#especially knowing what happens to him later in life

[cherie-doll]

Think about CoD guys getting knocked out on the battlefield and when they wake up, the medic they have a crush on is carrying them out of the field back to the chopper. Perhaps princess style

Does it make sense? No. Is it safe? Also no. But it is funny

bet you medic searched up and read "how to carry a girl: the most romantic methods" on wikihow and decided to use it on the battlefield

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men Getting Carried Princess Style

:‹ Last thing Price remembered doing was reporting his status over radio before hearing the panicked voices of Laswell and the others. He knew he was in good hands with his teammates but he didn't expect to see your face when he woke up. He also did not expect you to be carrying him, and he hadn't even realized until he was finally able to tear his eyes away from your face and see your arms and hands around his body. He doesn't know whether to thank or curse Laswell for sending you out to pick him up.

:‹ Simon waking up in a state of confusion. Because no one has been able to carry him with this much ease, especially not in this princess style. Usually he gets the rough treatment of getting thrown over a shoulder and that's it. But you're even careful to make sure he's not being rocked too hard while you're holding him. He's far too dazed to say or do anything much so he just lets it happen. Doesn't say or ask anything as you rush to treat him, knowing you'll be too focused. Won't talk or bring it up. ever. You're both taking this to the grave.

:‹ For Johnny it's heaven, just don't let the others see him getting carried out like this it'll wound his pride. He'll be bragging about it later like: "Oh you got treated by [medic]? Ha, well I got-" and he pauses there because suddenly his face has gone red and he doesn't know if it's worth sacrificing his pride and dignity just to rub it in someone else's face that he got carried by THE hot medic everyone likes so therefore he's winning in life but at what cost??

:‹ Kyle going "funny seeing you here" as if he had casually run into you at the grocery store and not in the middle of the battlefield. This guy is trying to flirt with you and have some casual conversation while you're trying to keep his wounds from gushing blood out. You don't know whether he's already losing his mind from the injuries he got or if he's trying to distract himself from the pain because this isn't like him. But maybe him being on the verge of going out again makes him say weird things. He won't remember this after medication.

:‹ Roach passing out thinking they're gonna forget him and accidentally leave him out here without receiving medical assistance until he wakes up and it's like an angel (you) has come to save him. He's impressed that you're not letting any obstacles stop you from running at a full sprint to the chopper with him in your arms. He's even going to bring it together by wrapping his arms around your neck to make sure he doesn't fall and staying still. Honestly, he liked it a little too much, so watch out or smth idk.

:‹ Alejandro getting a jump scare when he sees you carrying him. This was the last place he expected to see you. He absolutely hates getting any kind of coddling done, especially not in front of others. Even if you try telling him that no one even noticed you carrying him out like a knight protecting their princess because everyone else was busy fighting for their survival but he won't have any of it. Would demand you put him down right then and there in the bare dirt but you simply roll your eyes and ignore him.

:‹ Rodolfo being carried like the princess he is isn't a want it's a NEED. Had he been awake and conscious when you ran out to get him, he would have tried convincing you to leave him for his safety. He'd rather have waited for another teammate to reach him rather than you endanger yourself dodging bullets just to get to him. Even when he was knocked out did he look peaceful. He'd probably just be confused as to why you're carrying him but wouldn't protest or try to get out of your arms until you set him down.

:‹ Phillip knew he could always count on his Shadows to save his hide when shit happened. And he knew the attractive medic back at the base would be more than willing to treat him. He couldn't wait to see that face of yours when he got back, oh the things he'd tell you about his latest operation (the little information he could reveal). But he wasn't expecting to wake up so close to you, or at least not like this, when he's all battered, rugged and bruised. He can already picture his Shadows snickering if they ever saw him like this and he's really hoping they're busy with their tasks instead. It's strange to you how quiet he's gotten all of a sudden until you set him down and AFTER he ensures its only the two of you he starts trying to flirt as you roll your eyes at him.

:‹ Makarov didn't think anyone would come and get him out of the mess he had created. There was so much debris and chaos around him that even he had a difficult time thinking about how to get out of this one. Just as his vision started to blur and fade away, he saw you walking towards him. He hadn't actually expected to need you to do your job as medic and treat his wounds, much less be carried as he was told later on. He isn't annoyed not even in the slightest and if anything is sort of 'touched'? that you carried him from the battlefield all bloody to the helicopter. He might have gotten an idea and request you continue doing this, but no way are you doing that again, you swear you must've pulled a muscle or something.

:‹ Keegan is cursing himself as he lies bleeding and hurt in a building that could collapse at any moment for letting his mind wander for one second and get distracted. Of course his mind just HAD to betray him and think of you just because he noticed how unusually pretty the sky was. So is it a coincidence that he wakes up to find himself in your arms? You feel his intense stare but you don't allow yourself to look down. Even as he feels rumbling around him, pain numbing his senses, and the ear-splitting sounds of war, he doesn't let it distract him enough to tear his eyes away from you and the untainted sky that served as a backdrop.

:‹ König's secret fantasy is being treated like a princess. You look at him and think a guy like him wants to be feared and demands respect. Actually, no. The only person he'd want attention from all the time if you. Not in the "I'm important pay attention to me" type of way but in a soft, intimate way in which only you would care for him. So he wakes up to the delusion of thinking you're using all your strength to carry him and he looks at you like you're his savior when in reality it's two other men helping you by supporting his legs and back.

:‹ Horangi would barely be conscious and assume its one of his teammates that is carrying him. He dislikes getting picked up by anyone other than König (despite the fact König hates going so) so he starts moving until he hears your sharp voice which jerks him awake. He thinks he must be dreaming but he couldn't mistake your voice or face for anyone else. Lowkey is into it, curls up in your arms thinking he's small enough to fit even though he's not and you're struggling. He even attempts to lay his head on your shoulder until you throw him onto a stretcher.

:‹ Nikto grunts as he feels himself getting picked up, but instead of that rough manhandling he usually gets from a fellow teammate he feels efficient hands quickly wrap around him, yet they feel so tender too. The way those hands don't pull or drag his limbs carelessly, he knows it might be delusional getting his hopes up already imagining who it could be. He decides to open his eyes and expects to be disappointed if it isn't the person he expects. But he's quite delighted to see it is you. You don't take the time to look down at him because you're too busy trying to hurry and make it back in one piece with the man in your arms to notice his lazy smile as he closes his eyes, assured you'll take good care of him.

[bewitched-hours]

ANGST IDEA: (if you write it uh.. he/they pronouns for reader)

Two-Time gets so enamored with y/n, they start following them around, until they get the idea,, that y/n would be the best sacrifice for The Spawn. And stabs them mid round (it could be anything, just as long as Two-Time or any other sentinel ends up killing y/n)

And 1x ends up being the killer..

While casting Necromancy, She summons y/n without realizing it, and while they’re checking their minions, he senses a new being under their control.

Revealing Y/n as a minion, somewhat still aware, like a sleepy person, kinda wobbling around and whatnot.. and feels a bit .. bad..

I don't do he/they but I can offer They/Them as the closest to male pronouns as stated in my ruleset(again, nothing against guys but I honestly write a bit more on relatability and for my fellow gals because I see mostly AMAB reader fics-) Also I may have misunderstood the request, I apologize if this isn't what you wanted-

Reader has They/Them-

It wasn't supposed to be even possible... But the Spectre seemed to have been bored.

And by the stars, Two Time's infatuation with you gave it an idea.

You thought it was innocent at first and that you could handle them despite not reciprocating their feelings. You were just kind like that, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings.

Hell, you even went out of your way to apologize to killers and make sure they didn't feel discouraged by a missed attack... Even though they wouldn't be in the first place...

But what no one could've seen coming was Two Time suddenly backstabbing you and successfully killing you..?

That wasn't right. Something was up, especially when you were nowhere to be found after that round. Even your cabin was completely destroyed which only meant...

You were actually dead dead. Gone from existence entirely.

Obviously, the blame was on Two Time. They stabbed you after all and all they could talk about was the Spawn possibly giving them a third life to better protect everyone.

It left a sour taste in their mouths but the Spectre did grant them a third life to keep them insane.

The next round was when things got interesting.

1x1x1x1 was chosen as the killer and in the middle of it, she chose to use necromancy. Raising minions from the dead to help him with taking care of the pesky survivors.

Although you horrified the survivors with your appearance, 1x failed to realise it until much later while checking on the minions because she felt a new presence among them.

And there you stood. Not entirely stable as you looked more like someone fighting off exhaustion and being on the edge of collapsing. It looked pitiful enough.

So when the round ended and you were taken to the killer's cabin with them, 1x merely picked you up and explained what happened quickly before hauling you off with them.

Did you even know what was happening? You didn't show any resistance but the vengeance she could feel from you when you spotted Two Time was enough to allow you to be a true minion.

There would just need to be a few modifications...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[leftoversludge]

all i've heard about the fourth season of the umbrella academy is how bad it is, however i just watched and i cannot possible comprehend other people's twisted opinions on this season. it was fucking amazing dude, all i've heard is what an awful person lila was for "cheating" on diego, what the hell man that was like nothing!!!!! she was trapped on a goddamn metro station for SEVEN GODDAMN YEARS with 5, OF COURSE something was going to happen between them, can you blame them??? they're trying to survive and they've got nothing to hang onto but each other?? am i saying i love their relationship? no, i love it when they absolutely abhor each other, but i understand what percolated between them, and she held off on progressing her and 5's relationship for 6 goddamn years, she just reached a sort of breaking point where she was finally crumbling to absolute hopelessness and 5 too, neither of them are evil people for that. PLUS LILA IS SUPPOSED TO BE AN AWFUL PERSON, THEY ALL ARE!! THAT'S THE POINT OF THE SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! they are all so flawed and horrendous, while thinking they're at least better than the others, but they aren't-- they're all equally awful. except viktor, he's a genuine dude, just pissed off (rightly). viktor's the only one that does seem so self-righteous. i loved season four, especially their inclusion of the mother's of agony, i had given up on the idea of them incorporating that and klaus' ability to levitate, and i was actually stoked by that specific storyline. also loved over-cautious klaus in the beginning of the season, that felt so real (also me fr fr), love his relationship with allison and claire so much, genuinely means the world to me. i know most of the concepts they brought to life in this season had nothing to do with the comics, yet they still felt so comic book. one thing i will say is that i do wish they had just mentioned the fact that vampires to in fact exist in this universe and then never bring it up again, that would have been a riot. i have honeslty had it with what other people think about this show, man, season four was awesome. and of course i have my grievances, as i do with everything i love, but i really enjoyed this season. i love show's about assholes who think they're good people <3

[destinysbounty]

On the topic of mergeswap AUs, most of the ninja could be shuffled around to different Merge scenarios with equally compelling results, but I maintain that by far the most *interesting* swap would be Lloyd-Zane. That is to say, Lloyd gets put in the coma pod while Zane is left alone in the monastery.

Out of all the post-Merge scenarios, I think Lloyd would most severely be fucked up by completely sleeping through it - he wakes up to find that not only is the world different, but his friends have spent *years* struggling to survive without his help. He's supposed to be their leader, their guide, the chosen savior of prophecy. It's his job to look out for them, isn't it? But he wasn't there. The world fell apart, his team is in shambles, and everyone has suffered innumerable traumas as a result...and he wasn't there for any of it. Knowing Lloyd, the self-imposed guilt would absolutely eat him alive. Also, once again he is chronologically displaced - before it was the age of his mind and body being mismatched, and now he is once again missing several years of his life.

(Also I think it's funny if we put Lloyd in Zane's pod specifically, especially if he's still the Conduit. Because that means he woke up, immediately jumped into the fight against Imperium, and then like 10 minutes later volunteered to take on life-changing god powers from some random talking dragon. All without any context for anything that is going on whatsoever.)

As for Zane...god, where do I even start.

So, putting Zane in the monastery is fascinating for a number of reasons.

Out of everyone on the team, the ones who consistently cope with isolation the worst are Cole and Zane. That's not to say the others enjoy it, per se, but they're all at least able to lock in and get shit done as needed, trauma be damned. But Cole is very community-oriented and comes a bit unglued in the absence of a community to rely on (DotD, s10), and Zane...oh boy.

Zane is usually the one to die, so he is rarely put in a position of grieving the others. His only instances of mourning the absenceof a loved one are:

His father, which happened off-screen so we don't know how he handled that initially (he seems to be okay in s3, but knowing Zane he probably just repressed the feeling and moved on)

Nya in Seabound, which he was so ill-equipped to deal with that he turned off his emotions entirely

Pixal in DR, where he was so unable to handle her absence that he straight up stapled a photo of her to a broom and started talking to it. Also with Kai getting lost in superhell, which we don't really see him grieving over but also we don't see much of that from anyone so uhhh I'm choosing to ignore that for now.

Picture it. Zane, alone in the monastery, with none of his friends around and no way of knowing what happened to them. All he can do is sit and hold vigil in the hopes that they will eventually come back (something something Echo Zane lighthouse parallels). I'm not saying Zane would start taping his friends' photos to random appliances by the end of week 1 and cry over his tenth ice sculpture of Pix by week 2, but uhhhh....actually no that's exactly what I'm saying. Provided he doesn't miraculously find a way to get himself killed while chilling in the monastery, I give him like 6 months before his sanity completely unravels.

Another reason for swapping Zane into Lloyd's spot is that whoever is in the monastery at the start of DR also gets to be the mentor to the new ninja. And that puts Zane in a *very* interesting position.

Zane is, on both a meta and narrative level, a support character. He's your medic, your backup, your HQ, and he can even be your damsel in distress. He's not really a leader by nature, and it is rare for him to take charge or assume a position of authority unless the situation demands it of him. He's generally content to sit back and let everyone else take charge - he let Cole take the lead during the prison break in s4, he's one of the only ones not to express pushback when Lloyd officially becomes the leader, etc.

It's actually a bit odd how rare it is for him to lead, bc it feels like everyone else has way more instances of flexing their leadership skills. Off the top of my head, i can think of exactly three occasions where Zane assumes a position of authority:

For about 10 mins in s5, which ends in him glitching out and talking backwards

In s14 when he became Captain Zane, but that was mostly for comedic effect, and authority goes back to Lloyd and Nya once the situation actually gets serious

In s11 when he became Ice Emperor, but he had to be magically corrupted, mind-wiped, AND gaslit in order for that to even happen.

(You could argue he took charge during the Snake Jaguar incident, but he didn’t take charge of the whole team and also it didn't end well.)

All this to say, Zane doesn't have a positive track record with being in charge. Probably even worse, now that he has all that Ice Emperor baggage to deal with.

So what do you do with a character like that? Naturally, you give him a gaggle of wide-eyed children to look after and tell him to teach them how to be ninja. Lloyd was already hesitant to be their master in canon, but Zane would be even worse.

Furthermore, Zane, uh...doesn't really have many friends outside of the ninja (aside from his falcon, who hasnt existed in the show for years). Cole has the Upply and the Finders, Nya is close to Ronin and became good friends with Bentho, Kai has Skylor and Wyldfyre, Lloyd had the resistance and Akita and now the next-gen kids, Jay started an entire cult in Prime Empire and also seems to be on good terms with Unagami, and even Wu is close to Faith...but who does Zane have outside of the team? Vex, maybe? Possibly Borg, even though that relationship isn't explored onscreen? Sally, who gets one whole episode spotlighting her and Zane before vanishing into obscurity?

This even continues in DR, too. Theres a new cast of characters to befriend and connect with, many of whom share a lot in common with Zane, but he doesn't really interact at length with anyone but his old friends and Frohickey.

True, a lot of that can be blamed on Zane's gradual narrative dehumanization depriving him of meaningful personal connections, but in-universe you could also attribute that to his self worth. Zane is so wrapped up in his belief that he exists to serve and protect, and he is so strongly devoted to the ninja that he can be a bit one-track-minded about it. He loves his family so much that he doesn't have time to care for anyone else in the same way. They are his world, his everything, his life's purpose...without them, he is nothing. Can you say "codependent"?

But now, he's alone in the monastery. He doesn't know if his friends are alive. All he can do is sit and pray and hope they come back to him. And after years of waiting, he crosses paths not with his family, but with two new kids. They want him to teach them to be ninja. But Zane is too afraid - afraid of leaving his post, afraid that being in charge will bring out his inner Ice Emperor...afraid of betraying his family by finding a new one.

He does agree to help them in the end, if only because he exists to protect and they need protection. But the whole time, he is afraid, and anxious, and painfully unsure of himself. But just as he teaches them how to be strong, how to fight, how to be brave and kind and selfless...they teach him how to believe in himself. How to reclaim his sense of identity. How to stand on his own without his friends, and how to make new ones. How to live for his loved ones, rather than dying for them.

(And yeah, okay, a small part of it this is definitely spite for the way he's been unilaterally snubbed by DR canon. I won't deny that)

Personally, if I were to write a mergeswap AU that's probably the direction I'd take. But then again, I might just be on some next-level copium and desperately trying to make Zane actually relevant to DR in some meager way

[darthannie]

By Way of Louisiana

Remmick x f!OC (mixed oc!!!!!)

word count: 4,019 tags & warnings: (JUST IN CASE) (JUST IN FUCKING CASE) DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Dark fic!!!, mention of a dead loved one, grief, discussion of pregnancy/infertility, mention of infidelity, dubcon due to extenuating circumstances, inappropriate use of a cemetery, blood, lots of blood, choking, spit, p in v sex, death, but also living eternally a/n (plz read if you can xoxo): I really (x3) wanted to practice writing in first person instead of second person so this is a product of that want. I don't know if this is going to have a second part. I kind of like it as a stand alone, but I do have a half written part 2 that's banter and smut written in Remmick's pov. This was VERY fun to write. I would LOVE to explore his character more. Also, my blog is a space is where I go to explore the parts of me I can't explore in real life. And, that includes a hot southern/irish vampire with very sharp teeth, glowing eyes, and razor like nails. Sorry! Sue me!! Send me to the rack!!! Don't care, argue with the wall. Morally corrupt vampire I need you apologies to the ancestors.

The rich, black fabric that hung on my body felt exceptionally heavy. I entered my quiet home and laid back against the wooden door. My shakey breath rang through the room as the tears welled up and up and up, before finally spilling over, blurring the reminance of my late husband that was strewn around. His favorite hat hung by the door along with the coat he wore when it got too cool at night. I dragged my feet to my bedroom. His handkerchief laid on his bedside table along with a book he never got to finish reading. 

This new life I had to undertake was not one I was ready for; one did not prepare for widowship as they prepared for motherhood. Me and Charlie wanted to start trying for a baby. We had no luck, but perhaps that was for the best. Maybe it was why he started becoming distant. I did not want to bring life into this world alone. I wanted to do it with Charlie. We had met years ago when he had just started practicing law at Louisiana’s top law film, making more money than my family had ever seen. Charlie gave me everything. The home I sat in, the food in the kitchen, the clothes on my body. It was all because of him. My closet was full of pieces he bought, insisting I looked the best in clothing he bought me. “Come on, what’s one more dress for my pretty girl?” He’d seal the sentiment with a kiss. Oh, how I’d miss his kisses. His lips felt like they were made for me. 

Sitting on his side of the bed felt wrong. I grabbed the hankerchief off the bedside and fiddled with it in my hands, snaking it between my fingers. I chuckled as I dried my tears with it, remembering a silly moment where he’d spilled a glass of milk on himself one morning because the glass was too slippery. I laughed again, remembering how we danced on our wedding night. Our limbs moved in dissonance with each other as we danced. There were moments, beautiful moments, where our movements finally matched. A humourless chuckle followed as I remembered his lips on my body later that night when we were finally alone.

My only wish was that he not treat me like glass, but he did. He always did. Whenever we had sex, the sole purpose was to have a child. Tender, yes, but boring all the same. I wanted him to bring me to the same conlusion I always brought myself to, but he thought it better to focus on brining an heir into the world. Part of me resented him for it. The rest of me wanted to peel my skin off in shame for ever questioning his treatment of me, especially when he had given me everything. 

I looked down at my black dress, grappling with the impulse to take it off and pretend like this was not happening. I didn’t like this lonely feeling. This emptiness was familiar, but it wasn’t welcome. I sat frozen, evaluating myself in the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. My face no longer felt hot, my eyes slightly red from their agitation. I sucked in a deep breath and watched as the air filled my body. I felt it fill up my belly, reach around my ribs, and rope it’s way up my back. My exhale helped me send enough signals from my brain to my muscles to start moving again. I walked out the room and paced down the stairs, wrapping my shall around me in the process.

There was no need for anything heavier in this weather. The warmth left over by the setting sun wrapped me up and guided me down the path, helping me haul my legs towards the cemetary where my husband lay. I stood at the closed gates. “Go home,” it said. “You saw him today, no need to torture yourself further,” it continued. But, I could not listen to the closed gates plea. I pushed passed the it, not bothering to close it behind me, and hedged forth. 

I quickly became aware of an oppressive weight that I was not meant bare. The heaft of death followed me everywhere. It would not leave me and time has proven that I could not escape it. I wondered when it would be my turn, when death would finally end up at my doorstep and take me away from this excuse of a life. I held my breath and released it when I could no longer restrict my lamentation. I moved quickly, gaining speed as I careened left and right. My cries and tears unfurled over unexpected raised stones and exposed roots. My shoulders began to lead me. My arms extented out towards his headstone before it was even in reach. I fell into it and wrapped my arms around it, letting gravity take my knees to the ground. 

The stone was cold to the touch, no longer warmed by the afternoon sun. My cries contined as the moon hung itself high. I laid my forehead against the headstone and kissed it. “Please come back to me. Please, for the love of God, come back to me.” No answer. I shut my eyes kissed the stone again. “You said you’d stay. You said you wouldn’t leave me,” I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a groan, “and you can’t. You just can’t! I can’t be alone again!” My cries got quieter and quieter until I silenced. The graveyard surrounding me was completely empty. The sky was so wide it seemed like it could swallow me whole. The stars above me didn’t twinkle or dance in the sky. They stood still, observing my grief. I let go of the stone and laid against it, resting my eyes. My shall hung off one shoulder and I didn’t bother to tug it back on. Eyes shut, I sniffed and did all I could think to do. 

I wiped my nose and began singing the words I had sang since I was a kid. 

“Will the circle be unbroken by and by, lord, by and by? Is a better home awaiting in the sky, lord, in the sky?

My eyes flew open wide when a sweet voice and a banjo that were not mine joined in. 

“There are loved ones in the glory Whose dear forms you often miss, When you close your earthly story Will you join them in their bliss?”

My eyes slid up his body and I realized I should be level with him if I wanted to seem any kind of intimidating. I marionetted myself upright before he finished singing. I was unarmed, a silly mistake. I could throw a punch but that was about it. When he finished the verse, he laid the banjo on the ground and held his hands in front of him. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just heard some hootin’ and hollerin’ and saw the cemetery gate was open. Decided to investigate.” I stepped behind the stone, expecting it to offer me protection. The man read the headstone and saw the dates etched into it. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve lost a lot of people too,” he relaxed his arms next to him. You avoided his question to proceed with your own interrogation, “What are you doing here? It’s late,” I stammered, “and the cemetery is closed.”

“I could ask you the same question.” He chuckled. I was unsettled by his levity, feeling so very dark as I stood behind my dead husband’s tomb. His face was sad when he spoke again, “Sometimes I feel a bit like a ghost myself.” I cocked my head to the side, “Why?” He ignored me. I changed the subject. “When did you learn to play.

He whistled, “Ooo, a while back. I met a man who played and taught myself.” 

“The man didn’t teach you?”

“He didn’t need to.”

“Hm.”

I got a better look of him in the moonlight. His dark eyes caught the light and made them shimmer in an unnatural way. Odd. His hair was short, but laid shaggy on his forehead. The ends at the nape of his neck started to curl upwards. I leaned forward on Charlie’s headstone and hid my face in shame. I thought the man was fine. Not only that, I thought he was damn fine. I felt like a whore, looking at another man before my husband was even cold in his grave. I lifted my head and he offered me a shy smile before he said more, hooking his thumbs on his suspenders and pulling them. “If its any consolation, based on my experience, I know that grief is firm and steady. But, it does get better… I just don’t know when.” I hummed in agreement this time and for the first time all day, I cracked a smile. “I’ll drink to that.” I kicked a rock at my feet, dusted myself, and returned the shaul to it’s rightful shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’ll be leavin’. Thanks for the talk, stranger.” 

“Remmick,” he said closing the gap between the two of us by a few feet, “pleased to make your aquaintance.” He held out his hand and I did the same. He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, right over my wedding band. I pulled my hand away and sucked in air through my teeth like I had just burned myself on hot cast iron. “Um-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, darlin’”

“It’s fine. It’s just…”

“Look, I still wear mine. It’s okay.” He held up his hand and pointed at the gold band that laid on his finger. “I know she’s gone and I should move on, but it’s a nice reminder that, at one point, I wasn’t all that alone.” It wasn’t until his thumb wiped the tears on my face that I realized I was crying. “It feels nice knowing you’re wanted. Feels good to know you have someone to go home to.” All I could do was nod. 

“I met a man named Charles recently, but his friends called him Charlie.” He smiled at me, closing the gap further as I met his eyes. “Me and Charlie… we got to know each other. He told me he had a wife back home. That’s you, ain’t it? Yeah, he told me how much he loved her, how beautiful her voice was. Though, I have to say, that didn’t stop him from sampling all that joint had to offer.” I blinked water away and refocused my gaze on Remmick. “He what?”, it came out of me as a whisper. He kept going, “Even after being with a couple different women he still gushed about you. “She doesn’t sing like a songbird.” He said, “She sounds more like a wolf howling in the night.” And, lo and behold, guess who I find howlin’ in the night? Charlie’s wife.”

I could not digest what he was feeding me. There was a lack of acknowledgement on my part. I wanted to ignore everything Remmick said to me, but all I could think of were the reasons Charlie would sleep with other women. Can’t get pregnant, I thought. I can’t get pregnant. He didn’t want me because I couldn’t get pregnant. My skin burned hot at Remmick’s confirmation, “Such a shame you couldn’t have his child.” 

It broke me out of my trace. I leaned back. “Fuck you!” Remmick only chuckled and I found it in me to place both of my hands on his chest to push him away with all the force I could muster. “You come out here, start talkin’ nonsense about my husband. Damn liar, that’s what you are.” My mind was eddying with the information he fed me.I felt sick as I thought of being relegated to housewife with a husband who snuck around because I couldn’t give him a child. I didn’t want it to be true but what good would it be for a man I had just met to lie? Remmick closed the gap and pressed his body the other side of the tombstone again. He got so close to me our noses almost touched. His hand reached up to my face and wiped the tears off my cheeks again. He skated the back of his right hand against my face, stroking me like one would a frail bird. I swatted his hand away before he could speak, scoffing and making my legs move in the direction of the cemetery gates. “Unbelievable son of a bitch,” I muttered. 

Remmick yanked me back forcefully. It took me all of two seconds to notice that his eyes now more resembled red jewels. Then, I saw the drool dripping out the corner of his mouth. “I got to know Charlie very well. Briefly, but I knew him well all the same. His memories became mine. I know you like to sing in the mornings and read in the garden. I know he bought you that shawl you’re wearing at your favorite shop in town. I know that your family was dirt poor and was picked off one by one. Family of consumptives, picked off one by one, but that wasn’t all was it? Your ma and pa were keepin’ a real big secret, keeping you safe, right? No one had to know. But, that dramatic wave in your hair used to be a dead give away.” I gasped and felt something poke my arm.

Remmick’s nails had formed into claws half the size of my pinky. “We don’t have to bear our crosses alone. We could do it together.” He dragged an open hand down my arm until he reached my wrist. He pressed his thumb down on my arm to create a small cut. He lifted my arm, turned his head, and licked the blood that flowed from my wrist. Remmick moaned, “We don’t have to be alone,” as my blood touched the tip of his tongue.

His other clawed hand reached for my waist as he put my arm around his shoulder. I laced my fingers though his hair, half tugging him away. The fear coursing through my nervous system coiled itself with my desire. This was no man. He was something else, and that excited me as much as it disgusted me. I tested my luck by pulling his hair harder, making the distance between us grow. He bared sharp fangs at me and sucked air through his saliva covered teeth. 

I gawked at him, my lips parting open slightly. He regained his composure and strengthened the grip on my waist. His claws broke skin and left nasty cuts where they impailed. I winced, the pain sobering. This was not right. My husband laid directly under us, likely rolling in the casket I buried him in. I tried to imagine him fighting his way though six feet of earth to get to me. Instead, I saw Charlie staying late at the office with his secretary because he could not stand being with me. I saw Charlie getting drunk and kissing a younger woman. I saw him tossin’ some coin at a man and getting keys to a room for him and a woman liked more than me. I could not get a handle on my thoughts. I wanted to deny him. I wanted to run and escape. I heard my voice before I was able to move, “I don’t think you knew him at all. You don’t know what he wanted. You don’t know how he viewed me, and-”

His voice lacerated mine, “I know what you look like when you’re laying down.” I swallowed hard, closing my eyes. “I know that Charlie came home quietly on some occasions so he could watch how you touched yourself. You never caught him lookin’. Or, maybe you did and liked being watched.” I swallowed hard, my heart attempted to break through my ribcage. “I do know for a fact that he loved seeing that little pussy take him in deep…” He dragged the last word as he slowly pulled the shawl off my shoulder. “I know that you have dark desires you’d rather take to the grave because you told him. He never paid it any mind, assuming you’d grow out of it when you got pregnant. But, you never got pregnant. And, you never lost those needs, huh?”

He pressed me flush against him and my grip on his hair loosened. “I know how you like to be touched, licked, and used. I know more about you than you think.” The hand on my waist moved to my head, guiding me to look up at the sky as he licked from my collarbone allllllll the way up to my ear. “But, I still think I could know you more. We could get to know each other. Isn’t that what you want? To know and be known?” I gulped, “Not like that. Not by you.” 

Remmick sighed, “Let’s fix that then.” 

The second his teeth broke my skin, sweet grunts and hums of appreciation reached my ears. “I sure like the taste of you.” I choked as my blood spilled over my chest in gentle streams. He unlatched from my neck in order to indulge in my body. We made eye contact as his hands traveled down my sides, riping my dress in the process. The thin fabric gave easily to the pull of his sharp nails. He slid his hand under my dress and used his nails to lift the edge of my underwear. He wanted to feel the warmth of my skin against his and the a wild look in his eye told me he was holding back. He cautiously ran his tongue over the swell of my chest, tasting the blood mixed with the salt of my skin. I felt his fangs slowly sink through the skin that protected my heart. He let the blood trickle into his mouth. He drank piously, honoring my body as it slumped against him. I struggled to speak, “Remmick, please… St… stop. Fuck. Ple…Please…” 

He guided me onto the ground, onto my husband’s grave, and kneeled in between my legs. It was difficult to feel much fear when Remmick’s movements mimicked care. My eyes shut too long for his liking, prompting him to tap lightly on my cheek. He cooed “Oh, no, no, no, baby, we’re not gonna stop. You don’t want me to stop. And, right now, I need you awake. I need you to remember this.” He pulled me in for a kiss with a bloodied hand. I wanted to fight him. “Find a way out”, I thought. “This is wrong,” I told myself. It was not enough to convince me. I shut my eyes tight and didn’t feel Remmick against my lips. I felt Charlie, or at least the feeling of when I was with Charlie. It felt like Remmick’s lips were made just for me. He nipped at my bottom lip when he pulled away. The taste of copper was strong on my tongue. I licked the new wound on my lip and reached for Remmick’s suspenders. Sloppy, but determined, I moved the straps off his shoulders and fiddled with his belt buckle. I pulled his pants down and shimmied my dress up, laying back. I needed him to indulge in all my urges. I needed him to take me the way I’ve always wanted to be taken, and I think he could tell. 

Remmick’s body alined with mine as I led him into me. I felt everything. I gripped onto his shirt and he pulled out slowly and entered me again. “I have been waiting for someone like you for a while.” I reveled in the way he stretched me. It was difficult to keep my moans in. He was bigger than Charlie was, and I’d only ever been with Charlie. My sounds were as involuntary as my arms were when they wrapped around Remmick’s shoulders. “Open your mouth.” I did as I was told and dropped my jaw. Remmick let his saliva drip into my mouth, savoring the taste of it mixed with my blood. My head leaned back as his hand ran across my neck and down inbetween my clothed breasts.

He grunted as he handled my body and our movements ended with me on top of him. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I don’t expect you to ride me. Just let me do all the work.” My arms settled on the sides of his body as I laid against him. He cradled me against his chest as I grabbed the sides of his shirt. The absense of his heartbeat registered when I felt mine slow. The arms wrapped around me tightened. He bucked his hips up repeatedly. Over and over again, he hit the right spot inside of me. I was a mumbling mess. “Remmick, I- Plea- Fuck!” The sentence was never a fully formed thought, just an acknowledgment of him and what he was doing to me. He put his forehead against mine as he barrled up into me. He pressed his lips against mine as he consecrated my body. His cock hit every right spot, making me gasp and whine each time he sunk inside me. 

“Look at me,” he begged. His eyes were still red, but softer. No soul in them, but a tenderness still lived there. “We will be beautiful together. I swear it,” his hips moved quicker as his forehead pressed to mine, “We’ll be unstoppable, darlin’, you and I. Okay? You and I. Forever.” My whines continued and I could not quell them. “Forever?” It came out like a plea. I wanted him to promise that forever. I was tired of the temporary nature of every person in my life. For once, I wanted the promise of forever. Remmick grined at me and I smiled back. He was giving me the chance to never be alone. I would always have someone in my corner. I’d finally escape the life I lead, and for that, I would do anything. 

I had heard stories and suspersitions about creatures like him. I should be terrified. I should want to fight back, get away from his grasp and make it til sunrise. I ignored the more sane thoughts by kissing him again. My moans and his grunts formed a symphony that bouncing off nearby headstones, filling out the night sky. My hips tried to meet him half way, but his pace was so solid, and I was so weak, there was no point in me even trying. I began feeling the pressure build up in me. “We’ll never be alone again,” his voice was heavy and sincere. My stuttered moans came to a stop as my orgasm ravanged my body. I grabbed Remmick’s sides as he helped me continue to ride out my orgasm.

His moans and grunts became frantic until he slowed and kissed my lips. He shuttered as his cock twitched and he emptied inside of me. After a moment, his hips moved again, slowly, as he enjoyed the gentleness of my whimpers and the sensitivity of our bodies together. Once our movements and convulsions stopped, he pulled out. We laid still for a while, I was too weak to do much else. He caressed my body and smoothed his hand over my head. He sat up with me still in his arms.

“It won’t hurt too bad. I don’t bite too hard,” he vowed. I nodded. His divine intervention may save me yet. “Now. Please. I’m tired and I-” I gasped as I felt his teeth bite down harder than before. So much for not biting hard. He was relentless. I heard the slurping and drinking as I felt the blood drain from my body. The hands that gripped onto him went limp and my arms fell to my side. I felt cold and empty.

And then, I felt nothing at all.

[bullet-prooflove]

Do you have any NSFW headcanons for Charlie and Emery that you’re willing to share? I get it if you’re keeping a few things up your sleeve and saving for later

The few things off the top of my head under the cut because this turned into a much bigger post than originally thought.

Equality/Professionalism

It’s a very equal relationship despite there being a professional power imbalance. Charlie works very hard to make sure that there is no feeling of coercion from him in that respect. However there are sometimes when he has to pull rank and I mean, firm voice ‘that is not fucking happening’ and Em will be forced to obey even though he can see in her eyes it’s the last thing she wants to do.

How that plays out in the bedroom – They need to reset the balance.

Em is probably still pissed off when she gets home and he intentionally goads her to break the stalemate. Saying stuff like, ‘if you need to rough me up a little, slap me around to vent that frustration, go for it Em. I get off on that kind of shit.’ It turns into rough sex where it’s almost vying for control, like a fight without words. Buttons getting torn off, his lower lip being bitten, fingertip bruising. He is just as bad, pulling her hair, jamming her thighs open with his hips. Shit gets broken from the ferocity of these two going at each other. When he finally gets inside her, he’s not gentle and neither is she, he’s getting scratched up and bitten as they fuck the shit out of each other on his desk, the coffee table, the floor, wherever they end up.

Switch:

Charlie has to be dominant in his professional life, he’s a force of nature. He has to be responsible for so many people and he knows exactly how to use the carrot and the stick to achieve his goals. That kind of thing can take a real toll on a person so sometimes he needs to be taken care of, he needs to have that control stripped away so that he can relax. That’s part of what Em saw in him during that first night they had together.

While he’s not into restraints he does like the physicality of being pinned down especially if he’s struggling to get out of his own head. He likes the sensation of his wrists pinned above his head, Em’s whole body pressing against his because it makes him feel safe but also plays into the ‘being taken’ aspect. He’s not giving up control, it’s being taken from him in a safe environment.

Edging is a bit of thing for him, it’s having someone else be in charge for once. He never begs but he’s very vocal about what he’s feeling in the moment.

He enjoys praise but terms like ‘Good boy’ and ‘you’re doing so well’ don’t work for him, they’re too childlike.  It has to be more adult and specific to him like ‘you getting off on that Charlie? You like how my tongue feels on your cock?”

On the other side of this sometimes Charlie has a dominant side that comes out to play too. Sometimes this can be situational, eg: they’re at a cop bar separately for retirement drinks and he sees someone hitting on Em. That need to claim her, its fucking strong and the fact he can’t do it openly drives him a little crazy. He’ll orchestrate a situation to get her alone, it could be a smoke break, a secret text summoning her to the coat check, a dark stairwell or bathroom. It’s very much about getting her off, reminding her why she’s with him so depending on time, location and the mood he’s in < this usually depends on who has been doing the flirting with her.

Another detective: She gets to ride his fingers and then wait for his cock until they get home because that man is no match for Charlie. He knows getting her all worked up is gonna make her leave earlier so he can have her entirely to himself.

Ranked officer: More threatening because of the professional proximity and power dynamic. Em is not a good little girl but there’s a certain balancing act women have to play sometimes when a male superior officer makes a move so it doesn't decimate their career. Charlie understands that and fucking hates it. Going down on her shows he loves and appreciates her, even if she has to play that game. – you can bet after this he is running interference with that asshole knowing he’s had her coming on his tongue.

Fireman: Fucking hates them esp since one of Em’s exes was one. Will end up fucking her into the wall because seeing one flirting with her makes him completely feral. If it's the ex, it becomes 'he can't get you off like I can, can he honey?' as he's pumping into her. You can bet, he’s smirking afterwards as the night continues, knowing his cum is dripping into her panties.

Roleplay:

The glasses led to a little professor fantasy that they both didn’t know Em had. It started with Charlie doing paperwork at her house and then her climbing into his lap, commenting that maybe she’d been a bad girl and wasn’t making the grade. And maybe… just possibly there was someway she could earn it? That tapped into something Charlie did not know he was into. It ended in a little spanking, a lot of cock sucking and him coming all over her tits.

There are so many more thing I have to say but I realised how long this post was getting. If you have any specific qs about their sex life, feel free to pop them in.

[handweavers]

writing a story that examines so many aspects of empire, class, gender, racialization, sexuality, and the political ideologies tied to these things i feel constantly aware of how a bourgeois narrative would try to frame everything - like i know exactly what a liberal would do with these basic building blocks, where they would take these characters and the conclusions that would be drawn from these situations (or failed to be drawn, they would be treated as entirely individual incidents divorced from any wider context) and it feels really good to subvert that but it takes constant work and research to make sure i'm doing it well & in a way that doesn't feel like a lecture but a natural part of the narrative. essentially writing the process of how someone's life circumstances and experiences leading him to becoming a marxist leninist with revolutionary discipline but this is a process that occurs over decades of his life and if i do it right, it should feel like the only solution that makes any sense narratively speaking

like for example a side plot involves the development of art nouveau and various artistic movements in europe around the turn of the century and the perspectives on small scale artisanal production that were popularized in response to industrialization and the worsening crisis of imperialism. i have artists who hold the perspective of the arts and crafts movement and others who are proponents of aestheticism and romanticism and have all other kinds of bourgeois and petty bourgeois beliefs on arts and production while believing themselves to be radicals, and a character who sees the contradictions and failures of these positions but lacks the language to articulate it until later in life. and this happens in tandem with these same people using and exploiting him and his labour as a child, as a colonized subject in the imperial core, as a survivor of genocide and a visibly disabled person, etc in a paternalistic manner, including doing things like claiming his work as theirs and exploiting his "exoticism" for social capital. there are "answers" to these issues that a bourgeois narrative would offer - including running away to live in a cabin in the woods forever and a refusal to view oneself as a political actor - that would make sense in the context of character trauma but i am actively trying to avoid doing those things in the long term, especially when doing so would be treated as the character actually "healing" by attempting to escape history and society, and the alternative would be internal reform and some kind of petty bourgeois dream where he runs his own popular workshop and becomes famous and well respected in his field doing small scale artisanal production or something. instead many years later he becomes an architect in a burgeoning socialist state designing and building infrastructure and reconciling indigenous vernacular architecture with the material demands of a state trying to electrify and industrialize. but tracking all of this and have this development occur over the course of decades in a way that feels true to the character and the world and again, not like a lecture, is an ongoing matter

[halfbloodfics]

Could you please do an angsty Snape x reader with a happy ending imagine in which reader is his wife and wants them to leave the uk and escape before the war starts because she understands it will end badly and they argue over Severus part as a double spy and he just tries to comfort her and hold her, promising nothing will happen and later after naginj bites him reader finds him and saves him angrily, like you are my husband, you are not allowed to die because of *some insult to Voldemort*

(A/N): im feeling angsty. mainly because my life is falling apart in my hands and in true snape kinnie fashion, everyone hates me for things they can't know and nor understand! also im touch starved and desperately need a hug! woo!

anyways.

im high again. sorry if this sucks. this ones gonna be long af too.

title: work song

rating: angst, fluff, happy ending

warnings: threats of death, mentions of suicidal thoughts, brief insinuation of war time sexual violence towards women, blood, gore, trauma, loss, grief, angst

song: work song by hozier

MASTERLIST

The day of the final challenge of the Triwizard Tournament, she awoke with the same sinking feeling in her gut she had for weeks now. She was a bright Witch. A trait Severus had always admired of her; her ability to pick up on things, understand them. Perhaps it was why their friendship came to by, why it turned into a relationship and eventually a marriage. She could understand even him before he did.

Because of this, she knew why the once faded Dark Mark on her husbands skin was getting darker by the day. Why he tossed in bed a little longer before going to sleep. Why his appetites for her cooking slowly subsided.

He assured her it was nothing, a change in seasons, a minor cold. But she knew, and he knew, that she knew the truth. The Dark Lord was returning.

When Harry emerged with the portkey, holding Cedrics lifeless body, she hadn't seen it at first. At first, she was watching her husbands face as he stared into the quiet maze ahead. He was so focused. His dark eyes set on a determined gaze at the hedges in front of them. And she found herself admiring this, worshipping it even. Until her husbands brow furrowed. Until his lips twitched. Until his right hand gripped his left forearm.

Her eyes flicked to the clothed skin of his arm. "What?" She whispered, though the sinking of her stomach seemed to finally hit the bottom.

Severus opened his lips, parted them to speak, but he couldn't. For a moment he looked at her, dark eyes praying that that intelligence of which he loved so much wouldn't pick up on the stirring of the Dark Mark against his pale flesh.

When his gaze finally tore from hers as the victor arrived back from the maze, she watched as the expression in his eyes only she could decipher turned from dread to.. horror.

She turned to see what the commotion was just as Severus stood up beside her. Harry was crying but she could hear only faintly what about. He was holding Cedric...

No.. Holding.. What was Cedric.

Cedric was dead.

Mr. Diggory's sorrow rang out like a violin in an empty hall. The bands cheerful music stopped. Only the song of his grief played as he made his way down to his boy.

Dead.

As Severus undid his cloak, placed it over the boys still body and glanced back at his wife. Part of him wanting to comfort her, another part wanting to comfort himself that she was still there. That he hadn't lost her already.

It wasn't until Barty Crouch Junior pulled up his sleeve, Snapes wand against his cheek, did she really start to panic. That same mark, that same, evil symbol, once dead, stirred alive under her husbands skin.

The Dark Lord was back.

In the weeks that followed, she begged.

She had never begged. Not a single soul. For anything. Especially not Severus. She never had to. He would have given her the world if he even had an inkling she desired it. But he couldn't give her this.

"Severus, please," She pleaded. "I'm begging you."

He stood with his back to her so she would not see the truth in his eyes. Hands on the windowsill, he allowed himself only that much vulnerability. Only her to be able to see the slump in his shoulders.

How could he tell her that he knew this day would come all along? That he was bound to follow it through till the end? No longer out the love he thought he'd never escape, but now out of duty? Out of fear?

It used to be Lily. It was. It was her so deep in his bones he could barely decipher which traits of him were really traits of his. But the day he met her. His wife. Something changed he didn't even understand. The bending, breaking and mending of a million tiny things inside him he believed impossible to reach.

In that moment he could have ran away. No longer chained to the promise of protecting Lily Potters son. But there was a price to this. He saw it everytime he looked in his wifes eyes. The happiness inside them wouldn't be possible in a world ruled by the Dark Lord. How would she be able to teach at Hogwarts, in a school that would be taken over by Death Eaters, knowing the pain that would plague those walls? And what of her, a half-blood? Would she even be spared, like his "devotion" had spared him? And in the likely, near certain event, that he died, what would become of her? Pawn in their games, to be used for their cause, what of the other muggle-born and half-blood women? The spoils of war-

No.

The day he fought against all better judgement and decided to be selfish for once was the day he married her. And on that day, he vowed he would protect her. To hell with trusting the Order; Dumbledore and his lies. He would keep her safe. Her fate would be in his hands. No one elses.

He would not break that promise.

So he lied by omission. He never told her about how he knew the Dark Lord would one day return, how he knew he'd have to fight again and how dangerous that would be. He knew she'd be devestated, furious. And when she looked up at him with those bright eyes... He just, couldn't.

Now, she had figured it out. Not in its entireity, but enough. She knew the Dark Lord was back. And she was damn smart enough to know what that meant for him.

He remained still with his back to her. He couldn't look at her pleading face.

"Severus, please." She begged, "Don't fight. You can tell Dumbledore you don't want to be a spy, you can't do it anymore-"

"Even if I could, I can not tell the Dark Lord that."

He heard her shaky breath from just behind him. "Run away then. Leave with me. We'll go across the sea, America. Anywhere."

"Do you remember what happened to Karkaroff?."

"We could try-"

"We could die." His voice was firm. Gentler than it had ever been around anyone else. He turned, bringing himself for the first time in such conversation to meet her gaze.

Her eyes were desperate, looking up at him with naive hope he had to crush. "Severus... Please. I can't.. If you die, I can't-"

"Don't." He nearly whispered. "Don't."

She parted her lips, closed them again.

"Running is certain death. Trust my knowledge about the inner circle I've been infiltrating for years." He spoke lowly, calculated, as if he were drilling the knowledge into her head. "To spy is our best chance at survival."

He was a liar. Maybe she even knew it.

But all she did was look up at him, blinking for a long moment until that wasn't enough to stop the tears that began to flow down her cheeks. She buried herself in his chest, inhaling the smokey, herbal scent as if she were trying to memorize it in case of the worst, and she cried.

~

The day he made the unbreakable vow he had never seen her so angry.

They had fought a few times in their marriage. Stupid, petty things. Barely even fights. Mainly her nagging him about taking better care of himself and him doing the same to her. Frustrations over his jealousy, which at times bordered on toxic. But they all were brief, fleeting moments. Never spoken in a raised voice or with malice.

The way she was talking to him then. he'd never seen before.

They were in the living room, just the two of them now, the presence of Narcissa and Bellatrix still fresh in the cramped room. The rain pelted against the window outside in beat with her curses, which were thrown around as she paced in front of them.

"Severus that's not the point! This isn't part of the necessary obligation! This isn't simply spying anymore! You're trying to go above the bare minimum!" She practically yelled, stopping only to throw her hands in the air.

Severus stood still. It had been quite awhile since anyone truly raised their voice at him. But he wasn't frightened, even saddened. He understood. He only watched as she paced.

"He is my Godson-"

"I am your wife!" She practically hissed, stopping dead in her tracks.

Silence filled the air. They both stared at each other for a long time.

That night, after she'd spent the rest of the day in silent anger, she crawled into bed, into his arms. She whispered apologies in his ear and it only made his stomach churn.

She didn't. Know.

~

The day he killed Dumbledore, she cried harder than he'd ever seen her cry before.

She knew then, of course she knew. Even if he hadn't told her the reasoning. She looked into his eyes and never had to guess about his loyalties. She was too bloody smart for that.

So when she stood under the floorboards with Harry, after awaiting his arrival with Dumbledore, it didn't suck the wind from her the same way.

Harry, beside her, allowed only his breath to hitch. She was sure he felt betrayed, shocked.

But all she felt was dread.

She didn't have to know his reasons. She knew their consequences.

That night, hiding away in Grimmauld Place, she sobbed in Severus arms as soon as he returned from clearing the jinxes and hexes set up around the house.

Sobbing, she clung to him as if he was already slipping through her fingertips. Her breath quick and shallow, whimpers incoherant. Nothing she could say would change anything anyways. It was done. His fate sealed.

Severus couldn't say anything either. Nothing worth saying. He tried to murmur assurances in her ear as he held her, stroking her hair and rubbing his back.

So he lied.

"My love...." He murmured, "Shh.. I am alright..."

And he lied again.

"Shh... I'll be alright. You know I'm strong."

And again.

"I'm not going to die, darling. I promise. I promise."

Nothing calmed the shaking of her except for exhaustion. When she'd finally worn herself out, she fell asleep in his arms. He stayed awake.

~

May 2nd. 1998.

The castle came crumbling down.

Bodies scattered on stone. Flashes of green and red putting an end to lives that had barely begun. Children dead. Predators feasting on their flesh.

The stench was everywhere.

After abandoning his position as Headmaster, Severus and his wife stayed at the Malfoys manor. When Lucius knocked on their door, Severus took their conversation down the hall. When he returned, his expression was unreadable. He stared at her for a long time, as if memorizing her, before ordering her to stay put. He would be back, he whispered, so quietly she could barely hear it. He promised, he would be back.

But she was never one for following instructions. Not after walking down the stairs of the empty home to find a letter at the bottom step.

She would recognize the thin, crooked hand writing anywhere. Even if "My wife" wasn't sprawled across the envelope.

With shaking hands, she opened the letter.

{My wife,

I trust you ignored my instruction to stay put. Otherwise you wouldn't be reading this.

You always were too stubborn. Too stuborn to be stupid. Too intelligent. Perhaps that's why I fell in love with everything about you. You were too stubborn in your ambition to never give up on me. For that, I am deeply sorry.

I didn't know what I was doing when I joined this cult. I thought I did. I thought I wanted the glory, the belonging, the pride. It gave me none of it. From the moment the mark was seared into my skin. It gave me nothing.

I joined Dumbledore for reasons I've since told you. But forgive me for hiding the whole truth of our fate. I hid it from you, decieved you, out of nothing but love. I wished, that by protecting you from the truth, I could protect you from interferring from a fate where you'd be unhappy.

I mean it unpridefully when I say I don't believe The Order able to win this war without me. If I did, I would have listened to you years ago when you told me to run away with you. You know, I would follow you anywhere.

But it's not the war that needs me. Not some, self rightous, determined wish to save the world. It's you. My bright, happy, wife. My wife that loves teaching more than anything. My wife who loves fiercely, loyally and wholly. You loved me for reasons I still can not fully comprehend. But I love you none the less.

I know to lose this war would be to lose you. You'd be shattered watching the Dark Lord stay in power. Watching your students, your family, those you love be tortured and murdered by the masses. Even if I were alive, the two of us together. The wife I know, would be dead.

I am sorry there is not a scenerio where you would not be crushed. I am sorry I could not have done more. I am sorry for everything I have not ever said sorry for.

For awhile I fought this war out of duty to a "love" that chained me. Now I fight it out of duty to a love that is seered into every part of my soul.

I lack the foresight to see entirely where this night ends, but I doubt it will end gently for me. When Lucius said the Dark Lord wished to speak to me, I knew immediately it was about the elder wand. I think you knew too, before me, the night I killed Dumbledore. You were always too smart for your own good.

I do not care for you to clear my name. I know throughout those years its remained untarnished in your mind, and that is all I ever wished for.

I do ask you to be brave. Be strong. Be kind. You are a strong, fierce woman; the brightest Witch I've ever known and an even more incredible wife.

My love. I love you. I love you achingly, desperately. With every part of my being. I love you. Truly. Madly. Deeply. I love you.

I love you,

Severus.}

She sprinted out the door, letter abandoned on the last step, reaching only for the bag she'd dilligantly carried for the past dark months.

When she stood on the stoop, she saw only the night air looking back at him. No low hum of his voice, no smell of him on the air.

Emptiness.

Her wand was out in an instant. Without thinking of the dangers, she intended to apparate to Hogwarts. Yet for reasons she didn't know, she apparated just outside of Hogwarts grounds, collapsing in the inbetween of forest and lawn.

Thorns scraped her knees as she stumbled to her feet, her head swinging around widely trying to gather her surroundings. The Viaduct Court in front of her, the Shrieking Sack to her ri-

A Voice.

She heard voice. A dark, slithery voice that sounded like the onset of cruel death. Like the biting of a winter cold over exposed skin, hungry, maliced, unwavering.

And then she heard a thud.

Severus's wife was smart. Too smart.

She felt it. She couldn't describe the feeling, so unlike anything else she'd ever known. Unlike any trace of magic she'd studied or read about. It was primal, something deep inside herself she couldn't place. The knowledge that it was Severus's body, thrashing against the doors of the creaking boathouse. It was his blood staining the walls.

She moved without thinking, running desperately across the small clearing to the Shrieking Sack. Pebbles and sticks stabbed at her bare feet, she hadn't even put on shoes, had she? It didn't matter.

He could very well have still been in there when she threw the door open. He could've killed her right then in there and it would have been the last thing Severus would see before succuming to his own fate; the idea that once again... He failed.

But when she swung the door open, the Dark Lord had already apparated. Collapsed against the wall, Severus lay in his own blood, his breath a ragged song. He looked at her, and like all the times before, she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Anger. That she had come.

Fear. That she'd be found.

Dread. That she'd be killed.

Relief. That she had come.

She ran to his side, hands shakily hovering over his pale body, examining it. He was bleeding, a lot, from his neck. She'd never seen so much blood in her life.

"The snake?" She panted. "Did it bite you?"

Severus swallowed, nodded. He couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off her.

Her hands where in her bag before he even finished nodding. Rummaging for the potions she'd thankfully kept packed. It was lucky, a miracle even, that since the war had begun she'd kept healing potions in her bag at all times. A miracle, yes. She hoped it was enough.

With trembling hands, she popped the cork off the anti-venom potion first. It would take less than two minutes for Nagini's venom to kill him. How many seconds did she have left? How long would the potion take to work? Severus would know, but she didn't ask.

The second it was forced down his throat, she forced another one down. A blood replenishing potion. Enough, if it worked, to keep him from bleeding out. If the two worked together on time, maybe it would be enough.

With the second empty vial tossed to the floor, she focused her attention soley on Severus. Her hands pressed firmly yet gently onto his neck.

Warm. His blood was so warm. And there was so much of it. Coating her fingers, turning her palms red, dripping down her wrist.

Why wasn't it slowing? Why wasn't it stopping?

His breath was laboured as he whispered her name, barely audible. "Go... Home," he whispered.

She looked up at his paling face; looked into his eyes.

He was scared.

Her hands against his neck shook. "Don't," She said firmly. "Don't say anything. Don't talk. And don't die."

He swallowed back blood, eyes fixed on hers.

"You aren't allowed to fucking die? You hear me?" She hissed. "Not at the hands of some no nose, bald, wanna-be pureblood fuck who couldn't even kill a bloody baby!"

If Severus weren't bleeding to death, perhaps he would have snorted. But instead, he inhaled shakily, looking into her eyes and asking nothing in return.

Keeping his dark eyes on hers as he whispered: "I'll.. crawl.. home.. to you."

She stilled, eyes flicking widely between his as he watched something in them shift. They fluttered shut, his body going limp underneath her.

~

For the next few days, she clinged to him in the medical ward. Though she had to fight to get them to treat him, had to convince them of his true alliance to the Order by telling them things Severus surely wouldn't have wanted them to know, in the end, the medical infirmary agreed to treat him.

He was unconcious, barely breathing by the time they got to him. But they worked dilligently. Nimble hands casting spells, charms, forcing potions down his throat.

In the end, all that was left to do was wait. So she did. With her hand gripping his, she watched all day and night. She kept waiting for any slight movement, a twitch of the lip.. an eyebrow.

Any moment he'd wake up. His voice groggy and tired as he scolded her about why she'd chased after him. Never understanding fully the hole his absence would bring, how the threat of it nearly killed her out of terror.

It took a few days, but Severus did wake up. His eyelids opened slowly, eyes taking in the bright light. When they'd adjusted he thought he was in heaven. His wife... Those eyes staring into his.

But then, if she were here that would mean..

His eyes widened just as hers did, just as she threw her arms around his neck as delicately as she could manage. Crying, shaking, saying a bunch of incoherant ramblings as she held him.

Weakly, his left arm wrapped itself around her.

"You didn't lie," she sobbed, clinging to him.

Severus didn't understand that she was talking about his promise right before everything went back. He thought she was talking about what he wrote in the letter. But it didn't matter. He held her as tightly as he could manage and murmered the truth. "I.. didn't."

~

gang this was long af and lowkey tragic like ik u said angst but this is highkey ANGST. like even with the happy ending im l ike wow. brutal. anyways. sorry if it sucked LOL.

cheerio

~

editing bc i forgot to add my taglist oopsies

@graciesbow @niftysnazzy @plecosylvia @dark-st  @3hrysfiction-blog @ilovegrapes-world @darkvoidz @lexiitaylorrrr @theheartwants-what-itwants **@aperol-with-izzy**

**@herbologygremlin @kittenlittle24 @aleck-cross @macaroni7932 @xodilfluvr @unclosetedrickmaniac**

[theangryhistoriananna]

Whenever people claim Lucien never cared about Feyre past her connection to Tamlin and then Elain I always wonder if we've read the same books.

Like I can think of a TON of moments that showcase, starting in ACOTAR that Lucien did care for Feyre and considered her a friend but these five especially stick out for me:

But Beron had been part of that alliance, if I correctly recalled my lessons with Rhys all those months ago. "And yet here you are, ready to march with Hybern." "I did it for you, too, you know." Cold, hard words. "I went with him to get you back." "I never realized with a powerful motivator guilt can be." [.....] I said quietly, "Thank you. For coming to Hybern to get me." He pulled at the moss beside him, jaw tight. "It was a trap. What I thought we were to do there....it did not turn out that way." -ACOWAR 30

Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. "I think it's worse because you two haven't....I mean, you haven't, right?" I stiffened, tugging the blanket higher onto my shoulders. "No. I don't want to be touched like that-not for a while." His silence was heavy-sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. "I'm sorry" he said. And I wondered what else he was apologizing for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent. -ACOWAR 56

....It's old magic-old and strange. It's why we avoid bargains unless it's necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don't know how it works. Believe me, I've asked." "For me-you asked them for me." "Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I-we didn't want to give you false hope. And we didn't dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it." -ACOWAR 56

Tamlin had begged my forgiveness at dinner yesterday-and I'd given it to him. But Lucien hadn't spoken to him all evening. -ACOWAR 71

I was running out of borrowed time. I could winnow, but then I'd abandon Lucien to them if he somehow couldn't manage to himself with the faebane in his system from the food at the camp- Leave him. I should and could leave him. But to a fate perhaps worse than death- His russet eye gleamed. "Go" I made my choice. -ACOWAR 91

I often seen the last one used as evidence that Feyre was a good friend to Lucien who didn't deserve it and it always flabbergasts me that people think that from that passage of all passages. That entire scene is mostly just Feyre mentally complaining because stepping in and helping Lucien (who is being SA'd when she finds him and then later is having his life and/or sanity threatened) is causing her to waste time she needs to flee. She keeps telling herself that now that Alis is gone she doesn't need to feel guilty for what happens to Spring Court-including Lucien. She only steps in to protect Lucien from Ianthe because it's Ianthe and her hatred of her is stronger than her empathy for what Lucien went through. She only steps in and decides to stay and fight the twins AFTER Lucien urges her to leave him and save herself.

Lucien again and again and again steps in and protects Feyre, gives her advice, comforts her, argues with Tamlin for her, puts himself in danger for her, gives her presents (despite not getting any in return) and proves himself to be what Rhys told Feyre later in ACOWAR: loyal to a fault.

Not just to Elain, not just to Tamlin, not just the Band of Exiles. But to her as well. To Feyre almost most of all.

and in return Feyre takes his genuine concern for her and protectiveness over her and wields it as a weapon to tear his home down and goad Tamlin into violence with little care. She takes her friend and at best considers him a tool to be used for her and Night Court's benefit and expects him to show her nothing but gratitude.

I do think Feyre loves Lucien and wants him to stay in her life, but honey Lucien was always the better friend.

[river13245]

Mend

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: Father figure issues, hints at domestic abuse but nothing too graphic.

A/N: I fucking love Joel Miller and love writing for him. Bear with me darlings. (also I picture Logan looking a little like Kurt Cobain.)

-----

When you come home after a trip with your current boyfriend. You weren't expecting your life to change so drastically as it did. 

----

After spending 3 months at a beautiful spot in Italy with your boyfriend. You were much more tan than when you left. Texas was a beautiful place but nothing beat the Italy sun and how crisp the air was. Their small towns with all the shops and the water you could go too and spend your days at. It was all so pleasant there, it was like living our your Mamma Mia dreams. Especially when you chose to wear a sundress on your first day there. Nothing bad could happen to you there and you chose to remember it that way. Choosing to block out the bad things that occurred.

When you had finally returned home it was the hot air that first greeted you. It was so different from Italy, in Italy you didn't really sweat, but in Texas that's all you did. Especially on hot days like this. You had been carrying three of your suitcases while your boyfriend Logan was only carrying one of your small bags. Just so he could feel like he was helping you out. Walking inside you were trying to breathe through your nose as you felt your arms growing tired from carrying all the suitcases. You see your father in the living room sitting on his chair that he always sat at as he watched the news. "Hi dad" you say and he barely gave you any sign that he heard you.

The only way you knew he saw you was because he had glanced over to look at Logan before back to the TV in front of him. "come on" Logan says as he passes by you and makes his way into your room where he has been so many times before. When he opens the door he tosses your bag onto your bed while you gently place your suitcases into a corner in your room so you could unpack them at a later time. 

Logan was always so careless with your stuff, he would toss your things not really carrying where it landed or how rough he was being with your things. It was one of the many things that both of you argued about. "Could you please not just toss my things. You don't know what could be in that bag" you say as you turn to face him. He sighs as if it was such an inconvenience to him to take care of your things "I've told you so many times that whatever breaks I could just pay for another one. So does it even matter?"

Fuck him and his mommy's money. His mom was loaded with money, more money than she even knew what to do with. So with him being her only child it seemed the extra money went all to him. It was so much that the man in front of you hasn't worked a day in his life. His nails were never dirty and there were no callouses on his palms or fingers. Not saying that's what made you a man but you loved men who got dirty and had rough hands. Rough hands that would touch you ever so softly. You looked at him and said "There could be something inside that's really valuable to me that I don't want broken" pushing him further even though you knew it would only be a bad idea. However you never learned to just let things be. 

He looks at you before grabbing your bag. "why do you have to be so fucking annoying. Look I'll show you what all you have in here" he says as he unzips the bag in front of you. In the next moment he is tossing things everywhere in your room. Things like tampons, pads, makeup, chargers etc. It's not until he gets to a box that you freeze and hope he doesn't toss but he does. Just like the others it lands somewhere into the room before you could go to catch it. When he's done he looks at you "look nothing. So stop being a bitch when all I was doing was trying to help you"

You look at the box and get down onto your knees to grab it. Ignoring his words you open it up and see your grandmothers pendant necklace. It was one of the only things she had given you before she died. The pendant is cold against your warm hand and as you run your fingers against its cool metal you see that it's broken. Tears formed in your eyes and you refused to let them fall. Logan has never seen you cry and you wouldn't let it happen now. "get out" you say with a sudden bravery. 

There had only been a few times you've ever stood your ground with him and it never seemed to end well. He looks at you with a shocked expression "excuse me?" As he takes a step closer to you, you stand up "its just a stupid necklace. You could get hundreds of those exactly like it. I can just get you another one." He knew it wasn't just a necklace to you, in fact he knew the story behind this necklace and it gutted you that he was just so emotionless. 

Looking into his eyes you shake your head "I don't want another one! Nothing could replace this one you asshole!" anger was boiling inside of you and the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself. He walks closer to you until your back was pressed against the cold wall and that's when he does it. His fist goes through the wall and your head turns to the side as you recoil against the wall. Wanting it to swallow you whole. 

His hand roughly grabbed your face and jerked your head to look at him. You knew that there would be a bruise or two on your cheek from how rough he was being. It doesn't take much till you are looking at him, he was only an inch taller than you. "Id watch how you speak to me from now on. We wouldn't want any repeats of the other night would we" his words make your stomach drop as he reminds you about what happened a few times while you were in Italy. 

Italy that was once beautiful he had tried to taint and ruin for you. You would not let him, that place had been a dream. Next time you would just have to go without him. Fully enjoy the weather and the people. Get to know people that passed by you and interacted with. You loved people in fact you were a really outspoken person so why does this man, along with your father make you so different. 

Shaking your head you get a bit dizzy, not responding verbally. "You know what to do" he says as he lets go of your face. The familiar words that you've spoken more times than you'd like to admit start falling from your lips once again. "I'm sorry, please I'm so sorry. I know you didn't mean to break anything. Just trying to help me and it's my fault for making you so angry. Not being appreciative of what you were doing. I just need to keep my mouth shut"

He seems to like what you are saying because there is a sadistic smirk forming on his lips. There was no softness to those eyes of his. No love, not adoration. You don't think that he has cared for anything or anyone in his life. In fact you don't think he even cares about his own mother. If she didn't give him money he would have no use for her. Before you even can react he kisses you and you cant help but flinch back "great job babe. I knew you would come to your senses" when he pulls away he walks downstairs and you slowly follow behind him. 

When the both of you walk downstairs he walks over to speak with your father, while you go to your mother who was in the kitchen. She turns her head and sees you for the first time since you've got back and runs up to hug you. Your face bury into her neck and for the first time in months your body relaxes just a bit more than it has. "hi mom" you say and she smiles as she pulls away to look at you "hi sweet girl. I missed you. You will have to tell me all about your trip when you get the chance" 

Things between you and your mom were really good. You've always had a great relationship with her. However one thing you would never understand was why she was with your father. He was such an asshole to you and she stood by him. If he went to bed we all had to follow suit, no matter how early it was. It felt as if we couldn't live if he wasn't watching us closely to make sure we didn't step one toe out of line. That couldn't be how love was could it.

If that was how love was supposed to be like then why didn't you love Logan. He acted just like your father if not worse. Your father had only ever hit you once when you were a child and that was the first time your mother ever yelled at him. Lets just say he has not done it since. Maybe that's why your father practically shoved you right in front of Logan like a trophy and he made it his mission to get the two of you together. Unfortunately for you, he didn't stop until he got what he wanted so that's why you were stuck with him. There was no out for you, if you left not only would Logan hurt you but so would your father. 

Yeah you refused to believe that's what love is supposed to be like. So now the question is, what is love supposed to be like. 

Logan and your father had stopped talking and he pulls Logan into a quick hug. His hand hitting his back firmly like they were best pals. When they pulls away and Logan opens the door he looks over at you and your blood runs cold "I'll see you later babe" he left before you could say anything back. 

Babe. That's the only thing he ever called you and you hated it. There were so many other things you could be called. Things like honey, dear, love, darling, good girl, shit at this point you would take baby. Babe was just so basic and boring, it held no meaning to it at all, especially not in the way he said it. Maybe it was just him..you don't know. It could be because you felt nothing for the man you were dating. But what could you do about it, nothing.

There also were never any loving kisses. Hell there were barely any unless it was when he wanted to use you for sex. Sex which you never got off too and had to take care of yourself when he left you there. No kisses before he left or just because he wanted too. This man acted as if you had the plague and you hated how much it ripped you into shreds. 

When you hear his fancy car that was honestly quite ugly to you drive out of your long driveway. Your father turns to finally speak to you "get your things unpacked and put on an outfit other than that. Your mother is making dinner and we will be having a guest" of course the only time he talks to you is to subtly insult you and to boss you around. He never wanted to get to know you, never was that dad and you knew better than to expect him to be. You knew how he was from a young age which is why you loved your mother. 

"okay father" those are the only words you say before heading back upstairs into your small bedroom. Honestly you couldn't even call it a bedroom it was more like a closet. It fit a twin sized bed that was too damn small for you and made you wake up with a stiff neck and sore back almost all the time. Along with your dresser and a few bookshelves. Of course you made it cozy because you decorated heavily. There were band posters hung all over your wall and tapestries on your ceiling. On your bookshelves there were tons of books and even your record player. Your records being in sleeves and on their own special racks. There were a few lights in your room since you liked warm tones in your room after the suns tarts to go down. Never use much light when the sun is up because you loved natural light and it saved on the electric bill. 

You grab the suitcases that were in the corner and start to unpack them one by one. It takes about 30 minutes to finish unpacking everything and as soon as you were done you got ready. Going through your clothes you pick out jeans and a white blouse that was more nicer than what you currently had on. Which was shorts and a baggy t-shirt. You always needed to be presentable in front of your father so you made sure to brush your hair and pull it up nicely before heading back downstairs. 

When you walk downstairs you see your mother working away in the kitchen while your father was sitting In his chair. It always pissed you off how he made your mother do everything while he just sat on his ass. He worked while your mother didn't she was always a stay at home mom but she had told you years ago she wishes she worked because she got bored staying in the same place for so long. You were walking into the kitchen to help her when there was a knock on the door. "Natalia answer the door" your father yells loudly so you'd be able to hear. Rolling your eyes you mutter "please would be appreciated" your mother heard you and you swear a small smile was on her lips. 

A small smile forms on your lips after seeing your mom smile which was rare for her. You head to the door and open it, revealing a man who was considerably taller than you. Looking up at him you think he had to be 5'10 or something. The man looks down at you and waits patiently to be invited in. "Come on in. Make yourself comfortable" you say kindly

He walks in after saying a quick thank you and your eyes follow him, he was the epitome of what a man in Texas would look like. He's be on the cover of a magazine or something if the title was "a Texan man." The man was wearing a grey shirt with a flannel that was unbuttoned, then jeans that were tucked into the boots he was wearing. Noticing that he hadn't taken them off at the door and you couldn't imagine your father not telling him the rule at some point. Maybe he was trying to piss them off. You didn't know. 

While he talks with your father you go to help your mother in the kitchen. "so who is he?" you ask her quietly and she smiles "He is the neighbor, your father and him have become acquainted. He is a good man" you nod and just as soon as you start finishing up the pasta your father calls for you "Natalia come introduce yourself. Don't be rude." His tone left no choice but to obey. So you dry off your hands after washing them and then walk to the man beside your father and hold out your hand. "I'm Natalia its a pleasure to meet you" he takes your hand firmly but not roughly and you could feel his rough hands against your soft ones "The names Joel" A warmth spreads through your body and you are quick to let go as his eyes linger on you.

Seeing that could have been rude to just pull away like that your father glances at you. "I'm sorry. I should be going to help in the kitchen. Food will be done any moment now." you give Joel a kind smile before turning away to walk away. Its like you were trained to be sweet and kind in front of your father. Ever since you were younger if you weren't a certain way he would discipline you if you stepped a toe out of line. Always telling you that a man never likes when a woman speaks out of turn or doesn't listen. It's probably one of the reasons you didn't like men very much.  

His rough hands aren't the only thing you notice about Joel Miller. The more you hear him talk to your father at the table you notice he has such a deep southern drawl. He must have been born and raised here and you've always loved a man with an accent. Shaking your head you plate everyone's food and pass out everyone's plates in front of them. Your father thanks your mother while ignoring you completely while Joel makes sure to say it to you. "your welcome" you respond before sitting down to eat with everyone. 

As everyone talked you stayed quiet and in the short time you've learned a few things about Joel Miller. He had a daughter who was 12 years old and that his whole world revolved around her. It was so refreshing to see a father who loved their kid. It was a pleasant time until it wasn't because your father must have brought up a sensitive topic. 

"I'm surprised you came to dinner tonight. You are usually a very busy man" Joel's shoulders tense up. "yeah I've been taking care of my daughter. She just got over a cold" he responds as your father begins to eat his food. "Cant you have her mother watch her? I know how tiring it is to be with a daughter all the time" 

Your fathers words make you look at your plate and you can feel Joel eye you for a moment before looking back him. "Mother isn't around" is all he says and your father seems to not notice how tense the man is because he thinks for a moment "well if you ever need anyone to watch over your daughter. Mine would be honored to help you out. It will get her out of the house" he looks at you "wouldn't you?" You nod and finish swallowing your food before responding. "yeah of course. I'm sure she is lovely. Whenever you need" 

Joel looks at you for a moment before noticing how distant your eyes look. He was good at reading people, he had to be good at it for his business. Needing to know if people were bullshitting him. "sure, uhm. You free tomorrow night, I've got to work at 7 and wont be home till real late?" 

your eyes widen at how soon it was but you fix your expression and smile. "yes of course. I don't have any plans so I'll be there." Honestly you would do anything if It meant you would be out of the house and away from your father. Your mother was safe with him, in fact he was so nice and kind to her it was so different than how he treated you. So you wouldn't have to worry about her. Joel looks at you again and nods "good."

Another thing you noticed was that Joel was a man of few words. He wasn't coming across as being an asshole so you didn't think that was his intention. It was just who he was. He wasn't super intimidating or threatening so he seemed harmless. The only thing was that he made you a little nervous every time he looked at you. It was as if he was reading you and you hated it. You've spent years trying to make yourself as complicated and difficult to read. You've done it for so long that you don't even know who the real you is anymore. Is it this innocent sweet girl you were with your father, or your outgoing and confident persona you put on when you are partying with friends. You honestly didn't know and you didn't need anyone to figure it out for you. 

Eventually everyone is finished with their food and you tell your mom you will get the dishes. A kiss is placed on your cheek before she leaves you in the kitchen while Joel was saying goodbye to them. Once he leaves your father looks at you "clean everything up before you go to sleep. Then tomorrow you will work in the yard because its getting out of hand" you nod and he goes to bed with your mother

The rest of your night is spent scrubbing the floors, sweeping them, dusting. Not stopping until everything is spotless and you are about to drop to your knees from tiredness. As soon as you get ready and into your bed you lay down and pass out instantly. 

A/N: I picture Logan to look a bit like Kurt Cobain. (photo just for reference)

[pxnsneverland]

Riding With Devils | biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 6)

(gif source: asaemory)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

plot summary: Sophie Ann Sutton appears to have the perfect life as a high school senior in a small town. With straight A's, a thriving social life, and a scholarship to her dream college, she feels invincible—especially with her loyal best friend by her side. But everything changes when she crosses paths with Austin, the dangerously charming son of the local biker gang's leader. Their worlds collide in an electrifying romance that defies all expectations, pulling Sophie into a whirlwind of rebellion, excitement and danger.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 5040

warnings/notes:

Chapter 6: A Scandalous Love Affair

Frank Butler sat in his darkened office, a glass of whiskey untouched on the desk before him. The surveillance photos spread across his blotter told a story his son thought he'd kept hidden: Austin helping Sophie into Miguel's car, Austin watching her house from across the street, Austin scaling the trellis to her bedroom window.

Frank lifted one photo, studying it in the dim light—his son's face captured in profile, looking at the Sutton girl with an expression Frank hadn't seen since Austin was a child looking at his mother. Unguarded. Vulnerable. Completely fucking stupid.

A soft knock at the office door interrupted Frank's brooding. "Come in."

Decker entered, his weathered face grim in the lamplight. "Got those additional photos you requested."

Frank gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Show me."

Decker spread a fresh set of surveillance photos across the already cluttered surface. These were clearer, taken with a telephoto lens from the abandoned house across from the Sutton residence. Austin climbing the trellis. Austin disappearing through Sophie's bedroom window. Austin emerging forty minutes later, his hair disheveled, his expression soft in a way that made Frank's jaw clench.

"How long was he inside?" Frank asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"Forty-three minutes," Decker replied. "Left around eleven-fifteen."

Frank picked up another photo—this one showing Austin and Sophie silhouetted against her bedroom window, their bodies close together in what was unmistakably an intimate embrace.

"Forty-three minutes," Frank repeated, setting the photo down with deliberate precision. "Plenty of time for a young man to make some very poor decisions."

Decker shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want us to do about it?"

Frank leaned back in his chair, his pale eyes reflecting the desk lamp's glow. "Nothing. Yet." He gathered the photos into a neat stack. "But keep watching. I want to know every time my son visits that house, every conversation he has with the girl, every look they exchange at school." He paused, his fingers drumming against the desk. "And I want to know what Judge Sutton does when he discovers his precious daughter is spreading her legs for Frank Butler's son."

Decker's eyebrows rose slightly. "You think the judge doesn't know?"

"William Sutton is many things, but he's not stupid," Frank replied, pouring himself another whiskey. "He'll figure it out eventually. The question is what he'll do about it." A cold smile played at Frank's lips. "A federal judge's daughter caught in bed with the heir to a criminal empire? That's the kind of scandal that ends careers."

"Or starts wars," Decker observed quietly.

Frank's smile widened. "Exactly. Either outcome serves our purposes." He lifted his glass in a mock toast. "To young love and all its consequences."

***

On Monday, Sophie arrived at school early, her nerves frayed from a weekend of anxious waiting. She'd jumped at every sound outside her window, half-hoping Austin would return, half-terrified her father would somehow discover what had happened in her bedroom Friday night. The kiss replayed in her mind constantly—the surprising gentleness of his touch, the hunger that had awakened in her response.

She'd spent Sunday making excuses to avoid debate practice, claiming a migraine while actually pacing her room, wondering what Austin was doing, whether he was safe. Miguel had texted her once—a cryptic message saying only "All quiet. See you Monday."

Now she stood at her locker, arranging books with mechanical precision while scanning the hallway for any sign of Austin or Miguel.

"You missed the entire student council meeting on Friday," Caroline said, appearing beside her. "Jimmy was furious."

Sophie winced. "I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well."

"You could have called," Caroline pressed. "We had to reschedule the entire spring dance committee agenda."

"It won't happen again," Sophie promised, the words automatic.

Caroline studied her face. "Are you okay? You seem... different."

"Just tired," Sophie lied, closing her locker. "Didn't sleep well this weekend."

"Because of the mentorship program?" Caroline lowered her voice. "Jimmy says it's dangerous. That Butler and that new football player are using you for something."

Sophie felt her jaw tighten. "Jimmy needs to mind his own business."

Caroline's eyes widened at Sophie's sharp tone. "I'm just concerned. We all are. This isn't like you, Sophie."

"Maybe you don't know what I'm like," Sophie replied, immediately regretting the words when she saw hurt flash across Caroline's face. "I'm sorry. That was unfair. I'm just tired of everyone telling me who I am and what I should do."

"It's not about telling you what to do," Caroline said quietly. "It's about keeping you safe. Butler has a reputation. His family—"

"I know about his family," Sophie cut her off. "But Austin isn't just his last name."

Caroline studied her face for a long moment. "Oh my God," she whispered. "You like him."

"That's not—" Sophie began, but the denial died on her lips. The memory of Austin's kiss, of his hands gentle against her skin, made her cheeks flush.

"Sophie, think about what you're doing," Caroline urged, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard. "Your father is a federal judge. Austin's father runs the Devil's Mark. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"

Before Sophie could respond, a hush fell over the hallway. She turned to see Miguel walking toward them, his usual athletic swagger subdued. A few steps behind him was Austin, leather jacket replaced with a simple white t-shirt that somehow made him look even more dangerous in the fluorescent-lit hallway.

Students parted before them like water around stones. Austin's eyes found Sophie immediately, his expression carefully neutral though something flickered in his gaze when he saw her standing with Caroline.

"We'll talk later," Caroline whispered, squeezing Sophie's arm before retreating down the hall.

Austin stopped a few feet away, his posture deliberately casual. "Morning, Princess," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "Sleep well?"

The double meaning wasn't lost on Sophie. "Fine," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "You?"

"Not particularly." His eyes swept over her face, lingering on her lips for a fraction of a second. "We need to talk. After the mentoring session."

Miguel shifted uncomfortably beside them. "Guys, people are staring."

He wasn't wrong. The hallway had gone eerily quiet, dozens of eyes watching their interaction with undisguised curiosity.

"Let them stare," Austin replied, though he took a small step back from Sophie. "I'll see you in the library at three."

As he walked away, Sophie became acutely aware of the whispers erupting around her. By lunch, the entire school would be buzzing with speculation about Sophie Sutton and Austin Butler.

"You okay?" Miguel asked quietly.

Sophie nodded, though her stomach was tied in knots. "Did something happen this weekend? After Friday?"

Miguel hesitated, glancing around at the curious onlookers. "Not here," he murmured. "I'll tell you during our session. Just... be careful today, okay? Jimmy's been asking questions about you and Austin."

"Jimmy needs to mind his own business," Sophie repeated, louder this time. The familiar weight of expectations pressed down on her shoulders, but for once, she didn't feel the need to carry it. "I need to get to class."

As she walked away, Sophie felt dozens of eyes following her progress down the hall. The perfect Sophie Sutton, suddenly at the center of scandal and speculation. The thought should have terrified her—her entire life had been built around avoiding exactly this kind of attention. Instead, she felt strangely liberated, as if shedding a skin that had grown too tight.

***

By lunchtime, the rumors had evolved from whispers to open discussion. Sophie sat at her usual table, mechanically eating a sandwich while trying to ignore the stares from surrounding tables.

"Is it true?" Maggie slid onto the bench beside her, eyes wide with excitement. "Did Austin Butler really climb through your bedroom window Friday night?"

Sophie nearly choked. "What? Who told you that?"

"So it is true!" Maggie whispered triumphantly. "Oh my God, Sophie!"

"Keep your voice down," Sophie hissed, glancing around the cafeteria. "And no, it's not—" She stopped, unable to form the lie. "How did anyone even know about that?"

Maggie's expression sobered. "Tommy Wilson's older brother lives across from you. Said he saw someone climbing your trellis Friday night." She leaned closer. "Sophie, what are you doing? Your father would lose his mind."

"Don't you think I know that?" Sophie pushed her lunch away, appetite gone. "It's complicated, Maggie."

"Complicated is failing calculus. This is suicide," Maggie replied. "Austin Butler isn't just some bad boy you can date to rebel against your parents. His family is dangerous."

"You don't know him," Sophie said quietly.

"And you do? After what, a week?" Maggie's voice softened. "Look, I get it. He's hot, he's forbidden, he rescued you from Jimmy. But this isn't a movie, Soph. There are real consequences."

Before Sophie could respond, a shadow fell across their table. Jimmy stood there, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger.

"Can we talk?" he asked Sophie, pointedly ignoring Maggie.

"I'm eating lunch," Sophie replied, though her half-eaten sandwich belied the claim.

"It's important," Jimmy insisted.

Sophie sighed, gathering her things. "Fine. Five minutes."

She followed Jimmy to a relatively quiet corner near the vending machines, already dreading whatever he had to say.

"I know about Friday night," Jimmy began without preamble. "About Butler climbing into your trellis. Did you fuck him?”

Sophie's hand connected with Jimmy's cheek before she'd consciously decided to move. The sharp crack echoed off the cafeteria walls, and conversations at nearby tables fell silent.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again," Sophie said, her voice trembling with fury.

Jimmy's hand flew to his reddening cheek, shock replacing the smirk on his face. "Sophie, I—"

"You what? You thought you could talk to me like I'm some kind of object?" Sophie stepped closer, her green eyes blazing. "Just because you can't handle rejection doesn't give you the right to humiliate me in public."

"I was just asking—"

"No, you were being cruel. And pathetic." Sophie gathered her books, her hands shaking with adrenaline. "Stay away from me, Jimmy. I mean it."

She walked away on unsteady legs, acutely aware of every eye in the cafeteria following her movement. The perfect Sophie Sutton had just slapped the captain of the debate team in front of half the school. By the end of the day, it would be the talk of Millfield High.

Back at her original table, Maggie stared at her with something approaching awe. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," she whispered.

Sophie sank onto the bench, her heart still hammering. "I can't believe I just did that."

"I can't believe you haven't done it sooner," Maggie replied. "Jimmy's been treating you like his property for months."

***

The afternoon crawled by with excruciating slowness. Sophie found herself unable to concentrate in any of her classes, her mind cycling between replaying the kiss from Friday night and dreading whatever Austin needed to tell her after their mentoring session. By the time three o'clock arrived, her nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

She reached the library to find Miguel already seated at their usual table, his expression grim. Austin was nowhere to be seen.

“Heard you slapped Jimmy in the caf,” Miguel grinned, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Wish I'd seen it. Carson's had it coming for a while."

Sophie set her books on the table with more force than necessary. "Can we not talk about it? I've already had enough whispers and stares for one lifetime."

"Sure," Miguel agreed easily, opening his history textbook. "But just so you know, half the girls in school are calling you their hero right now."

Sophie blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Jimmy's reputation isn't as pristine as he pretends," Miguel explained. "Turns out you're not the first girl he's gotten handsy with."

Before Sophie could process this information, the library doors swung open and Austin strode in. His eyes immediately found Sophie, something unreadable flickering in their blue depths before his expression settled into careful neutrality. Mrs. Ramirez looked up from the circulation desk, her smile faltering slightly at Austin's intense demeanor.

"You're late, Mr. Butler," she called out.

"Traffic," Austin replied without taking his eyes off Sophie.

He slid into the chair beside her, close enough that their elbows brushed. The contact sent an electric current up Sophie's arm, memories of Friday night's kiss rushing back with startling clarity.

"I heard about Jimmy," Austin murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You okay?"

"Fine," Sophie replied, focusing intently on opening her textbook. "Can we just focus on the mentoring? I've had enough drama for one day."

Austin studied her profile for a moment longer before nodding. "Sure, Princess. Whatever you want."

The session proceeded with surprising normalcy. They reviewed Miguel's history essay, discussed his upcoming English test, and mapped out a study schedule for his calculus midterm. Anyone observing would have seen three teenagers focused on academics, with no hint of the undercurrents flowing beneath the surface.

When Mrs. Ramirez announced the end of the session, Sophie felt a flutter of anxiety. Austin had said they needed to talk afterward, and judging by the tension in his shoulders, it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Miguel, give us a minute?" Austin asked as they packed up their materials.

Miguel nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll wait by the car."

After he left, Austin led Sophie to a secluded corner of the library, sheltered by tall stacks of reference books. "We have a problem," he said without preamble.

"Just one?" Sophie replied, aiming for lightness but achieving only brittleness.

"My father knows about Friday night," Austin said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Someone was watching your house. They took pictures."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath Sophie's feet. "Pictures? Of what?"

"Of me climbing into your window. Of us..." he hesitated, "...together."

Sophie's face drained of all color. "Oh God. What does that mean?"

Austin's jaw clenched, his hands unconsciously forming fists at his sides. “It means my father has leverage. Against your father, and against me.”

"What kind of leverage?" Sophie whispered, though she dreaded the answer.

Austin reached out stroking her cheek with infinite gentleness, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "He wants your father to back off. And he wants me kept in line. He’ll use any means to do that. Including harming you.”

"So, what do we do?" Sophie asked, her voice barely audible even in the quiet library corner.

Austin's eyes darkened as he glanced around, making sure they were truly alone. "We need to be smarter than them. More careful." His hand dropped from her face reluctantly. "No more late-night visits. No more private conversations at school."

"You want us to stay away from each other," Sophie said. The thought settled like a stone in her stomach.

"I want us to appear to stay away from each other," Austin corrected, leaning closer. "My father expects me to either defy him openly or fall in line. We need a third option."

Sophie searched his face, trying to understand. "What kind of third option?"

"We let him think he's won. That I'm using you for information about your father, that whatever..." he hesitated, "...whatever is happening between us is just part of the game."

"And is it?" The question slipped out before Sophie could stop it. "Part of the game?"

Austin's expression softened, a vulnerability flashing across his features that made him look younger, less certain. "No," he said simply. "It's the only real thing in my life right now."

The words hung between them like a confession. Sophie's breath caught in her throat as Austin's gaze dropped to her lips. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his mouth capturing hers with an urgency that made her knees weak. His hands tangled in her hair as he backed her against the bookshelf, the spines of ancient encyclopedias pressing into her shoulders. Sophie melted into him, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer despite the voice in her head warning of consequences.

This kiss was different from Friday night—desperate, hungry, as though he was memorizing the taste of her. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Austin rested his forehead against hers.

"We're playing with fire," he whispered against her lips.

"I know," Sophie replied, her hands still clutching his shirt.

“Fuck.” Austin pulled back slightly, studying her face with an intensity that made her shiver. “I shouldn’t be doing this. You have your whole future ahead of you, one away from this place.”

"What about your future?" Sophie asked, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He shivered under her touch. "My future was decided the day I was born a Butler."

"It doesn't have to be," Sophie insisted. "You could—"

Austin silenced her with another brief, fierce kiss. "Don't," he murmured against her mouth. "Don't offer me impossible things. I’m not good for you, Sophie.”

“Shouldn’t I decide what’s good for me?”

"Maybe for the first time in your life," Austin replied, a hint of his usual smirk returning. His fingers traced her collarbone, feather-light.

A small gasped came from her lips, but she never took her eyes away from his. "My whole life has been one carefully planned step after another. College applications, debate tournaments, student council—all of it leading to some perfect future I never questioned.” She traced his collarbone as well, a small part of it peeking out from the neck of his t-shirt. “You’re the only real thing in my life too.”

The library doors opened with a bang, making them both jump. Austin pulled Sophie deeper into the shelves as Mrs. Ramirez's voice carried across the room.

"I'm locking up in five minutes! Anyone still here needs to leave now!"

Austin's eyes locked with Sophie's. "We need a plan," he whispered. "Somewhere we can meet safely, away from my father's people and your father's expectations."

Sophie thought quickly. "The old boathouse at Millfield Lake. No one goes there this time of year."

"Tomorrow. After school." Austin brushed his lips against her forehead. "We'll figure this out, I promise."

They emerged from the stacks separately, Austin first, then Sophie a few minutes later. Mrs. Ramirez gave them a suspicious look but said nothing as they left the library.

Outside, the afternoon sunlight was fading, casting long shadows across the school parking lot. Austin kept a deliberate distance between them as they walked, though his eyes constantly scanned their surroundings.

"My car's over there," Sophie said, gesturing toward her Volkswagen.

Austin nodded. "I'll walk you."

"That defeats the purpose of appearing to stay away from each other," Sophie pointed out, though she made no move to stop him.

"One last indulgence," Austin replied with a ghost of his usual smirk. "Besides, Jimmy might be lurking around, nursing his wounded pride."

"I shouldn't have slapped him," Sophie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It was impulsive and reckless."

"It was honest," Austin corrected. "Something you've been in short supply of until recently."

They reached her car, standing awkwardly beside it like strangers making small talk. Sophie fumbled with her keys, hyper-aware of Austin's presence, of the memory of his lips on hers just minutes ago.

"Tomorrow," Austin said quietly. "Four o'clock. Don't tell anyone where you're going."

"What about Miguel?" Sophie asked, glancing toward the football player leaning against his Honda several spaces away.

"Miguel knows to keep his mouth shut." Austin's eyes softened as they swept over her face one last time. "Be careful, Princess."

***

The Millfield Lake boathouse had seen better days. Sophie picked her way across the weathered dock, careful to avoid the rotting planks. The afternoon sun glinted off the water, painting the lake's surface in shades of gold and amber. She'd told her parents she was staying late at school for debate practice, the lie slipping easily from her tongue. Every step she took away from her carefully constructed life felt like both a betrayal and a liberation.

The boathouse door creaked as she pushed it open. Inside, dust motes danced in the sunbeams that filtered through the grimy windows. Old canoes and rowboats hung from the rafters, creating strange shadows across the wooden floor. A rustic table and a few folding chairs were pushed against one wall, remnants of the summer camp that had abandoned the facility years ago.

Sophie checked her watch—3:52. She was early, anxiety having driven her from school the moment the final bell rang. She paced the small space, rehearsing what she wanted to say to Austin, how they might navigate the impossible situation they'd found themselves in.

The sound of a motorcycle engine cut through the quiet, then faded to silence. Sophie's heart hammered against her ribs as footsteps approached the boathouse. The door swung open, and Austin stood silhouetted against the afternoon light, his leather jacket gleaming in the sun.

"You came," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Sophie asked, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Austin stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I thought you might come to your senses."

"Maybe this is me coming to my senses," Sophie replied, holding her ground as he moved closer.

A ghost of a smile played across Austin's lips. "Careful, Princess. Talk like that could get you in trouble."

"I'm already in trouble," Sophie said quietly. "We both are."

Austin reached her in three long strides, his hands cupping her face with surprising gentleness. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "We definitely are."

Their lips met with the desperate intensity of people who knew their time together was stolen. Sophie's hands slid beneath Austin's jacket, feeling the solid warmth of him through his t-shirt. He backed her against the edge of the rustic table, lifting her easily to sit on its surface, stepping between her parted knees.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you," Austin murmured against her neck, his lips tracing a path from her collarbone to the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Not for a single minute."

Sophie shivered, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Me neither.

Austin pulled back slightly, his blue eyes serious as they searched her face. "We need to talk about what happens next."

"I know," Sophie sighed. Though part of her wanted to lose herself in his touch and forget about the complications waiting beyond the boathouse walls. "Your father. You’ve seen him use people before?”

Austin's jaw tightened, his hands sliding down to rest on her waist. “Use people. Torture people.” His eyes darkened. “Kill people. Anything to get what he wants. He doesn’t care. Most people outside of the gang are just tools to him.” His thumbs traced gentle circles against her sides.

Sophie felt a chill run through her despite Austin's warm touch. "And what does he want now? From me, from my father?"

"Your father's been building a RICO case against the Devil's Mark. Against my father specifically." Austin's voice was low, matter-of-fact. "He's been collecting evidence, turning witnesses, freezing assets. That’s a declaration of war in my father’s eyes. He wants him dead.”

Sophie's blood ran cold. "My father's in danger?"

"We all are." Austin's hands tightened on her waist. "Frank Butler doesn't leave loose ends. Once he decides someone's a threat, they either bend or break."

"And me? Am I just a loose end to him?" Sophie's voice wavered despite her attempt to sound brave.

Austin's expression darkened. "You're leverage. A way to control your father... and me." His thumb traced her cheekbone with a gentleness that contrasted with his words. "He thinks if he threatens you, your father will back off the investigation. And he thinks if he hurts you, I'll fall in line."

"Will you?" Sophie whispered.

Austin's eyes flickered with something dangerous. "If he hurts you, I'll kill him."

The words hung between them, stark and absolute. Sophie's breath caught at the quiet certainty in his voice.

"You don't mean that," she whispered.

"I do." His hands tightened on her waist. "That's what scares me. I've spent my whole life following his orders, being the perfect soldier. But this—you—it's different."

Sophie placed her palm against his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath her fingers. "There has to be another way. We can't just wait for your father to make a move."

Austin was quiet for a moment, his mind working through possibilities. "Your father's investigation—how close is he to making arrests?"

"I don't know," Sophie admitted. "He never discusses cases at home. But lately he's been working late, having private calls in his study."

Austin stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "If your father has enough evidence to bring down the Devil's Mark, my father will get desperate. And desperate men do terrible things."

"So what do we do?" Sophie asked, her voice small in the dusty boathouse.

Austin began pacing the cramped space, his boots echoing against the weathered floorboards. "We need to know what your father has. How close he is to bringing charges."

"I can't spy on my own father," Sophie protested, though even as she said it, she knew she was already considering it.

"Not spy," Austin corrected, stopping in front of her. "Just... listen. Pay attention. If we know his timeline, we can plan accordingly."

Sophie slid down from the table, wrapping her arms around herself. "And then what? What's the endgame here, Austin? Your father isn't going to just disappear. My father isn't going to stop prosecuting criminals."

"I don't know," Austin admitted, his voice raw with frustration. "I've been trying to figure that out since Friday night. All I know is that I won't let him use you as a weapon against your father."

"Maybe I should just tell my father everything," Sophie said quietly. "About the mentorship, about your father's threats, about us."

Austin's head snapped up. "No. Absolutely not."

"Why not? He could protect me. He could—"

"He could get you killed," Austin cut her off. "If your father moves against my father now, before he's ready, Frank will retaliate. And the first target will be you."

Sophie sank into one of the folding chairs, the weight of their situation settling on her shoulders like a stone. "So I'm trapped. I can't tell my father, I can't stay away from you, and I can't keep pretending everything's normal."

Austin knelt beside her chair, his hands covering hers. "Hey. Look at me." When she met his eyes, he continued, "We're going to figure this out. I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have to be." His thumb traced across her knuckles. "Because the alternative is unacceptable."

Sophie studied his face, seeing the determination there, but also the fear he was trying to hide. "What about Miguel? Where does he fit into all this?"

Austin's expression darkened. "Miguel's walking a tightrope. His uncle expects him to be useful, my father expects him to be compliant. One wrong step and he falls."

"Can we trust him?"

"I think so. He's scared, but he's not stupid. He knows his best chance of survival is keeping everyone happy while getting the hell out of Millfield."

Sophie nodded, then stood abruptly. "I should go. If I'm late getting home, my parents will ask questions."

Austin rose as well, his hands finding her waist again. "Tomorrow's session. We act normal. Professional. Give them nothing to suspect."

"And after that?"

"We meet here again. Same time." His forehead touched hers.

Sophie's hands slid up to rest against his chest. "Austin, what if we can't make this work? What if there's no way out?"

"Then we go down fighting," he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. "But I'm not giving up on this. Not yet."

The conviction in his voice made something flutter in Sophie's chest—part hope, part terror. She pulled back to look at him, memorizing the sharp angles of his face, the way the fading sunlight caught the gold in his hair.

"I need to ask you something," she said quietly. "And I need you to be honest with me."

Austin's expression grew wary. "What?"

"If it came down to choosing between me and your father—between protecting me and protecting the Devil's Mark—what would you do?"

Austin's jaw worked silently, his blue eyes searching her face as if looking for an escape from the impossible choice she'd presented. "Sophie—"

"Please," she whispered. "I need to know what I'm walking into."

Austin's hands tightened on her waist, his knuckles white with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. "I've been asking myself that same question since Friday night. And the answer terrifies me."

"Tell me."

"You," he said simply. "Even if it destroyed everything I've ever known. And that scares me. It scares me how much I want you."

Sophie's breath caught. The words should have filled her with relief, but instead they made her stomach clench with dread. Because she could see the cost of that choice written in the lines of his face, could hear the grief for a life he'd never get to live.

Sophie rose on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that tasted like salt and desperation. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.

"I should go," she repeated, though she made no move to leave his arms.

"Yeah," Austin agreed, though his hands remained firmly planted on her waist. "You should."

Neither of them moved for a long moment, both reluctant to break the spell of the boathouse, to return to a world where they had to pretend indifference.

Finally, Austin stepped back, his hands sliding down her arms before releasing her entirely. "Give me five minutes before you leave. Just in case anyone's watching."

Sophie nodded, gathering her things with unsteady hands. At the door, Austin caught her wrist gently.

"Sophie? Be careful tomorrow. My father's unpredictable when he's planning something."

"I will," she promised, then slipped out into the fading daylight.

Stay tuned for part 7!! Click HERE to view!

[everettes-requiem]

"Why are you so angry?

You speak really formally, you know? A lot of people here speak really formally. It makes it scarier for the smaller blokes when you start lashing out like that. You think no one can hear the arguments you have with others? It's always like listening to a stage play with the way you lot talk to each other.

Why do you do that, why do you act so hostile all the time? Is there any point or are you just doing it to feel a step above everyone else? We're stranded here together, you know, you're not going to benefit isolating yourself like that.

You don't have to be formal with me. We're on equal footing, in the same situation, aren't we? I could be your friend."

- ☀️ ( @finscadetkids )

“you’re nicholas. you’re friends with johnny” he spoke before the other could even get a word in. he let out his words cautiously, a bit more careful than he usually was. he looked at nicholas in the eye only slightly, before turning his attention to the weapon strapped to him. that was the real cause for concern.

“why are you here?” his eyes narrowed. surely johnny had told him about their little quarrel. though everette was sure nicholas was harmless, and that he himself was far from a rabid animal, so it was unlikely that he would shoot him point blank. but, there was still a possibility— and that possibility was most likely higher now considering how recently he made enemies with his best friend

but despite this and his efforts at the start to stay wary, his inherent nature betrayed his deteriorating want to live— to survive that is. his accursed tongue was no stranger to verbalizing his inner unbridled detestation, and thus, he did. there was no longer much regard for the other's feelings, nor his own life at this point so early in time

“did he send you my direction to send a bullet through my head? i already have enough to deal with after what abel did to me, you know. but of course you probably know. everybody does at this point. word spreads fast amongst you loathsome lot. as fast as 'he fire that happened on this island when we first got here. or maybe—“

everette’s words, just as they were starting to return to their rhythmic bouts of bitterness, ended as quick as they began. his words caught in his throat, the other boy's question hanging in the hair, until it fell into everette's hands. his grey eyes slowly met nicholas’ brown eyes. a glare riddled with building aggravation, met with a look of straightforward sincerity.

heat started to prickle beneath everette's skin. it slowly began to simmer to the surface, no doubt it was going to boil and overflow sooner or later. “what kind of question is that? you know, your little blue eyed friend came up to me with a stupid question just like yours not too long ago. didn't think i've ever cross a question more foolish than his, but 'hen here you are, presenting me with one 'hat might as well serve to be a testament to how daft you can really be. that's one thing about you nicholas, you just have to keep proving me wrong, don't you?"

"i've constantly overheard people say you two are opposites, but maybe i'm the first to actually find a solid similarity. how you two are complete idiots and sorry excuses for people. is that why johnny said you like the smarter folk? is 'hat to make up for your wits being non-existent, or am I mistaken? oh, of course not, i never actually am"

"you do know the saying that goes two heads are better than one, do you not, nicholas? though, how much better are they really if they're both as hollow as some seashell, hm? just like that useless conch that ralph still keeps around, 'hinking it'll do him any good anymore"

“it’s not like i was expecting anything more out of you, wasn’t expecting much at all, really. you could even say that they were in the ground, six feet below or what not— especially with the kind of people you associate with. but, perhaps even then my expectations were apparently too high, which I never thought to be possible"

"i thought you were going to shoot me dead. make me bleed from my head rather than from my nose. but now? quite honestly, i think i’d rather 'ake that over having a conversation with you” but, through all of this, the initial question still remained unanswered. purposeful ignorance, avoidance even. nicholas moved on after all, no reason for everette to dwell on it, no matter how much it provoked him. but, why did it provoke him so? was it because he truly thought it wasn't worth his time? or was it because for once, he couldn't properly answer him because he didn't know how to.

everette opted to focus on other things instead, he had no choice but to do so. he strained to listen to nicholas, a faint pain beginning to nag at him, his head aching. "if you want to talk about speaking formally, you should refer to reeves. 'hat boy speaks in riddles or something, such nonsense coming out of that self righteous mouth of his"

"what's the point in trying to get a message across when no one can understand you? no point at all 'hat's for sure. if you say anything about it though he'll probably retort back by saying how a simpleton such as yourself couldn't even begin to understand words of such superiority and grace. he makes me want to vomit." he let out a shaky breath, wiping off the excess blood that had now dried from his bruised and battered nose. his expression remained unbothered, although tension played at some of his features

"reeves thinks he'll make such a big impact in society. i just think reality has yet to hit him in the face, to knock him down a few pegs from 'hat pedestal he puts himself on. when that happens he's going to fall right into the loony bin, into 'he mental asylum where he belongs"

"there's something wrong with him, im sure of it. not just his ugly face, but internally as well. isn't it ironic? he's so closely affiliated with damon, who's the medic of the island, and yet no matter what, i bet that he could never fix reeves even if he tried!" if this were anyone else, perhaps there would be a little humor woven into that otherwise crude statement to lighten the connotations. but, everette was not just anyone else, of course he wasn't. the boy only grimaced, looking off to the side. he meant what he said.

"or take ripley for instance. he tends to articulate his 'houghts in such poetic verses. he did tell me he got full marks in writing back in school before we ended up here, so maybe that has something to do with it. every word of his is akin to the bindings of a book. strung together for one reason or another, it’s beyond me, really. can barely tell what’s going on in that head of his, i’d think it would be rather difficult to think with constant buzzing going on. if he even does think for himself anymore”

“there were days i wished he would just go quiet. no matter how lyrical and appealing his words may seem, when they are constantly following you around like some never ending allegory, 'hen it would end up driving you to your wits end sooner or later. but, i will say with indifference that my past desire has partly come true now. he speaks less than he used to, he mutters more than he actually talks. however, it’s all still very flowery. it’s much like 'he flowers he used to gift me. though, i'm sure flowers wilt in his path nowadays. the byproduct of his chosen lineage, i suppose"

his voice evened out at the last words, falling into silence. the waves fell high and low, and the wind blew past, it all served as white noise that then only emphasized how uncharacteristically still everette stood. he even looked, uncomfortable for a moment. the boy shook his head, crossing his arms.

"either way, i do not know their reasons, and I don’t care to give you mine in full. all you need to know is that if my father bids me to speak this way, then I will listen. he said that the way you speak is indicative of the boy you are, if not the man you will find yourself growing to be in the future. if you have a proper grasp on your words, then you may as well have the world in the palm of your hand. at the very least, that is what i remember him saying. I cannot recall his exact words anymore. i used to be able to. but, it has been a while since I last spoke to him, even before we got here"

everette's expression only faltered into more discomfort, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. whether they were meant to compose himself, or they were from losing his composure, it was unclear. he gripped onto the skin of his arms, almost absentmindedly like he didn't mean to do so. they looked quite different from before. the flesh was once so pristine, free of impurity. but now? they were covered in shallow scars. nicks, scratches, cuts alike.

he eyed nicholas again, the dirty look just barely offsetting the evident ache that was painted over the rest of him "but tell me, nicholas. when we got here, what did you 'hink was going to happen after a while? of course arguments were bound to stir up, of course disagreements and disputes were going to happen. and they will continue to do so. sure, perhaps for a little while at the start this place was some garden of eden to some of you. trees full of fruit, pristine waters, no adults to sully a good time"

"but then you take into account the selection of people here, and you realize something. 'hings were going to fall apart one way or another. whether that be between people our age, those who are older than us who should really know better, or even the littluns as 'hey kick sand into each other's eyes” his nails dug into his skin, but he continued to look nicholas dead in the eye. it was almost like he didn't notice the way it hurt, like he didn't mean to, he just did. and god knows why he did.

“we are in the middle of a war. we are stranded on a damned island with perhaps our only chance of salvation having already slipped from our fingers. do you think it matters to me who sees anymore? do you think i care about how it affects the others around when they overhear? I could care less about what they think! I don't— I don't care about how they perceive me, if that's what you think! I know i'm better 'han all of you, everyone else just has yet to get it through their numb skulls. i'll be revered as I was meant to be. I will"

"if they were truly scared, how about they just pry their eyes away and run off to some place where they don’t have to come across such sights? but no! you all still watch, don’t you?” as he spoke, his nails only dug deeper, threatening to draw blood. it was as if he was trying to claw and reach the sacrilegious nature of his soul. as if he was trying to pull out the hatred that ran deep in his veins, even if that meant hurting his body that was only so human.

“at least something comes out of it 'hough, right? according to you, all these quarrels and fights, they all piece together to craft a very original stage play for your very own personal viewing. entertainment, is that what you saw in it? find it pretty funny seeing me get my face beaten, didn't you, nicholas?"

"go off and find some more of it then if you find it so amusing. there’s plenty to go around here. maybe you can catch that god-awful merridew and ralph bickering with one another again. or here's some food for 'hought. perhaps you can even star in some little drama of your own. though, you aren't exactly star material. but, 'here are some exceptions. you would fit perfectly in a tragedy, you know? i would just adore seeing you die at the end. i'd go so far as to say that would be a picture perfect film" he scoffed, his gaze finally settling beyond the distant shore. he slowly uncrossed his arms, rubbing at them a bit. it was as if he thought he could wipe off the blemishes. how silly. don't you agree?

"now sod off, leave me alone. will you at the very least give me that much peace?" his voice cracked at the end. the tone of it still held an undeniable harshness, but if one were to listen closely, exhaustion had begun to lace itself at the ends. he brushed the tangles of his hair out at the bottoms, the curls at the edges barely maintained. he sighed, lowering himself down, sitting on the sand. the ocean waters came up, the seafoam nearly grazing him.

he thought that would be it, that nicholas would leave him alone. he would walk away, either being nice enough to give everette the loneliness that he wanted, or simply just being deterred enough from anything further. perhaps everette would even overhear a word or two dripping with newfound contempt slipping from the other's mouth as he did so. it was inevitable, it's what should have happened. but, that's not what the outcome ended up being.

the shadow that once loomed over him had gone away, only to be replaced with the very same presence, only now sitting beside him. patience is a heavenly virtue, and everette was far from the angel he claimed to be. the little patience he had was being held together by a singular thin thread, hung over his head. that thread had been cut clean as soon as nicholas began to speak once more, everette's restraint burning up more and more at each question that only acted as fuel to the flames in his lungs.

he turned to nicholas sharply, flinching backwards and away from him. his temper had come to a boil, his nerves ill at ease. the water that now washed up to his palms did nothing to cool the heat on his skin. he should have just got up and left, he didn't owe nicholas an answer. but, it was as if the words got ripped out from his throat, the defensive vices spilling from his lips like uncontrollable bile.

“why is it so hard to understand that i don't want you near me? keep me out of your filthy mouth, will you? i'm not hostile, nor do i lash out, but if you're making me out to be 'hat way then perhaps you are deserving to be on the receiving end of it! i’m just being honest, and it is not my fault that other people cannot handle the truth. if 'hey are going to take it so horribly, then so be it! i would gladly take isolation and have that familiar forsaken loneliness to plague me, over constantly surrounding myself with people who don't deserve to breathe the same air as me!"

"it is not my fault either 'hat i am simply just a cut above the rest of you. i have no need to make myself feel that way, what purpose would that serve? it would be absolutely redundant when i know i already am a step above all of you. and— and i am! i'm like this because— because" suddenly, his voice that had once been so loud and aggressive, fell into a hush. his eyes once so full of blatant frustration, went blank.

everette struggled to find his words, and for once, he stumbled over them. he stuttered and mumbled underneath his breath, incoherent muddled phrases leaving his lips, barely audible over the tides crashing into one another. he tried to form an explanation, even fabricate one if he had to. but, he couldn't. at least, none that he could admit to the other boy that he now looked away from, and more less himself.

he looked down at the sand, hugging his knees close to his chest. he felt awfully small, he was feeling like that a lot lately. his words came out worn and uneasy, quieter and more unsure than he had ever been before. “i don’t— I don't know, okay? why are you prying? are you trying to get something out of me so you can use it against me? spread it around to everyone else here who hates me? i've given them good reason to, you know”

everette was always faced with questions, and if not, then general interactions were constantly being offered instead. in turn, they were always met with varying, long winding responses. however, there was always one continuity. everette always insulted, berated, mocked or scorned. no one was excused from it because to him, everyone had something he could tear apart before stepping on the remains that resided beneath his shoe. in that awful sense, perhaps he did treat everyone with some form of equality.

the way he acted was a means to bring him safety, it acted as his security, even if it ended up warping his fate. so, what was he to do when it came to this? when someone did not approach him with curious naivety or the same vile scrutiny that he was so familiar with, but instead— genuine humanity? he was so confused, disorientated even. how was he supposed to act?

"I don't know— I don't. what do you want me to do? what can i do? i'm not like you, nicholas. i was born to be better, I was raised to be better, i'm supposed to be better. and thus i know that at the end of the day, the niceties that you preach will all be futile. this situation will either end with us dead, or alive long enough to make it off of here. and when that day comes, you all won't have to see me ever again. it’s going to end someday, one way or another. I don’t care about the means, as long as I get to the end. as long as I get to see her again"

"or maybe, do you want me to change? I can't, nicholas. i will always be my father’s son. bound by blood and yet not by heart nor soul" everette felt droplets of water hit the scraped skin of his knees. tear droplets. the tears trickled down his eyes in steady streams, warm against his skin, though the warmth brought no comfort. he hadn't even noticed, he couldn't even gauge when he first started to cry. but, there was no use in wiping them away anymore.

"I don't know why i'm saying all of this. against my better judgement i'm admitting all of this. 'hough, what I do know is that it's not to make you feel bad for me, if that's what you're assuming. i'm above that. i've above the pity you give out as some form of benevolent charity. I don't want nor need it, i'm not here to garner sympathy."

"i just— i think a part of me believes that if i don't take your little folly attempt to understand as my opportunity to, for once be vulnerable. then, perhaps one day, one of you would come across my bleeding body. all of the sins of human kind i’ve swallowed bleeding right out of my deceased being, instead of the confessions i am making right now as i sit here, still alive. telling them to you out of all people. i never would have thought. god, what do I make of myself anymore? what am I doing?"

he let a shaky breath in and out, tilting his head to look at nicholas— and for once, he didn't look like some amalgamation of corrupted verses from the testaments. everette looked like a child. a child who only knew how to hate for he never was loved enough. “truthfully, i just miss someone, nicholas. and, im sure you got a family who misses you. so does johnny, i assume. in that way, perhaps we are vaguely connected"

"but with how you are, and with who i am, i doubt friendship could ever come to fruition. I don't want to be friends. we're strangers, not equals, nor friends, who are only tied together by our situation as you mentioned yourself. but, if you mean it. we can talk here by the beach more. skip rocks, or what not? it'll be boring, but i think i would take boring over everything else that's going on right about now” his words were awkward, his voice foreign to even himself, but he was trying.

“that's my offer, since i turned down yours” and for once, something seemed to shift. not the tides, nor the wind, nor the boys' and their circumstance. but maybe, for once, something within everette did.

— everette ainsworth 🪽 nicholas @conchcorner

& johnny @conchcorner mentioned

mention @ask-abel-lotf

mention @white-wysteria

mention @bubos-apothecary

mention @henrys-eulogy-aflame

[faksyan]

Huey Emmerich, mgs v cast & hypocrisy, a character analysis

Prefacing this with the fact that this is the morally gray franchise with the morally gray characters and I love how it portrays Huey Emmerich precisely for him being Like That. I think he is one of the most nuanced and well-written mgs characters and I'm pretty sure like half of it wasn't on purpose. He is the guy everyone hates for killing his wife (understandabe reason), trying to make one of his kid pilot a giant robot and almost drowning another in a pool (also understandable reason), and, most of all, for being a traitor. And with such a list, feels a bit weird that the accent often falls on that last part, doesn't it. Which is exactly how the narrative wants you to feel about his betrayal, on a surface level.

Every character essential to the Phantom Pain plot gets their "please feel bad for them, sympathize with them" moment, no matter how horrible a person they are. We get multiple monologs from Kaz, we get the 'I was the same way once' interrogation room and the ending of the Truth with Ocelot, we get Paz tapes and 'you're all diamonds' with Venom, we get Code Talker, Quiet, Eli (if they actually finished mission 51), even Skull Face, somewhat (don't even make me start on that guy. how is he less hated than Huey). The point is, the game is trying to make you feel bad for people who murder, torture, and whatever else, and parts of it are working, because it's fiction, and humans and morality are complicated and layered things! But what does Huey get? Torture sessions and tantrums that are framed as pathetic and ridiculous, even when what he is saying makes sense. Because yeah, there's some of that there. It's just that everyone else in the room deliberately doesn't acknowledge it.

When Venom just finds him, the first thing Huey says is that what happened to MSF was Snake's fault. The same during his exile - that there wouldn't have been an inspection, if there weren't a nuke to begin with. and it's like. he's not wrong. Having their own nukes as an independent military organization was a risk Snake and Kaz didn't just take blindly, they knew what could have happened. It was a gamble, and it didn't work out. If it did, it would've been their achievement. It didn't, so it's all Huey's fault, even though literally anyone could've been in his place. XOF weren't even the first to attempt to attack them, Zero was, Paz just didn't succeed. And if Skull Face hadn't either, someone else would have, the attention of the entire world was on them. It wasn't about betrayal, it was Snake and Kaz being drunk on success and biting off more than they could chew. Yes, Huey is a bastard and a traitor, but are we really going to blame all of this on him?

The answer is yes. And the reason is that they need someone to blame that's not them. The whole big theme of Phantom Pain is that Ocelot, Venom and Kaz have to do their best to keep up appearances, for the sake of Big Boss and his reputation. He is a legend, he is above everyone else, and he can do no wrong. Except after the fall of MSF everyone thinks that he can, Ocelot says as much in the briefing tapes. And they can't have that. So they blame it all on Huey. (<- all of this is a dictatorship allegory and critique of governments and military systems btw. 1984 or whatever I haven't read it. yay symbolism.) And blaming Huey is easy.

Huey is not a fighter. His father was a scientist who worked on the Manhattan Project. He was born on the same day as the Hiroshima bombing, his disability was (presumably) caused by his father's exposure to radiation. It's not that there was no choice involved in what he was going to do in life, but it was kind of inevitable that he would get involved with building nuclear weapons. And even when he says he is thinking about quitting upon being found by Snake in Peace Walker, it's Snake who convinces him not to, offering him to join MSF instead. In the PW tapes he also expresses that if it weren't for his disability, he would've been anywhere else, doing something different and living a "normal life".

He talks about the concept of nuclear terrorism there too, about nukes falling into hands of people without state who would be able to use them however they want, and I wonder if that was part of the reason for his betrayal. He didn't make the decision to bring nukes to base, he doesn't actually know these people. If maybe he thought it prevented a hypothetical nuclear catastrophe. Huey does say that he trusts Snake not to use them, that he values how honest Snake is, and is honest with him in return, even telling him things he's never told anyone before, like about his plagiarism of Granin's work. So what changed between then and the inspection, what was his motivation for betraying MSF, why was he approached about it of all people? Did he lie in the tapes, did he change his mind, did Skull Face offer him something that seemed more compelling, just threaten him? We never get to find out anything about it aside from every other character screaming that he's just a coward. No villain monolog, nothing.

Maybe it was about feeling important, like he is in charge, something that the hostility he has faced throughout his life didn't allow him. Huey is a sheep among wolves (wolf in sheep's clothing more like, but still). He does not fit in with the buff cool masculine soldiers, and even while working with Strangelove at NASA, he was regarded as obnoxious and spineless. It's not surprising he agreed to work for Coldman, since he, apparently, was the first person to actually recognize his skills. And even that later turns out to be a lie told to use him. Huey rarely if at all has been treated seriously, he is an outcast, even among people who share his ideas.

All he has is his brain and his knowledge, but it's never framed as much of an achievement (despite people exploiting it left and right), nor is him essentially being the nerd in a military setting ever really viewed as something dorky or endearing by the narrative like with Otacon, because the characters around him don't see him as such (as a result, so don't the players). On top of that, every other person uses his mobility aids to further degrade/harm/threaten him, even though he is already harmless when it comes to physical confrontation. In short, people he is surrounded with just enjoy the powerplay.

Right up until the point he actually does something that hurts them. And this is where my favorite part kicks in.

All three Diamond Dogs' higher-ups blame Huey for slightly different reasons, some maybe even believing that they are in the right and entitled to it (looking at you Kazuhira), but I am more than sure they know what it is that they're doing. And it's not like Kaz lacks self-awareness either, I don't think. Maybe it's denial that some of his actions led to the death of his friends, maybe blind belief in his own martyrdom and self-righteousness (sounds an awful lot like another character we know, huh), it still doesn't change much. How they all frame the story is the same. Huey's powerless and pathetic, but has ruined everything at the same time. And it doesn't really make sense, but everyone on the base agrees. It's the moment where individuals turn into a crowd that demands blood, but at least it's not their commanders it's directed at!

The Questioning Huey (6) tape is a good example of that. I especially like the bit where he starts talking about how DD is not actually a dog, because on a smaller scale, it shows how people on Mother Base just roll with things that are objectively false and turn on anyone who says otherwise. No, DD is our beloved mascot, and we are called dogs, he is just like us. And it's not like DD is just a wolf either, so neither of them are right here. But each of them thinks that they are.

That's why the amount of genuine Huey hate is a bit amusing to see, I guess. Because it's precisely the thing the game is trying to commentate on. None of these people are good. None of them have it figured out. The point is that it's just narrative bias that makes you belive that some are, if not good, at least better than others. In reality, it's never about morals or being correct, just perspective.

Huey himself, on the other hand, falls into another extreme - in his eyes, he's done nothing wrong. Because he can do no wrong, he's powerless, like everyone's alway told him, remember? He sees himself as the victim, because in a lot of cases, he is.

You can say that he is a lying traitor and that the truth serum didn't work on him because of some failsafe Skull Face thought of, but really, would he bother? He didn't even view Huey as anything but a traitor he despised. you know, the guy who was in charge of organizing the betraying part. the guy who put bombs in people and wanted to commit mass-murder on a scale no one has seen before. So the obvious and the most simple answer here is that Huey whole-heartedly, truly believes he hasn't done anything wrong. He thinks he doesn't possess the power to, that he isn't important enough. And it's drilled so deep into him he never acknowledges it's not really true. Even when he kills Strangelove, he still doesn't accept that it is his fault and his actions matter.

That's my favorite part about him, I think. How deep in denial he is about having an impact on the people around him, while also having a sort of god complex when it comes to his machines. How everyone around despises him for it, while being the ones who caused it and doing the exact same thing, refusing to get off the high horse. Metal gear is a messy franchise about messy people, but it's good exactly because it shows what has messed these people up so much. And more often than not, it's the system they're surrounded by, or that they created themselves in an attempt to escape the previous one. It's easy to point at Huey as just a bad person and only that, but I find the context of his whole life and the ways he's coping with it really compelling. There is a lot of complexity to it, and in the end of the day, they are all hypocrites.

[mayo-productions]

good evening tumblr (it's literally midnight..)

I'm back in the Miguel trenches and I just saw this and I just about fell to the floor in tears because this is literally what's gonna happen to Mateo..

(incoming nonsense rant in tags, sighh)

[dumscribospero]

so i wrote and posted this on my main half asleep og art @wolflyndraws here

he's got so many physical after effects with scars and skin damages but also mental: he's wild and completely feral. he lose himself, living outdoors. he hasn't had any contact with living, breathing being in a long, long time. even animals avoid him, leaving as soon as they see him. seeing him would scare anyone shitless, especially at first when the scars hasn't yet started to heal and the cuts on his face are gruesome and bloody. his body is one massive wound, it never stops hurting, driving him to madness. after a while, he slowly start to get better. his body starts to heal. his mind is still fissured but he gets more and more time as his old self. not totally back to himself, far from it, but he get more cognisant of what's happening around him and what he's doing. there's a point where he has to go back to a village to trade stuff. he doesn't trust anything not to hurt him and dislike the idea of letting anyone get close to him. needs must though, and after weighting up the pros and the cons, he goes to one nearby. he's not careful the first time around and the few people that saw his face expressed shock and disgust. they could not look at him without horror in their eyes and repugnance etched on their face. he honestly didn't think about what he would look like to others. he's been alone for so long at that point, and he avoid every reflective surface he has genuinely no idea what the torture left behind. but even without knowing, seeing other people reaction he can guess. ashamed, he runs away. but he can't stay hidden away forever, he still needs to trade. so he goes back, to another village. further away. clocked under a heavy, deep hooded, capelet. he's got no skin showing at all. and this time, interactions are easier. his voice is gruff, his vocal cords damaged. he hasn't spoken for a long time and the first few words he needs to utter are rough. he doesn't stay for long. he can't. so he makes the trips more often than he'd like too, just so he can spend as little time in here as he can at once. longer interactions makes him hyper aware and he nearly slip from the precarious balance that's his mental health. words goes around that one weird adventurer comes by, sometimes. taciturn and withdrawn, and in need of lots of personal space. and it attracts curiosity. everyone is eager to know who he is, where he's from and what he looks like. but Dream can't answer neither of those questions without people turning on him.

[ajdrawshq]

fascinated by mindt being found in temenos' house at night for some reason. what are u doing in here.