#and the logic part is actively fighting that

[oni-dump]

.

[gonnagobankai]

I really don’t think people who talk about fuyumi understand that the person holding the knife is not nearly as scary as the person who is still upsetting them

Like it doesn’t matter who is right, you just have to make them stop at that point

[ruins-of-gods]

Something that I think Warhammer 40,000 storytellers miss sometimes is the sheer scale of their setting. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love the big, dramatic clashes, the characters you can buy in mini form and their convoluted, interwoven lore, the dramatic combats against unstoppable foes across a thousand ruined worlds. But that's the top of the setting, as it were - the most powerful beings in the universe, all fighting for supremacy. And at ground level, the level of the ordinary person, are so many other stories.

Did you know that a Lunar-class void cruiser has a crew of 95,000? Nearly a hundred thousand people, aboard a spaceship five kilometers long. A city, flying through outer space to wage war. Many of those people are proper trained soldiers, fresh from some academy or veterans of long, grueling campaigns, and many more are pressed into service, begrudgingly laying their lives at their Emperor's feet. But, unless the ship is currently actively involved in a really bloody campaign, most of those people were born aboard that ship. Most of their parents were born aboard it. And their grandparents. And their great-grandparents. Lineages stretching back centuries, so far that the original soldier who came aboard has been forgotten. A lot of those people probably know, on some level, that they're aboard a ship flying through space - but a lot of them probably don't, and I guarantee you almost none of them understand what that means. This ship is their world. To look out the window means madness so often that they avoid it - not that windows are readily available anyway. Most of them probably barely even understand that they're fighting. All they know is that when the readouts on their analog instruments display like so, when they hurry to obey the blared orders through the klaxon, the Emperor is pleased with them. They were born into that world. When they were children they did smaller tasks the adults couldn't. Their entire existence was winding metal corridors, laid out according to some archaic design, any logic that might dictate their layout long since degraded after millennia of ignorant maintenance, lit only by emergency lights that have long since become the default. They learned how to read an angle readout or how to relay an order perfectly the way another child might learn history or math. When they grew up, their service was flawless, born of pride and ignorance, and when they grew old and died, their legacy was remembered until it was forgotten. Many were killed in battle, but who cares? They gave their lives to the Emperor - a name whose meaning they don't understand, but whose importance they believe in wholeheartedly, all but synonymous with the commanding officers up above.

Sometimes, the klaxons sound a specific command, and every person on board who understands what it means feels a deep, awful dread as they run to their battle stations. They don't know what a warp jump is. They don't understand they're going from one place to another by the fastest way available. All they know is that, for a time, the ship dips into hell. The corridors go wrong. Things and people might not be where or what they were before. Daemons stalk the halls, and must be killed by any who can hold a lasgun. The overcrowded berths, the little nooks that families find for themselves - they are not private anymore. They are not safe. Things drift through the shift that do not care about the laws of physics, but that delight in killing and torturing human beings. Vast energies shake the ship and tear parts of it away - their home, their world, their existence, the biggest thing they can imagine, assaulted by something bigger. Is it the Emperor's punishment for failure? Is this what battle is? What's going on? They don't know, and no one who does can be bothered to tell them. The dread of those who have seen this before is even worse, because they don't know how long it will be. It might be just a few hours. It might be days, or weeks, or months, or years, or decades. It might be centuries, as the captain of the ship goes hunting daemons deep in the warp - the officers live that long, after all, and have little care for those who don't. There will be people born in hell, who spend their entire lives fighting from the day they can stand, and who die in hell, as old age and need catch up to them and they curl up in a corner to perish. To them, it isn't even hell. It's just the world. The world is death and pain and cruelty, an infinite metal box through which monsters stalk, and sometimes you must run to a battle station and do as you're ordered to do. And sometimes, as they reach forty or fifty or even a ripe old sixty, the ship drops out of the Warp, and, for the final years of their life, they are granted a life of relatively safe service better than anything they ever hoped to dream of.

Those are the kinds of stories I want to see more of. Super-soldiers fighting each other is cool, yes, but I want to see this universe explored. I want stories from the perspective of those that keep the Imperium going, or the aeldar, or the tyranids, or anyone, really. There's just so much potential in this setting. It deserves it.

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[reiderwriter]

Here Isn't Where I Wanna Be

Chapter Four of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: With Spencer gone, you find yourself spiralling into anger again until a new friend - and a silver lining to your entire situation - appears.

Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, mentions of the smut in the last chapter in detail, no explicit smut.

A/N: And so we get to it - the plot!! If you're enjoying the series, let me know in the replies or in my inbox, and feedback is greatly appreciated~♡

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist

With Mondays back to normal, you were surprised to find yourself still under the weather the day after Spencer had left you. 

Walking into your office, your body anticipated the fight, muscles tensing, heart beating, blood pumping as you opened the door to your office. Logically, you knew he wouldn't be there. He'd practically shouted it at you the Saturday before. But seeing the vacant desk left you angry once again. 

Tense for a fight, you couldn't stop pacing back and forth in your office as the hours ticked on. A small part of you had hoped that the activities you'd indulged in during the weekend - and indulged was the word for whatever it was you'd done - had simply been your over active imagination once again. 

But even though Spencer has cleaned you up to the best of his ability, had left you in your bed in fresh clothes and tucked under the covers, he couldn't erase the traces of himself on your skin or in your apartment. 

The files you'd both thrown around on the tables were still strewn haphazardly around, the tangle of last night's clothes still discarded suggestively in a line to your couch. He'd washed you up, sure enough, and you'd found a towel and wash cloth in your laundry basket the next morning, but he'd not done a thorough job and you found yourself washing all traces of your activities away from your inner thighs still. 

So, yes. You paced in your office, and you waged a silent war against the empty desk. 

The first week, you were sure they'd come to collect it, to move it elsewhere. 

After all, his time with you - with the university - was done. 

After two weeks, you started spreading yourself out across both desks, twisting them around into an inverted L space so you could roll your chair between the two of them. You stacked books on the stupid reminder of him, you used it as a dining table on late nights and short lunch breaks, you kicked your feet up on it as you read and acted as though it were yours and had never been anyone else's. 

And then you got angry enough that you unblocked Spencer Reid's number. 

You were raging and suffering this torment alone, and why should you be? You'd made a mistake with the case files, sure, but you'd been driven to it by his cockiness, his actions. You deserved the chance to make his life hell one last time as well. 

You took yourself home that night, wrapped yourself in a blanket and pulled your laptop in front of you, and unblocked his number. 

Immediately, you put the phone down and opened your emails. 

You'd take responsibility for the messages, sure, but you had not blocked his email. Searching through the files, you looked through your department database for his work email, searched your inbox for his messages, and came up blank. 

It took you two hours of traipsing through each email - admittedly, you'd probably signed up to one to many mailing list - just to be sure. You finally turned to your spam folder, and there it was. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered under your breath as you looked through ten emails. Ten emails from his FBI email account. No wonder they hadn't gotten throug, it was an unauthorised email on a company server. 

You only grew angrier as you read through the messages. 

“Y/N, I have reason to believe you have a file I need as soon as possible. Please message me back as soon as you get this. Spencer.”

“Y/N. I haven't received word from you in 24 hours. If there's something wrong, please reach out. If you're being stubborn, I hope you see reason. Spencer.”

“Y/N. I have your address. If you don't reply in the next four hours, I will be paying you a visit to collect the file myself. You have blocked my number and resisted adult conversation, and I am tired of playing these games. Spencer.”

Sick of playing games? 

From the man that had been playing jenga and scrabble with your bookshelves, that was absolutely rich. You may have worked out that nights frustrations with him easily, but you found yourself angry all over again.

You hadn't even checked your phone yet either, sure that he'd blown that up too until he figured out his number was blocked. 

He'd found your address. He'd practically stalked you to get what he wanted, and then he'd just washed his hands of you the night after? 

It had been a month, and you were still frustrated. 

Your stomach flipped, bike rising in your throat as your anger burned through you.

If he could find you, you sure as hell could find him. You'd assumed he'd found your address through work, and realised it was just as easy to find his as well.  

Before you could stop yourself, you were loading yourself into a car at 8 pm. and driving across the city to Spencer Reid's apartment. 

The red blurring your vision didn't fade until you sounded against his door and were greeted with an entirely too feminine “I'm coming!” 

The woman who opened the door was blonde and cute and sweet, and she had a wonderful smile. You were going to rip Spencer Reid's throat from his chest. 

“I-I’m sorry, I was told this is Spencer Reid's apartment,” you said, trying your best to disappear into the night.

“Oh, yes. Can I help you?” 

“No. No, I'm sorry, I- I don't need help.” 

You must've looked uneasy in that second because before you knew it, the woman was inviting you inside for a hot drink, taking your few seconds of hesitancy to push down your guards completely. 

“Spencer doesn't keep much here in terms of food, but I know there has to be some…aha! Coffee!” 

“No, thank you, really I'm alright, I should leave-” 

In another two minutes, she'd talked you into sitting down and had put a mug in your hands. In a miracle turn of events, you'd actually relaxed enough to take in your surroundings. 

It was like you'd stepped back into your work office. Spencer's apartment, or at least the main living space, was filled with books. There were stacks everywhere, the shelves alphabetised - obviously - and looking neatly chaotic. 

You wanted to examine everything, every picture, every trinket on the shelf, every weakness he had that you could exploit. You wanted to know him. 

“S-So,” you started, turning back to the woman who'd sat herself down in a chair opposite you, staring at you excitedly. “How long have you and Spencer been dating?” 

The woman spluttered her coffee before sending up a howl of laughter that had your cheeks heating. 

Okay. Misunderstanding. You were less pissed at Spencer, but only a fraction.

“Oh, god, the idea of me and the good doctor is incredibly ridiculous. No, it feels incestuous, actually. Really, like shivers down my spine type stuff.”

“So you're his sister?” You asked, even though you knew the answer. Spencer was an only child. You had spent three months with him, you knew at least that much about him. 

“I'm Penelope, I work with Spencer. He's on a case right now, and I came to find him a book.” 

“A book?” You asked again, taking another sip of your drink. Mistake aside, you felt comfortable sitting with her. The couch was comfy, the entire apartment was damn cosy, and it smelt….

Your spine straightened when you realised it smelt like he did, when you realised that thought was somehow a comfort to you. Your stomach had settled for the first time in a week, and the nausea leaving your body after four weeks of anger had made you sick. 

“Yeah, we've been working back to back cases, so he didn't have time to come back and pick up materials, so here I am as his little fairy godfriend to send him a care package.” 

You laughed gently and pulled your feet underneath you on the couch, curling up again. 

“He doesn't deserve you.” 

“What makes you say that?” Her face was open. Her tone was light  but you felt that you'd just walked into a trap. Even though Penelope had described her role on the team to you (not a profiler, not a big risk), you couldn't help but feel as though you were walking into a trap. 

“Well, he's… he's… You know the man better than I do, right? He's infuriating.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave you a smile but didn't say a word. 

“He's domineering. He thinks his way is the best way, he- he- he rearranged my bookshelves!” 

And my guts, you thought to yourself, holding your tongue just quick enough to not let that slip out. You still weren't sure where you stood on the sex. It was good. It was great. It was more than great, and yet you'd hated him until the very second he put his lips on yours, and you hated him again when you'd woken the next morning. Surely that meant that you'd still hated him while fucking him, that you'd just been temporarily blinded by lust? 

“Your bookshelves?” 

“At the university. Sorry, I- I didn't introduce myself, did I?” You told her your name, how you'd met Spencer and regaled her with tales of your office antics. 

“Penelope you, you should've seen the look on his face. It was priceless! Like a deer in headlights, his eyes were so wide, it was adorable,” you said, recounting the run-in with the student. 

“And then, infuriating man, he said he'd spent all day looking at me, but like, with the books-” 

You realised after five minutes of talking that Penelope had gone completely quiet, just grinning. Uncharacteristically quiet. You'd known her less than an hour, and you knew it was uncharacteristic for her to be so quiet. 

“So you hate him?” She asked, noticing your abrupt stop. 

“I- yes. Yes, I did. I do."

“It doesn't sound like you-” 

“We- we parted on really bad terms. I think. I took one of your files accidentally, and he was very angry, we both said some things-” And did some other things, you thought. 

“Things that I'm sure we both regret.” 

“Oh my god-” the other woman said, suddenly going wide-eyed and jumping up from the couch. 

“You're the- you're the reason he was late! He's never been late, never, apart from - well anyway he's never late but he was late and… oh Miss Y/N, you're not telling me everything!” 

“What? N-No, I don't know what you're-” 

“Luke owes me $20. This is wonderful. Look at me, I'm not even a fancy shmancy profiler or anything!” 

“Penelope please-” 

She heard the plea in your tone and sat down again, zipping her lips up and throwing away a non-existent key. 

“While we were…arguing, he accused me of having blocked his email, ignoring him on purpose. I found out today that he emailed from his FBI account and not his university email-” 

“So it was sent to your spam folder? Yeah, it happens all the time.” 

You shot her a tired look, and she repeated her action. Lips zipped, key thrown.

“I came here to….” To what? Fight with him again? See him again? To one up him? To kiss him again, feel his hands on you, feel his fingers inside of you, his tongue on your clit as you rode his face again, his hands around your throat as you came on his dick, as he blew his load inside you, filling you with his cum- 

“Shit.” 

“Shit? What's… what is shit, Y/N? Please enlighten me, because everything seems very not shit to me right now, other than the fact that I'm due a video call from our boy wonder soon and I haven't located this book yet.

You counted in your head and then recounted again as all the blood drained from your body. You didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that you'd come here just to see him again  using whatever old excuse you could find to get back into his arms (or more accurately, his bed). 

You counted, and you counted again until your brain fogged, and you couldn't even hear Penelope asking you if you were alright anymore. 

“Penelope, I- I think… Penelope, can you keep a secret?” 

“Yes, I can absolutely keep a secret. I'm a great secret keeper. Everyone says if you want a secret keeping, Penelope is your girl-” 

“Okay, that's- that's enough. I need to- shit, I need to go and get…” 

For the thousandth time since Spencer left, you stood up and started pacing. 

“Okay, now you're worrying me, friend I just made. Please don't freak out on me.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm going to freak out, I think I'm pregnant. Very much freaking out.”

All of a sudden, Penelope was up and pacing beside you. 

“Pregnant! With a baby? You think you're pregnant with a baby?”

“I don't see how I could be pregnant with anything else?” 

“You're sure?”

“No! I need a test or a sign from God or something.” 

The woman took a deep breath herself and then grabbed your shoulders, hauling you to her side. 

“Okay, breathe. You sit here, I’ll go pick up a test. Don't go anywhere and don't spiral. Rearrange the bookshelves of you must but don't. Leave. Okay?” 

You nodded, and she rushed out of the door in a whirlwind.

For at least ten minutes, you stayed completely still. It had been roughly seven weeks since your last period and 26 days since you and Spencer had sex. He hadn't pulled out. He hadn't worn a condom. He hadn't asked if you were on birth control. As much as you wanted to be angry, though, you hadn't told him to pull out. You hadn't stopped him and asked him to put on a condom, and if you were telling the truth, you enjoyed it all the more when he'd finished inside you. You'd forgotten that you'd gone off your birth control when you'd started your job, knowing that tenure came with health insurance and wanting to get the implant cheaper or included in your premium. 

What a brilliant plan.

Still, you weren't expecting this, and you were in a haze. 

Seven weeks. You'd missed a period, and you hadn't even noticed. 

You stopped spiralling when you paced into the bookshelves and started actually looking at the things laid about on his shelves. 

There were chess pieces, small rooks placed here and there, as if dropped and forgotten. Paper stuck out of the books at all different angles, and you noticed his looping scrawl on a few of them, his notes brief and indecipherable, but still bringing a faint smile to your lips. 

Then there were the pictures. There were a lot with an older woman you instantly recognised as his mother, and your heart softened as how they looked very protective of one another. Others showed him with his team, with Penelope, and a stern looking middle-aged man, two women, a happy looking, well-built man. There were weddings, faces that popped up here and there. There was a very young, very vulnerable looking Spencer playing chess with an older man. 

The room was filled with family, and you couldn't stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you took in how much Spencer could love. 

He cared, and he cared deeply, and there were all these people in his life that enjoyed being around him. And he hated you. 

Your heart sank, and you were about to leave when Penelope appeared again, test in hand and gently pushed you into the bathroom. 

You took the test and waited. Penelope waited beside you, clutching your (clean) hands in hers as she talked you through her day, distracting you in the only way she could.

But your brain resisted everything, focused only on how you were about to grow a family with a man you knew didn't enjoy your company. 

“What am I going to do, Penelope?” You whispered, suddenly afraid of what your future looked like. 

“I can't - I can't raise a baby with a man that doesn't love me the way-” 

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your tongue quickly. 

“You don't have to answer me, but is it… is there a chance it could be Spencer's?” 

You nodded before you could even think of lying, too wrapped up in your mental to-do list building up and up and up. 

“It could be negative? This could just be panic and stress and-” 

You heard the alarm you'd set for the test go off and jumped up, sprinting into the bathroom. 

Two lines. What did two lines mean? Two lines meant baby. 

Baby. You were having a baby. 

“Y/N, what does it say?” Penelope asked from behind you. 

“It's… I'm…shit.” 

She came up behind you and looked herself, cursing the same way you did as she watched you for your reaction. 

There was a baby. You were going to have a baby. 

Okay. You could have a baby. You could bring a baby into this world. You just had to figure out how, and write a to-do list, and avoid telling your boss until you got tenure, and tell your parents, and tell Spencer. 

Spencer. 

You had to Spencer. You collapsed to the ground, mumbling to yourself as Penelope fanned you with her hands, squeaking at your unresponsiveness. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled. “I have to tell Spencer.”

You blinked the fog out of your eyes and stood quickly, absent mindedly making a note to check if sudden movements were good for the baby or not. 

“Penelope, I need some help,” you said, moving to the living room and pulling our your phone. She trailed behind you, sending you a worrying look, and you thanked the heavens that you'd managed to run into the most forgiving angel of a woman on quite possible the best/worst day of your life. The jury waa still undecided. 

You snapped a picture of the shelves, and then, throwing your phone down, you started tearing each stack apart. 

Once you'd made a large enough gap in the stacks, you turned back to Penelope. 

“We're going to tell Spencer. Like this.” 

🔖@stillhere197 @understandingsunrise @mindfullycriminal @aliteralsemicolon @r-3dlips @alexafromamazon15 @jasf444 @subunitless @thebloomingeagle @lackingoriginalthoughts @empressgraytea @nox-sprite @alondralolll @allspicestones @chiyozai @i_heart_mgg @2hiigh2cry @tiyuel @jiuseoks @readinglatenights @placidus @dreamsarebig @pisceslovrr @waywardgoddess66 @tampon_racecar @kbaby-024 @luvdella @feyresqueen @a1dyn @pleasantwitchgarden @kolasbombaf @lovehadlovelost @kissesforspence @moonchildooh @bubbleebubz @theoraekenslover @melagem02 @calypso-read @ari-aurelia @flipsideoflife @spicyspirit @donttrustlove @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @ivet4 @nox-xie @sarakay-gvf @miss-ev @nvrlandqueen

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny had no idea what a meta was, but appearently he had something called a meta-gene. One would think a mutation that can cause people to manifest superpowers from lab accidents would explain his disastrous career as a superhero, but they would be wrong. Dannys meta gene was never activated and the whole ghost fiasco was just eldrich shenanigans at its finest.

No, Danny's meta gene activated just two weeks ago on his fifteenth birthday where he was celebrating at Sam's place with Tucker. They had gotten into one of thier usual fights about food and Danny just did not want to deal with it and went into another room.

Sams cat didn't love him per say but it usually didn't hate him either. Today was not his lucky day. The kitty scratched him and wouldn't you know? His meta gene wasn't activated by an interdimentional portal opening up on top of him, it wasn't activated by the numerous energy blasts he had been hit with nor the various electric shocks.

No, it was activated by a freaking cat scratch.

He stared at himself in the mirror, glowing green eyes with slit pupils stared back at him. His kitty ears were folded back to show his shock and displeasure over the situation but it was still rather obvious what they were. The tail wagging slowly behind him was the same snowy white as his hair and ears.

He looked like Phantom. He looked like Phanton as Fenton. Ancients. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this. Transforming brought about no change other than the hazmat suit. He was so screwed. He couldn't go home like this.

Breathing heavily and on the verge of a panic attack he called Jazz once, twice, three times, but she didn't pick up. Danny knew he couldn't stay in the human world, it was too dangerous.

But if he wasn't there to protect the ghosts than it would be too dangerous for them to stay too. He knew for a fact Dani was staying with Dora while she taught her how to read and write so he had pretty much no qualms about destroying the portals and outing Vlad through a pre-made video of him transforming and boasting about his crimes to Phantom, courtesy of Tucker and him filming it all.

He felt bad about ditching his friends one last time, and at his own birthday party no less! But he knew if he tried to say goodbye they would guilt him into staying and it would end horribly so he left a note explaining what happened and bounced.

Destroying the portals hadn't taken much time or effort nor did destroying over 20 years of research between the three. It was exploring the Ghost Zone that was giving him problems. He was always warned by Wulf not to open portals in the Ghost Zone unless you were very experienced cause if you screw up theres no telling when or where you will land. He thought back to Wulfs lessons and tried to conjure the image of lush wildlife and abundant food.

The place he ended up portaling to had neither of those things. In fact if felt like the opposite when he landed in a grimey alleyway in the dark of night.

A spotlight was pointed toward the sky, painting the clouds above in a yellow light holding a stylized image of a bat in the center. Danny wondered what that was about for only a minute before he heard the tell tale whoosh sound of someone landing in the alley behind him.

Dannys new instincts reacted before the logical part of his brain took hold causing him to whirl around with his ears flattened to his head and he hissed so furiously that the man with the red helmet (mask?) back up several paces while cursing furiously. The man also mentioned something about a "Pit" but Danny wasn't paying attention, he was scared out of his mind and bolted down the alleyways and out of sight before phasing into a dilapidated building and hiding under some rubble.

Later, Red Hood told Nightwing about the Lazarus Pit catboy demon and described it as nightmarish as possible before adding that it was kinda twinkish. He also added "for the love of God dickwing, don't let demon brat adopt that thing"

In Damians defence, he found Danny asleep next to Alfred the cat in Batcows barn and just decided he was thier new cat. In other news hes far more concerned with hiding Danny From Catwoman than from father.

[sturniolo-simp4life]

perfect enemy

y/n has been close friends with the triplets. Well, with 2 off them. The one thing she knows is- Matt absolutely hates her. She doesn’t know why, but he does. Or does he?

warnings- a *tad* bit of smut / next part

series taglist

If there’s one thing in the world that you possibly couldn’t forget, it’s that Matt sturniolo absolutely fucking hated you.

which in your opinion, was pretty inconvenient, considering that your were best friends with his other triplet brothers, Nick and Chris.

Here’s the thing- when someone starts hating you from a very young age- let’s say… about 7 years old— the most logical thing to do at the age is to hate them back.

which is what y/n and Matt where— perfect enemies.

Now, you don’t know why Matt hated you. Like said, at the age of 7, that’s not exactly what’s on the mind.

but Matt made it his life goal to torture you.

when his brothers first introduced you in 2nd grade, he seemed friendly. But the more you hung around him, the more displeased he became.

at first, they where just small things— like name calling. “You smell like booty!” He once said.

unfortunately, it then led to scribbling over your drawings, not letting your participate in group activities, etc. etc.

and you thought he would get over it as he got older. Wrong.

it only got worse. He would embarrass you in front of nick and Chris. “you smell like shit.” It’s like he wanted you dead.

eventually you did snap and say something back, and then the fighting began. The both of you could be 2 miles away from each other, yet you would still find a way to bicker.

Fast forward, you’re now a senior in Highschool. Things basically stayed the same, just the 2 of you are a bit more mature with your actions.

or, you were mature.

because right now, Matt Sturniolo, your enemy, is eating you out on a couch while you’re desperately gripping onto his hair. And apart from the pleasure, the one thing of your mind is— “how the hell did I get here?”

a/n- new series alert!! 🥳🥳

[peppermintquartz]

The second time Tommy meets Philip and Margaret is not under the best of circumstances.

Maddie is wrecked with worry, Jee is confused about why her daddy can't sleep at home and why her Uncle Buck isn't here, and Tommy himself is approximately three broken Kit-Kat bars from completely snapping.

So when the Buckley parents show up at the hospital, Tommy is not in the best of moods.

"Why are you here?" Margaret says when she sees him, instead of asking "How's my son?"

"Because I'm waiting for the outcome of the surgery," Tommy says, pretty curtly, but after fourteen hours following a full shift he is about to keel over. He's seated right now, having no further energy to pace, with his elbows on his knees, his head aching from the fluorescent lights and endless activity all around him, and his heart steeled against the worst possible outcome. "I mean, it's certainly not for the ambience."

"Maddie called and told us that Howard and Evan were in the building when it collapsed," Philip says before Margaret can react to the sarcasm. "We wanted to be here for Maddie."

"For Maddie, of course it's for her," Tommy says, and he is so beyond sick with worry that he can't force aside the irritation nor hide it with civility. "She's gone home with Jee-yun. I promised to keep her updated. If you're looking for her, I suggest doing so tomorrow morning when she's had hopefully at least an hour of sleep."

Margaret glances at the light above the operating theater doors and wrings her hands. "How long has it been? I can't bear this."

Tommy doesn't even look at his watch anymore. "Fourteen hours, thereabouts. Howie's just come out two hours ago."

A whole building. A three-storey building. Howie was on the top floor, so he was freed from the rubble first. Evan was on the ground floor. The 217 and the 124 had been on the scene, Tommy flying five casualties from the wreck directly to hospital, one of whom was his friend. All the while he had to internally battle the screaming need to claw apart the debris, with his bare hands if necessary, to get his Evan out of there.

Philip hugs Margaret. "He'll survive. He's always done so, since he was a kid. You know how it is with him. Scrapes and cuts and falls. He'll come out of this without trouble."

"I can't bear waiting here," Margaret whispers again. "You know I don't like..." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

"I know, I know it feels like it's Daniel inside, but it isn't."

And Tommy loses it.

Logically, he knows that Philip is merely trying to reassure his wife. Logically, he knows that they are trying; the mere fact that they are in hospital to check on Evan and Howie is a statement that they are trying.

Every other part of Tommy, however, explodes with incandescent rage.

"Daniel? Daniel?! Evan's in there, fighting for his life, and you can't even focus on that?" he spits out. "The only reason why I am even talking to you is because you made Evan. You brought him to this world. And you don't deserve him. Every day I see how much he loves, how openly and how bravely he loves, and to know that you both treated him the way you did... And now you come here, to the hospital, and you talk about being here for Maddie and, and thinking about Daniel, instead of your son who could've died today!"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Tommy realizes that he's on his feet, his fists clenched, towering over two older persons who are shrinking away from his six foot two frame. Suddenly drained, Tommy licks his dry lips.

"Go see Howie," he says in a low voice. "You probably can't go in yet, but find out what you can to tell Maddie."

Philip clears his throat. "You'll let us know when Evan is out?"

"I'll call Maddie." Tommy sits again and stares at the wall opposite. Green. Dull, lifeless, bland hospital green. He hears the Buckleys walk away. "Philip, wait."

"Yes?"

"Sorry about the outburst. Also, you're supposed to call him Buck. Remember that."

Philip sighs again. "Of course. We'll see you later, when Ev- Buck is out of surgery."

[emthimofnight]

would the three failed siblings have different personalities if they were raised by sonic and shadow?, and if so what would their personalities be?

Oh, for sure! Being raised in a positive environment where they aren't pitted against one another would really bring out their best traits. 😁

Void

Eldest brother

Still has low empathy, but is better at relating to others and putting himself in their shoes.

Very logical. Thinks things through far more than his siblings. That being said, he is extremely impulsive when emotional.

The most morally gray out of his siblings, but is still considered a "hero". Shadow worries he is only playing the hero role because it gives him an excuse to fight.

... He really does like fighting.

Definitely the one to suggest murder before anyone else.

Bumps heads with Shadow. Shadow sees a lot of the things he doesn't like about himself in Void, and projects a lot of his personal baggage onto him.

Closer to Sonic, finds his presence to be calming and enjoyable. Sonic knows how to handle Shadow, and therefore better understands how to handle Void.

Patient, protective, but blunt. Will almost ALWAYS tell someone the cold, hard truth, even if it hurts them. There have been many times he's made one of his siblings cry for being "too mean." He doesn't see it that way.

The quietest and least disruptive of his siblings. Spends a lot of time reading.

Andromeda

Eldest sister

Can come across as bratty or vain, but loves her family deeply. Often can't decide if they are the most annoying people in the world, or her favorite.

Still very much a moody teenager, but the normal, non-traumatized amount.

Would be that pretty, popular older sister that Stellar wishes she was more like.

Prefers to stay out of fights, despite her power. Values her appearance greatly and would rather her perfectly preened quills didn't get disturbed. That being said, she has an explosive temper, and won't shy away from punching it out with someone who pisses her off.

Gets along great with Shadow for the most part, but when they disagree, their fights are infamously explosive. Sonic can do little to defuse an argument between the two of them once it has started, so he usually tells the other kids to make some popcorn.

That being said, she, Shadow, and Stellar would often go shopping or to the spa together!

Sonic, on the other hand, would be her favorite dad to chill and watch movies with!

Very protective of her siblings. That type of girl to tease and make fun of her family, but immediately turn on anyone else who does. Those are HER idiots, dammit!

Polarity

Youngest brother (but still older than Stellar!!)

Playful, witty, and clever. No one thinks of faster comebacks than he does!

A LOT like Sonic, but with a softer edge. Has less of his bold-faced confidence.

Sporty and active, but also a huge nerd. LOVES comic books!

Fastest runner out of his siblings, period.

Due to having a lot of the same interests, Sonic and Polarity would spend a lot of time together! The two of them would have a lot of inside jokes and running bits. Polarity would want to be just like him!

The most eager to be a great hero out of his siblings.

Despite his closeness with Sonic, he is not missing any love from Shadow. It would seem that all the things Shadow likes about Sonic, he likes about Polarity. Shadow clearly has a favorite between his two sons.

Polarity and Stellar are the only two people who know how to make Shadow laugh consistently.

Polarity and Stellar are also the most alike among the siblings! The two of them are super close. Unfortunately for Polarity, being around Stellar seems to make him dumber. There is only one brain cell between the two of them when they are left to their own devices.

His antagonistic relationship with Void isn't present here! The two of them get along fine, even if Polarity isn't particularly close to him. If anything, he wishes the two of them did more stuff together.

[husbandograveyard]

This is my contribution to a Discord Server exchange. My recipient is @lale-txt - an honour, truly.

Henlo Lale, I am your [no longer secret] secret summer...santa? Fairy? Either way, I set out to write you a little thing and then it became a slightly bigger than little thing. I think it may actually be my longest Tumblr fic to date. I hope you enjoy it, I had quite a lot of fun writing it -it took me out of a writing slump even. You gave me SO MANY delicious prompts to work with, but I eventually settled for my very first instinct, fake dating / married with Tengen. Sending you loads of love!

Tengen Uzui x Fem!Reader - SFW - 5.0k words cw/notes: fake dating / fake marriage | mention of injuries | In series | a hint of angst but all comfort after | Readers body does not get described, but female pronouns are used, reader is referred to as wife, girlfriend, woman, etc. | Tengen has his wives, they are mentioned, but they are not actively in the story | Tengen is still an active Hashira |

“So let me get this straight…” 

You were rubbing the bridge of your nose, trying to massage away the headache that was brewing. There was no way you’d be successful with the way this situation was going. 

“You have not one, not two…but three wives. Yet you are asking me to pretend to be another one of your wives because…?” 

“Because they are all out on their own missions and for this super-secret undercover one I have to have a partner otherwise they will not let me in.” 

Tengen was smiling, eyes full of hope and sparkles, and you had to resist the urge to punch his beautiful face just to wipe the smirk off of it. He was so casual about it too, as if it was only logical, and you were the one confused about the situation. 

You bit your lip, physically trying to bite back snarky remarks. An actual filter for your words, if you will, while your brain was too preoccupied trying to make sense of the situation. You sighed, taking another deep breath before clapping your hands together in front of your face, resting them against your lips and then pointing them at him, the only way to express your mixed annoyance and frustration. 

“Tengen, first of all, the mission is not super-secret, we literally all just heard the details. Secondly, there are a multitude of ways for you to carry out the mission or infiltrate that do not entail you going undercover as a couple at the retreat!” 

He held his hands up in defense, shaking his head at your arguments.

“That wouldn’t really be a flashy way of handling the situation. You know I need to do my work in my own way.” 

You shook your head in response, but still indulged him a little by asking what was in it for you. A smile appeared on his lips, and you realized that you had just shown him your cards. You had shown a little interest in the plan, and that was all he needed to give you the final push towards agreeing with him. 

“Well, you would be able to go on a deluxe retreat with me of all people”, he started his reasoning. You just rolled your eyes in response. 

“It’s fully paid, and I will take care of you all weekend. Since you will be posing as one of my wives -or a girlfriend if you feel more comfortable just doing that, you will be treated the way I always treat my wives, which is a treat in and of itself.” 

You raised an eyebrow, keeping up your skeptic facade, but you had to admit that it didn’t sound all that bad. Tengen may be a little peculiar, and definitely could stand to keep his mouth shut on more occasions, but you did know he was a wonderful partner, and going on a date -or this retreat- with him wouldn’t be a bad experience per se. Except for the obvious part: the demons who were the reason that this mission existed in the first place. It was as if he had read your mind though, speaking up to address your one concern: 

“It’s still my mission, no worries about fighting and stuff. I will protect you!” 

You rolled your eyes again, you weren’t a meek damsel in distress, you fought demons just the same. You probably wouldn’t even have minded helping out with the actual mission part. But you also knew just how stubborn Tengen could get, and if it was a mission that he’d easily do by himself, he wouldn’t let you unnecessarily endanger yourself just to help. 

You were quiet for a little bit, pretending to mull it over. Your decision was already made, but you didn’t want to seem too eager. It became increasingly hard to say no to the sparkles in his eyes and his wide toothy grin. 

“Sure. I’ll be your wife for the weekend. But you better spoil me.” 

“Of course. I have never disappointed a woman!”

He laughed loudly, and you couldn’t help but feel a little jolt of electricity coursing through your body. Were you really that excited? 

Tengen hadn’t lied about the resort being luxurious. Sure, it was in the middle of nowhere, and sure, there were barely any people around, and sure, you knew that the forests surrounding you were crawling with demons the second the sun went under… but it was beautiful, and it was clear the clientele was a of a way higher standing than the people you usually mingled with. You felt a little out of place even, and you were surprised to see just how relaxed Tengen was, how well he blended in. It made more and more sense that he had been selected for this mission. 

You had been briefed on the details of the mission, but Tengens expectations of you were clear: just enjoy the weekend and be his loyal and loving wife for two days. You weren’t expected to fight or do any recon, but he would keep you updated on all the information he found, and you would just keep an eye out, the way you always do, even off-duty. 

Other than that, some boundaries were established: you were to fake being husband and wife, but there was no reason for unnecessary PDA. Everything was cleared with his wives as well, and you had to admit you really appreciated his consideration and consent. The way he went over all kinds of scenarios beforehand to gauge just what you would be okay with had made you feel some type of way. It had also made you realize that you were okay with a lot of things, way more than you would expect yourself to agree to. A small voice in the back of your head kept saying: ‘If it is him, I suppose it would be okay’, which made you wonder just why you were so willing to receive affection from him, faked or otherwise. 

Checking in with him having wrapped an arm around your waist made you feel more safe than you thought it would. You were strong and could fend for yourself, but that always had made past partners feel like they had to treat you like someone who was fiercely independent, someone who didn’t need as much pampering as you sometimes craved. It was nice to not even have to ask for that, feel safe and protected without feeling like he was looking down on you. He acknowledged your strength, it was just not your time right now to be strong. It was time to relax, and let him take care of you, and most of that was conveyed through simple gestures as you finished check-in and got settled in your room. 

He carried your bags, held your hand or had an arm wrapped around your shoulder and opened doors for you. The way he so effortlessly fell into the role of your husband made it easier for you to take on your role as wife as well. You leaned into his touches, and you didn’t even have to fake the smile that was on your lips most of the day. You had to remind yourself to sometimes still roll his eyes and deliver a playful slap to his bicep, especially when it was just the two of you and there was no reason to keep up the act. 

“It’s easier to just stay in the role”, you explained your behavior to him when he shot you a curious look after closing the door behind the two of you, “That way if someone walks in on us unexpectedly, there is no scrambling to get back into it.” 

He nodded in agreement, but you didn’t fail to notice the glimmer in his eyes as he did so, slightly smiling. Did he notice something was off? Probably. But even if he did, he didn’t mention or ask anything, and you were glad he didn’t: you weren’t sure if you could tell exactly what was going on either. 

Tengen was gone for a big part of the afternoon, doing recon and mission prep. 

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about,” he had said with a grin, and he had left with a promise to come join you at the pool whenever he was done. You were allowed to spend the afternoon as you wanted, so you had grabbed a book, and found a nice spot by the pool. You settled in with a drink and a fruit platter, enjoying the sun on your face and an occasional swim to cool down before letting yourself get carried away into the fantasy world of your book again. 

“Yo~ Looks like you’re having a good time even without me here?” 

You were startled by Tengen’s sudden appearance, standing next to your chair. You remembered your role swiftly though, looking up at him with a smile. 

“Oh you’re back, dea-” 

You interrupted yourself, blinking a couple of times, finding yourself flustered and a little shocked by the sight in front of you. Tengen had changed into swimwear too, which made sense considering the environment, but for some reason you hadn’t expected to come face to face with his abs when you looked up from your book. His usual tight clothes left not that much to the imagination, but his tight swimwear took away what little fantasy you still had left. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering just a little, from his chest to his abs to his muscled thighs, a part usually hidden by his baggy pants, back up to whatever tiny scrap of fabric was hiding the essentials. You felt your face heat up, and opened your mouth a few times to finish your sentence, but you couldn’t, momentarily stunned into silence. It felt like hours before he moved, a few beautiful, wonderful hours, but in reality it must’ve been only a few seconds if it was even that long at all. 

He just chuckled, crouching down by your side to hand you another drink, kissing your cheek, seamlessly picking up the conversation. 

“I’m sorry for taking so long, I know I promised I’d only take a small nap”

You swallowed, taking the drink, the cold glass helping you return to your senses, playfully smacking his arm. 

“And then you fell asleep and I had to escape your loud snoring, as always.” 

There you go, you were right back into your role. He laughed in response, taking the chair next to you. You sipped some of your drink, regaining your focus and calming your senses. You were taken off guard by your own reaction to Tengen. This was all just a little play you were putting on for the sake of the mission, right? And as his wife, you definitely shouldn’t be having such an extreme reaction to seeing him like that. And yet. 

You had expected Tengen to leave you the minute the sun went under, but he had surprised you by saying he’d have dinner together with you -better to keep up his cover. You’d go early enough so he wouldn’t miss out on too much of the evening, but long enough to actually lure out the demons and carry out the mission swiftly. 

You were pleasantly surprised by the idea. After spending all afternoon at the pool you had expected that was as far as the act would go for today. After all, you had swum together, sat together in the pool, a strong arm around you as you found yourself trying not to focus of the feeling of his body pleasantly pressed into yours, and talked a little about your book. You found yourself really enjoying his company -way more than you expected when you had agreed to this mission-, and getting to extend this quality time, whatever the nature of it, was an enjoyable add-on.

You went back to get changed, and had to do another double take when Tengen appeared in a hibiscus violet kimono, perfectly complimenting his eyes. His hair was loose, waves still damp from your earlier activities, and framed his face perfectly. He smiled at you in your kimono, complimenting you on your looks. 

“You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, my wife.” 

He added extra emphasis on those last two words, in a way that was barely noticeable for anyone listening along -even though you were alone in your room. Besides that little inside joke, his words sounded genuine. You chuckled in response, waving his compliment away with your hand and shaking your head. You weren’t sure how you were feeling about your body reacting to his words, but you hoped the butterflies that had come to settle in your stomach would quiet down, so you could enjoy the food. 

During dinner Tengen was a perfect gentleman again: holding your hand all the way till the restaurant part of the resort, only letting go to open doors for you and taking out your chair. The food was exquisite, dishes you had never had the opportunity to taste before, every single one tasting heavenly. 

You were mostly surprised by how easily you were making conversation. Initially, you feared it’d be a bit of a hassle, considering you had to pretend to be married, and there was no way you could talk about work to not break your cover. You had started just talking about how you liked the resort, the food and then the conversation had switched to old memories, and through them you got to know each other a little better. The conversation felt intimate, sharing memories you normally wouldn’t share with just a coworker, just a casual friend. But the stories proved to be the best possible way for you to pass the time without being off topic or suspicious, and since all the stories were true, you didn’t even have to lie to make them believable. 

Tengen listened to you intently as you talked, laughing loudly whenever you added a funny remark, and whenever he did so, you felt the butterflies fluttering in your chest. By now you were painfully aware of your predicament, but there was very little you could say about it in the moment without blowing your cover. Besides, you had to keep in mind that this was just for the mission. After this weekend you would go back to being coworkers, friends maybe, but nothing much more than that. It would be improper. 

You weren’t sure if Tengen was this good an actor, or if he was genuinely having the conversation you were having. You only knew that he seemed a little startled when he noticed just how dark it had gotten already, and seemed a little out of it when he announced that it may be for the best for you to retreat to your room. The way he winked at you when he said that made your heart skip a beat, even though you rationally knew it was merely an excuse again for anyone who could possibly overhear. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel like he was a little disappointed to cut your date short as well. 

You woke up in the middle of the night, confused and disoriented for a few seconds before you remembered where you were. You weren’t sure how late it was, but there was still no trace of the sun coming up in the distance, so you couldn’t have slept for that long yet. Tengen had gone off to do the mission work right after dropping you off at the room, sneakily escaping through the window, and you had decided to go to sleep not that long after. You asked him multiple times if he needed or wanted any help, and he had assured you just as many times that he would be perfectly fine. 

Staying behind like that, while you had agreed upon it initially, worked against all your instincts: you knew you could be useful out there. It was hard not to worry. Tengen had shared some details on the mission, but had kept you in the dark for most of it, mentioning that with too many details you might come after him or try to help even though your only job today was to relax. During the day, that was not a very hard task to accomplish, but by night, especially when you were all alone here in your room, it became so much harder to ignore your very nature as a demon slayer. Especially knowing Tengen was out there risking his life. No matter how strong anyone was, there would always be a risk when you go out. 

There was very little you could do right now though. You had no idea of Tengen’s game plan, nor did you know his exact location. If you went out now, you would only endanger yourself and possibly risk the entire plan failing. You knew when to stay put, so you did, but that didn’t mean it was an easy move. 

It didn’t help that you were wide awake now, too overwhelmed by a mixed bag of emotions, too many of them to sort out. You were feeling antsy, muscles itching to do something, anything. You couldn’t help but feel a little worried too, listening to the quiet outside for any noises that might give away what was going on outside. But the only noises greeting you back were those of nocturnal woodland critters. 

And then there were the…other feelings, by lack of a better term. You had been feeling some type of way towards Tengen today, and while you could probably define them more precisely, you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to. After all, no matter how open minded he was, it felt a little wrong to develop a crush on your coworker. Especially since he was happily married. Thrice. 

Yet you couldn’t deny the spots where he had touched and held you today under the guise of your fake relationship were feeling a little warmer, a pleasant warmness that made you feel a little safer, even now he wasn’t around. 

You could deny any less that the image of him in his swimwear by the pool was burned into your retinas, the mere idea making your face heat up just a little. 

Your main concern now was for him to get back safely. After that you would figure out what to do with all the feelings stirring inside you. Maybe you would address them, talk to him about it. But just as well, you’d suppress them, waiting for them to eb away as you spent less time together. Most missions were solo anyway. 

You looked out the window, the sky in the distance faintly changing colors from an inky black to a deep blueish purple. It wouldn't be long before those transitioned to purples, pinks and reds as the sun came up. It was later than you expected it to be, and you had hoped that Tengen would wrap up before sunrise. Either way, the mission would be paused or -hopefully- be finished when the morning started. You very consciously left out the third option: the mission had failed, and you were waiting for someone who wouldn’t return. 

You felt safe, you felt warm. 

There was a certain serenity that came with your current state: unbothered, ready to conquer the world. You woke up to the warmness of the sun on your face, and you had to blink a couple of times before your eyes got adjusted to the brightness of the light. Why was it light? 

You jolted up, suddenly realizing you must’ve fallen asleep again. The sudden movement caused Tengen to groan in pain. Tengen. He was back. 

It took you a few seconds to puzzle everything together. It was definitely day now, almost noon, judging by the position of the sun, and the brightness with which it shone. You hadn’t noticed Tengen coming back, at least not consciously so, but he was back. He was back and he was alive. A wave of relief washed over you, only to be quickly replaced with embarrassment, as you realized just how you were laying. Your futon a few yards away, your body resting half on top of Tengen’s instead; his groan had been a reaction to your elbow punching his ribcage as you got up a little too fast. He still had an arm loosely wrapped around your waist, and you had finally gained enough clarity to notice some dried up blood on his skin. 

You sat up completely, more carefully now, looking over at Tengen. His eyes were still closed, but he seemed awake enough. His face was contorted into a slightly pained expression, and you noticed now that he was covered in bruises and small cuts. No injury bad enough to worry you, but still, enough of them for you to feel guilty. You really should have insisted on coming with him. 

You got up to gather your medical supplies, noticing they were out and about already. Grabbing some gauze, water, a clean towel and disinfectant, you sat down next to him and started cleaning off the dried blood, disinfecting cuts and scrapes where necessary. This did wake Tengen up fully, and he sat up just a little with another groan. He didn’t stop you from your work, instead silently removed his shirt so you had better access and a better overview. 

This time your reaction to his naked torso was different: you gasped when you noticed some nasty wounds, things an experienced Hashira like him shouldn’t have if the mission was as routine as he had made it out to be. Any and all admiration for his physique was immediately replaced by worry, and you immediately got to taking care of the wounds as much as you could. 

It was silent for a bit as you worked, Tengen not reacting at all, except for muscles sometimes twitching as you touched him. You were the first to speak up, as you were almost done taking care of him, smoothing over a bandage with gentle motions. 

“What happened last night?” 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. You didn’t say a word, kept your face neutral. You gave him the time and space he needed to come up with an explanation. How the demon wasn’t entirely like his recon had made him think it was. How his traps had been avoided, and how the battle was a hard fought one. He did finish the job -of course- but it hadn’t been as flashily as he had hoped, and moreso, he had taken a while to get back to the resort, the demon nearly getting away as he ran further and further away from the resort when it became clear that the battle was lost. 

“When I came back here, the sun was almost up again, and I found you resting with your head on the windowsill, as if you had fallen asleep looking out, waiting for me. I will admit that made me feel guilty, maybe I should have asked you to come along after all.”

You nodded, agreeing with his words, but you knew why he had made the decisions he did. He was safe, and that was all that matters, you weren’t sure if you could handle the loss of another friend. The fact that he made you worried paled in comparison to the more joyful one that he was safe, not as hurt as he could have been and made his way back to you eventually. 

“I think I woke you up a little by climbing  back into the room, but you weren’t fully awake.” He chuckled now, his tone way more lighthearted than when he was telling you the details of his fight. 

“You mumbled my name, and when I went to move you to your futon, you clinged onto me so hard that I didn’t get to put you down without moving you. Hence our position when you woke up earlier.” 

You smiled sheepishly, apologizing for your sleeping self, feeling a little flustered at the way you must’ve acted. Tengen didn’t seem too bothered by it though, if anything he seemed amused. 

“It’s okay. Very flattering to have you clinging to me like a little koala bear.” 

“If you weren’t injured, I’d smack you right now.” 

He just laughed in response, and the sound reawakened the butterflies. You felt the heat creep up your neck, towards your ears, and you decided to hide your state by cleaning up your supplies and already repacking your bag. You’d be going home today, after all, and maybe for the best. You weren’t sure just how much longer you could last in his presence. 

The decision to go home early came pretty easy. It would be a hassle to explain how your ‘husband’ got hurt during the night, and it would be even harder to avoid stares or questions as you spent more time in the resort, especially if you would spend more time at the pool. 

You insisted that Tengen get his injuries checked out properly as well, even though he was adamant that he’d be fine. You were just a little worried, and you were by no means a healer, you didn’t want him to scar unnecessarily. 

The trip back was quiet for the most part, a comfortable silence, mostly broken by Tengen asking questions or talking away. Hard for a sound hashira to stay completely silent the whole way, it didn’t match his personality either. You were too caught up in your own head to truly participate in the conversations, though, and you were sure Tengen at least noticed as much. 

When the time came to part ways, you lingered just a little too long, pretending to just double check your possessions. Tengen lingered too, waiting nearby, when you finally realized what he was probably waiting for. 

“Here you go”, you held out your hand, returning the jewelry he had given you to match his for the mission, a little extra detail to make you more officially like husband and wife. You had played with one of the rings on the way back, twisting it around your finger a couple of times, trying to stop your mind from imagining what it would be like wearing the jewelry in earnest. 

He looked confused for a second -was it not what he was waiting for? and then shook his head. 

“Oh no, you can keep those. Think of them as a token of my appreciation, and a fun memory of our relationship, which lasted the full two days”, he said with a wink, making your brain a jumbled mess again with just two sentences. 

“If you insist”, you managed to squeak out, and you carefully tucked the jewelry away again, slipping one of the rings around your middle finger, pleased with the way it looked. It also helped you steer your focus away from Tengen, who was still standing very close to you, and you were hoping he’d step back before you’d have to make eye contact again. He didn’t though. Instead, you felt his hand carefully cup your jaw, tilting your face just as carefully, so you could no longer stare at your fingers. His thumb caressed your cheek, and you were sure he must feel the heat radiating from your face, enough to burn that hand. Even if he noticed, he didn’t show, instead just smiling at you. 

“Thank you for being my wife for two days. It really was an honor to have you by my side for a little while, and you did actually help a lot, this mission.” 

You shrugged in response, painfully aware that you’d be unable to form long intricate sentences as long as he was touching you like that, looking at you like that, standing close to you like that. 

“It was just a little m-mission. I barely did anything.” 

He chuckled.

“No, I think you did plenty.” 

He leaned down, kissing your cheek to kiss you goodbye, missing your lips by an inch, and you felt your legs almost give way as your knees buckled. 

“whaoh; didn’t think such a small and unflashy gesture would have such an effect on you?” He smirked, his tone teasing. Oh, he was fully aware of what had been happening, and you just walked right into his trap. 

“I- you-” You took a deep breath, not wanting to stutter your way through an explanation. You weren’t even sure what you were trying to explain. How would you even tell him that-

“Don’t you worry, I know what’s been going on. This mission may or may not have been a little push, and my wives may or may not have been in the know. I am not saying that Hina came up with the idea, but I am saying she may have been involved even more than the two others.”

He smiled while you were trying to process his words, a task too big for your brain to manage, as his lips had left you unable to properly think. 

“How about I invite you over sometime soon, hm? A proper date, no pretenses. See how it goes?” 

You couldn’t do anything but just nod, still processing what was going on. He smirked; that very handsome smirk again and leaned down once more to leave the shortest and softest kiss on your lips. 

“I’ll contact you soon then.” 

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

The List (2)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Thank you all for expressing interest in this one-shot and turning it into a mini-series. I wasn’t expecting this much excitement over mafia Bucky. I have read and appreciate each of your comments. I am happy to continue this fic as long as people are interested. (I have tagged anyone who left a comment. Please message me or leave a comment to be added or removed from the taglist.)

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Every minute spent in Tony’s office felt like hours. Unlike the rest of the building, his office lacked windows. The perfect place to conduct business or in this case, hide. Y/N wrapped her hands around her bare arms, her heels echoing against the marble floor as she paced back and forth. She was sure Bucky would keep her trapped here, safe. It was the logical thing to do.

Bucky’s suit jacket was slumped over the back of Tony’s chair. Discarded in his haste to prepare to fight. Tony had been rambling on about this being a bad idea, but Bucky drowned him out. Feeding his cufflinks into the pockets of his dress pants, he then rolled each black sleeve up his forearm.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Everyone in the room froze, eyeing one another. In one motion, Bucky reached behind him into the waistband of his pants pulling a gun on Tony. The billionaire leaped out of his seat with his hands raised in surrender. The chair clattered to the ground behind him. Without a word, Bucky tilted the tip of the gun towards the door in a silent command; open it.

Tony straightened his bow tie, slowly approaching the door. Bucky followed him, using his free hand to pull Y/N behind him. With Tony’s hand on the handle, Bucky and Y/N waited with their backs pressed against the wall. A slight nod from Bucky and Tony was opening the door.

Hinges creaked, the door shielding Tony from the other two. Bucky remained glued to the crack between the door and the wall. His finger twitched over the trigger of the gun, waiting for the pin to drop, for anything to go wrong.

“Peter? What the hell are you doing here kid?” Tony barked.

Before Peter could respond, Bucky slammed the door all the way open tucking his gun back into his pants.

Like a deer in headlights, Peter stared wide-eyed at both men. Behind him stood Steve and Sam, each with their eyes trained on the hall. Not wasting another second, Bucky grabbed the kid by the shoulder, dragging him into the room. Steve and Sam entered, shutting the door behind them.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Barnes-” Peter stammered.

Bucky ran a hand down his face. Now was not the time for this. “The kid is with me,” Bucky offered, turning to his other men.

“Kid,” Tony eyed the gun dangling from Peter’s hand. “I’m disappointed in you. If you wanted to turn to a life of violence, I could have at least gotten you into a safer mob.” Feeling several intense glares on him. Tony cleared his throat brushing his palms down the front of his suit. “I didn’t want to be a part of this but I’ll help, for the kid’s sake.” Tony addressed Bucky. “He’s like a son to me.”

Bucky sent him a single nod. “How are we looking on the outside?”

“Perimeter is secure. We have men stationed at every exit. Few men a couple of miles out,” Sam answered, shifting a machine gun in his hands.

“How did you get that in here?” Y/N gawked from behind Bucky.

Sam smirked.

“We’re all on the list. Y/N and I are active but if any of you are caught, they won't hesitate to take you out earlier.” Bucky paced around the room, pulling his handgun out of his pants once again. “We don’t know how many people are coming for us, but nobody leaves until it's over. Only rule,” he smirked, “don’t die.” He came to a halt in front of Y/N, the handle of the gun extended toward her.

Y/N’s eyes widened. This is not what she had in mind when she asked Bucky for protection. “Absolutely not.” She pushed his hand away lightly. “I don’t know how-”

“To use a gun?” Bucky smirked. “I know you do doll. Don’t tell me now that you didn’t know what you were doing when you pulled a gun on me.” He shoved the gun into her chest. “Better to be caught with a gun than defenseless, even if you don’t use it.”

Y/N growled, her manicured nails wrapping around the gun. “I should have shot you.”

The corners of Bucky’s eyes wrinkled, amusement dancing in his cerulean eyes. “You should have.” Stepping up to Steve, Bucky was handed a much larger gun. “Sam, Steve. You two head West. Tony and Peter, you go East.” He didn’t need to tell Tony to look after Peter, he knew Tony would. Turning to Y/N Bucky announced, “Y/N, you’re with me. We’ll go North.”

“What? You mean I’m not going to be staying here where it’s safe?” Her voice grew higher with each word.

“I’m needed out there. I can’t keep my eyes on you here and out there. You’re safer with me.”

“Buck?” Steve questioned. It was a simple question. One Bucky was familiar with.

Bucky waved his hand over his shoulder. “Go. We're wasting time. We’ll be alright.”

The men filtered out of the room, the door clicking behind them. Bucky dropped his gun on Tony’s desk before stalking toward Y/N. He crouched down in front of her, his hands skimming the skirt of her dress.

“Bucky, what are you-” Rip. “Hey!”

Bucky ignored her, continuing to tear her dress just above her knee. In a matter of seconds, her gown had become a cocktail dress. Rip. The silk now had a slit running up her thigh. Y/N braced her hand without the gun on Bucky’s shoulder to steady herself in her heels.

“I really liked this dress,” Y/N whined.

Bucky grinned at her, “I really liked it too but a dress like this was designed to slow beautiful women like you down.” He tapped the outside of her heel. “These too. Lose ‘em.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “These shoes cost a small fortune and besides I’ll be barefoot if I take them off.”

Shaking his head, Bucky placed his palm on her stomach, shoving her back until she stumbled onto Tony’s desk. Y/N’s hand left his shoulder to grasp at the desk. In that small amount of time. Bucky had slipped the heels from her feet chucking them blindly behind him. He could see the irritation cross her face, a smart comment on the tip of her tongue.

Bucky stood up, his callous fingers curling around her knees. Any comment that was threatening to spill from her lips was caught in her throat. Bucky leaned forward, capturing her lips on his own. She had been lost in the kiss much like he had been earlier, chasing his lips when he pulled away. Bucky’s hand cradled the side of her face, keeping her at a distance.

“You asked me to protect you. This is life or death, Y/N.” His eyes darted between hers. “You step out of this room with me and you’re in my world. Not whatever game of house we were playing before. When we leave this room, you listen to me. You don’t argue with me, you do as you’re told. Understand?”

Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest as she stared back at Bucky. This was real. The severity of the situation crept back into the foreground of her mind. She wished the two of them could stay hidden in Tony’s office forever. In their brief moment alone, she had forgotten about the hit list, about the people coming to assassinate them, even her fiancé.

Y/N nodded but Bucky shook his head. “I need you to say it.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Y/N whispered, “I understand.” 

“Good girl,” Bucky muttered, his lips pressed to her forehead. “Let's go.” He pulled her left hand, yanking her off of the desk.

The light caught on Y/N’s ring making her hesitate. “Wait,” Y/N croaked, snatching her hand back. Bucky picked his machine gun up, eyeing his ex-wife as she slid the engagement ring from her finger, placing it on Tony’s desk.

“You sure?”

Y/N had to suppress a laugh at the question. One man was trying to kill her, the other trying to protect her. She liked her options better with the man trying to save her life. “Yeah,” she intertwined their fingers. “I’m sure.”

The couple walked out; guns raised. The faint sound of music and chatter could be heard the second Bucky opened the door. Innocent lives temporarily, living ignorantly in bliss. Inching along the hall with their backs against the wall, Bucky led the two straight into the lion’s den.

CRACK.

A stray bullet pierced one of the glass windows, lodging itself into the wall inches beside Bucky’s head. With a roar, Bucky shoved Y/N back behind the wall. Finger on the trigger, he sent a round in the direction the bullet came from, effectively shattering the glass. Bodies dropped like flies, seeking cover from the glass. It wasn’t until one of the guests pulled a gun, firing it in Bucky’s direction, that chaos erupted. A bullet from the west hit the guest before anyone could blink. Screams pierced the night sky at the sight of the dead body. Everyone began pushing and shoving one another in an attempt to escape.

With a hand on her shoulder, Bucky shoved Y/N into a crouched position. “Stay here. Don’t move.” He glared down at her, daring her to disobey him. While she had given him her word that she would listen to him, he knew better. He knew her better. She would do what she thought was best when it came down to it. When she didn’t move, Bucky cocked his gun. “I’ll be right back.”

Y/N watched Bucky’s back disappear into the stampede of people. Clutching the gun to her chest, Y/N prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. Bucky was involved in a lot of illegal activity but despite his sinful lifestyle, he remained a man of his word. If he said he would be right back, Y/N would believe him. Bucky would be right back.

As the crowd dispersed, it became easier to find Bucky. Y/N had caught his figure several times, averting her gaze every time he pulled the trigger of his gun. If it was becoming easier for her to spot Bucky, then surely others were able to spot him just as easily. He was a giant target standing in the middle of an empty room. Y/N’s fingers twitched around the cool metal in her hand. Two targets would be harder to follow.

Y/N braced a hand along the wall, pushing herself to stand as close as possible to it to remain hidden. That was as far as she got before Bucky was stomping back in her direction, shoving her back behind the wall. “No!” He snarled. He towered over her obstructing her view beyond the hall. Though she couldn’t see the chaos, she could still hear the guns firing along with the wail of sirens in the distance. The police were on their way. “When I said don’t move, I meant it Y/N,” he growled. He also meant it when he said she was safe with him. He had known the exact moment she moved. The sirens grew louder.

“Bucky, we have to go,” Y/N pleaded.

Click.

Bucky’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t need to turn around to know what that sound was. It was one he was familiar with and in another scenario, it would have been his gun making that noise.

“Don’t move,” a voice grumbled. Y/N’s eyes shifted behind Bucky landing on a man with his gun pointed at the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky watched as the color drained from her face. “Drop your gun.” Bucky kept his eyes trained on Y/N’s as he raised his hands. Just because he was about to die didn’t mean she had to. He promised to protect her and as a man of his word, he would do just that. Turning the safety on, Bucky bent over placing the gun gently on the floor by his feet. “Kick it away,” the voice grew louder. Bucky could feel the barrel of the gun nudge the back of his skull.

Y/N’s heart thrashed against her chest like a trapped wild animal. She could hear the metal scrape along the tile the second Bucky’s shoe kicked it. He was defenseless.

“Good. Now you, princess.”

Y/N snarled at the name, but the man just shoved the gun further into the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky grunted; his head shoved forward from the pressure. Y/N glanced at Bucky for help. He told her to listen to him, that he would protect her. She wanted nothing more than for him to tell her what to do right now, to tell her how to get them out of it. She would do it. Instead, she was greeted with his pleading eyes. He wanted her to comply. He’d be dead in seconds if she did that. Y/N bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. A silent apology for disobeying him.

“Drop the gun,” the man hissed.

With shaky hands, Y/N raised the gun aiming it at the man. She never shot a man before and she wasn’t planning on starting today. Bucky’s words danced around in her head, better to be caught with a gun than defenseless, even if you don’t use it.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “Doll, what are you doing?”

Y/N ignored him, keeping her focus on the man behind Bucky. The sirens grew louder. If she could keep the man in a standoff until the police arrived, they would live but they would all be arrested. Her ex-fiancé was still out there, they couldn’t be trapped. He would just hire someone to take them out from the inside.

The man grew impatient, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s neck and shouting for her to lower her weapon. Y/N hesitated hearing Bucky grunt once again. His eyes pleaded once more but for what, Y/N didn’t know. “Do it,” Bucky mouthed. His right arm crossed his chest shielding his vital organs. Y/N eyes widened in horror. There was no way he was asking her to shoot him, but his arm formed a target just by his shoulder. Her eyes traced his lips as he mouthed, I trust you.

The dual sirens blaring directly outside sealed their fate. The police and ambulance arrived. Medical assistance was just outside. She hadn’t planned on shooting a man, but plans were made to be scrapped. Pinching her eyes shut, Y/N pulled the trigger. She stumbled from the kickback of the gun, her ears ringing.

A hand gripped her shoulder, pulling the gun from her grasp. Y/N eyes snapped open, breathing a sigh of relief when steel blue eyes met her own. She did it, Bucky was alive. Her eyes floated to the hand pressed to his shoulder, crimson pooling between his fingers. Oh god.

“Y/N, are you with me?” Bucky questioned, waving the gun in front of her face.

Y/N glanced at the man on the ground behind him. A bullet wound in the middle of his chest. He was dead. She killed a man. Her hands began trembling. “Hey, look at me,” Bucky grunted, his bloodied hand cradling her head. Bucky crashed his lips against hers before nestling his forehead against her own. “You did good, Y/N. I need you to listen to me. Exit out the South wing. Find Steve and get the hell out of here.”

“What about you?” Y/N wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Bucky kissed her once again before pushing her in the opposite direction. “If I don’t go now, they'll just show up on my doorstep. I’ll be out soon, promise. Now go.”

“I’ll visit you.”

Bucky smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

When Y/N was gone, Bucky groaned, plunging to his knees. He used his shirt to wipe her fingerprints from the gun before chucking it. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Y/N’s ex-fiancé was still out there. Bucky still had a job to do, he still had to protect Y/N. At the sound of footsteps rushing toward him, Bucky clasped his hands behind his head.

Flickering lights blinded Y/N as she fled the building. It had been Steve who found her first. He had whistled from the bushes the second Y/N stepped foot out of the building. Y/N winced as twigs and rocks pierced her bare feet. The second she met the threshold of bushes, Steve pulled her down, hiding her from the police.

“Where’s Bucky?”

Y/N eyed the front door as men began hollering. Guns raised, pointing at a figure exiting the building in handcuffs. Bucky. “He turned himself in,” Y/N whispered, watching as Bucky was led over to the ambulance followed by a series of cameras tracking his every move. A hand on her shoulder startled her. It was just Tony. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him out.”

Y/N nodded facing Steve. “In the meantime, we need to find Loki before he finds Bucky.”

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@vicmc624 @winterslove1917 @unaxv @hangmanscoming @globetrotter28 @athenabarnes @shara-ne @mal-adaptive-dreams @jvanilly @d3m0n8ch1ld @ppbhquinn @alysianc @firstcashheroathlete @malum-forev @missvelvetsstuff @animegirlgeeky @blue786sworld @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @alessandraavengers @ozwriterchick @nerdgirljen @emily-roberts @pandabearrrrrrr @venting402 @barewithme02 @introverbatim @buckybarnessimpp @mega-kittyglitter-1 @a-poor-gryffindork @toriluvsfics @samahenoyrhye @motivation-idontknowher @pics-and-fanfics @po55um @devil1112 @keeperofsecrets6411 @natasha-died-4-our-sins @marvel-marauder16 @sugamilkteaxkookiesxcream @mcu21lover19 @imgaybutimstraight @buckysbarne @playboystark @sarge-and-caps-princess @eviltinkerbell14 @quethekillerqueen @barewithme02 @buuuuuuucky @reader-without-a-story

[thankskenpenders]

I know Ken is notorious for his, um, odd creation habits, but even I’m shocked that it’s been over 10 years of work and THIS is all he has to show for it. I would maybe be a bit more lenient if each new page was hyper detailed or something like that, but as you pointed out in your review, he reused the same images across plenty of panels and so many of his backgrounds are just stock photos. The only way I can reconcile this to myself is wondering if maybe a bunch of that time was eaten up by extensive rewrites to his plans for the whole series, but even then, I’ll be even more shocked if the next volume ever comes out.

So I didn't get into this in the review because I really just wanted to focus on the book and the weird copyright situation that led to its creation, not Ken's personal life or his other endeavors, but he did make something else in the time since The Lara-Su Chronicles' announcement 13 years ago. That being his independent film: The Republic. Because after he left Archie Ken figured he'd move on to a career in Hollywood.

I think this was originally supposed to be a TV show, the pilot episode for which was released in 2010, but then in 2016 he decided to retool it as a commentary on Trump's immigration policies. I think the movie is still somehow not out despite being shot a few years ago, but he put out a trailer here:

Yes, the trailer really opens with 30 seconds of footage of Trump from CNN. I know writers who use subtext and they're all cowards etc. etc.

At least the cast is clearly trying their best in spite of the material. It's not Birdemic bad. And yes, that's Sean Young. THE Sean Young! Rachael from Blade Runner! I guess Ken's really eager to flex the fact that he's friends with a couple lower-level Hollywood producers.

Anyway, I think he's still looking for a distributor for this. It's truly a mystery why no one was eager to pick this up.

Ken's also said some stuff about how he waited years to put out TLSC: Beginnings as part of the 4D chess game he's playing with the copyright stuff. He has a general idea of what he can do based on the terms of the settlement, but he's eager to push it as far as he can. He tested the waters with things like a few small pieces of TLSC merch and an NFT announcement, to see if Sega would take legal action. In particular, the announcement that he was going to sell an NFT of Shade from Sonic Chronicles was a stunt designed to see if Sega would challenge his claim that Shade is legally the same character as Julie-Su. Since they haven't gone after him, and now it's been a few years, he's taking that as evidence that Sega isn't actively exercising those copyrights and isn't going to fight for this stuff.

There's some logic here. Part of the reason Dan DeCarlo lost his battle with Archie over the rights to Josie and the Pussycats is that he didn't take action against them sooner for making merch and whatnot. It's "use it or lose it" with copyrights. But it mostly just comes off as an excuse. If it was purely a waiting game and he had all this extra time, why did he need to recycle art so much in Beginnings? Why is he only releasing 30 new pages of material instead of a whole graphic novel? Where's the app? Why didn't he spellcheck the damn book?

[fatkish]

Alpha Mezo Shoji x Mortem Omega Reader

For Mortem Omegas it isn’t really so much that they are violent and aggressive on purpose or that they are adversed to alphas, it’s more like they are in a constant mental state of fight or flight.

They rely almost exclusively on their instincts as well as their animal brain

Needless to say, Mortems were given the name Mortem after the Latin word for mortality and death: Mort

Mortems have a very sensitive sense of smell that allows them to pick up even the slightest traces of adrenaline or cortisol (stress hormones) that alphas give off, when an alpha has certain chemical scents, the omega will react violently as an instinctive safety mechanism.

Due to Mezo’s rather lax and calm demeanor, when he first came across the omega reader, he wasn’t afraid or stressed meaning he didn’t activate the reader’s instinctive kill drive. Aizawa, is another example of an Alpha who doesn’t trigger violence in Mortem omegas due to his logical reasoning and calm temperament

Without their kill drive leading them, Mortems are just like any other omega, they can be submissive and given alpha commands but only from an alpha that they trust and deem as their’s

When Mezo met the reader, they were curious about him and began scenting him, circling him and taking on his scent

Mezo just let them do whatever they needed to do. Once the reader was done, they walked up to him and put one of his hands on their face. Mezo gently scratched their head and scalp leaving the omega to purr and give off happy chirps.

After that, the reader reached out their arm and exposed their wrist to Mezo, understanding that the reader was now letting him scent them, he began to take in their scent.

After meeting him, the reader followed Mezo back to the dorms. Realizing this, Mezo called Aizawa and explained the situation to him.

Not wanting the reader to attack anyone, Aizawa had the other staff members notified and made sure that the other alpha students in class 1A were in their rooms and didn’t come out until after the Omega was tucked away in Mezo’s dorm.

Recovery girl told the staff that the best course of action was to allow the reader to stay as close to Shoji as possible since they seem to be interested in him. She suggested that the reader should be with Mezo as much as possible and suggested that the reader be be provided with nesting materials to build a nest with inside Shoji’s room

Seeing how small the the reader can make themselves, Recovery Girl had Power Loader build a small box, similar to the one Tanjiro carries Nezuko in, that blocks out scents and is comfortable so that Shoji can keep an eye on them at all times

Reader is fiercely protective and loyal to Mezo, so much so that any perceived threat to him will be met with snarling and aggressive threat displays signaling for whatever to back off or f~~~ around and find out

This is when Mezo releases calming pheromones and gently rumbles to the reader, giving off small purrs and making noises that signal safety and comfort. Mezo calms the reader and has them stay inside their box and simply lets them keep an eye on him.

Since the reader will attack Bakugou without restraint or hesitation due to his constant aggression, Aizawa has forbid Mezo from sparring with Bakugou

Reader, just like other omegas, is extremely friendly and protective of children or pups. When Eri is brought to live with Aizawa on Campus, he often leaves the reader with Eri since the reader can be trusted to take care of her

The reader ends up building a giant nest in Mezo’s dorm. I also strongly believe that Mezo and Tokoyami have a pack bond between them and reader is part of it. Tokoyami is the only other member of 1A who has been inside the reader’s nest

When it comes to the reader’s heats, they are constantly biting Mezo. Luckily he’s got plenty of stamina and can easily subdue the reader. (Come on people, we all know how horny we were as teenagers)

I also believe that Aoyama is an omega, and the reader has a tendency to be like a mother cat and corrals other omegas who are not bonded as well as those that are, into their own little communal nest.

Mortems are fiercely protective of other omegas, they have a tendency to create packs and have been reported to act as an alpha in the sense that they are defensive and will create bonding marks similar to mating or claiming marks. These marks basically act as a hive-mind~ish emotional and psychological frequency that allows the Mortem to look after their bonded omegas. This bond is like a sisterhood or brotherhood bond.

Mezo has had to apologize to other alphas for the reader’s habit of kidnapping other omegas. This is when he puts his foot down and is one of the only times he uses his status and authority as an alpha, to make the reader do as he says.

(I hope that you enjoyed this and thank you for your request. I will add more to this as the thoughts come to me and I might make a NSFW part 2. I don’t know, I’m still working on the eight other requests)

[ilikepjo24]

On Octavian ruining Percy's panda pillow pet...

Now, I thought this wasn't even a serious thing that needs to be addressed but I just finished arguing with someone over this, so apparently it does need its own meta.

So, the take we're debunking today is "Octavian is mean/evil for ruining Percy's pillow pet".

The thing about this pillow pet is that Percy was homeless for six months, he had to steal to survive and fight off monsters every single day, a task that was getting harder and harder every day, all while he remembered nothing. He only had his name. He didn't have friends, a home, a family, a safe place, a purpose, something that can get people by so that they don't just give up when struggling every day for no known reason with no known end goal gets too much.

During those months, his panda pillow was the one single form of comfort and familiarity he was granted. A small mercy if you will, to help get him through this. Although many people downgrade, poke fun off, and affectionately ridicule his relationship with the panda pillow pet, it was definitely something meaningful. Like the first participation trophy you got for participating in a competition for fun, only to realize you really like that activity and get hooked on it. Sure, the trophy does not indicate any real talent or success in itself, but to you it's the starting line for something you genuinely love. And to Percy his pillow pet has value because of it's emotional worth.

Which is why it had to be sacrificed.

I'll explain why soon enough, but for now, hold that thought I put in your head just now while I add a second idea there too.

This isn't talked about in the books, but it's something Uncle Rick made sure to address in the show. As Chris Rodriguez worded it: The gods love the smell of beging.

In Camp Half-Blood, when meal time is over, demigods throw the remaining of their food into the fire as a sacrifice and pray to the gods. In the show it was specified that it's better to sacrifice a portion of your favourite food, because if the gods see that you're willing to sacrifice your own comfort (even if it's just in the form of your favourite food) just to please them, they are more likely to answer your prayer. Once again, as Chris said, they love the smell of begging. And the more you beg, the more you're willing to sacrifice, the further you're willing to go, the better.

So Greek gods like it when you pray by sacrificing your food, and to an extent, your comfort. And the Roman gods like it when you sacrifice a life.

Which is why auguries became a thing. Of course you're not gonna see the future in the guts of an animal just because. The gods will grant you spoilers for the next season if you kill the animal because it will make them feel flattered to see that you're so desperate for their help that you'd rip out the soul of a living being in their honor just to get their attention.

However, Rick is writing books for tweens and teens. He can't just have animals being slaughtered left and right, especially for the purpose of feeding the gods' narcissism. So what can he do to make the situation a bit more pg 13? Remove the slaughtering of animals. And how will auguries be performed then? By sacrificing something else that has value. Emotional value.

It's quite logical to assume that the stuffed toys Octavian uses in his auguries are really expensive or collector's edition or handmade or are someone's childhood companion that they donated. The gods wouldn't just let you have information about the feature when all you gave to them was a sacrifice worth 1$ that you could even fish out of the trash.

Now I want you to hold on to that too and knit it together with the other thought I told you to hold on to, got it? And if you do that part of the process properly you should get to the conclusion that the best sacrifice available at the moment to get the gods to tell you how they feel about Percy joined the legion was Percy's panda pillow pet that he is so deeply emotionally connected to.

Octavian did not ruin something Percy loved for kicks. He didn't even know him yet, there's no way he had any type of malicious feelings towards Percy yet. He was just doing his job. The job Reyna tasked him to and the job Hazel told him to do during their conversation. And that was to read Percy's augury (which wasn't an augury bc Octavian is a haruspex but that's irrelevant right now). He wasn't actively trying to soil Percy's mood and ruin his day just to be the evil villain. He was just doing his job.

Thus proven.

[vroomvroomwee]

I don't think some of you should be coming down on Aziraphale so hard for his decision and I'm going to point out something not enough people take into consideration.

Just think of the circumstances he was in. He got offered a deal that could fix pretty much every single problem they have and that could consequently make both him and Crowley incredibly happy.

At least that's how he sees it. It all comes crashing down once he realises that that's not what Crowley wants. That it's not that easy for them to have that perfect life. Having that opportunity and then it being ripped right out of his hands. Just look at how giddy he was when he was telling Crowley, after which he straight up went into denial and refusing to listen to what Crowley has to say, because this. would. have. solved. everything.

But... it's not what Crowley wants. And it's not as if he can make him go with him to Heaven (thank god) because he's not that kind of person. He's not possessive or controlling. And more than anything he loves Crowley and up until that moment he had the perfect means to make him happy. And now it's gone.

So not only does he have this earth shattering realisation about Crowley and what he wants he also now has to deal with what he himself wants. Now if anyone knows how it feels to be in such a stressful and agonising dilemma over something, you will probably feel and emphasise with Aziraphale pretty hard in this scene. Because this is where old coping mechanisms start to hit. This is where he falls back on something reliable, something he can trust will make the right decision, and that is his old belief that Heaven is to be obeyed and that it can do no wrong, that is still so ingrained in his instincts and decision making. This is where his trauma comes into play.

And he fights it.

How fucking strong do you have to be to be able to fight your own gut feeling, that has been trained and created for millions of years. He actively tries to tell the Metatron "no" multiple times, shame that the Metatron is a master manipulator and doesn't let him the opportunity, but he still does it nonetheless.

(This is the part I wanted to point out) This boy had to make a life changing decision that would determine how he would spend the rest of eternity itself. And he didn't even have 10 minutes to make it.

He had only minutes to make this decision. Imagine the sheer soul-shattering heart-rending turmoil that has been going on inside him. The sheer panic and dread he was probably feeling.

And despite what millenia of training and what his thoughts and logic were telling him, he still followed his heart, he still chose Crowley... until the Metatron sensed exactly that and told him about the Second Coming.

Well, now that made things much simpler. His happiness or the universe. And he sacrificed himself. Again...

And to top it all off, he had to fucking smile. He has just lost everything he loves, earth, the bookshop, crepes... and Crowley. No. No, it's more than that. After Crowley's confession he realised he lost everything he never even had. Utterly and completely alone. And he cannot dare shed a tear. How. Fucking. Strong. Do you have to be to be able to do that.

[beemochi-art]

How are the Elite trine's relationships with each other?

Starscream is a treacherous, screeching narcissistic that acts like a victim when it serves him best.

Thundercracker occasionally threatens to rip off body parts. And sometimes he just does it unprovoked. No bark, all bite.

Skywarp and is an antagonistic psycho. Enjoys making everyone just as miserable as him.

So Would it surprise you if I said they view each other as family. They all say they don’t care but they do.

The thrine has know each other since they were all first made to be soldiers even before the war. Starscream climbed the ranks and for a time and for a time it would seem like he’d leave them behind. But when higher ups decided to throw out the seeker model, mostly because there was no need for them with nothing to fight. Starscream kept them all together and made sure they weren’t destroyed. Not just the thrine either but many other seekers.

Lower Seeker view Starscream their king in a way and would fight to the death for him. (That was before megatron of course.)

To starscream the thrine is the only ones he can confidently say they wouldn’t betray him. Soon Novastorm was included in their group.

The thrine are the only ones Starscream would actively fight and look out for. (Slipstream is on a whole other different level of how hard he’d fight for her.)

Thundercracker loves them. When Starscream and Skywarp get hurt he panics. He knows he’s not the smartest mech but he tries his best to think logically in bad situations.

He’ll lay hands Skywarp after many, many warnings, usually he doesn’t give warnings to people he doesn’t like or care about. And he definitely does not dish out as much punishment as he would. Starscream has listened to the warnings. However Thunders, started letting Star get away with way more when Slipstream came about. Starscream loves that he doesn’t even get warnings anymore and Thunders will just growl at him.

Skywarp has the most complicated relationship with them. He knows he could have been an even better flier than Star. He feels like he’s kind of a burden to the rest of them. So he’ll openly antagonize them to get a reaction. He thinks if they fight him that they still view him as equal. It’s almost affirming to him. If he’s not being an asshole or bitching, he’s thinking. Probably wayy overthinking. He cares about them both, but sometimes Thunders and Star wonder if he’ll just turn on them on day. He’s the loner of the flock.

There have been times TC and Star have saved his ass or even helped him fly because he was struggling and they actually don’t like to see him hurt. Skywarp hates it, it’s like they are babying him. It makes him angry.

He’s like their edgy younger brother.