spot where he’d kissed her. He looks up at her then and she swallows the trembling breath she wants to take.

“C’mere,” Bucky mutters, drunk and foolish. Viv kind of hates him for the grip he has on her. She hates the seat she takes on the side of his cot after a third, insistent tug. She’s grateful that he doesn’t pull her into his body or something — his stupor makes him clingy in all the ways that kill her. She shouldn’t be here. He kisses her wrist again, searing his mark into her skin to scar her for days. “Want you… t’stay,” he mutters, voice half-muffled by his pillow.

Viv wishes he didn’t say that. She breathes out, reaching to push some of the curls from his forehead.

“Mhm. I’m staying,” she mutters. It’s not a lie. Not really. Buck will come back in ten minutes and none of them will talk about this tomorrow. Bucky won’t even remember this part. But he’ll remember his bad morning and the bucket from the mess placed strategically by his cot to save him from making a mess of himself. “Should go to sleep though, it’s late,” her feeble attempt to coax him into it falls upon deaf ears. He’s staring at her intently, his thumb rubbing over the spot that he’d kissed.

“You’re g’nna do… a real number on me,” Bucky mutters, looking over her with cloudy drunken eyes. Viv’s brows furrow, her lips tugging into a frown — she’s asking the question before she can stop herself from asking it.

“What’re you talking about?” Bucky, who’s been looking over every feature of her face, looks back into her eyes again.

“When y’go…” There’s a resignation there, a commitment to grieving her, and a lump forms in her throat. If he weren’t so out of it, she’d tell him not to say that. That she isn’t going anywhere; not like that anyway. But that’s what everybody said, wasn’t it? Even if they didn’t wholly believe it? What they faced in the air was indiscriminate and deadly. It did not care for promises, or people waiting on the ground, or the witnesses in the other forts who would have to log your death if it did happen.

Still, the idea that he’s already decided he’d lose her makes her want to grab him by his shoulders and shake the thought from his inebriated mind until it dissolved into thin air.

“Not gonna get over it.” He mutters frankly. It squeezes at Viv’s heart like a snake wrapping around her throat, strangling her beyond words. Goddammit Bucky, her free hand balls into a fist. What the hell do you want me to say to that? Trying to come up with something he’ll believe feels near impossible — the type of thing they would’ve laughed about if the situation weren’t so dire. How you can’t bullshit a bullshitter.

Viv reaches up with her free hand to let her fingers graze the warm skin of his cheek, giving him what she hopes is something of a reassuring smile. Something to dissuade him from these thoughts and her own terrifying truth: that she might not get over losing him either.

“Already told you I’m staying, didn’t I?” she chides, letting her thumb sweep over a cheekbone, watching his face tilt into the touch. It’s sickeningly domestic in a way she’s only ever heard other people talk about. If he were any other man she might’ve resented him for putting her in this position — to soothe and assure him of her presence, to hold onto him like this to keep him from diving into the deep end. She doesn’t. That’s scary.

He opens his mouth but the door opens, and Viv recognizes Buck’s silhouette as he makes his way towards them. His expression shifts to one of immediate concern. She assumes the agony’s apparent on her face as she pulls herself away, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a clap on the shoulder.

“I got his boots and jacket off, the rest is up to you Major,” Viv offers, and prays to God no one asks her any questions tomorrow as she bids them both a goodnight.

[naavispider]

A follow up to this post, which is a bonus scene from Quaritch's POV at the end of The Cat's in the Cradle. This one was egged on by @hyperfixatedfandomer who always manages to inspire me!

It’s been four years since Spider decided to stay with the Sullys, effectively cutting his father out of his life. Quaritch has been coping the best way he knows how, but it’s been rough and life moves on. He always hoped that someday his son might change his mind and miraculously show up on the doorstep. What he didn’t count on was that day being today.

Quaritch sighed wearily as he resigned himself to another afternoon sorting out Selfidge's mess. The RDA had welcomed him back with open arms when he'd got of prison six years ago, but he'd been too obsessed with trying to get custody of his son back for the first two. Then, Spider had turned his back on him and Quaritch had slipped into a dark place; his loneliness and self-hatred had driven him to the verge of insanity. Only Lyle had been able to reason with him. He'd turned up at the door after Quaritch was re-arrested and hammered some sense into his superior officer.

And Quaritch was grateful. Getting stuck back in at the RDA was a chore - especially when working with civvie pencil pushers like Selfridge - but a welcome distraction from the pit of sadness that had found a home in his guts. He cleaned himself up, dusted himself down and focused on commanding his squad. Eventually, time stitched over some of the deepest cuts Spider had left him with, and Quaritch simply grew used to living with the pain.

It had been four years since he'd seen his son, and even though it killed him, he'd kept his word. If I get out… you draw the shots. No more plots behind your back. If you want nothing to do with me… I’ll leave. He hadn't tried to contact Spider. The boy had made his choice, and the biggest mistake of Quaritch's life was that he once didn't respect that.

He would now, even if killed him.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, rousing Quaritch from his thoughts. He frowned, unsure who was calling. It was probably Lyle - the man was always dropping in unannounced. He left his laptop open and went to the door. But wait. Just as he was about to open the latch, he realised that couldn't be right. Lyle was out of state on RDA business. Must be one of the others he shrugged, though his hand hovered over the Beretta in his waistband just in case. He opened the door.

For four years he had waited for a moment like this. He stared at the young man in front of him. He just stared.

"Um... Hi, Dad."

Quaritch focused his eyes on every aspect of the boy's face, taking in every inch of his appearance. If he didn't know his son like the back of his hand he would have believed it to be trick from the enemy. Spider was here. He was really here.

"Son..."

Spider's hair fell carelessly in a messy half up, half down style. The years had matured the angle of his jaw, the arch of his brows. This wasn't the sixteen year old boy that Quaritch remembered. This was a twenty year old man.

Spider smiled awkwardly, dreadfully reminiscent of the way Paz used to, and for a moment Quaritch couldn't speak.

Spider looked like he understood, and shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Can I come in?" he asked. God, his voice was deeper. He had to reach out and touch him... make sure he really was here....

He nodded, stepping back slowly to let Spider in the house. He couldn't take his eyes off him as Spider stepped over the threshold. In a daze, Quaritch shut the door and walked to the living room. "Sit down..." It should have come out as in instruction, but instead it sounded more like a question.

Spider tentatively crossed the room and sat on the edge of the comfortable sofa. Quaritch couldn't remember the last person other than Lyle to sit on that sofa. Was his son really here?

Spider's eyes drifted down to Quaritch's hands. Without realising it, Quaritch had started to run the MJ tattoo on his wrist, like he always did when he was stressed. He immediately stopped, not wanting to freak Spider out. They were both quiet for a moment, before Quaritch followed Spider's suit and sat next to him on the couch. He measured the distance between them carefully. There wasn't quite enough room for a third person between them, but there was plenty of space. He took a deep breath as he stared at the floor, trying to pull himself together.

"This is weird," Spider stated.

Quaritch let out a dry chuckle. That was one word for it.

"I'm sorry for... dropping in."

Quaritch forced himself to look up and meet Spider's eyes. He was met with the familiar blaze that burned behind his chestnut irises. A necklace dangled around Spider's neck, catching the light. The sight of him was breath-taking. Spider was an adult. He'd outgrown him in the most complete sense imaginable. It made Quaritch's heart yearn for the years he'd missed. He wasn't sure if he could do this. Suddenly, all he wanted was that fiesty sixteen year old back.

He wanted to be cussed out, insulted. He wanted to know that the best place for Spider was by his side. He didn't want to see that Spider was doing fine without him. It was breaking him.

"What are you doing here?" Quaritch finally managed to say.

Now it was Spider's turn to avert his eyes. He looked... ashamed. "I... I wanted to explain. I wanted to see you."

"It's been a long time, son," Quaritch reminded him.

"I know. And I'm sorry." He paused, clearly unsure what to say next. "You really hurt me."

Quaritch closed his eyes slowly, pursing his lips. "I know." He did. He knew what he'd caused.

Thankfully, Spider continued. "I didn't know how to handle that. You were supposed to be there for me. You were supposed to love me because I'm your son, not because you wanted to be a father."

Quaritch nodded. Spider was being completely fair.

"Would you have done it?"

Quaritch looked up. He knew what Spider was referring to. The reason he'd decided to maintain the restraining order in the first place. He sighed. "I don't know. I was a desperate man who'd lost eleven years of his son's life. I wanted you back, but I don't know how far I could have gone through with it. Not if you weren't cooperative."

Spider pursed his lips. "I wish I'd never found out."

"That I was gonna take you?"

His son nodded. Quaritch's heart bled. "For the record, I wish I'd never come up with it."

Spider half smiled.

The damn that had been waiting to burst since Quaritch first opened the door reared its head at last. "Is it really you?" he whispered.

On the couch, Spider turned to face him full on. "It's me, Dad."

His arm moved of its own accord, reaching up slowly to rest his hand on Spider's shoulder, then slowly, making sure Spider could pull away if he wanted, up Spider's neck until he was cupping his son's face. It took Spider a moment to give him eye contact, but when he did it was all he needed. Warmth flooded his insides as light filled up the bottomless pit of despair he'd worked so hard to live with all these years. Spider's presence alone was enough to cure it all. He could see him melting into his touch, and without realising it he'd shuffled closer and was enveloping his son in a fierce embrace. Spider's shoulders shook with emotion and Quaritch held him tighter. If anyone ever tried to take his son away again, he'd see them in Hell. "Shh, it's okay." He breathed in the scent of Spider's hair, wrapped his arms around his boy as if his touch was the only thing keeping him alive.

"I'm sorry-" Spider choked out, but Quaritch shushed him, letting him cry it out. Quaritch didn't cry, he just thanked his lucky stars that his son had returned home. "I'm so glad you came back," he murmured, because it was the only thought he was capable of holding.

When Spider's breathing finally seemed to return to normal, Quaritch released him. "Stay here," he ordered, making his way to the kitchen. He didn't want to leave Spider, not for one second, but he needed to make him comfortable. They had a lot of catching up to do. He returned with two cups of tea, and his adult son kicked his feet up onto the couch, making himself at home. He took the mug as Quaritch sat back at his end of the couch.

"Tell me everything."

[valeriefauxnom]

You know, I think there's kind a funny/not 'dark', but kinda unhappy subtle and constant reinforcement of the idea that Mym is never going to be able to 'get' Euden.

Like, her Halloween story is where it really starts to get hammered in, in the plotline where she wishes they were just two normal farmers with nobody to save out in Ruralandia. She's recognizing that Euden's attention is on everyone else and protecting them, so surely removing everyone else from his worries would mean all that energy is free to be expended on her, right? Nope.

He turns to looking after his plants with the same overprotective spirit for people.

Funny for us, but it's still kind of an oof for Mym that even in a world otherwise devoid of people to protect that he's still ultimately more focused on something else.

This gets hammered in even harder in Summer Mym's story, which I actually really loved. Anyways, Mym makes a real wish granted by a faerie, not just fictionland dreams as in her Halloween version, that Euden 'would only have eyes for her'.

It's granted....Because Euden then goes under trying to save her from drowning, nearly dies, and conveniently wakes up completely amnesiac save for Mym's name. The others do a an uncharacteristic abandoning of him as they try to find out something to help fix his memory.

Now, if wishes are generally trying to take the path of least resistance in fulfilling a wish, then the only way Euden would ever pay full attention on her is that he can't remember literally anything other than her and that no other friend stays with him to watch out over him. That's what the win condition she's looking for requires in the real world.

Thankfully, Mym is mature enough to recognize that erasing huge chunks of Euden and keeping him in a more anxious state and latching onto her as a result isn't what she wants, even if she wants to protect him from all the bad things going outside the little beach, and restores his memory.

And while I could make a whole 'nother post about the last story bit in her story, it's another reinforcement of the effectively canonical idea that Euden's likely Aroace and just Not Interested in romance in his rejection to Mym's confession, finally in a way he can understand.

Heck, even her first stories could be construed as another reinforcement. Euden's (and everyone's) blatant OOC in her imaginations are a joint result of her not knowing them very well at that point and trying to pigeonhole them into characters in her stories. But still: Euden only loves her in the way she wants(in her imagination and outside it) when he's entirely not himself.

Mym's kinda had to come to accept that by this point, mostly just hoping sometime in the future it might change. But it comes back even in the main campaign for one last bite.

She knows he's not in love with her, nor would he ever likely be. Not without some fundamental part of him being different. If she's not willing to sacrifice many of the things that make him him, she's not going to get him.

While Mym or her behavior isn't quite handled exactly how I might've liked, I think it's an interesting take of someone knowingly embarking on a futile endeavor.

I also do appreciate that Dragalia took a strong stance on saying 'no, Euden would never end up with Mym (or anyone, really)' instead of doing the typical thing where they try to keep all romance threads open so they can tease everything. The constant reinforcement of this idea in both ways funny and mature is something I don't see often in games.

So yeah, not sure where this came from, but it's both funny to see all the wild OOC in her stories, and a bit sad for what it represents for Mym: a manifestation of her implicit understanding that Euden is never going to love her romantically.

[bloodredfountainpen]

@juneofdoom day one:

“Help me” | failed escape | on the run | fetal position

Contains/CW: pet whump, bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, self dehumanization, failed escape, cuts, broken bone (arm), delirium, reference to torture

Original part here

——————————————————————————

Master Liam screwed up.

That was the thought that rang through G-22985’s mind as he stared at the other end of his leash, the latch hanging off its hook. He could just leave, there was nothing stopping him from just walking off, nothing to stop him from running away.

He knew that Master Liam wouldn’t be back for hours, so he entered the trailer, which wasn’t allowed, but Master Liam wasn’t there to stop him, and he needed to do something about his many, many, open wounds. He painfully disinfected and then bandaged the cuts, then fastened a makeshift split around his broken front paw. Master Liam had smashed it with a hammer the other day as punishment for… something. G-22985 didn’t actually remember, but that was probably because of how much Master Liam liked to hit him in the head, which made his memory quite fuzzy at times.

Maybe I am just a stupid animal.

That thought crept into G-22985’s head as he tended to his wounds, even as he stood up on his hind paws for the first time in months and adored it, a voice at the back of his mind screamed at him that he was being bad.

Finally, after doing all he could for his injuries, G-22985 hesitantly crossed the threshold and headed into the woods.

——————————————————

As if the skies themselves were scolding the runaway Pet, it had done nothing but rain for days. G-22985 didn’t know how long he’d been away, but he knew it had been at least a couple days, because the sun had set and risen more than once. He’d spent his time hiding under a rocky overhang trying to stay conscious. Despite the throbbing in his forepaw and all over his body, all of that was worth it, because it had been days since Master Liam had beaten him, a new record.

In a rare moment of strength, G-22985 found a sharp stone and began to saw away at his leather collar.

I… need… help, thought the runaway Pet. Once the collar finally snapped, he deliriously stumbled out of his shelter and headed toward civilization. The rain soaked through his fur and thin clothes as he struggled to stay upright. Tremors racked his body as he fought what he suspected was a raging fever, but still, he needed to keep moving.

What should I say if I find someone?…

‘I’ve run away from my Master and I need help?’…

They’d send me back to Master Liam, I’ll never eat again…

Shit, it hurts…

Everything hurts.

“Hey, hey you! Pet! Where’s your owner?”

Was… someone talking to G-22985? He looked around, vision blurred, and spotted a pair of hikers approaching him.

“Please, help me,” he managed to slur out before falling to his knees and losing consciousness, the last sensation was indistinct shouting and an unfamiliar hand on his head.

————————————————————————

G-22985 lay curled up where he’d started his misadventure. His bandages and splint had been confiscated, and new bruises adorning his skin. Shouting emanated from the trailer. Master Liam’s boss was in there with him, and G-22985 almost felt bad for Master Liam, who was having a new asshole torn by his graying superior. Almost. The words “more trouble than it’s worth” echoed clearly, and G-22985 knew he was done for.

When the white clad ModiPets employees came for the nearly catatonic Pet, he didn’t try to fight back. He didn’t try to run, to beg, even to cooperate. He let himself be dragged into the van by his collar, but when he arrived at the facility, he wasn’t met with lethal injection or a fatal dose of electricity. Instead, he was met with a haggard middle aged woman holding a cattle prod.

“What, you did you you’d get off that easily? No pup, the mercy of death isn’t something we spare for defects like you. I’m going to break those delusions of personhood you have in that fluffy little head of yours, and I’m going to build you back up into the perfect Pet. Prepare to become a whole new dog, mutt.”

Tag list (I have one of those now! Even tho it’s just the one person, I’m honored). @maenr

[im-a-king-baby]

I am re-reading ELYN now, so I will ask for some insights soon with a fresh memory 😊

But for now, maybe I can send you a flower ?

🌺

Hi!! I hope you enjoyed reading it again!

Here is an epistolary section that never made it into the fic (I had a few spares, just in case 😄):

PopIdolLive shares TEN Fun Facts about Simme to celebrate the And The Next World Tour announcement!!!

Simme is Swedish and Venezuelan. His dad was Swedish but moved to Venezuela where he met Simme’s Mom and they had two kids before moving back to Sweden when Simme was ~3. Simme has credited his Mom’s insistence that they spoke Spanish at home as how he managed to keep the language!

His first ever single Como Este had a mix of Spanish and English lyrics and that blend has continued across three albums, but fans are still waiting for Simme to record a song in Swedish. Simme has blamed this on a lack of Swedish songwriters in L.A. (sad, but true!)

During Simme’s first tour (the Chaos tour!) his crew had an in-joke called ‘Stop! Hammer time!’ where they had to stop at any hardware store they passed on the road and buy a hammer. When the tour split into two buses it became a competition to find the most interesting novelty hammer and they started signing them and giving them to fans at stage door when the buses ran out of hammer space! (eventually this stopped when the label lawyers found out and got scared about liability)

Also on the Chaos Tour, since they didn't have a set tour schedule the merch t-shirts were left blank on the back and the crew would write on wherever they played each day making each one a collectors item (The rarest is the single one for 'Jimmy's House' which has never been sold, but signed shirts from 'LaGuardia Airport Lounge' and 'A Starbucks in Leeds' have hit five figures at auction!)

Simme wore a silver bracelet throughout the Honesty tour which he hasn’t confirmed was a gift from the Voice 2024 runner-up Alfonso Perez but it did appear shortly after they were seated together at multiple events and a photo leaked of them having an intimate kiss in a limo driving away from the AMAs.

Speaking of romantic entanglements, Simme attended a prestigious Swedish boarding school where he dated the Crown Prince of Sweden for nearly three years! They looked adorable together, but broke up after graduation so that the Prince could go into the army and Simme could move to L.A to pursue music.

It has been Noted by the fans that Simme gets less dressed on each album (a jacket on Simme, an unbuttoned shirt on HH, shirtless on ATN.) There is a running fan theory that album 4 which the fans have dubbed ‘the CENSORED album’ will feature Simme fully naked (with the title covering up enough to keep it decent!) staring at the camera.

And if the idea of fans naming albums feels unlikely, we have precedent! In an interview during the Honesty, Honestly press tour the interviewer commented that Simme was released in December 2023, and HH was dropping just over a year later in January 2025, Simme grinned and said: ‘And the next March 26!’. The fans latched onto this, referring to album 3 as And The Next so consistently that it ended up being the name chosen for the album! (which actually came out in June 2026, so only a few months late!)

On the bridge of Relentless Simme names twenty five cities, all of which were visited during the Chaos Tour. When this song is performed live, Simme always includes the name of the city he's performing in on the list (except for Portland, when he got mixed up and said Atlanta instead! Oops!)

Simme returned to his home country of Sweden towards the end of the Chaos Tour, but was unable to play there when he was touring Honesty, Honestly due to scheduling conflicts with Stockholm venues (boo!). The current ATN tour schedule doesn't have Sweden dates listed but there's plenty of time for more countries to be announced so watch this space!!!

[mdhwrites]

Is The Owl House Timeless?

So this morning I made a blog about how the main thing required for something to be timeless is for it to be at least decently enough written to connect with an audience and that it had to have an emotion that the audience could connect with. A universal feeling that could cross race, gender, religion or even, yes, time. I used It’s a Wonderful Life as my example then.

I bet a lot of you who read it though were waiting for me to talk about TOH though because I know a LOT of people in the fandom at one point expected TOH to not only be timeless but a classic. The new Avatar the Last Airbender or the new Harry Potter (especially in what people wanted for its popularity with the latter). Both of those works are indeed timeless, as much as I am loath to compliment Harry Potter.

Is The Owl House? Individually, I think one could argue specific episodes and maybe the first season but the real reason I wanted to do this follow up blog is that satire and comedy almost always ages the worst. As worldviews change, what was mocked might not seem like it was in such good taste. How many 80s/90s college comedies like Animal House now feel kind of tacky when viewed from a modern lens? Or at least kind of misogynistic with their treatment of women?

I don’t think there are many element in TOH that are going to be as yikes as stuff like that someday but I think there’s already been a turn against it. It claimed to be progressive but in the end gave few real answers to that which it wanted to claim it was better than and even fell into many of the same holes as other works like it fell into. Its comedy is often stale and rooted in needing to be in its exact same mindset in order to be able to enjoy it.

Frankly, the style of satire, comedy and social commentary kind of makes me think of the spoof movie craze in the mid 2000s. You know, stuff like the constant sequels to Scary Movie, or Action Movie, etc. like that. TOH NEVER gets as bad as those, don’t get me wrong, but they’re both taking the same approach to their writing of these elements.

Rather than tackling it with a human emotion, something anyone can latch onto, they’re looking for buzzwords, specific gripes and incredibly specific tropes/references. Then they nail it to a board so they can hammer away until it’s damn near unrecognizable and whatever point was there is lost because they’re using a blunt object when a scalpel is required.

A LOT of people way better at this than me have talked about how a lot of things that want to be ‘satirical’ or ‘subversive’ are nowhere near as good as Mel Brooks but rather than talk about why his subversion is allowed while so many people fuck it up, I just want to talk about why they’re so often still timeless.

Blazing Saddles is the easy one. Human stupidity, greed and hate is always going to exist so rooting your comedy in both a genre and time period known for being exceptionally stupid, greedy and hateful, all while it normally tries to pretend it’s not, is just brilliant. Frankly, the main change from some Westerns to Blazing Saddles is that it’s willing to recognize bigotry and state it as bigotry, rather than try to justify it as a noble crusade or the like.

How about Space Balls though? One line tells you that they know what makes Star Wars both good and also exceptionally silly: “Evil will always win... Because good is dumb.” You want to criticize the fantasy genre as a whole? THAT is how you do it because we’ve all gotten fed up by meat headed heroes who walk into an obvious trap instead of thinking for literally five seconds but we also still like seeing those same meat heads win! It also plays into the ego in most fantasy villains as well as their hubris, as such working as just a general villain line but with the bluntness and delivery needed for it to be a joke instead.

TOH never really has this. Honestly, the best moment it comes to it is probably when the crackpot human curator seems so close to the truth before going off the deep end into conspiracy theories. I’ve literally had a friend do that to me once where I thought they were sane and rational until one night they told me, and I quote “You could have a catgirl girlfriend, it’s just that no one’s willing to admit that they’re real.” It’s a genuinely good subversion away from there being a mastermind villain and instead he’s just some loon who managed to be about 20% right in this case and that’s enough to make them dangerous. And mocking that level of insanity, of someone who has just lost themselves entirely in a rabbit hole that everyone else knows is unhealthy, is a common thread for many, especially in the modern age. It’s not like people in Ancient Greece never had to deal with some loon who thought the end of days was coming though.

Most of the time though? Most of the time it’s stuff like the Golden Snitch reference where it’s not even referencing a common trope in fantasy writing but specifically calling out a very singular thing. Where if you don’t know Harry Potter, or even worse LIKE QUIDDITCH, then you have nothing to connect to there. Maybe Luz’s outrage over losing due to a technicality but it’s not even a technicality. It’s just being outplayed and so the closest to a more universal feeling is betrayal but the joke spends so much time on rage at the literal trope, instead of even what Boscha did, that the thread at bare minimum gets lost.

And that’s much of TOH’s elements like these. They have a theoretical point to them but along the way, they lose their point or focus, or are so focused that they miss the universal element that’s right there. Take The First Day. Luz is someone who has struggled in school because of being bullied and an oddball. This was a great chance to really connect with every child who feels left behind by the school system because they won’t cater to them.

Except... It doesn’t work here. Her complaint isn’t that she can’t learn, that how things are being taught don’t work for her either because she learns differently or her brain processes things differently, etc. like that. Instead, it’s that she COULD learn whatever single subject she is stuck on but that’s not what she WANTS to learn.

Even the detention kids are the same way. Viney in S2 is established as one of the best healers in the school despite her multi-classing but it’s got nothing to do with her multi-classing. As such, strict healing magic is something she learns just fine. It’s just that she’s not being allowed to be creative with it.

And THAT is an interesting topic to discuss, schools stifling creativity or needing to give opportunities for it, but the narrative context stops that. They never say it because it would get in the way of their point but the school should say they allow single tracks because it’s literally illegal for them to do otherwise. That can allow a theme of how industry and government too often dictate the priorities of our schooling and how that’s a bad thing. That would even fit within the themes of TOH where the individual is crushed by the monopoly. By the ‘normal’.

 But they don’t do that because they have a different goal in mind. And this is why being well written is part of my criteria for being timeless. Again, not perfect, but an invested audience in TOH should also have that nagging question of why the coven system isn’t getting brought up in this episode. The EC is brought up as the basilisk disguises themselves as an inspector, but never that the Emperor would potentially close the school entirely if they were to allow mixed classes because that goes against both the coven system and the Titan.

It instead just never comes up so while it has a theoretical point it’s trying to make, the resonance is lost as a reasonable question, a genuine plot hole, grows wider and wider with every passing minute until the moment an audience should cheer for creativity winning out, for the need for flexible thinkers to be shown, is still met with some amount of confusion as people wonder why the show still hasn’t said ANYTHING about the coven system properly in this entire episode, even as now Hexide does frankly the biggest act of rebellion in perhaps the entire show.

And that is when TOH is GOOD. The later TOH goes on, the more and more a disconnect can be felt between the theme or resonance the writers are going for and what they’ve actually setup until S3 is pulling things out of its ass left and right because it can’t even do an identity arc with a clone, a sci fi staple to put it mildly, right because it literally can’t focus on anything long enough to make it function. Or its actions are too contradictory to keep you invested, like in Reaching Out where Luz is willing to at least tell 75% of her problem to Eda and King but then acts like she literally cannot, lest she die instantly on the spot, tell Amity or even think about it for all of five seconds.

As I concluded my last blog: Resonance should be something that all writers as a base element of writing should strive for. Bare minimum, it should resonate with the writer and that will help it resonate with others. How well you can make your writing be able to resonate beyond yourself though is the real test for a good story and a good writer.

And while obviously the fandom for TOH proves it resonated with many, myself even at one point, I wonder how many it still resonates with today? And especially as time wears on and tests the claim of it truly being transcendent of the moment it was created, or if it will just look like a relic to be left behind.

[thlayli-ra]

number 5 and 21 for the fanfic ask?

HIIIII ERASE! 👋

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

Oh, there's lots. I make up sordid little stories in my head all the time that'll never see the light of day. A recent one featured my boys, Punk and Knight, finding themselves in a secluded cabin - think Saw meets Deliverance - but that one will only ever be for me. Sorry!

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

I wrote an entirely different ending to Scorched Earth but ended up changing it as I was weeks away from having a baby. Originally, after the battle of Nocks, it would be revealed that it was Celeste being held in solitary, not AJ. Then after finding AJ's name in the black notebook dropped by Michaels alongside Finn and Dean's, Punk would think she'd been killed. Blinded by grief, Punk would latch onto Luci and kiss her.

It was mainly to set up a sequel where Punk finds out AJ's alive and goes to rescue her but I had no idea if I'd even be able to write anymore with a new baby so opted instead to change it to give Punk and AJ their reunion. In the end it worked out for the best - after more than 50 chapters of torment, they deserved a happy ending.

I've searched high and low for the alt ending but I must have deleted it. However, I've rewritten my favourite part of it, just for you!

Punk grabbed her hand and placed it against his head, rubbing it back and forth as Luci looked on in confusion.

'What are you doing?'

'I don't know!' Punk yelled, realising what he was doing was crazy. 'I don't fucking know what I'm doing! I just...' He took in a shaky breath, his face twisted with pain. 'I know this makes no fucking sense but... this comforts me. I don't fucking know why, but it just... it calms me. Makes me feel... safe...'

He lowered his head as his words trailed off. Outside, the storm raged, rain hammering against the windows while the wind howled, heightening the silence between them both.

'You... remember?'

Punk glanced up just as a shard of lightening tore through the air, lighting up Luci's large blue eyes. Wide and glossy. As if she was on the brink of tears.

'I... I thought you were completely out of it,' she went on, shaking her head. 'I didn't think that...' She paused, tried to compose herself. 'That night on the hillside, after you collapsed. We put you in the pool to try and break your fever. I watched over you the whole night while you slept, kept watch in case, you know...' A tear fell from her eye down her cheek. Punk felt a fist tighten in his gut. 'You were a mess. Delirious, deathly white, fiery hot to the touch. I scooped the water from the pool and smoothed it over your head to try and cool you down.'

So that explained it! This whole time, he been reliving a phantom memory, one he'd barely registered at the time. A memory of her love for him.

'I was so-' Her voice broke, choking back a sob. Through the gloom, her pale skin looked like porcelain on the brink of shattering. 'I was terrified that you wouldn't make it,' she hushed out so softly he could barely hear it. 'I couldn't lose you again.'

'Again?'

(From here, Luci reveals her past, which I rewrote into the final draft of SE when she speaks to Colt before leaving with the Shield. Hope you liked the wee snippet and thank you so much for the ask!)

[crappy-homestuck-confessions]

When it comes to Vriska "hate" and discourse, I can't help but feel quite a bit shaken up. Gamzee, who was mind controlled and influenced by an immortal buff green skeleton demon into doing what he did, someone who is incredibly malleable and easy to shape into a pawn, specially after he was given absolutely nothing to latch onto with his religious beliefs deconstructed and absolutely no purpose in life, is treated like he deserves to be stomped into the ground for the shitty things he did in acts 5 & 6, meanwhile Vriska who CHOSE to do the things she did, wasn't mind controlled, yes influenced but not mind controlled, is let off the hook and treated like she deserves to be forgiven and have her actions look past.

The thing about Vriska is yes, she DID become the way she is due to the environment she was raised in and a bit of influence from Scratch, but she CHOSE to do what she did, she omitted details to June in order to give herself a better look, and while I don't TOTALLY doubt she genuinely feels bad for what she did, she kinda skips the detail of her ensuring Bec Noir's existence by ensuring Bec is created in the first place. Why did she do this? Because she has a fucking complex. Instead of making up for what she did by being a better person, she tried to make up for the shitty things she did by creating a monster that threatens the lives of everyone around her, so she could kill said monster and "fix" everything she did. She's a villain who desperately wants to be a hero and takes things way out of proportion. And the end to her arc in act 5 was perfect, she was a well written character, a pretty good antagonist with a hint of tragedy and a fuckton of personality, the consequences of her actions caught up to her in both timelines, one being killed by one of the people she's deeply wronged, and another being shown that her whole plan of forcing a situation where she's the hero was stupid and she was painfully shown that by Jack rejecting her challenge and doing what Terezi said he'd do, blow up the meteor and kill everyone on it, bringing two of the trolls to Vriska to further hammer it home.

She was a bad person who definitely had a reason to end up the way she did who ended up paying for the things she did, she served the story well as an antagonist and was enjoyable while she was onscreen (except the ableism. That part wasn't fun.)

... And then act 6 ruins that! She's revived and SUDDENLY she's amazing at planning, everything she does goes right, and she's never in the wrong, and she gets to be a hero like she always wanted to. This makes NO SENSE, she's suddenly amazing at making plans even though during act 5 every single plan she made blew up in her face, she fixes everything going on in the meteor like she's a master psychologist and relationship fixer even though she's barely got anything together on her own, and overall she's handled horribly. This is why I have a problem with people excusing Vriska's actions with act 6, bc what she does makes NO sense and is just Hussie being fucking weird about Vriska bc she's his pet favorite character that never does anything wrong.

I mentioned Gamzee earlier and part of the reason this all annoys me so much is Vriska stans keep bringing up her past to justify the way she is, while stomping the poor clown into the ground and treating him like he's always been a horrible person, even though before the Meteor Murder Incident he had never been implied to kill anyone or be violent at all, in fact he was just a religious stoner that wanted the best for his friends, until he had his faith ripped away from him by accident and then stumbled upon a puppet that's LITERALLY KNOWN AND STATED TO BE ABLE TO CHANGE PEOPLE'S PERSONALITY AND MORALITY ON AN INHERENT LEVEL. HE'S MIND CONTROLLED. BY LORD ENGLISH. but do you see anyone waxing poetic about him because of that? Because he's a victim of circumstance that did horrible things as a result? No!!!!! He's just dunked on over and over again specially the longer the story goes on, culminating in his PQ route where they just go "haha murder clown" EVEN THOUGH THAT'S COMPLETELY ASININE AND HE NEVER DISPLAYED ANY OF THOSE TENDENCIES PREVIOUS TO BEING INFLUENCED BY LORD ENGLISH. I'm not saying what he did was JUSTIFIED, no, god no, but the Gamzee we knew from before and during Sgrub is long gone, and in his place is just another pawn to LE like Scratch, Kurloz and Bro. He COULD have ended up better had he not been mind controlled and gotten to improve his mental foundation, same way Vriska could have ended up a good person had she not grown up as a blueblood with a shitty lusus, but does anyone care? NO! NO ONE DOES! BECAUSE IT'S NOT VRISKA!

Again, to clarify, they're BOTH good characters previous to Act 6, the downhill trend comes in at Game Over, they're both well written and have depth, I DON'T HATE VRISKA, it just severely annoys me seeing what kind of severe double standards this fandom has.

And to cap this off, I'm a polyamorous bi trans woman. So don't you fucking bring the whole "people hate Vriska because she's a woman" shit here.

This was very very long and I'm sorry for that but I HAVE to let this off my chest.

.

[rmorde]

Just thinking about how Gojo's dream of having strong allies (aka peers on the same level as he does) may have been impossible in the end.

As both seen in the recent chapter and episode, Gojo is extremely lonely. It's perhaps one of the factors why he was still latching on to Suguru so strongly because once upon a time, he was there beside Gojo and treated him like a person. He craves that kind of connection again.

Gojo is a lonely god yearning to be human. However, he can't because if he stops being their "god", the world would fall apart. So, what he tried to do is raise people who can become "gods" like him to change the world into something that would not rely on him anymore.

It's a good plan on paper. Gojo's enthusiasm for it makes it even better.

However, a problem lies on these people Gojo wanted to become "god-like". They can never picture themselves as his equal. They only ever see themselves as a burden to him and never allies on the field.

In Shibuya, they let Gojo go in alone. Every single one of them believed that since he is The Strongest, he should be left to deal with the problem on his own. They are there as back-up and not allies to fight alongside him (like how Suguru used to if we go by the Hidden Inventory OP).

In Shinjuku, the same thing happened again. Everyone's faith on Gojo blinded them into becoming back-up instead of field allies. They all depended on Gojo too much because he is The Strongest for them. As far as they are concerned: if they fight with him, they'll just be a burden.

It's just sad. Gojo's abilities does encourage the idea of him being a lone fighter. However, the higher-ups constantly sending him on solo missions and him succeeding likely reinforced a false idea - that he works better alone and everybody bought it:

Geto thought Gojo didn't need him anymore. Obviously, not.

Nanami stopped striving to reach Gojo's level. Gojo highly thinks of him enough to be shocked at his death.

All the students thought not to "jump" Sukuna with him because "they'd only get in his way" and hold him back. Gojo believed they could be on his level and likely hoped that they could fight back-to-back with him.

This could just be some pointless ramblings. But it's really strange and sad. Often times while reading Gojo vs Sukuna, I kept thinking why is no one else helping? Jumping is a legit strategy in JJK. Even Sukuna used it on Gojo. Why is this a one-on-one fight? It's cool and awesome but why? Fanservice of course!

It's why I felt for Yuta when he tried to go out to help but backed out and apologize for it. I cannot imagine how much he'd be thinking he is at fault now after Gojo died.

I don't blame the students or even the adults about what happened tho. It's just... the culture (?) or expectation (?) ingrained on them by the jujutsu society. As for Gojo, he just got used to fighting alone and he needed to reassure everyone else. It cannot be helped. So, off he goes on his own.

Now I'm getting depressed. Gojo was so lonely that he reached out to Sukuna of all people in the middle of a fight. That's just how starved he is of connecting with someone anyone as Satoru Gojo (the person) and not The Strongest.

I know that he is aware that there are people who adore him but they always see and remember him for his power most of all. The "Interview: What do you think of Gojo Satoru?" just hammers it down. Everyone's common answer about their perception of him is "The Strongest". For them, he is Gojo Satoru because he is The Strongest.

I guess Sukuna saying "I'll remember you for as long as I live" is his own way of saying the opposite? You are the Strongest (of this era) because you are Gojo Satoru. And he promises to never forget that.

So, Sukuna treated Gojo like a person - something the latter had been wanting since Suguru left him. Could that be why Gojo smiled before his death?

FUCK NO! I DON'T ACCEPT THAT! WTH?! SUKUNA STOLE WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN GOJO'S STUDENTS' ROLE! THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE MAKING GOJO FEEL LIKE A PERSON AGAIN! EVEN SHOKO SAID SO!

I really really hope Gege clarifies things next chapter. I can't accept the idea that it was fucking Sukuna that freed Gojo from his loneliness. I know I was joking about it before that they're becoming besties. But seriously, it's just frustrating to think about.

I sincerely wish Gojo's expression towards Sukuna was not a grateful smile but a pitying smirk instead (which I interpreted first). It would be so unfair to Yuji, Yuta, and everybody else.