#i literally drew it six times before i called it

[caelivir]

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

[on-leatheredwings]

Baby-trapping you say? 👀

baby trapping i say!!!

maybe i should say its specifically stealthing [picks nose]? he doesnt really care to 'trap' you because he literally just believes you're endgame

sneak peek bc god im tired of writing:

tw: weird ideals about fertile (cis) women, intent to stealth, implied/tangential somnophilia (???) and other yandere-typical behavior

18+ only, Damian Wayne is 21

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that. 

A part of him, a part that’s been planted in him since his childhood, quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood. He was taught that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals – Bruce Wayne the Batman and Talia al Ghul, Daughter of the Demon’s Head. 

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. He indeed sketched, as he did everyday, but he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. Damian opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder.

When opened, inside is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. The days are simply blank or highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window. 

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. He doesn’t ask anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.” 

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one, his One, he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a sample from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision –  Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He remembers being proud. As expected, you were perfect in all things.

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Six - You’re All I’ve Ever Known

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, blood/injuries (not graphic, but there is are mentions of it!), i forgot how many days elapsed between scenes bc i wrote this in like two days. so ya know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. INACCURATE DESCRIPTIONS OF ENGLAND???? I literally made up street names and i think a school, so don’t come for me. I’m just a girl. plus i’m american so like we already have enough on our plates. Ummm slight kidnapping vibes??? very inaccurate and probably wrong medical talk.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ 6.3k words

♡A/N: Again, posting this on mobile and will format it when i get back from work! sorry it’s a day late. yesterday was very bad lol ok love u bye

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It seemed like there was never going to be an end to the poking, the prodding, and testing on your body. Everyday, there was to be a new test or a repeat of an old one to be done. On top of already having been in the hospital for more than two weeks now, your memory was still not coming back to you. Sometimes someone would say something and if it as if your brain knew the memory tied to it, but it couldn’t relay it to your voice fast enough to recollect it. You didn’t know what was worse at this point:

“No, no threes. Go fish.” Your Uncle Sebastian echoed, stopping your train of thought.

Trying to focus your eyes, you looked at the pile of cards in front of you and drew another one.

“Do you… Have any… sixes?”

The four time champion just smiled and slid over some of his cards. You neatly made a pile of your finished “sixes” cards. Moments later, there was a slight knock on the door before it slowly pushed open towards the two of you.

“Hi, Mrs. Schumacher. It’s good to you see you again.”

So here’s the thing - You had been called that many times now. Almost every nurse and doctor has called you that… And since you had no room to counter, you never corrected them. Who knows? Maybe you and Mick actually got married after high school like the two of you talked about. And as weird as it was for you to be called that… It certainly felt right and didn’t make you feel uncomfortable - which of course made things curious and curioser.

“Mrs.… Schumacher??” Sebastian Vettel put his cards down and eyed the nurse and the doctor. There was a look on their faces that you couldn’t quite place.

“So sorry, no,” The doctor began correcting his mistake. He finally addressed you by your first and last name. “I’m sorry, again. Mr. Schumacher is your medical proxy and I forget that those in fact, do not have to be spouses.”

The doctor nervously chuckled as he prepared various medicinal instruments. It would happened two times a day where they’d check your cognitive function and your response to stimuli. Sometimes you’d say things that were a memory, but moments later you forget you said that. You even had times where Mick was in the same room, and you had forgotten who he was so you called him… Pleading for him to come back and comfort you.

He was the only constant in your life.

The doctor and nurses finished their exam and let you get back to your card game. You had no memory of the man who sat across from you, even though he said he was like family to Mick and that he knew you when you were little. He’d tell you stories about his time in Formula One, and how he’s focused on sustainability now and finding new hobbies. You truly were delighted in the presence of this man, but deep down inside you wished that Mick were there.

He had some press releases to do, as his racing came to halt when you crashed out in Silverstone. He was planning on racing the last 5 races as you were getting better now. Well, physically. Your leg was almost ready to be put in a regular soft cast once the rods would be removed. Your arm was out of its cast completely, and it seemed like your ribs and spine were doing okay. It was just your dumb brain that needing fixing.

“You alright?” Soon, Sebastian’s voice pulled you out of your endless thinking. “We can stop, if you’d like. I think you are beating me, anyway.”

Silently, you put down your cards and pushed the tray that was on wheels aside. You didn’t know what was coming over you. You felt an immense sadness and regret, but you didn’t know why. You were lost. Having your memories stripped of you is such a cruel fate… You rather have just not survived.

“I’m not good enough for him.” You plainly stated.

Sebastian blinked a few times as he put down his playing cards as well. He took a deep breath and tried his best to comfort you.

“Why do you say that? He’s been here every day since you crashed.” Sebastian’s tone was cautious, but caring.

“i mean… Look at me? I have rods sticking out of my leg… And I can’t remember shit. It’s pathetic.”

The former F1 didn’t have a response. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through, let alone the both of you. He just gently reassured you with a grasp of his hand on yours. Before you knew it, even his thoughts were halted by someone entering your hospital room.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Nurse Elsie.” The brunette nurse beamed at you, and took the clipboard off of the end of the bed. “Do you remember who I am?” Her British accent was thick… You couldn’t place from where though.

You paused and did your best to remember someone named Elsie.

“You-You were there when I first woke up… And you were telling me to stay calm…”

The nurse’s expression immediately turned. Complete surprise and bliss overtook her as she grinned at you and Sebastian. She grabbed your hands ever so softly and opened her mouth to speak.

“Yes, that’s correct! I was here the day you came in, and I haven’t left since.” It truly warmed your heart to see someone that hardworking have some sense of relief. “And I am glad you’re speaking English again!”

“Was… I not before?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your focused shifted to Sebastian. He pressed his lips in a tight line, debating if he should answer for you when Mick wasn’t there.

Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and exhaled.

“When you first woke up, you were only speaking in German. Mick had to translate for you for a while, until you felt comfortable enough to speak English again.” Vettel calmly responds, his hand scratching at the stubble on his jawline. You nodded along while he explained a few more things to you.

About twenty minutes later after another few tests were done, you were absolutely exhausted. You tucked yourself into the hospital bed with one of Mick’s blankets added to the pile for extra warmth. His scent was wearing off of the blanket as you pulled it up to your chin. Mick was familiar to you, and to your feelings - Yet, part of him remained a stranger. He was older, well you both were now.

He was not the shy little school boy anymore, but a confident young man. His muscles had grown noticeably and his hair was long, like you liked it. His jawline had formed into sharp corners where it meets his ears, as opposed to the chubby faced kid who would ride his bike alongside you and hold your hand in crowded places so you wouldn’t get lost. On the other hand and maybe the stronger one at that, you didn’t recognize him at all. Sure, he looked like Mick and sounded like him… But there was a piece missing to the dynamic between the two of you that you couldn’t quite place.

When he would be in the hospital room with you, it was almost as if he was treating you with a fragility that was completely peculiar to the way your foggy memory could recall him treating you. He was always kind and always held a special tenderness for you, that much you could remember… But be that as it may, he was handling you now with a delicate hand - so afraid of breaking you further. You couldn’t tell from where you sat if it was because of your injuries that he was being extra careful around you, or because there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Knock, Knock.” The familiar voice of another doctor entered your stumbling train of thought as they entered your room. Sebastian stood to greet her and shake her hand.

“How are you feeling today, ma’am?” You shrugged and mumbled something incoherent. “Right then! My name is Doctor Wells. I’m the Chief of Neurology, and have been following your case closely.”

You honestly were having a tough time keeping all these doctors and nurses straight in your head, that you thought adding one more to the list might make you explode. But still - you politely greeted her as you told her your name.

“You’ve been making great progress physically, it seems. Your leg will be moved to a soft cast in two days time, and then in about a month, we’ll x-ray your leg to see when we would take that cast off, but again, it’s looking good.” The doctor smiled as her green eyes scanned the clipboard in front of her.

She began to hum to yourself as she jotted down some notes. You immediately noticed it, and Sebastian immediately noticed you. It was as though you couldn’t breathe all of a sudden and you had no clue as to why. Your monitors began to beep at a rapid rate, while the voices around you were telling you things but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was a loud, sharp and lasting ringing in your eyes as you sobbed. Soon, you felt the calming medicine go through your IV and settle your heart rate. It took a few more minutes to gain your bearings.

“Es tut mir Leid (I’m sorry).” You breathed out as you laid back down trying to get comfortable again.

Sebastian excused himself to go make a phone call, assuring you that he’d be back in a few minutes.

“That’s quite alright. Your body has been through a lot these last few weeks.” Dr. Wells smiled at you with an overwhelming aura of reassurance. She took a beat, and pulled up her rolling stool next to your bedside. “May I ask what I did to trigger that reaction? I want to know so I won’t do it again.”

You turned your head to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with worry and sympathy. You tried your best to think about the answer to her question. She could practically hear the gears turning in your head while you attempted to pinpoint what it was that upset you.

“The humming… When you hummed… It… I don’t know - did something to me.” Dr. Wells nodded in response and promise that she wouldn’t do it again. “Can I ask you a question, Dr. Wells?”

“Anything at all.”

You moved your hospital bed up so you could sit up and see the doctor better. You had very little to go on, but what you could go off of confidently was people’s expressions and the way their faces moved when they spoke to you.

“What are my chances of getting my memory back, and if I don’t… What do I do?” In turn, your facial expression was desperate, reeking of hopelessness and despair. She could see the devastation the accident has brought you, as it seeped out of the pores of your skin and infected your surroundings.

“Well, you’re making good progress and you remember Nurse Elsie which is a great sign… And the fact that you still know who Mick is a great sign,” Dr. Wells began slowly. “But, we really won’t know the extent of the damage the crash took, especially in regard to your memory. All your brain scans have thus far been clean, with no cause for concern.”

You started to feel tears brimming in your eyes as you bit your bottom lip to try and stifle back your cries. Shakily, you let out whatever air you had left in your lungs now.

“Sometimes things like this just happen and we don’t know why… But what we do know is that memories can always be created. You may not be able to remember the ones you had previously, but you can always replace them with new ones, better ones even.”

The pair of you talked for a few minutes more about your situation and how best to help it. She gave you some flyers for support groups and some numbers for therapists that specialize in what you were going through. She checked your vitals once more before heading towards the door and exiting, smiling a courteous smile as she disappeared into the vast hospital.

On the rare occasion you were left alone in your room, you liked to write things down in a notebook Mick gave you. It was your favorite color, with a giant ‘MSC47’ sticker on it. You had asked him what that was and he told you it was his racing number. To that, you asked why he didn’t put your racing number… And in response to that, he sheepishly admitted that it slipped his mind to put your number, but he was glad you always had a reminder of him. You didn’t even notice you were reminiscing until you caught yourself stroking the sticker on the front of your notebook. Blinking a few times to clear your mind, you opened it up to the next free page only to see that someone really tried not to write in their typical chicken scratch.

Smidge,

If you are reading this, then I must be away doing some press related things. I wish I did not have to, but duty calls and I also think Toto would come to my house and drag me there himself (in a very nice way, of course). Anyway, I wanted to write you a short note and let you know that I will be back soon, and hopefully you will be coming home after that. I have rented a place out here for you and me that will be sufficient enough until you decide where you want to fully rest and recover. We can go back to your apartment in Italy or to one of my family’s cottages in Switzerland. I would even take you back to the states to find respite at my ranch in Texas, but I know you do not have fond memories of Texas. I want to do only what you are comfortable with, Schätzen.

As for my last few races, I am on the lookout for the best home care nurse I can find while I am away. Sebastian offered, but he has a family and children of his own. When you feel up to it, I would also like your opinion on how you would like your care to be handled when I am at a race. I want you to feel as safe and taken care of as possible. It kills me that I have to go away to participate in the last few races, but part of me is also excited to get back to driving alongside Lewis. We (Mostly I) will dedicate every race to you, Schätzen. Maybe if you are healed and well enough, you may be able to attend the last race of the season. That would be very fun, as I know some of the drivers are dying to see you again.

I cannot think of anything else to write that might ease your mind while I am gone for now. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to not know anybody there, but I do hope that with Sebastian being there it has calmed some of your nerves. He admires you greatly, and you have always been fond of him. I feel exactly the same way. But you can always text message me or call me, if you need me. I know you are not quite comfortable with that form of communication yet, but I just want you to know that I will always respond and pick up when I see your name pop up on my phone.

Anyway, I am excited and full of anticipation for when I get to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman I have come to know again. Your strength and perseverance through this entire ideal has been something to write in the history books about. I cannot wait to hear your laugh and feel your fingers interlaced with mine. I am looking forward to our days spent on the couch, sharing a blanket, with you tucked underneath my side - where you fit so perfectly beside me as if it were meant to be. And until we see each other again, just know I am thinking of you always and missing you every second of the day.

You hold my heart in your hands.

Ich gehöre für immer dir.

(I am yours forever.)

Love,

Mickey

There were drops of water scattered across the page as you tried to stop yourself from crying again.

You may not know him, but he knows you. And the feeling was overwhelming.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian’s quiet voice came into notice as you looked up at him with tearful eyes. He tilted his head to the side in concern.

“He… Wrote me… He wrote me… This letter… He knew I would find it… He knew this… That I would want to write things down, after the day I had… And he knew I would find his letter…” You spoke in between sobs, your chest falling up and down at a rapid rate.

“Okay, okay. Let’s take a few deep breaths and then we can talk about it, ja?” Sebastian began to initiate some deep breathing, hoping you would follow suit.

After many seconds of doing some deep breathing, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax your body.

“He loves me, doesn’t he?”

Vettel paused, taking his seat beside you.

“Yes. He does.” The German driver answered solemnly.

“And I don’t love him? Isn’t that right?” You glanced around the dry hospital room, smears of bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol apparent.

“I don’t want him to love me. I don’t deserve it.”

Sebastian Vettel, four time world formula one champion, and one of the most formidable motorsports athletes the world has ever known, was stunned. He remained tight lipped and stoic. In frustration, you threw the notebook onto the floor and put your head in your hands. You weren’t crying, no. But you were exasperated . You could hear beeping as each finger pressed a key in the background. You didn’t know what was what, except what was shown to you: The voice of somebody you used to know.

Sebastian had put the phone on speaker and handed it to you.

“Smidge? Are you okay?”

“Hello? Smidge?”

“Was machst du (What are you doing)?”

“Ich vermisse dich (I miss you).”

Mick’s voice was like the half of you that you didn’t know you needed. It melded perfectly with what you were missing in this dark despair of recent days. His slight German-Swiss accent brought you comfort like you didn’t know you needed. He had picked up the call no matter where he was or what he was doing.

“Komm zurück zu mir (Come back to me).” You could hear Mick let out a strained sigh. He wanted to come back, god did he want to.

“Mickey, please…”

Completely taking you off guard, the line went dead suddenly and you were left with another kind of beeping. You slowly handed the phone back to your almost friend, Sebastian. The former driver could only sigh and sit back in the chair that he had been making his home since Mick left.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Four Days Later

Your leg was finally out of those ghastly rods and into a softer cast. To think this feeling was heavenly, was something you would have never put on your radar thus far. Soon enough though as the many doctors and nurses came by, you were cleared to go home in the next 24 hours.

“We are glad to see you improving Mrs. Schumacher.” You did your best to make eye contact with the receptionist. “Please let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you…” You started with caution.

“I’m not Mrs. Schumacher though… If you want to change that for your records or anything…” You tried your best to be nonchalant. The receptionist typed a few bits onto the computer in front of her.

Ushering for you to take a seat in the lobby, you tried your best to not think about the past.

Due to a reason unbeknownst to you, Mick was unavailable to take you home when it came to your releases date. You even braved the scary phone long enough to ask Sebastian if he could be there to take you to the new home Mick set up for you. He wished that he could, but evidently he had something to attend to.

Bravery aside, you sat curbside alone trying to figure out who to call. Your leg was in its soft cast, as you remained waiting for something or someone to come rescue you. You didn’t know where you were, you didn’t know any phone numbers off of the top of your head, and if it could get any worse, you were in England where it was raining.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay outside like this.”

Great. Now you’re fucking hearing things. Trying to shake the eerie feeling you had resting on your shoulders, you ignored the voice.

“Let me take you home, huh?” The voice repeated to you.

Your head turned to the left towards the voice. They were leaning against some concrete beam, cigarette almost totally nsmoked as they stepped towards you.

“John?”

“Hello, baby sister.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You weren’t sure how you ended up at your brother’s flat in whatever country you were in at the moment. The legalization of Mick being your medical proxy was iron clad….

You never once considered an actual family member to be there for you. And as it were, your big brother had also aged some. You knew it was him immediately though. You could tell because he sort of looked like you, and his voice sounded like the only other voice besides Mick that you knew.

“Are we going back home?” Your brother was doing the dishes as you sat on the couch, your leg elevated to help relieve some swelling.

Again, you repeated the question. You could hear him turning the water off, and see him drying his hands as he turned to face you.

“No, we’re going to stay here for a little while.”

Confusion washed over you once more. Did Mick call your brother because he was unable to pick you up from the hospital? Did Mick even know you were here? All you could do was nod, while your brother excused himself to go lay down. It had been a long day of driving for him from where he came from. You remained in the quiet of your own company for a moment, trying to think of all the possibilities that could have ended up with you being in some strange apartment in a country you hardly knew. Finally, you pulled out your phone that Mick bought for you, and took a deep breath.

You: Hi Mick

…

Mick: Hello, Schätzen! It makes me very happy to see your text.

You: Really?

…

Mick: Yes, really. I would never lie to you.

You: That’s sweet.

…

…

Mick: I am so sorry I cannot be there to bring you home, but I will be there tonight and we can have dinner and watch a movie, if you would like. But, my very good friend Daniel is going to pick you up from the hospital, okay? He should be there shortly, if you just want to wait in the lobby where it is warm and dry.

You reread the message as your heart rate began to hasten. If Mick had already made arrangements for you to get picked up from the hospital… How did your brother find you?

You: Oh. I thought you called John, because he picked me up from the hospital already. A few hours ago, actually. I got released early and thought maybe you called him since you couldn’t get there in time.

Milliseconds after you pressed send on your text, your phone screen lit up brightly in your face.

INCOMING CALL: Mick Schumacher

swipe to accept

Your thumb danced over the bottom of the screen, only to have your desire to hear his voice once again take over your body. Slowly, you accepted the call.

“Schätzen, where are you?” You could hear the panic in his voice. How the fuck were you supposed to know where you were?

“Um… I’m in John’s apartment, I think.” You spoke in a whisper as to not to disturb your resting brother.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße (Shit, shit, shit)!”

On the other side of the phone you could hear him getting up and gather his belongings wherever he was. You could pick up bits and pieces of what he was telling someone near him, but not enough to put together a full sentence. You patiently waited on your side of the line for him to speak again. What seemed like forever went by, before he talked to you.

“Can you describe where you are? Can you look outside and see any street names, or building names?” You could tell he was jogging by now.

“I’d have to get up… And my crutches are… On the other side of the room…”

Mick felt absolutely stupid for forgetting that you had a cast on your leg. And he felt even more stupid that he allowed your safety to be compromised… Again. In his defense though, he gave strict instructions to the hospital staff not to allow anyone to take you home besides himself, Sebastian, and Daniel. He even started calling you his Mrs. Schumacher for extra protection, but he’d never tell you that secret.

He was trying as quickly as he could to figure out what the hell went wrong, and how the hell your brother found you. Mick told you he’d have to call you back, but that he promised he would call back in five minutes.

As you waited for him to call back, you decided to try and hobble over to the window. It was gloomy, of course, but you could still see a few things.

House Street

Franklin Street

You decided to text Mick the names of the cross streets, just in case. Glancing around some more through the window, you saw to the far right what looked like a school or a church. You squinted to try and get the name of it.

Longfellow Grade School: Home of The Lions

You also added that to your next text message to Mick, as well as the few models of cars that were sat out on the street. Exhausted now, you hobbled your way back over to the couch and let out all the air you had pent up in your lungs.

INCOMING CALL: Mick Schumacher

swipe to accept

Faster than you did the last time, you accepted the call and raised the phone to your ear.

“Hi Mick, are you okay?”

“The police are on their way, Schätzen. Do not be scared when they arrive, ja? I will be there as fast as I can too. Stay on the line.”

You had a lot of conflicting feelings at this point. Why were the police involved now? Why did Mick sound so afraid? You couldn’t remember the last few years, but now you’re having to deal with all of this? It was as though your body was frozen with a mixture of fear and sadness. You could barely move from your spot on the couch while you anticipated the police’s arrival.

“Okay, Mick. What is going on, though?”

“I will explain everything once I bring you back home, to our home.”

Soon enough, there was a loud knock on the door. You could hear your brother curse loudly from his room as you shrank into the corner of the couch. You were very afraid. Your brother stumbled out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he opened the door to his apartment. One police officer held up a piece of paper to his face, while the other one peered into the space making sure you were alright. The male officer began to speak to your brother about whatever was on the paper, while the female officer approached you with caution.

“Hi, there. My name is Officer Clarkson. Are you alright?” Her voice was calming, and probably the most calming thing about this entire situation. She sat on the couch, keeping a good distance between you.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know where I am.”

Mick had told the dispatchers that you were in a potentially dangerous situation, and that you had been in a bad car crash a month before resulting in some memory loss. He also told them that you in fact had a restraining order out against your brother, and that he had no clue how he got past the hospital staff.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know anything right now. I’m just going to sit here with you, while my partner takes care of that young man. Is that alright?” Again, the peaceful cadence of her voice warmed you, and made you feel instantly safe.

“Yes.”

Your head quickly whipped to the side when your brother began yelling at the officer. He was pinned up against the wall, face to it, with his hands behind his back. The male officer handcuffed your brother and escorted him out to the police vehicle. It all happened so fast that you weren’t sure what to make of it. Officer Clarkson said some police speak into her walkie talkie that was on her chest, echoing some of the things being said back to her. She got up from the couch and looked around.

“Can you remember the last time you saw your brother?” You only shook your head in response. Your eyes followed the trail she was walking around the tiny apartment.


After a few more questions that you honestly did not know the answers to, you could hear the radio on her chest go off. The officer grabbed your crutches, and the bag you had at the hospital and escorted you downstairs. There was another police car, an SUV. Two more officers approached you, both women.

“This is Officer Hammond and Officer May. They’re going to drive you home, your real home.”

You thought you might combust trying to keep everyone’s names straight. But you still didn’t have any answers as to why your brother was sitting in the back of a cop car. And as you did so dutifully in the hospital, you did again as you just stood in silence allowing things to be explained to you.

“Your friend Mick - the one who called the us - Will meet you there. Your brother won’t bother you ever again, ma’am.” Officer Clarkson gave a promising smile and nod as she handed your bag to one of the other female officers.


Soon, you were in the backseat of the car as the three of you silently drove to wherever this new place was.

Two hours later, you were woken by Officer May trying coax you out of your sleep. You felt embarrassed for falling asleep, but it seemed like your body needed it. Rubbing your eyes, you looked over the officer’s shoulder to see you were parked in front of a modest one story home. You were in the countryside somewhere, and knowing Mick and his love for the countryside, you could tell that he put a lot of thought into this home. Even if it was going to be temporary, you enjoyed the thought of recovering somewhere private and secluded.

Officer May helped you out of the car and handed you your crutches. The sound of another car hastily pulling up made all three of your head’s turn sharply to the right. In true Mick fashion, he sported a big red truck as he parked in haphazardly. He couldn’t move fast enough though, as he jumped out of the car not even closing the door behind him. Mick ran up to you, his hands frantically searching your face for any wounds. He was rambling in German… Italian… Maybe even French as he brought you into a much needed embrace. He kissed the top of your head and looked at you with nothing but regret.

“Smidge, I am so sorry. I really do not know how this could have happened, but you are safe now. Okay? Completely safe from everything.” Mick profusely thanked the officers, and made a note to call and thank the other officers as well.

Mick helped you inside, before returning to the officers so that he could speak to them about the situation. They assured him that they would look into just how your brother was able to pick you up and take you out of the hospital. He wanted nothing more than answers at this point. (Join the club, right?)

You were still on edge when you heard the door open, your flinching making it clear. Mick walked towards you as cautiously as he could.

“It is just me, Smidge; Just Mick.” He stepped in front of you, his face softened by the sight of you. “I am sorry I scared you.”

“It’s just been a long day…” Mick led you carefully to the couch so that you could sit and rest your leg. Propping your leg up on some pillows, Mick moved to the kitchen to get you some water and some food.

The house was nicely decorated with accents of a familiar shade of red all around. The couch beneath you felt like a marshmallow compared to last couch you were sat on, and the hospital bed you had quite become accustomed to for the last month. Mick returned with a water bottle and a few snacks he might think you would want. Sitting beside you, but keeping a respectful space between you, the blond haired boy rubbed a very tired hand over his face. Leaning his head back onto the back of the couch and stretching out his arms too, he sighed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. You watched him carefully, and more meticulously than you had in the hospital.

You liked the way his nose was slightly bigger than normal and the way that it curved downwards at the end. You noticed how his darkened blond hair curled ever so slightly at the tips. His lips were a pretty shade of pink too. You wondered if you ever had the pleasure of kissing them. His neck was bigger than you last could remember it to be. Mick’s Adam’s Apple moving up and down as he swallowed, sucking the insides of left side of his mouth. Mick always did that when he was overworked.

“Sind Sie gestresst (Are you stressed)?” Mick just hummed in response, your body relaxing at the familiar sound.

You remember how you reacted when the doctor hummed. Shuddering away that terrible thought, you scooted closer to him.

“Mir wird es gut gehen (I will be okay).” His eyes were still closed as he responded.

You took a beat and took a nice long deep breath. You remember what he had written in his letter. He probably had to leave his work to come find you. And the fact that he did made you feel something you hadn’t felt before - or at least couldn’t remember feeling. This man has always cared for you. Since you were children, he has always put you first and always made sure you were taken care of in every sense of the word. He was the only thing that connected you to your past and all of your lost memories. And surely he knew the weight of it all, yet he didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by it. He would carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if that meant he got to see you happy.

Something in the back of your head was telling you to reject these new feelings, though. You couldn’t tell what it was that was making you want to hide your emotions. The pull was strong. It was like The Force, pulling you into a dark deep alley where you were always meant to be: Alone.

You did your best to shake the distressing thought. Going back to happier things, you recited the letter in your head as you decided to be brave. After all, you didn’t survive a high speed car crash for nothing, right?

Nodding assertively to yourself, you managed to wiggle into Mick’s side. Your leg was still propped up, just now onto the coffee table in front of you. As best as you could and as comfortably too, you tucked yourself into him and his arm wrapped around you as if it were a dance you two had done a million times before. Your eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier as you felt the warmth of his body warm yours. It was not secret that the both of you were dog-tired as neither of you said a word.

The only thing surrounding you now was the sound of rain hitting the roof and someone’s arm wrapped tightly around you. And while you may not have any memories of the last few years, now was as good as time as ever to begin making new ones.

[cattocavo]

So I’ve been tagged in six sentence sunday!

I’ve never done these before and I’m not very active on here so i wouldnt know who to tag in response (although if any of you are fine with being tagged, please write to me! Id love to hear what everyone’s doing, and make some new friends!!

Since I last posted on tumblr I’ve finished all the inktober drawings I planned to draw. They’re all posted on my instagram, but I’m severely behind on posting here😅 tumblr is great but I cannot for the life of me shake off the awkwardness that comes with posting on another media that isn’t my preferred one. But if anyone who doesnt have instagram wants to see the rest just lmk and I’ll post them!

Other than inktober I haven’t really done anything.. i wanted to draw something for valentines, and got an idea a day before which is obviously WAY too little time to finish anything. And well, then valentines day passed and I no longer had a deadline.. so I didn’t finish it. I cannot for the life of me finish anything without a deadline. (Literally realized like 4 days ago that ive basically never finished a high-effort illustration without a deadline or someone relying on me😵‍💫 which kinda sucks ngl)

But since six sentence sundays are for wips, I guess I can show it to y’all what i drew for valentines!

So heres the concept (which is almost better than the finished result will be. I didn’t manage sultry Simon’s facial expression very well in the actual drawing😭 he just looks annoyed instead of ‘sexy’)

Aaannnd this is a wip of the actual drawing:

I really might end up redoing sultry Simon’s face, cuz it just isn’t working. I wanted the “expectation” side to like be the baz vision equivalent of some sexy male models slicked in oil and faces all squinty and lip-bitey. I didn’t want there to be a trace of an actual person, only the vision of “hot” so an annoyed simon with a bow will not do :/

Sidenote about simons shirt: eat the rich more like swallow the rich amirite?

I have this dumbass obsession with putting simon in ugly T shirts where theres printed the most ridiculous quotes on. I have a whole pinterest board on it. I tastefully called it “simons questionable taste in fashion”

(It’s all dumbass crop tops and tiny shirts with big chunky shoes. Idk I just love that on him)

But uhh I think that’s all for now! Thank you for tagging me @thewholelemon and @j-nipper-95 for tagging me a lot of previous times where i didn’t do anything bc i was shy😅

See you all next time!

Also idk if people put tags on SSS but I’m just gonna do that bc its what I’m used to

[thecarrionwitch]

So for you dark and baneful witches... As one of you, I have a question:

As someone on this field of the craft I'm sure I know my answer and the answers I'll receive but I guess I just need to hear what others think before I fully stick my hand into the situation.

So a 'sibiling' of mine has started living with us again after 6 months of leaving because he had a big freak out and broke a lot of things in my room. The room that I hadn't been able to stay in because of how bad my current disability was at the time.

Up until his blow up he had tried playing in my face, acting like he cared and like he was nice, even going to my hospital room a few times when I was in it.

I made this post before but I broke a handful of my gods and goddesses statues, drew on a hanging thing of mine, threw away some of my tossing bones and called me useless and a liar for the sexual abuse I went through by another 'sibiling'... Called me a liar when before everything he acted like he understood.

I know, realistically the gods and goddesses support this choice if I go with it which I'm sure I will because I hate the energy in the house these days. And it's a familiar energy, the type where you feel like you have to walk on eggshells or you'll get hurt.

To add to his case he's:

Fatphobic (calling me names and stuff knowing good and well my disability was the thing literally at fault for me not being able to work out or anything like that. Also being fatphobic to the brother that I do care about that lives here that is on the spectrum and chubby as well but works as hard as he can. He was fatphobic to him while also taking money from him which made it hard for the good sibling to have any money left over for himself.)

Verbally and mentally abusive (when he's in a really bad mood and we got into an altercation before he left six months ago where the police was called because of all the shouting and he didn't hit me but I definitely feel like he wanted to.)

Manipulative (in many fashions from playing nice to making sure he doesn't split poles with his 22 y/o gf. He's 33... Do I need to explain more?? Considering I'm 21 I find the relationship really weird and considering his baby momma is fat I find it also weird asf that he's fatphobic, especially when he was shaped like a bowling ball in his highschool years and I mean bigger than me or my good brother.

Possibly abusive to animals. (There was a time where my fear was so bad over him that he was scaring my dog with my motorized wheelchair. I was scared to say anything but I didn't like it..) I feel like he's never really liked the dog but that was the punching point.

Rape apologist - in total I have four siblings. The eldest is the one I have an issue with, him and the one younger than him who spent years physically, mentally and sexually abusing me. It took so many years for me to say ANYTHING and when he had his blow up on me he called me a liar even though I've talked about it and I'm covered in sh scars from the mental drainage.

And honestly this is just a small list of what he's done to me RECENTLY. within a year, less than a year.

I made a notes thing for doing some baneful magick to get him out of here and away from this house for good. I know I am but am I justified in doing magick against him? Would you??

I put that last answer there for giggles but yeah. Vote guys. Please and Thank you.

[sexhaver]

I don't actually play MTG, so I'm probably missing something, but Protection Racket doesn't actually interfere with your regular draws, right? Is the issue that it messes up your tutors, or is it just not worth the mana spent?

it doesn't mess with your regular draws, no. the issue is that it "draws" THREE times per upkeep (in a regular 4 player EDH game). in a deck where you play it without any added shenanigans, your turn will start with "drawing" three cards off of Protection Racket, then drawing your real card for turn during your draw step. therefore, at baseline, roughly 75% of the cards you would have otherwise drawn can just be vetoed by your opponents. i cannot overstate how bad giving your opponents veto power over just one of your draws is, and this does it THREE TIMES. PER UPKEEP. EVERY UPKEEP.

and that's just in a deck where you're playing it normally with your one upkeep per turn. in Obeka decks, it gets even worse, because you're taking WAY more than one upkeep per draw step. like, imagine the last scenario where you just have Protection Racket out, but then you hit someone for 2 with Obeka. this gives you two more upkeeps, which "draws" you six more cards. except, again, your opponents have veto power over all of those cards, so they're going to make you not actually draw the ones that would've won you the fucking game (along with any lands because those get exiled for free so congrats you're mana screwed forever now). oh wow, you drew Fury of the Horde and Hatred to create another combat step for free and then kill someone with commander damage? no you didn't, actually.

i know there are people reading this ready to write a reply/anon about how it's not really "free" to veto the card draw because they pay life for it, and to them i say: you know most of the cards in a Voltron deck should represent more face damage to your opponents than their CMC (i will be cold in the ground before calling it "mana value"), right? even in the bonkers magical Christmasland scenario where you manage to hit someone hard enough to "draw" literally your entire deck (probably killing them with commander damage), there is a very good chance that your remaining two opponents will have enough life left to exile any followup plays you would have drawn (extra combat step spells, X-cost instants while you have a Braid of Fire out, etc) and team up to kill you on the crackback.

also you raise a good minor point with the tutors thing. tutors like Mystical and Vampiric that put the card on top of your deck aren't completely fucked over by this card, but it does make it impossible for you to do the usual play pattern of holding up mana for a turn cycle and then casting them on the end step of the player before you. you'd have to actually spend the mana on your own turn during your upkeep after Protection Racket resolves, giving you 1 less mana to work with that turn. barely worth mentioning but it is obnoxious.

tl;dr: stop trying to make fetch Protection Racket happen. if you want a 3 mana black card draw enchantment that scales with multiple upkeeps, you want Phyrexian Arena. if you want to draw 3 cards per upkeep, you want Struggle for Project Purity (yes, letting your opponents draw cards is better than letting them pay life to veto your draws). if you want to have your opponents lose a bunch of life when you take a lot of upkeeps, cast one of the 15 other cards in your deck that does that without making the damage optional. stop handing your opponents the MTG equivalent of the fucking Millenium Eye on crack

[ohtobeleah]

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Five: B-Rad

Summary: After the death of your father and some time spent with Rooster, you find it in yourself to keep pushing. But stealing an F-18 to run a course you weren’t permitted to has its consequences.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x reader fluff. SMUT! Female receiving. Ex Rooster ex reader.

Word Count: 7k

Author Note: literally my favourite chapter by far. Falling a little behind schedule though so we might end up with seven chapters. Not the original six.

“Bradley—“ Rooster knew how you were feeling first hand. He lost his father at a young age—so young you could only remember the vaguest memory of Goose. He lost his mother—not so long ago either. You would always remember Carole for her kindness, her heart, her love for you as a daughter that never wavered even if you and Rooster were a million miles apart. “Come in, I wish the reunion fell under better circumstances.” Your mother Sarah welcomed the aviator she’d watched grow up into the man he was today into her home. Still in his ceremonial uniform. Only a few hours after the funeral, only an hour after the wake had ended.

A warm embrace consumed her for a moment before Rooster pulled away, looking around your childhood home that held so many memories—albeit the home itself had been extended and renovated a time or two. The memories were all there. Rooster swore if he held his breath and closed his eyes he could still hear your infectious childhood laugh.

“I couldn’t tell you where my daughter is even if I wanted to, I haven’t heard from her since we got back from the wake.” Sarah, your mother and the woman Rooster had confided in many times throughout his life, sighed as she stalled in the kitchen. Meals upon meals, flower arrangements and cards of many condolences and sympathies scattered the kitchen island. Overwhelming her. “She’s not doing well, Maverick told me what happened—“

“Admiral Beau isn’t one for timing, is he Mrs.K?” Rooster acknowledged the saddened widow as he took his dress hat off. Staring out into the backyard– Rooster saw slightest movement coming from inside the treehouse Tom had made you well over sixteen years ago. “I think I know where she is, do you mind if I—?” Rooster gestured to the treehouse outside as your mother scoffed out a small chuckle.

“Be my guest honey.” Rooster was quick to kiss your mother on the cheek, bending over to match her height before making his way outside. Birds sang in the garden as he climbed the wooden stairs. To his surprise they were still as stable as they were the day Tom and Pete had built it for you. True craftsmanship.

“Chaos, it’s me—“ Roosted cooed as he looked through the little window, sliding the clear plastic across that was meant to mimic glass to pop his head in. You didn’t answer as you sat curled up on one of the old bean bag chairs. Your Pajamas on, hair damp from the shower you had cried long and hard in after you got home. “Y/n—“

“Go home flyboy can’t you read?” Rooster could hear in your voice how much you had been crying. If anything you needed to blow your nose. “Sign says no boys allowed.” Rooster took his head out of the window, looking to where you’d hung the No boys sign up across the front door.

With a single toss over the balcony, the sign landed on the grass below as Rooster ducked his head slightly as he made his way inside. As a kid he remembered this treehouse being a castle, maybe it still was. You’d both grown up since then—there was definitely less space to play teapaties now. But if you asked? He’d be blue.

“What sign?” Rooster sat beside you. “I don’t see a sign.” chuckling softly as you picked your head up. Eyes swollen from tears cried long and hard.

“Hi—“ You cooed softly. 

“Hey Chaos.” Rooster cooed back as he gently nestled in, his back against the bean bag you sat in, your arm draping over his shoulder to keep him close as he drew unidentifiable objects into the palm of your hand.

“Really living up to the call sign aren’t I?” You shook your head softly. Rooster took in all the photos you still had hung around the treehouse from your childhood and teenage years.

“Yeah well, can’t say you don’t suit it that’s for sure.” Silence fell as Rooster continued to draw unidentifiable objects into your forearm. “Mav told me what happened—“

“Ah well, you know what they say Bradshaw—“ you paused for a moment as you stood up, kicking Roosters legs apart softly before you came to sit between them. Your back against his chest as you pulled up the blanket that had been working to keep you warm on the bean bag. “You win some, you lose some.”

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now.” Admiral Beau sat behind his desk after having requested you see him in his office before the funeral. “Take some time, whatever you need.”

“I appreciate that sir, but there's no time, I just wanna get this over and done with so I can focus on the mission, sir.”

“Unfortunately Lieutenant Kazansky, you will not be continuing on with this detachment effectively immediately.” Your heart sank. Still holding your position you raised a questioning brow.

“Sir–?”

“You and I both know that after you stunt with Lieutenant Seresin the only thing keeping you here was your old man.”

“Sir with all due respect i believe i–”

“Save it, Lieutenant, my decision is final.”

“I believe im one of the few who could actually achieve the mission directives sir and i know you know that–”

“That may be true Chaos, but all you've managed to do in your time here is assault another Lieutenant, fraternise with your co-worker and destroy a multi million dollar F-18!”

“Sir–”

“That is all, Lieutenant, you are dismissed.”

“Are you telling me in full confidence right now that Lieutenant Y/n Chaos Kazansky is gonna take being dropped from the program?” You let you head rest against Roosters chest. You had nothing left to give. Nothing left to fight with. “That’s not like you?”

“Rooster—I literally just buried my dad. The last thing I care about right now is flying some suicidal mission for Admirals who don’t give a damn if we make it home safe or not.”

“Since when do you let people tell you what to do?” Rooster never picked you as the type of person that would join the Navy, purely based on the fact you hated being told what to do. But—he’d never been more proud of everything you’d managed to achieve. Even if you’d just been kicked out for recklessness.

“This is the navy Rooster—they’re called orders for a reason, I don’t like them anymore then you do but that’s the way it is—I’m grounded.” You let your head fall into his chest as Rooster let his chin rest on top of your head. His arms strung around your shoulders.

“Can I be honest with you real quick?” It wasn’t that Rooster wasn’t being serious before, but as he asked you, the tone in his voice got a little heavier. More serious.

“Yeah—“ I mean hey why not right? Expecting another catastrophe you held your breath. Hope for the best, expect the worst they always said.

“And I wanna preface this by letting you know this is coming from the part of me that admires you as a pilot.” Rooster paused for a moment as he took his chin off the top of your head. His arms unwinding from around your shoulders as you turned around to face him. Sitting back on your knees between Roosters legs. “But you’re the only person I’d wanna fly this mission with, simply because you don’t think—you just do.” There was a part of you that was quick to take that as an insult, but deep down? You knew that was as good as any compliment Rooster could ever give you.

“Love when you talk dirty to me, keep going.” You couldn’t help but to smile, the way Rooster looked at you with so much love, so much admiration in his eyes. The women of his dreams.

“Only someone as reckless and as dangerous as you could fly this mission successfully—sure, maybe Hangman’s stupid enough to go balls to the wall but you? You calculate the risk and go for it anyway.” Shaking your head softly, you bit your bottom lip. Stopping it from quivering under the Immense pressure of your fragile emotions. Tears welling in your eyes.

“This is all very flattering, Rooster, really, but I can’t do anything about it now. I’ve already been dismissed from the program.”

“Your dad wouldn’t have taken no for an answer?” God Rooster hit you with that one didn’t he. “C’mon Y/n, you’re Chaos fucking Kazanksy for crying out loud. You didn’t get your call sign from taking L’s and backseats. You got it from pissing off Admirals, why stop now?” Rooster questioned, trying to egg you on. He knew you weren’t the type of person to take things lying down. This was no exception. He knew you just needed a push in the right direction.

You didn’t respond, you let Rooster's words rattle around in your head. You wanted to play tough, do all this on your own. Be an independent woman who didn’t need anyone—but after finally letting your dad go? Losing the one man who never let you down ever? You felt lost, exposed, exhausted. Giving in, you fell back into Rooster's arms, crying as you let your sobs echo throughout the treehouse you and Rooster held so many childhood memories in.

With wide eyes, Rooster instantly took you in, your arms wrapping around his midsection as he held you back. Rocking you softly side to side as he just let you cry. Not saying a word—Rooster knew you just needed to flush it out. Because even Superwoman sometimes needed Superman's soul.

“I've got you–” whispering softly, Rooster did his very best to comfort you. All he could do was hold you close. “I've got you Y/n.” There was no clock to watch the seconds, the minutes, what could have been hours pass by as Bradley Bradshaw sat there with you crying in his arms. The sound of your heartbreak tearing a part of his heart out. But there came a point where your sobs were a little less violent, your grip became a little less intense around his waist, and sure enough, you’d cried yourself to exhaustion. Passing out in the comforting embrace of the love of your life, your best friend.

Rooster knew that you couldn't stay up in the treehouse all night, the sun was beginning to set, the temperature started to slowly drop, enough to the point he could feel you shivering slightly under the warmth of the blanket. Deciding that he would do the only thing he really could do besides leaving you there. Gently, and ever so slowly, as delicately as he possibly could– Rooster slid himself out from behind you. Bending over, Rooster groaned softly as he tried not to strain his back. Picking you up bridal style– if you heard him? He’d be honest, it wasn't about how heavy you were. It was purely technique based.

He hadn’t thought this through very well. Because getting you off the floor of the treehouse was only part one, part two included getting you out the door. Rooster had to not so gracefully duck to avoid a nasty whack to the forehead. Although you and himself had grown over the years–the treehouse had remained the same. Which included a small door frame that had pen marks and permanent marker lines that marked how tall you were both getting. Dates and times spanning the years you'd both known each other.

Rooster had to pause for a moment before making his descent down the seven or eight wooden stairs that lined the side of the treehouse. Your head lulled against his chest as he cradled you in his arms. Sighing, Rooster took one step at a time.

“Oh, my heart.” Your mother cooed as she held her hand over her heart from her seat in the living room. Pete had stopped by to again let his condolences be known to the grieving widow. A friend. A beloved family member. “Pete, turn around.” Taking a sip of the tea Sarah had prepared for him, Pete Mitchell turned his head to see Bradley Bradshaw trotting down the stairs of the treehouse he had once pushed you down. “Isn't that just–pure.”

“Not something I thought I'd ever see, but sure, we can go with pure if you like.” Maverick teased as Rooster used his boot clad foot to pry open the glass sliding door. Turning sideways to crab walk you inside. Huffing a gentle sigh as he did so. His eyes meeting Mavericks. “You right here Rooster?”

“She knocked herself out, I just didn't wanna leave her up there alone.” Rooster explained as his eyes fell to your mother. “She was pretty upset.”

“I thought she would be.” Your mother nodded. “Um, you can probably just dump her in her room?” You and your mother just had that type of relationship, easy going, a little dark humor based. relaxed. “If you wanna stay the night Rooster there should be a box in the top of the cupboard with a bunch of stuff you left around the place over the years.”

“Thanks Mrs.K–” Rooster didn't really acknowledge the question, but nevertheless he appreciated the offer. “You say something to Admiral Beau?” Rooster tilted his chin upwards as he asked Maverick the pretty intense question. “Or–”

“I had a few choice words, but at the end of the day I can only do so much.” Rooster nodded. Accepting the reality of the situation unfolding around him. Heading off down towards where your old childhood bedroom was. “Bradley?” Maverick called out as Rooster turned around to face him, his arms about to pop out of their sockets if he didnt put you down sooner rather than later. “She's tough, she’ll figure everything out.”

“I know she will.” Rooster didn't hesitate to agree as you softly moaned against his chest. Shit he really had to put you down before he dropped you, his arms numbing at the sensation of being bent too long, holding pressure too long. “I know she will.”

In another life—there would have been a time where Bradley Bradshaw would have slipped in behind you with ease. His arms pulling you close to him as he got comfortable between the sheets and the fluffy covers of your bedspread. But like I said—in another life.

Rooster placed you down as gently and as carefully as he could, watching as you instantly in your sleeping state took to your new environment. Comforting, all consuming.

With a drawn out sigh—Rooster stepped away from the side of your bed. Rubbing his palm down his face as he fought every urge he had to stay. Wondering over to where the cupboard was, Rooster didn’t wanna pry into the past all that much. He knew that although the good most certainly weighed out the bad, there were definitely landmines scattered. He didn’t want to be the latest victim of his own stupidity. But nevertheless, Rooster saw the box your mother had told him about. A clear plastic box with a hand written label scotch taped to the lid. The nickname evoked a chuckle that came from the very depths of Roosters soul. Clear as day he read the nickname you knew he hated, knew he wouldn’t let anyone else call him ever. An abbreviation so atrocious it took him his entire junior year of high school begging and pleading with you to stop calling him that.

Head hadn’t heard it in years—but reading it? Seeing it written in your writing kinda made him miss it. Grade a Stockholm syndrome.

Holding the box before he dropped it carefully to the end of your bed, being cautious not to wake you—Rooster ran his fingers over the nickname written in bold:

B-Rad’s Stuff.

There was an old t-shirt he’d sworn he’d lost back in senior year—it smelt of you as he held it to his nose. Rooster wondered how many nights you’d dawned it when he wasn’t around. Pictures of moments passed were scattered throughout the box. Old birthday cards he’d written you, dried and pressed petals of what Rooster could only assume would have been from a bunch or roses he’d given you were thrown in absentmindedly.

But amongst the clothes that surely wouldn’t fit his physique now, Rooster pulled out a pair of sweatpants he’d remembered he’d left behind at your place the last time he’d ever so stupidly broken off your relationship, an old Naval Accademy shirt that was balled up in the box would have to do. A snug fit—sure, but he’d make it work.

Although Rooster couldn’t find it in himself to lay beside you, not knowing where he stood with you, he simply took a pillow from the other side of your bed, laid it down on the ground beside you—and decided that’s where he would stay.

He was there—just in case you needed him, but Rooster made sure to stay far enough away in case you woke up and decided you didn’t need him.

But let’s face it? It wasn’t a case of whether you needed Bradley Bradshaw or not. The fact of the matter was you simply—

Wanted him.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Four in the morning was a peaceful time. The world had not yet begun but it was getting close. The stillness of your childhood bedroom was like any other. Frozen in time. You weren’t sure how you got here, nor were you sure when the tears had actually stopped—but you knew enough to know that you had a criminally dry mouth. Tossing the covers aside with a groan you threw your legs over the side of the bed. Your heel connecting with something hard.

“Ow—!” Rooster hissed as he jolted awake from the sudden heel to the back of the head he’d coped.

“Shit—!” Your eyes widened as you scurried off your bed, dodging where Rooster had been laying as he sat up to meet you. Rubbing the back of his head. “What are you doing down here?” Crouching down in front of him you frowned curiously. “Hang on? Did you, did you carry me to bed?”

“Well I wasn’t gonna leave you up there a sobbing mess was I?” Rooster chuckled as he stopped rubbing the back of his head. Yawning— he moved to rub his eyes. “What time is it?” You didn’t respond, you simply smiled a soft smirk as you reached for Rooster's hand.

“Time to come to bed.”

“What? No I can’t—“ Rooster hesitated as you dragged him to his feet. Standing before him in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. “Y/n—“

“I’m one hundred percent sure that the bed would be more comfortable than the carpet—“ Noticing the clothes Rooster had changed into. The content of the plastic box still haphazardly scattered beside him. “B-Rad.”

“Oh you just had to go there didn’t you?” There wasn’t much distance between the two of you. Barley any at all as you stood before Rooster and he stood before you. Surrounded in darkness—only the slightest bit of light peering in from your window. The patio solar lights working overtime. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“Yeah, but you always let me anyway.” Reminding Rooster you enjoyed the closeness a little too much—allowing Rooster to duck his head slightly, his face closer to yours. Lips ever so close—almost close enough to just capture with yours. “We aren’t gonna do this again.” You smirked, teasing Rooster as your fingers played with his. “I’m still holding a grudge—“

“I told you, you’re it.” Rooster cooed as his breath fanned across your face, hot. “What’s a guy gotta do? Beg?” Rooster let his forehead rest against yours as you thought about your next move.

There were a lot of things Bradley Bradshaw was good at, commitment clearly not being something on that list. But getting you off? That was in the top five.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna make you do.” Smirking, you pushed Rooster back so his legs hit the back of your bed frame. Guiding him down by his shoulder as you stood between his legs, his hands instinctively on your hips. “Beg—“

“Chaos, you can’t be serious?” Rooster questioned as you reached for the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head before discarding it across the room. Standing before Rooster as his eyes fell to your exposed chest. Stunned into absolute silence.

“Tell me how much you love me—“ It wasn’t that you needed a definitive answer, you just wanted to hear Rooster say it. Regardless if he truly meant it. That might seem fucked beyond belief—but you didn’t know any other way. “Beg me to be yours, Bradley.” With a gentle shove to the shoulder you had Rooster on his back. Making with hairs you shed your sweats, completely and wholeheartedly exposed.

Rooster couldn’t believe his eyes as his knee rested between your bare thighs. Watching with hooded eyes as you stood waiting for him to say something—anything.

“Never have I ever felt so stupid for leaving you.” It was an administration of guilt more than anything else. “But I’ve never stopped loving you—not for a second.”

“Keep going.” You crawled onto the bed beside where Rooster laid sprawled out. “Or else I’m putting my clothes back on.” With a gulp, Rooster nodded softly. Following your every command.

“I’m a coward.” You liked that one a lot. Sending a leg over his waist you mounted Rooster with ease. “I’m scared of just how much I love you—“ Moving closer to where Rooster's face was with every sentence he spoke, he knew exactly what he’d be doing for the next however long it took him to get you where you needed to go. “So I run thinking just maybe I’ll figure something out but I never do and I always fucking regret leaving you.”

“Start begging Lieutenant Bradshaw before I change my mind.” Sitting on his chest so close he could almost taste you, Rooster begged.

“Take me back—“

“Why should I?” You were quick to ask as you hovered just above his chest, slowly creeping forward.

“Because I’ll never leave you again.”

“I don’t believe you.” You sighed dramatically as you backed away slightly—Roosters hands coming to stop you by your ass. Pulling you back closer as you hovered his Nirvana over his chest.

“One more chance, that's it. One—“ Rooster pleaded. “I’ll give you my last name just to prove it baby.” That got you a little too good. “I’ll follow you to the moon and back, heaven or hell, I’ll be yours.” You were so close to just letting him have it. But Rooster hadn’t worked hard enough to gain your trust. “Please Y/n—“

“Prove it?” You teased. With a jolt, Rooster had you down on his face in a matter of seconds. Devouring everything you gave him. “Ohhh fuck—!” Throwing your head back so fast you swore you gave yourself whiplash. “Bradley! Jesus—oh my go—“ You couldn’t finish what you were saying, hell you couldn’t breathe as Rooster lapped away at your core, so tender yet so fierce. He needed to prove he could get you to your high, already drunk of the power you had over him.

“Feels so fucking good Rooster don’t you dare stop.” You couldn’t help but to moan as you saw Roost looked up at you for a brief moment as you looked down. “Don’t stop.”

“Now who’s begging? Rooster teased playfully—the response he got from you came in the form of a tight tug on his hair. Sending painful yet oh so pleasurable shockwaves through his body. Hissing against your core as you moved your hips in small circles. Grinding down on Rooster’s face as he sucked and lapped at all the right places.

“Yes—just like that!” It felt otherworldly. The way Rooster was giving you everything he had to offer, his tongue flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves as his lips worked to create an almost vacuum seal like sensation. The pressure immense. The feeling sensational. “Rooster—fuck!”

He wanted to hear you cum for him, that was all that was Rooster's mind as he felt your sweet nectar dripping down his chin, down his neck. The way he didn’t mind straining himself in order to hear you cry those blissful moans into the early morning darkness. He was committed to you, to getting you to your high and making sure that when you got there he’d ride it out with you.

“Please—Rooster, im—“ You had to collect your thoughts as the feeling of a tsunami started to form. “I’m gonna cum—“ Roosters hands came up from where they had been resting gently against the small of your back to reach up for your breast. Squeezing and playing with your sensitive buds. Knowing it would give you just a little extra push. “Oh my god—oh shit shit shit shit—“ There had never been a more perfect place to sit.

“Come for me Chaos.” There was a small part of Rooster that thought you were spiralling out of control. He wondered for a brief moment if this was what you truly wanted, if this would backfire. Was it taking advantage of your poor lack of judgement if you came onto him? What if after all the endorphins had left your body would you want him to stay? “Cum for me baby—let me taste you.”

Electricity. That’s what you would describe it as as your hands cupped Roosters cupping your breast. With a wide jaw and an angelic moan, Rooster had your thighs shaking on either side of your face. Completely buried in your core, pulsing rapidly as he sucked and lapped away at you. Steadying you above him as your orgasm washed over you—hitting you just as hard as a semi trailer would.

“Ohhhhhhh fuckkk—“ You cried out into the darkness. Rooster drank you up, his chin completely saturated with your nectar. Sweet and perfect. “Rooster—“ Sighing dramatically you fell to your side. Eyes closed as your body relaxed. Rooster was quick to sit up, meeting you in the middle of your bed.

“Want me to stay?” It was the way you instantly nodded in response that had Rooster connecting his lips with yours. Tasting yourself you pulled him down on top of you. His hands instantly roaming your body. “Chaos—“

“Just go with it.” You threw caution into the wind yet again for Bradley Bradshaw. Knowing that if he was going to break your heart again it would truly be the death of you. Would you ever learn your lesson?

Falling asleep around six thirty in the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms. Rooster knew he wouldn't let you go again. This was it for him. You were it. You had a power of him. Falling asleep content that the moment he had a chance to he’d ask you to marry him.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

It felt like minutes, but as Rooster reached across to pull you close he was met with an empty bed. Questioning whatever reality he had somehow transported from, he swore blind you were just with him a second ago.

Sitting up dumbfounded—Rooster's eyes landed on the small post it note stuck to his uniform, wrapping the sheet around his waist, Rooster padded across the room to see what you had written. He couldn’t say he was shocked—but still, he was concerned slightly.

“I know what I have to do, see you back in Fightertown B-Rad.”

****~****~****~****~****~

Rooster hadnt heard from you all morning. His few text messages and handful of calls had gone unread, unnoticed, unanswered. He knew he should be focused a little more on the presentation going on before him. But his mind was still stuck on you, the way you tasted, the way you felt. They way Rooster knew you were one inconvenience away from completely breaking down.

“Unfortunately due to circumstances out of our current control, Lieutenant Kazansky won't be continuing on with this detachment.” Maverick addressed the class who looked just as saddened to hear you had been dismissed then what you did when Admiral Beau pulled the plug. “And it pains me to say, as of today there are new mission parameters.” Pete Mitchell had fought tooth and nail to keep the parameters in place. But Admiral Beau admitent things had to change. “Time to target is now four minutes.” Maverick wasn't enjoying this, he almost walked out the moment he was told. But he couldnt leave his pilots. He felt a personal responsibility to see this out.

“You’ll be entering the valley at reduced speed, not to exceed four hundred and twenty knots.”

“Sir, won't that be giving their planes time to intercept?” Bob interjected as he looked around at his fellow pilots. Wishing you were sitting with them. Knowing if you were there you would have been the first to call bullshit.

“Well Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the odds of surviving a head on collision with a mountain?” Admiral Beau was quick to chim in as he stepped up next to Maverick. Taking over with a stirn voice as the graphic course behind him changed. “You’ll be attacking the target at a higher altitude– level with the north wall, it will be a little harder to keep your laser on target but you will avoid the high G climb out.”

“We’ll be sitting ducks for enemy milles.” Fanboy sighed. The automated map behind where Maverick and Admiral Beau stood began to beep. The class confused as the two men turned around just as stunned.

“Who the hell is that?” Admiral Beau looked at Maverick with fire in his eyes. Maverick shrugged his shoulders, unaware of what you had planned. Watching on just as confused as he looked down at his list of attendance. Everyone was here and accounted for– except maybe……

“Chaos to range control, entering Point Alpha.” You explained as you clipped your mask on, swinging around with speed to where the check point was marked. “Confirm, green range.”

“There’s no way—“ Rooster sat a little straighter in his chair, balling his first as he egged you on silently. His girl. “No fucking way.”

“Did you know about this!?” Bon whisper shouted as he turned to face Rooster from the chair in front. “This is crazy even for her!”

“I swear to you she didn’t mention it—“ Rooster widened his eyes as he smirked wildily. “This is the first I'm hearing about this too.” He knew there was a reason you didn't tell him. That reason being he was free of all consequences if things went south. Rooster couldn't be dragged into the mess your stunt would surely cause. He’d be free to thrive in his career. “She’s insane.”

“Uh, Chaos, this is range control–uh green range is confirmed, I don't see an event scheduled for you ma'am?” The entire class moved to the edge of their seats as they watched your tracker progress on the flight projector. The little camcorder in your cockpit live streaming your face, your cockpit, your overall being.

“Yeah well, I'm going anyway.” You confirmed. Shrugging it off because you had already gotten this far–may as well finish it right? Taking a deep breath in because this may be your last flight in an F-18. This could get you dishonourably discharged. “Kazansky is a go.”

“Nice–” Phoenix whispered under her breath as she watched in utter bewilderment.

“Setting time to target, two minutes and fifteen second.” The timer that read four minutes changed instantly before the class.

“Bull, two fifteen? That's impossible.” Hangman hissed, sure he wanted you here but he knew that two fifteen was pushing it, even for you. He knew what it was like to have something to prove, but this? This was chaotic at best. “She won’t make that.”

“Shut up before I decide to make you.” Rooster came to your defence quicker than ever before. Pointing a stern finger Hangman’s way as his elbow rested on his arm chair. “What don’t you understand here? Chaos is the best of all of us, if anyone can do two fifteen it would be her.”

“I understand she was kicked from the program, Bradshaw, so this literally impossible stunt of hers will have her ass kicked out of the Navy quicker than you can say dishonourably discharged.” Rooster knew Hangman was right. This wasn't going to end well for you. Turning his attention back to you, Rooster softened as he watched you back your final decision. He couldn't help but to wonder if he’d pushed you to do this. But when Rooster had said don't take this lying down he didn't know his words translated into stealing a goddamn F-18.

“Final attack point, Chaos is inbound.” Throttling forward, you increased your speed. Inverting down as you punched it. Giving it your absolute all as you increased your speed as fast as you could physically handle. Starting strong with every intention of finishing strong.

You didn't know you were crying until you felt the tears streaming down your face. You hoped this was something your dad would have done if he were in your shoes. There was never going to be a day where you made commander, never going to be a day you ranked higher than captain at best.

At this point you were tired, sick of running as fast as you could. Always wondering if you would have gotten where you were today quicker if you were a man. Why did you get kicked out of the program for fraternisation but Rooster hadn't been? Why did you get kicked out for assaulting another lieutenant but Hangman wasn't even written up for pulling your papers. None of it sat right with you–especially the part where the moment your dad had passed Admiral Beau took it as the perfect opportunity to dismiss you. Knowing there was no one left to stop him.

With your mind running wild with enough emotional trauma and baggage to fuel your determination to complete this course– you pushed that throttle so far forward to send your G’s climbing. Coming out of the turns into the straight away. This was the home stretch.

As the timer counted down the seconds, it was as if everyone watching you fly forgot how to breathe. With forty seconds left on the clock you approached the straight. At this point Bob grew nervous, standing from his seat as did Rooster. Eyes glued to your map. Fanboy clung to the head rest of the chair in front of him.

“Popping in three, two one–” Rooster stood from his seat the second he noticed the tears in your eyes, running his hands through his hair. There was nothing he could do for you but all he wanted to do was hold you. Watching as you inverted over the lip of the course guided mountain. Flipping over shorting after as the class watched you line your target up expertly. “Target acquired– confirming tone!” You reported as the class heard the high pitched tone echo through the room.

“Bombs away–” With just eight seconds remaining, you dropped your bombs, throlling up miliseconds later for the steep climb out. Rooster watched your G’s climb as your timer ran out. Only seconds remaining as his heart raced.

Bob was the next to jump from his seat in anticipation, watching as the bombs you dropped his dead centre where they needed to be.

“Bullseye holy shit!” Fanboy cheered. Rooster hid his smile behind his first. Of course you had done it, he never doubted it for a second.

“That's my girl–” Rooster whispered to himself. “Atta girl.” Reaching a total of 10 G’s with less than a second to spare. You’d done it.

“Damn–” Hangman smirked, nodding because you'd done it. Done what none of them had been able to do. Perhaps Rooster had been right all along, they should have packed their gear knowing you were here.

Settling into your seat as you chuckled, you shook your head in utter disbelief. You’d actual fucking down it.

“Captain Michell” You radioed in. “I never got a chance to say it has been an honour to work under your guidance.” You sighed heavily. “Admiral Beau, if you’re there?” you paused for a second before removing your mask, holding it so your radio still picked up your voice. You just wanted everyone to see your smirk. Knowing that they couldn't say exactly what you were about to say.

“Eat my whole ass–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You have put me in a difficult position Lieutenant.” It wasn't a position you wanted to be in, but nevertheless? You had put yourself there regardless. Standing before Admiral Beau as he stood looking out the window towards the airfield. “On the one hand, you have demonstrated that this mission can be flown, perhaps the only way it can be survived.” You took the compliment, it was probably the only good thing that was going to come out of this. “On the other hand, you did it by stealing a multimillion dollar military aircraft and flying it in such a manner that it may never be airworthy again.”

“In my defence, sir– it wasn't all that hard to steal–perhaps upgrading the security around here should be something on your to do list.” You retaliated, knowing holding back wasn't going to change any decision that wasn't already made. With a heavy sigh, Admiral Beau ran his hand down his face.

“Iceman is no longer here to protect you.”

“Its Commander Kazanksy, sir–” With gritted teeth, you stood with your shoulders squared. Watching as Admiral Beau crossed the room. His eyes trained on you. Anger prevalent.

“I have everything I need to have you court marshalled and dishonourably discharged.” He hissed, letting the silence linger for a moment as he held that threat before you. “So what do I do? risk the lives of my pilots and perhaps the success of the mission? Or–risk my career by appointing you team leader.”

“Sir–?” You questioned as you stepped forward. A hand coming to cup your shoulder, pulling you back in line with a soft shuckle.

“I think the Admiral was asking a rhetorical question, Lieutenant,” Warlock smirked as he held you back. Nodding his way you stepped back in line.

Damn, that wasn't the outcome of your actions you were expecting, if anything it was some quinesentail underdog shit.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Opening the door, you were met with Jake Seresin standing across the hall. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Rolling your eyes—you made a quick exit down the hall. Hangman hot on your tail.

“You’re actually delusional if you thought that stunt was gonna get you anywhere—“ Hangman hissed as he caught up with you, walking directly beside you. Letting out a scoff you smirked, looking down at the ground you walked on. Finding comfort in the stable ground.

“Admiral Beau just gave me a death sentence, do you really think I give a damn if you think I’m some nepotism baby? At fault for Sam’s death? or fucking delusional?” Stopping in your tracks, Hangman looked at you confused. “I don't wanna lose it right now, because I’m tired of being psychotic—but I'm not getting through this.” Pausing, you cleared your throat. “I don’t get to come back from this one, Lieutenant.”

“Cyclone made you team lead did he?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I think I’d rather be discharged.”

“You told him to eat your ass though—“

“What happened!?” Turning, you saw Rooster racing towards you. His boots heavy against the floor as he came jogging up to you. Embracing you instantly. Warm and all consuming. Wrapping your arms around his torso as you were quick to hide your face in his chest. “What happened?”

“Little miss Chaos here is team lead—“ Hangman broke the news as Rooster pulled away to look at you, cupping your cheeks. “I mean I guess when you're the only one who’s crazy enough to pull that kinda stunt he didn’t really have a choice did he?”

“He made you team lead?” Panic in his eyes, Rooster begged you to say no. He didn’t want you going on this mission, not when he had a chance to fix things. “Y/n?”

“Captain Mitchell still has to choose my foxtrot teams—and my wingman.” Your voice too softly for it to even be heard by Hangman. “But I already told him not to choose you.” Rooster felt the knife you pressed into his heart as he stepped away.

“Oh damn—“ Hangman smirked as he watched on. He wished he had some popcorn handy.

“Why would you do that?” It wasn’t what Rooster asked that broke your heart, it was the way he asked. Defeated, broken, betrayed.

“Because I don’t think you’re ready, and I need to be able to put all my trust in my wingman.” It was the furthest thing from the truth as you held back tears. You didn’t think you had any more left to cry. But as it turns out you did. “It’s nothing personal—“

“Nothing personal!!?” It made you flinch the way Rooster raised his voice. “It’s nothing but personal!”

“Hey, easy—“ Jake reached out to place a hand on Rooster's shoulder. “Maverick still has final say.”

“You really are holding a grudge huh?” Beaming nothing but resentment for you, Rooster gritted his teeth. His jaw clenched as he stepped into your personal space, towering over you. “I thought I fucking loved you—turns out I just loved the person I thought I left behind.”

“Rooster—“ Reaching out, Rooster shrugged you off as he turned on his heels, walking away. Leaving you behind.

“You don’t mean any of that do you?” Hangman’s gaze remained on Rooster's back as he stood beside you. “You just don’t want him to be in danger—“

“You know, sometimes you can be really smart, Seresin.” You sighed as Rooster disappeared from your sight. “I wouldn’t trust any other person with my life, but I don’t want to die saving mine if things were to go wrong.”

“Could’ve just explained it you know?” Frowning you turned to Hangman. Shaking your head as you walked away.

“You managed three seconds.”

***~***~***~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~

Chaos Masterlist

Tags: @lyannaredbird @luckyladycreator2 @skagelynn @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers​ @katieshook02​ @thescarletknight2014​ @justanothermagicalsara​ @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever​ @puriini​ @luckylexie​ @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2​ @mizzzpink​ @unforgettwble​ @itzyogurl92​ @lemoonandlestars​ @mulletmcghee​ @redqueeen99​ @bucky-barmes​ @mak-32​ @fivsecondsflat​ @loveless-simp @bradleysgirl

[isleofdarkness]

"You bitch!" Maverick barely managed to keep from sighing at the sound of Rose's voice, filled with fury. Great, someone else was pissed with her. She didn't even know what she'd done this time.

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific," Maverick drawled, turning on her heel to face the furious princess. There was sadness and pain in Rose's eyes, which did make her feel kind of bad for both whatever she had done and for being sarcastic, but the hatred made it easier to lock that remorse away and put up her normal front. "I do a lot of "you bitch" worthy things. I can think of like, twelve I've done in the last six hours alone."

"You killed Rook!" Rose snapped. So she was upset that Maverick had killed the person human trafficking her sibling? Sure, that made sense. Not. "I had dibs on killing him!"

Ah.

Maverick softened. "I apologize. I had no idea you'd called it, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."

There was a long pause as Rose struggled to stay angry, but the sincerety in Maverick's voice had that anger and hate melting away to reveal the pain underneath. She sounded more sad than anything when she finally spoke. "Why did you kill him? You never get involved like that."

"Like that" meant Maverick walking into the Salazan's Grum courtyard, kicking the ass of half of the Queen's guard and killing a good portion, grabbing Rook, and teleporting back to the Mile. The part Rose didn't know was that the two weeks between him being captured and him winding up dead, mutilated and strung up on a noose hanging at the entrance to the courtyard, hadn't been captivity until she got around to dealing with him. No, those two weeks had been her undivided attention, until she'd grown bored of torturing him and had killed him, slowly. For good reason. "I know what he's done to Ace, but a few things recently came to my attention. Ace wasn't the only one." Her lip curled in distaste. Some people really went out of their ways to be evil and Rook was one of those people. "You know of Malachi Mim?" Rose nodded. The look on her face told Maverick that Rose, like most of the Isle, knew what Mim had been putting him through before his "death." "He was Malachi's handler, the one who pimped him out in public because Madre knew I'd kill her ass if she set foot outside doing it. Bought him far too many times to count, too. It's not like he saves up being a monster for three weeks just to take it out on Ace for one, he's a monster every day, he just knew he couldn't get away with constantly abusing your sibling. And then, as if that wasn't enough, he also moonlights in Maleficent's facilities. Gods help any of the poor kids he happened across. And then Constantine Westergaard- gods. What happened to Malachi made me look into Rook and what I found made me sick. Literally. So I killed him. Made it long and slow, drew it out, made it as painful as I possibly could." Her lips curled into a cruel smile at the memories. "If it makes you feel any better, he suffered. But I'm sorry I took your revenge from you. I'll be more careful in the future."

She let Rose process what she'd just heard, hatred returning, though now directed at a new source. When Rose finally relaxed, she knew they had come to an understanding. "Fine, I get why you did it. But for the record, I have dibs on killing our parents and you'd better not take that one or else I'll kill you as compensation."

Well, at least she had been planning on letting the twins have those cunts, anyway. "They're yours."

[itsuki-minamy]

"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 13: THE END OF THE DREAM

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

As he ran through the dark passage, something bright opened again.

It was similar to the space where Mishakuji was located, but it was even higher in the ceiling and with countless huge cylinders. There was even a strict air, like an ancient Greek temple.

As he ran through the pillars, Shiro thought of Kuro whom he had left just now.

(Kuro. I believe in you.)

Mishakuji Yukari is a strong enemy. Perhaps his power will even reach the king. Facing the blade, Shiro did not confirm whether Kuro could win alone.

That's why he believes in him. That's the only thing Shiro can do.

At this moment, multiple members of the "Jungle" clan appeared from the front.

"There they are! Don't let them pass!"

The muzzle turned there at once. Looking at them, Neko who was running next to him, murmured.

"They won't defeat me!"

With the spirit, Neko drew a zigzag path, lowering herself like a four-legged beast. She jumped into the air and decided to drop the heel to the main Clansman.

"This is...!"

Other Clansmen quickly take the distance and aimed at Neko. However, they couldn't catch her literally jumping like a cat, and she was just thrown away.

At this moment, Neko's eyes were shining, and the sound of the bell echoed.

"Take this!"

"Jungle Attack!"

The Clansmen held their weapons and began to hit each other. Neko's reconnaissance operation skill and ability. Neko watched the Clansmen using their weapons to hit each other, and was satisfied.

"Neko!"

Shiro ran again as he called after her. There isn't much time left. They have to get to the "Slate" as soon as possible.

And...

Shiro suddenly saw that something strange was placed between the pillars.

A tatami with six mats. Kitchen with an old refrigerator. Various plaques in the Chabudai.

The appearance of a room, as if a family lived there, was left in a solemn underground space.

"......"

Hisui Nagare also has friends. The opponent has something that can be called family.

The fact that he knew sank into his chest.

But he can't stop. Hisui Nagare has a wish, and Shiro also has his own wish. That's completely understandable too. If there was something that could not be certified, there was only one thing to do.

Shiro and Neko arrived there.

A gigantic stone disk placed carelessly on the ground, the "Dresden Slate".

A relic that brings innovation and confusion to humanity.

And, as if to protect him, a solitary bird was there.

"It's here! It's here!"

The parrot made a sound. He had seen that parrot several times. He is a messenger of the "Green King" named Kotosaka.

Then, the young man with Kotosaka on his shoulder slowly stood up.

"...Hisui Nagare."

Hearing Shiro's words, the young "Green King" Hisui Nagare smiled silently. Neko nodded and snuggled into Shiro.

Nagare looked at him and silently opened his mouth.

"First King, Adolf K. Weismann, Isana Yashiro. Welcome."

+++++++++++

Mishakuji gently narrowed his eyes as his sword flickered slowly.

Kuro's sword in front of him doesn't seem to be as shaken as before. Unfazed by Mishukaji's brilliant move, he is trying to discern the true nature of him.

Mishakuji freely admired that state.

"Good. Although it contains great power, it is as calm as the surface of a lake. I can see your growth."

In response, Kuro replied in a low voice.

"...I've finally begun to see it too. It may seem like your sword can change shape, but there is a core running through it. The core that sustains the strength."

Mishakuji chuckled and readjusted his "Ayamachi".

"It's a strange destiny. Although we grew up under the same "king", we each received different "kings" and now our paths cross this way. It's wonderful."

Once upon a time, when they were wielding swords together under the tutelage of Miwa Ichigen, did they ever think that something like this would happen?

At the very least, it is true that the current Kuro has become an attractive enemy. There aren't many people he wants to kill from the bottom of his heart.

Mishakuji was happy about that, regardless of his morals or his feelings.

"I guess it's time we found our King. Let's get started, Kuro-chan."

Mishakuji pointed the tip at Kuro, as if he was swearing.

"My sword is to fulfill the sincerest wish of the "Green King"."

Kuro also pointed the tip of "Kotowari" towards Mishakuji and muttered to himself.

"And I, to fulfill the wish of the "Silver King"."

+++++++++++

"Oraaaaaaaaah, but what?!"

Yata was running the entire time, letting out a roar.

The map that was informed to him in advance has long since been forgotten by him. That's not to say he was running blindly. Yata already knew the coordinates he had to reach. The "warmth" he feels from Anna's supernatural network is directly beneath the presence of his friends.

But before he gets there, he will have to go through a maze.

From the darkness along the corridors, behind the barricades, from the walkways, members of the "Jungle" clan began to emerge. They really were a nuisance. Yata swung his staff to deflect the bullets they fired, smashing them, jumping over their bodies and moving forward.

"Yata-chan, have you arrived yet?"

"Yata-san, hurry up...!"

Yata's frustration increased as he received communications from Kusanagi and Kamamoto. He shouted, gritting his teeth and punching the members of the "Jungle" clan.

"I'm so excited that I keep running as fast as I can! Just wait a little longer!"

Anna's supernatural network also shares his sense of sight and hearing. Yata was well aware of the burden his late arrival placed on everyone else. Yata forced himself to take a breath, which was about to run out, and accelerated even more.

"Alright."

Suddenly, he heard that voice.

"I believe in Misaki."

He felt as if Anna's direct gaze was fixed on Yata.

Hearing that, Yata laughed. He thought to himself as he emitted flames from the tip of the staff.

(King believes in me. If I don't answer, it will be a lie!)

The staff slammed into the wall, leaving a trail of flames in the darkness. Even more clansmen wait beyond the toppled and exploded wall. Yata stood up and stared at them.

"I am Yata Misaki, captain of the "Homura" vanguard! Stay away unless you want to die!"

+++++++++++

The unrest on the ground was already calming down.

The defeat of the "Gray King" had a great impact on the morale of the Green Clan members, and most of them retreated to their hideouts or were unable to escape and were captured by "Scepter 4". Some began to surrender voluntarily, showing no signs of resistance. Many people on the ground have probably already made up their minds. However, Awashima's expression never cleared up.

"Captain..."

Reisi Munakata was looking towards the "hideout" when she called out to him with concern.

Blue sparks scattered intermittently on his back. An uncontrollable supernatural ability causes a short circuit, which manifests as a visible anomaly.

Without turning around, Munakata said to Awashima.

"...Awashima-kun. When the time comes, don't hesitate."

Awashima bit her lip and looked up at the sky.

A broken "Sword of Damocles" hovered directly above Munakata. Like Munakata's body, it emits numerous sparks and blue aura crystals constantly break off and disappear into thin air.

It wouldn't have been strange if it fell at any moment.

Awashima looked at him and put her hand on the hilt of her own saber. Pain, sadness, despair. He kept all those emotions inside her heart and thought.

(Just do what you have to do.)

All the other members noticed Awashima's deadly expression. Before they knew it, they were watching Awashima and their "King" from afar. No matter how fate turns out, they want to see it with their own eyes.

Then only one person noticed it.

The "Gray King", Tenkei Iwafune, who was lying on the ground, suddenly disappeared.

He maybe he used some supernatural ability, or maybe he crawled with all his might. The only person who noticed that was Gouki Zenjo, who silently closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

"...At least he has a place to die."

+++++++++++

His first impression was that he was a much younger man than he had imagined.

To awaken the "Slate" and encourage innovation in humanity. He was a delicate and gentle man who did not seem willing to commit such a scandalous act. If he had not been surrounded by a powerful aura, perhaps he would not have been able to believe in him or even now.

The "Green King", who was connected to the "Slate", silently opened his mouth.

"Honestly, I didn't expect you to go this far. As expected."

"Because I also have a will."

Hisui Nagare tilted his head slightly at Shiro's response. In a regretful tone, he said...

"I'm your fan... that is, I'm a fan of the "Silver King" that you used to be. I have great empathy with the feelings you once confided to the "Slate". Do you want to join hands with me?"

Shiro shook his head without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to reject you again."

"...Now that I think about it, you didn't answer me why last time either."

"That..."

Just as he was about to speak, Neko suddenly stepped forward and stuck out her tongue.

"Bleh, no! Shiro won't be your friend!"

Kotosaka, who remained on Nagare's shoulder, replied in a sharp voice.

"Shut up, you stupid cat!"

"Shut up, you idiot bird!"

Neko and Kotosaka looked at each other, growling and threatening each other.

"Ameno Miyabi."

Suddenly, Nagare called out to her.

Neko trembled. Hisui Nagare guards her true identity, the absolute secret that Neko tried to hide. Neko was afraid of that more than anything.

"Like me, you experienced the Kagutsu Incident. You are one of the few people who survived that tragedy."

Nagare easily revealed his true identity.

"Just as I woke up as a "King" when the "Red King" caused a burst of royal power, you also gained power and became Strain. And just as I lost my life, you manipulated your own memories and ended up living like a cat. We two are people from whom the "Slate" stole everything... and we got everything new."

Shiro looked at Neko.

Neko didn't exchange glances with Shiro, she just grabbed him tightly by the sleeve.

"In the course of life, people encounter many irrational situations. What matters is whether or not you can resist that irrational fate. Do you have that power? We encountered the Kagutsu Incident, but we overcame it with the power that gave us the "Slate". People should have the power to protect themselves and pave their way. The "Slate" will give them that."

Shiro flatly denied that theory.

"No. The power of the "Slate" is too much for humans to possess."

Nagare also immediately replied.

"Why? Don't you believe in people? If so, I'm disappointed. I'm disillusioned. You used to believe in people's potential more than anyone else."

"That's not true! I..."

"I don't understand!"

Only a little.

The discussion was interrupted by Neko's words.

Biting her lip and suppressing her fear, Neko still kept her eyes fixed on Nagare. She thought slowly and, as she did, she opened her mouth.

"I don't understand what you're saying. But Wagahai doesn't need a "Slate". Shiro, Kurosuke and everyone else can do without that!"

"...Neko."

"Whoever it is, even if I'm a monster, I'll never disappear just because of that. So, I'm fine with that. That's all I need! I don't need anything else!"

"......"

"There have been bad things in the past and I think there will be more in the future. But what I want right now is not a "Slate". It's delicious food and someone who will eat it with me. That's what Wagahai wants!"

Tears welled up in Neko's eyes.

What is her "true identity"? Shiro still doesn't know.

He probably doesn’t need to know. Unless Neko wants them to know, there's no need to pry. What Shiro and Kuro want is the "Neko" of now, who is innocent and full of emotion.

Taking Neko's hand, Shiro looked at Nagare and said...

"Hisui Nagare. What people need is not a "Slate". It's just it... that's right. A chabudai. That's enough. That's my conclusion. The choice of the "Silver King"."

After a while of silence, Nagare suddenly said...

"...What a pity."

"Nagare! Don't be disappointed! Nagare!"

Encouraged by Kotosaka, Nagare smiled a little. He looked at Shiro and said...

"So... let me ask you something. Why did you come here, "Silver King"?"

"I came to destroy the "Slate"."

A slight sneer emerged from Nagare's smile.

"How? You should be the most aware of the physical strength of the "Slate". I would like to add that I will not let you touch it again."

In an instant, a green light illuminated Nagare's chest. In the blink of an eye, it enveloped his entire body, manifesting as an aura so powerful that he could feel it on his skin.

"I guess so..."

When he replied in a low voice, the slight sneer that had been mixed into Nagare's expression disappeared. Along with his warning, the green shrine that Nagare uses became even more intense.

"Now I can connect with the "Slate" and absorb its power inexhaustibly. If I feel like it, "Silver King", I can use your "immutable" power and my "alterable" power. I can overwrite it and even kill you. I am invincible."

"......"

"Still, you are resisting, "Silver King"."

"If you were me, would you give up?"

Nagare narrowed his eyes and kicked the wheelchair back.

That was the end of the story. From now on, it was not the time for conversation, but for beliefs and fist bumps.

+++++++++++

Anna was the first to notice.

As the "Red Queen", she has a sensory capacity that far exceeds that of a Strain. Her higher perceptive powers sensed the existence of "it" before it manifested.

She turned her gaze toward the sky as if to check. In her field of vision, which only reflected red, "It" tried to take shape, not as a color, but as a figure colored by an aura.

''Silver'' and ''Green'', the two ''Swords of Damocles''.

Anna understood exactly what that meant. The two kings, Isana Yashiro and Hisui Nagare, finally met.

Slowly, impatience crept up her spine.

In a head-on confrontation, the probability of Shiro defeating Nagare is zero. In theory, no one could beat Nagare, who can draw unlimited energy from the ''Slate''.

There is no more grace left. If they don't carry out the plan immediately...

At this moment, the marble that Kamamoto was holding emitted a red glow.

"Anna! It's here, it's the signal!"

Anna gritted her teeth. Her excellent sensory ability felt that "it was not like this yet". All the marbles are not in the correct position yet.

At that moment, Yata and Kusanagi's screams echoed through the network.

"We're almost there! Just do it!"

"Anna, do it!"

She closed her eyes, she gave a sigh and when she opened her eyelids again, her doubts had already dissipated. She broadcast the proclamation of her as "King" to the supernatural network.

"From now on, we will gather all the power of the Red Clan and open the "way"...!"

A bright red aura came out from her folded arms. The aura turned into a flame, a shrine, and spread towards the clansmen like flames spreading across the plains.

Anna felt a burning sensation on her neck as the fourth "Sword of Damocles" appeared above her head.

Kamamoto, who was next to her, clenched his fist and shouted.

"No Blood!"

Kusanagi, who was deep underground, laughed in fighting spirit.

"No Bone!"

Yata, who was further down, ran with determination in his heart.

"No Ash!"

At their respective stations, the clan members (Akagi, Bando, Chitose, Dewa, Eric, and Fujishima) expressed their thoughts and threw the marbles in their hands.

Anna could see it in her eyes. Her eyes, which only recognize the color red, were able to see through "Homura's" red color through space. The red dots were connected in a straight line, forming a straight line.

She should have already abandoned her doubts. She knew she had to do it.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she could do it.

That flame. That red. The power of the King. Is it possible for her to control it?

(Will I be able to achieve things like that person?)

A few seconds of coma. The question that ran through Anna's mind, however, disappeared in the next moment. Someone was behind her.

It wasn't Kamamoto. Neither do the other members of the clan. His presence was clearly felt even from a distance.

Furthermore, the person behind Anna was much bigger than them. A bright, warm, soft and beautiful red.

Anna watched, unblinking, as his hand reached over her shoulder and took hers.

Anna's lips parted. Her voice overlapped with that of the man behind her, echoing her words.

"Burn them!"

The flames on both arms enveloped the marble in the air, as if it had a will. The exploding supernatural flame penetrated the ground and caused the marbles on the ground to explode, expanding further and swallowing the marbles below, increasing its power by doubling each time it was chained together. A huge column of fire engulfed everything from the first floor of the basement to the tenth floor of the basement, burning it to the ground.

Anna could see that enormous column of fire.

The flame of the King that she created with the power of all.

Anna looked back.

However, there was no one there. The shadow of his tall figure, the warmth she felt, the smile on his lips, nothing. There was no trace of his existence left there.

Instead, Munakata's face loomed near the exit from the ground.

Seeing a hint of pain in his eyes, Anna knew that Munakata had seen the same thing as her.

She met Munakata's eyes. Anna nodded slightly and lowered her eyes.

Then, remembering the man who was behind her at the end, Anna laughed a little.

+++++++++++

The sound of an explosion echoed in the distance, and Nagare recognized it simply as the sound of a battle.

In various parts of the "secret base", clan members "Jungle" and "Homura" fight fierce battles. Naturally, the weapons given to the clan members included bombs, so he thought that was the reason.

By the time he realized that was different, it was too late.

The sound of explosions echoed at regular intervals, getting closer and louder. When he gasped and looked up, a waterfall-like flame had already broken through the ceiling and was falling onto the "Slate".

The roaring stream of flames engulfed Nagare's body and licked the entire hall. Kotosaka jumped into the air and the others deployed a supernatural shield to block the flames.

Nagare was the only one who was directly exposed to the flames.

If he were a normal person, he wouldn't have been left with even a speck of dust. Even a normal "King" would not have been able to survive unscathed.

Of course, Nagare was none of those things.

"Is this your plan?"

Despite being exposed to the inferno that was still pouring out, Nagare did not suffer a single burn.

Nagare said with a sigh.

"I am deeply disappointed. What is the point of doing something like this?"

He thought that Isana Yashiro's intelligence was on par with his, so he didn't want to think that such a foolish plan was a trump card. If he truly believed that Nagare could be defeated with the supporting fire of the "Red Queen", then he was no longer even a person to talk to.

And Shairo did not disappoint Nagare's expectations.

"...The path is already made."

"Path?"

Nagare looked up again at the words he murmured.

He could see the blue sky.

Nagare stopped breathing. The blue sky, the white of the clouds. And floating there, swords of various colors.

He felt as if his electromagnetic heart was beating rapidly.

"Perhaps..."

"That's right."

The light of determination shone in Shiro's eyes. Determined to overcome or crush the difficulties before them by any means necessary. The formula for this already exists within Shiro.

In a lower voice, Shiro spoke of the method.

"I will destroy the "Slate" with a "Damocles Down"."

+++++++++++

Mishakuji Yukari had never thought that his sword was as beautiful as it was now.

A flash of "excess" released from an impossible angle, free and flexible, is truly art. Mishakuji views his swordsmanship that way, not as a boast, but as a fair evaluation. A human-like swordsman who steps forward as if he were dancing and wields his sword as if in full bloom will not be able to take a single hit.

Yes. If you do not have the proper skill in using the sword, you will never be able to bring out the beauty of the sword.

That's why Mishakuji loudly praised his opponent.

"That's amazing, Kuro-chan! You've become so strong. You're almost on par with me now!"

Yes. Yatogami Kuro also became more beautiful than he had ever seen before.

Firm and solid as a rock, no matter how unexpected the blow, "Kotowari" will absorb it and unleash a devastating counterattack. His eyes never waver, always fixed on Mishakuji.

Ah, Mishakuji thought, with a tingle.

(I wish this moment could last forever!)

However, the reality is that that is not the case. Mishakuji knew this better than anyone.

The elevated "Ayamachi" and the lower "Kotowari" crossed each other. The surrounding auras repel each other, producing sparks and a sizzle.

Mishakuji smiled charmingly as he used one hand to relieve the pressure of his spit.

"But right now, you can't just be even. If you don't surpass me, you won't be able to go to your "King"!"

"Kuh..."

Biting his lip in frustration, Kuro shifted his grip slightly. When he released the amount of pressure that had been loosened, Kuro flexibly withdrew and readied his sword again.

Mishakuji raised his voice as he made his sword dance gracefully with just one hand.

"Come, show me!"

At that moment two lights exploded.

Silver and green. He could know it without seeing it, because it is the light of his King.

"That's from Nagare-chan."

The appearance of the "Sword of Damocles" meant that Isana Yashiro and Hisui Nagare were at war.

That in itself stirred no emotion in Mishakuji. If those two fight, Nagare will definitely win. There was no way that his "Green King", who was connected to the "Slate", would be defeated, no matter how many conditions were combined.

So what surprised Mishakuji was Kuro's reaction.

He took something out of his pocket. It is a single coin that shines silver. Gripping his tightly, Kuro muttered.

"That's right. My sword is to my King, Shiro. As long as I'm with him..."

Along with the coin, Kuro grabbed the hilt of his sword and silently looked at Mishakuji.

Mishakuji was impressed by that look. His eyes are like the surface of a calm lake, without haste or hesitation, just a determination hidden deep inside.

Kuro declared happily, mirroring Mishukaji in his incredibly deep eyes.

"Mishakuji Yukari. I will surpass you!"

Mishakuji let out a sigh and laughed.

The current Kuro is the strongest Kuro to date.

Yatogami Kuro is not Mishakuji Yukari. He operates with a completely different logic than Mishakuji, who acts freely and selfishly.

Kuro demonstrates his ultimate power for the sake of the King. For his Lord. It's for someone important.

That's why Kuro was the strongest at that time. To save the "King" who is in trouble, run to his side as soon as possible and defeat the enemy in front of him. He will expend all of his life force for that purpose.

Mishakuji couldn't help but be happy about that. He considers the last-minute exchanges of life and the brilliance of will that emerges to be the most beautiful of all.

Kuro kicked the ground.

Unconsciously, Mishakuji also started running.

Rounding to ''Kotowari''. Preventing, in return, he pushed "Ayamachi", repelling him. Sparks fly from tip to tip and the pressure on the blade emits light. A deadly dance with two swords, a thin line between life and death as if they were playing. As if he were playing in a paradise, Mishakuji was captivated by the moment.

And then, the end came without a hitch.

Kuro intervened. Two steps, three steps, the speed far exceeded Mishakuji's expectations. As he raised the spirit of division, he turned, as if half of his body was immersed in it.

Before he knew it, the "Kotowari" sword had pierced Mishakuji's chest.

''Ayamachi'' flew through the air and rolled on the concrete making a sound.

Before he could think of anything, the words came pouring out.

"That was beautiful..."

He collapsed and fell to his knees. Fever and pain from his shoulder to his chest. He could feel the blood dripping and coming out of his fingers.

His fingertips could still move, meaning he could still grasp the sword.

But he wasn't going to do that.

The decision has already been made.

This is the first time he has been defeated since he pointed his sword at Ichigen Miwa. He couldn't bear to see that great swordsman slowly lose his life to illness. He wanted to see his life burn in the midst of battle. So he doesn't regret what he did.

And now...

At this moment, his youngest disciple, who could only tremble, was about to surpass him. Mishakuji felt quiet satisfaction in the fact that no one else had cut him except the man who had inherited Miwa's technique.

His feet were shaking. Someone is fighting somewhere. Kuro looked towards the end of the hallway with an impatient expression on his face.

"Damn, it's started!"

Mishakuji muttered under his breath.

"...Kill me. And go quickly to your king."

Then, Mishakuji closed his eyes.

There was a pause.

Mishakuji opened his eyelids at the sound of the doorbell.

When he looked, he saw that Kuro had sheathed his sword.

Before Mishakuji could say anything, Kuro stared at him.

"In the fields and mountains the color may differ, but we are like noni seeds."

Yes, he recited a poem.

Mishakuji rolled his eyes. He remembers the poet Miwa's haikus without missing a single word. However, what Kuro said was...

"...I don't know that poem."

"It's my poem... Goodbye."

Without saying anything, Kuro turned his back on him and started running.

Mishakuji looked at his back in shock. The only thing he could do was record a single phrase and follow in the footsteps of his younger brother.

When he looked down silently, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Are you looking, Ichigen-sama? That child has finally become a full-fledged person."

He then he got up. Stumbling, he picked up "Ayamachi" and gently placed it in his holster. The time to exercise that will not come for some time. Now that all the battles are reaching their final stages, there probably isn't much he can do.

But that doesn't mean there's nothing.

"Now... the least I can do is get a new seed."

Mishakuji muttered that and started walking in the opposite direction of Kuro, looking for the stairs that led to the top.

+++++++++++

The great hall was engulfed in flames.

The breath of the "Red Queen" blew from above, completely burning multiple armor plates and leaving large holes. In the distance you can see a blue sky and a sparkling silver tip.

Nagare turned to Shiro and glared at him.

"Are you crazy? Damocles Down..."

Shiro accepted that look head on.

"It's the only way to destroy the "Slate". Neither me, nor the "Golden King". Another person involved in "The Beginning" told me this option."

"Are you planning to turn this into a crater?!"

No, Nagare denied his own words. If Tokyo is caught in the "burst of royal power", it will not simply become a crater. The swords of all the "kings" present there could fall together. Their power is not just a metaphor, but it would be worthy of destroying this planet.

For a moment, Nagare doubted Shiro's character, wondering if he was trying to negotiate with the world itself as a hostage. But he shook his head slowly.

"Concentrate the enormous energy of the "Damocles Down" in a single point. According to the Second Methodology of the Schwert Regulation, it will cause a Hammer Resonance Effect. After calculating the degree of resistance of the "Slate", I discovered that its limit value, was theoretically the same as "Damocles Down". When certain conditions are met, the "Slate" and the "Sword of Damocles" will only annihilate each other.''

Nagare opened his eyes.

He only had a little experience with Schwert's control methodology. Weismann's deviation, the source of supernatural powers, and his crystal, the "Sword of Damocles", are normally phenomena that not even the "King" can do anything about. Although it can be observed, it is impossible to intervene, and the only way to prevent it from happening is to end the King's life. That was the conclusion of the first methodology.

However, the second method proposes another way.

Nagare punched the air. The hologram image that appeared instantly, along with dozens of data, showed that his prediction was correct.

"Impossible! He is pushing his own Weismann level to the limit!"

What the Schwert Control/Second Methodology proposes is that the "King" can voluntarily cross the critical point of the Weismann deviation. By deliberately dropping the largest energy body, the "Sword of Damocles", the power from it becomes directional. In that case, "Damocles Down" transmits energy as "penetration", rather than "diffusion".

The "Silver" Sanctuary is expanding. No reservations, no restrictions, to the point that even Nagare, who was directly connected to the "Slate", was overwhelmed. A dazzling silver glow overflowed from the hand that Shiro had placed on his chest, and in contrast, his expression began to distort in agony.

"Shiro?!"

Neko next to him huddled worried. However, Shiro forced a smile and looked at Nagare.

"What do you think, Hisui Nagare? Don't you think this is some kind of message?"

"What...?"

"The "Slate" can only be destroyed when the "King" releases the sword of his own will. I don't know who he is, but it seems to me that someone who created the "Slate" is saying that."

He closed his eyes in silence and connected the words.

"If it is too much for you, you must destroy it with your own hands."

"I will not leave you!"

Nagare released all the power of him.

A green aura enveloped his entire body and a ferocious momentum coursed through his body. Nagare roared as he tilted his body downwards.

"Looking at Suouh Mikoto's case, it takes less than 10 seconds from the start of the fall to reach the underground! If I kill you before, the sword will disappear!"

Shiro slowly opened his eyes.

"...Try it."

The value indicating the Weismann deviation in the image exceeded the critical value.

The fall began.

Before he could confirm that, Nagare had attacked Shiro. An extremely fast, lightning-like strike aimed at the throat of the "Silver King".

A red Japanese umbrella blocked his fingers.

"Grr...!"

The two auras, silver and green, collide and annihilate each other while emitting a shockwave. Shiro who rules "immutability" is dedicating all of his power to defense. Even though Nagare was directly connected to the "Slate" and gained infinite energy, it took him three seconds to break it.

The Japanese umbrella broke into thousands of pieces and the pieces flew into the air.

Shiro's body was also swept away by the shock wave like a strong wind and fell to the ground. Now that he was helpless, Nagare pounced on him like an animal.

"This is the end!"

A fist that turned into electricity pierced Shiro's abdomen. Nagare's imagination of burning his internal organs and his spinal cord and killing him along with his life did not come true.

Shiro's appearance dispersed like mist, melting into the air and disappearing.

(Ability to recognize and manipulate!)

It took him two seconds to remember those words and find Neko trembling in his arms. 5 seconds left. It was more than enough. The "Silver King" has already exhausted his power. It takes less than a second to destroy the defenseless Strain.

Lightning claws fell on the two from above.

A single swing of the sword blocked him head-on.

Yatogami Kuro. He grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands and gritted his teeth to block Nagare's attack.

Through the space between his clenched teeth, he shouted the name of his "King" with a voice that sounded like a roar.

"Shiro...!"

Nagare frowned.

Yatogami Kuro is there. He stopped trying to think about what that meant. Now is not the time to think. That happened a long time ago. Now is the time to finish them off.

"You're in the way!"

At the same time as he shouted, the pressure of his supernatural ability increased even more. However, that prediction that only one clan member's sword would break for no reason turned out to be wrong once again.

It did not break. The sword held by Kuro, his colorless steel, still withstood the full force of the "King".

A silver aura enveloped that figure.

Taking a deep breath, Nagare looked over Kuro's shoulder.

Isana Yashiro woke up and enveloped Neko and Kuro in a silver shrine.

In that last moment of collision of destructive power, what passed through Nagare's mind was not impatience, but doubt.

"How? Why? They reject power, how can they be so strong?!"

Kuro, Neko and Shiro's eyes were staring at Nagare. The six eyes told him that if they fight, they would never lose.

At that moment, Nagare wanted to turn around.

Shiro, the reason they were there.

Why aren't the clan members who were supposed to be there to stop them?

Mishakuji Yukari, Sukuna Gojou, Kotosaka, Iwafune Tenkei.

For a moment, he could see them sitting around a tea table in their six-tatami "secret base," talking, fighting and laughing together.

At this moment, he suddenly exhaled.

A shock ran through his heart.

"......!"

He has been dreaming about that for many years. Life outside the straitjacket. Breathe freely and fly around the world.

That was the heart. If you have the heart, you can do it. The dead can return to the living and fulfill the wishes of those who also died. Extraordinary abilities for all humans. The power to resist. Be king.

The heart that had heard his prayers was pierced by a sword.

Nagare learned that not through observation but through actual experience. A silver slash pierced Nagare's stone heart. The blood of the supernatural was spilled and the life that was supposed to have been recovered returned to nothing.

His knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

Hisui Nagare looked at the sky through his falling hair. An open well and the blue sky beyond.

The "Sword of Damocles" floating there disappeared.

Nagare murmured hoarsely.

"How unfortunate..."

Then, Nagare turned his gaze towards Shiro.

The tension and caution had not yet left them. That was annoying and Nagare smiled slightly. Nagare silently closed his eyes and said:

"But I'm satisfied..."

Those were the last words that the ''Green King'' Hisui Nagare said.

+++++++++++

It was certainly visible to others.

After the silver sword fell and a shock and tremor resounded, the “Swords of Damocles” floating in the sky vanished one after another.

The test of being king, the crystal of supernatural power. It was in the heaven that he could not reach, even if he stretched out his hand, and it was about to disappear without him reaching it.

The "Red Queen" stared at that.

The sword, a symbol of the destiny that took from her family, but that also brought her something so precious, disappeared. At the same time, something inside her slowly...

"That disappeared..."

The words that Kamamoto murmured were also Anna's voice.

Disappear. The things that had bound them until now. The things that have brought them together until now. That will disappear.

Anna suddenly felt like someone was calling her and looked around her.

But she couldn't find it anywhere. That warmth and that beautiful red are no longer anywhere.

Feeling alone, Anna looked down and closed her eyes.

The "Blue King" watched the situation unfold with his usual calm.

Therefore, even when his "Sword of Damocles", a cracked symbol of power that seemed about to crumble, disappeared, he had no particular feeling about it. However, he simply said...

"It seems my life has been spared."

That's all she said.

However, Awashima, who was behind him, looked different. She dropped the saber she was holding and ran towards Munakata's back.

"Captain!"

Awashima was crying. Relief and joy are on all their faces. Munakata saw that, smiled slightly, and said casually.

"Hehe. I was a little curious to see if you could kill me, Awashima-kun. Anyway, thanks for your hard work."

At those words, something disappeared from Awashima's expression.

Before Munakata's clear mind could formulate a response, Awashima opened her mouth to ask what that was.

"Captain. I'm sorry, but gratitude is not enough."

"Eh?"

"Excuse me!"

Awashima's fist slammed into Munakata's cheek, sending his glasses flying and sending them crashing to the ground.

+++++++++++

"Nagare! Nagare!"

Kotosaka descended and screamed in pain next to Nagare.

However, Nagare did not move. With a satisfied smile on his face, he lay on the cold ground, not moving in the slightest. The fierce energy that had overflowed a moment ago could no longer be felt anywhere.

Kuro asked, still not letting his guard down.

"Is he dead?"

Shiro looked down in pain and responded.

"He survived thanks to the power of the "Slate". That's why..."

Those words were drowned out by the sudden sound of an explosion.

All three were hit by tremors that made it difficult for them to even stand. A low, resounding explosion sound echoed and deafened their ears. Kuro and Neko shouted in unison as they helped Shiro, who has become unstable.

"What is happening?!"

"Meow! Earthquake!"

In response to the clan member's dismay, Shiro remained calm. He looked up at the shaking ceiling and muttered to himself.

"No, someone blew it up."

"Ah. I'm sorry, but I have to fix things."

"What?!"

Kuro held his "Kotowari" in the direction of the voice. It was a familiar voice, and its owner was the one to be careful of along with Nagare.

"Gray King", Tenkei Iwafune.

He slowly walked out from behind the pillar. Blood flowed under his feet. Iwafune muttered with a self-deprecating smile on his mortal face.

"I never expected that situation to change... it was a complete defeat."

"...Kuro."

Without Shiro telling him, Kuro lowered his sword. Iwafune already lost his fighting power. No, he may already be on the verge of losing his life.

However, Iwafune showed no signs of worrying about his situation and simply said:

"I have also ordered my clansmen to flee. You should leave too."

The sounds of the explosion were getting louder. Small pieces of concrete fell from the cracked ceiling. Kotosaka flew away while he avoided them and shouted alongside Iwafune.

"Iwa-san! Iwa-san! Nagare is...! Iwa-san!"

With a weak smile on his blood-stained lips, Iwafune looked at Kotosaka with a gentle gaze.

"Haha. You too, Kotosaka. Now. Go!"

Kuro had no way of knowing what Kotosaka was thinking.

He hesitated for a moment and then flew away with a sad cry. From the hole in the ceiling to the clear blue sky. As if he was chasing him, Kuro also stretched out his colorless hand and jumped, holding Neko and Shiro in his arms.

Just before reaching the top, Kuro looked back for a moment.

Iwafune held Nagare in his arms and looked at him. His lips, with a wide smile, uttered some words.

He couldn't hear him. Kuro and his friends went up. Iwafune looked at Nagare with his eyes closed as if he were sleeping.

The explosive smoke enveloped the figures of the two "Kings", and since then nothing could be seen.

That was the scene at the end of the battle between the Kings.

+++++++++++

Amidst the roar of explosions and tremors, Kusanagi stood alone, staring at his feet.

"We won?"

Through Anna's supernatural network, he had already given an evacuation order. Most of the clan members in "Homura" should have been able to escape safely. Still, his role as Senior Official of the Reds was to wait until the last minute.

He still couldn't be sure what happened to the Silver Clan or the "Green King". They must be escaping alone, he thought, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Kusanagi-san! Let's run!"

It was Yata. Sliding his skateboard from the end of the hallway, he came straight toward him.

Kusanagi nodded silently and ran off with Yata. As Kusanagi headed towards the stairs leading to the upper floor, he couldn't help but ask Yata.

"What happened to Fushimi? Is everything okay?"

"Heh," Yata laughed. He looked back for a moment and then looked forward without hesitation.

"It's okay. It's okay now."

Kusanagi also laughed at his confident words. Yata-chan, who was good at running and going wild, had grown quite a bit. They ran together toward the light, feeling out of place.

Munakata's instructions were quick as tremors resonated from underground.

"All personnel, evacuate."

"Yes!"

Awashima accepted that and gave orders one after another through the intercom. It was supposed to be a normal scene from "Scepter 4", but the only difference was that Munakata's cheeks were very swollen and his glasses had gone somewhere.

The members running back and forth are surprised every time they see Munakata's face. However, Munakata's attitude was calm. After forcing themselves to accept that it was probably his fault, the members returned to their jobs.

At that moment he felt a presence behind him.

When he turned around, a man and a woman were about to appear, trying to get out from under the solid ground.

Douhan Hirasaka's "Wall Breaking Technique". Feeling satisfied that he was able to witness the ninja's skills, Munakata looked at Fushimi, who was being helped by her.

Fushimi had the same dull expression on his face as always. As expected, he felt tired, but he was not proud of having brought that operation to success. He simply said, as if nothing had happened.

"Mission accomplished."

"Thank you for your hard work."

Munakata responded as if nothing had happened and looked forward again.

+++++++++++

By the time they reached the ground, the noise of the impact had already subsided.

Kuro was the first to emerge from the sewer and, while helping Neko and Shiro, he quickly looked around.

It was an alley in the middle of nowhere. There were no members of the "Jungle" clan. Many people have already decided. Most likely they escaped or were captured.

Kuro breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to say that they were safe, he stumbled and fell to his knees on the ground.

"Shiro?!"

"Are you okay?!"

He clutched his chest in pain and sat with his back against the wall. He looked at the worried Kuro and Neko and smiled weakly.

"It seems that I am also running out of strength..."

"What does that mean?!"

"The body I'm in is not my original body... Before the incident at Gakuenjima, the "Colorless King" changed our bodies... In other words, he was taking over the body of a strange boy."

Kuro and Neko gasped at the same time.

They knew it. Isana Yashiro is a temporary name and the current Shiro is not the original body of Adolf K. Weismann. Due to the plot of "Fox Mask", the mastermind behind the incident a year ago, he was trapped in his current body.

Shiro spoke breathlessly.

"I have been able to continue existing thanks to the immutable power of the "Silver King", but... that power has disappeared. Along with the "Slate"..."

"What? Hey!"

"What? Hey, Shiro!"

Kuro and Neko felt a horrible sense of loss at the same time.

If he was able to stay in this world thanks to the silver supernatural ability, what will happen to him now that the "Slate" is gone?

"I've been borrowing it for a long time, but I have to return it to the original owner..."

"That is...!"

"Shiro...!"

With tears streaming down her face, Neko took Shiro's hand. Shiro smiled slightly and squeezed Neko and Kuro's hands tightly.

His palm was warm.

"...It's okay. I will definitely come back. Because I am your king..."

After that, he closed his eyes as if he were sleeping.

A silver light came out of Shiro's body. He disappeared as if he melted into space, leaving nothing behind.

"Shiro!"

"Shiro, wake up! Answer me!"

As they clung to Shiro and called desperately to him, his shoulders suddenly moved.

"Ah..."

He stirred and slowly opened his eyes. Kuro opened his eyebrows and looked at Shiro's face with relief. He thought that he had regained consciousness and that he had not gone anywhere.

But it was different.

Shiro's gaze looking at Kuro was filled with fear and confusion. That is not the expression of Isana Yashiro that they know. Like a child who had never seen them before, he looked at Kuro and Neko's faces, and timidly opened his mouth.

"Who are you?"

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Elf Operating License Revoked (semi-canon short)

Eragon settled back against the pillows. He was tired, but he wanted to spend time with Saphira, even if it was just through the window. He hadn’t gotten a moment alone with her since before the battle, and he still felt uncomfortable having their mental link so freely open in the crowded hospital.

Still…he could probably make his room empty at least.

Arya straightened when he looked over. “Need something?”

“Well….” He paused. The elf was hypervigilant as always, now especially so. She hated leaving him unguarded while he was injured, no matter his protests. “You haven’t gotten anything to eat all day. The cafeteria should still be open. Why don’t you go get something?”

The woman crossed her arms. “I’ve got rations.”

“Oh, come on. Those hardly qualify as food.”

Arya tucked her chin to her chest. She was honestly looking for an excuse to leave, stretch her legs, not that she would tell Eragon or Saphira that. Well, Saphira already knew. The dragon was watching the exchange, linked only to Eragon and not letting any hint of her disposition leak out to the elf. Seemed she hadn’t told her Rider that Arya wasn’t exactly there on her own accord. 

She itched to get her gear from the nurses station. Alice was still on duty, she’d chase her off, but if Tyler was there then he might be sympathetic when her back was turned. He’d been a combatant before shifting to medical, he’d understand what it was like. They even had Wyrda there, stuck under the charting cabinet where she couldn’t reach it without being obvious. Vilks was being very thorough. 

Finally, she looked up. “You two wanna be alone, huh?” 

Eragon gave her a sheepish smile. “It’d be appreciated. I know you don’t want to let us out of your sight, but….”

The elf waved his concern off. “No, I get it.” She looked to the window, where Saphira casually rested her scale-armored jaw like a sunbathing cat. “You know how to reach me if something’s up. How’s fifteen sound?”

‘Better than nothing.’ 

“Then I’ll leave you both to it. If I see Brom I’ll chase him off.”

With that the elf gave them a nod and slipped out the door. She checked the bustling hall and did her best to blend into the hubbub, making her way to the nurses station.

Eragon let out a long sigh. ‘Alone at last.’

Saphira snorted. ‘Arya’s become quite the hawk over you, Little One.’ The thread of resentment was clear. Watching over Eragon was her job, no one else could do it like she could. Arya was just getting in the way. 

‘She’s just worried about us. You know, she’s been watching you, too.’ Another derisive snort. Watching over a dragon, bah! ‘Admit it. You like being coddled sometimes.’ Eragon smiled broadly at Saphira’s warning growl. ‘Arya’s just trying to make sure we’re safe.’

A sudden, sharp yelp from the hall snapped both their heads to the door. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here!”

The Rider didn’t have time to question the surge of mirth from his partner. Tromping footsteps, accompanied by what Eragon could only call pained babbling of protests and half-apologies, drew closer before the door banged open. Dr Vilks, the Varden chief of all things medical mixed with the weird and wild (of which the two occupants of this room were indeed classified as), marched in.

Dragging a cringing elf, half bent over backwards and stumbling as he pulled her along the wrong way round, by the literal tip of her ear.

“Lemme go, that hurts, come on Vilks this isn’t fOW you rat BASTARD!” Arya devolved into that mix of garbled common Elvish and Common swearing again, ending with an almost amusing squeak when Vilks applied his thumbnail to her ear.

“Out of bed. Out of bed! After everything I told you, you get out of bed!” Eragon covered his mouth, trying his best not to start giggling. Vilks wasn’t the most imposing of the Varden’s doctors. He only stood around five-ten to Arya’s near six-one, but that didn’t stop him from pulling her around like an admonished child. Elfling? Elfling. “Where did you even get the change of clothes, I specifically told Brom to keep your go bag at the embassy!”

“This is duress! I have rights!” Arya flailed, tried to dislodge the man’s hand. Another pinch stopped the attempts. “I’m a soverginVilks!” 

“I damn well warned you, Arya. I said by your ear.” The greying doctor looked up, suddenly appearing to remember the dragon and Rider. “Say. Eragon, Saphira, would you like to learn a very interesting self defense tactic?”

Eragon raised his eyebrows and looked to Saphira. She had tucked her head so that her jaw was hidden below the windowsill, but he got the distinct impression that she was smiling. “Sure.”

Vilks grinned. “Allow me to demonstrate how to deactivate an elf.”

Arya’s eyes shot wide. “Don’t you dare, I swear on this fucking mountain–” 

“One ear.” Vilks brought up his other hand. “Two ears.” 

Viper quick, the man seized the elf’s other ear and applied pressure with his nails to both, giving the outer curve of the points a good, solid pinch.

Arya let out a half strangled choking noise and dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks.

Saphira snorted, this time followed by a racking in her throat. Laughter. Eragon clapped politely.

“It’s not long lasting. But it’s good when you need unruly patients to cooperate.” 

The elf’s voice drifted up from the floor, thready and laced with ill-defined malice. “I hate you all.”

[txemrn]

Making a Mark

Summary: Despite med school exams, Ethan and Tatum plan on spending time together for their first Valentine's day; but their plans take a different course... literally.

Word Count: ~2450

Warning: 🔞 For Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language; smidge of angst (couples fight!); 🍋 (these are iddy-biddy lemon seeds, but I guess technically this needs a NSFW label); brief mention of an injury

A/N: ❤ Happy Valentine's Day, fandom! ❤ This is one of those fics that started out as one idea, and I just allowed it to unfold as I typed and, well, here it is, and I hope you enjoy it! Some characters and plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. This is not beta'd; please excuse my errors.

A/N 2: I am participating in @choicesflashfics week 20 prompt challenge! I'll be using prompt #3: "Are you flirting or starting a fight?" It will be in bold.

~🖤~

The faint waft of black coffee and leftover Chinese take-out infiltrates the sterile setting of the education building, the tell-tale sign of one thing: mid-quarter exams. With a massive pass/fail immunology exam staring at her the following week, Tatum is taking advantage of every moment to study with several classmates–even though it cuts into her first Valentine’s Day with Ethan.

They both agreed that the holiday wasn’t something they particularly wanted to fuss about with expensive gifts or acts of grandeur–not to mention, they were more concerned with the other person doing well in the upcoming slew of exams; but still, they wanted to spend a little time together.

Ethan and Tatum are in separate classes this quarter, which forces them to work a little harder in finding time to enjoy each other’s company; at least before, studying was an excuse to be together.  But, they had a mutual respect and understanding: doing well in school takes priority.

“Okay, Drew… treatment plan for MG. And go–!”

“Jesus, Lauren,” the tall, broad-shouldered blond groans, dragging his hand down his face. “We’ve been at this for almost six hours. It’s Valentine’s. Can we please reconvene tomorrow?”

“Shit,”  Tatum glances at her watch, “has it really been six hours?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, huh, Erikson?” Tobias chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

Tatum flashes a sardonic smile. “I’m not sure I’d describe any time spent with you as ‘fun’, Carrick,” she claps back as he pops his gum loudly in her direction.

"That's only because we haven't been able to spend our time together properly."

Tatum rolls her eyes as she piles her notebooks into her bookbag and pulls out her phone. "Six seconds is hardly proper," she bites, earning her several snickers from the rest of the study group. "I better get going."

“Oooo-oooo!” Lauren singsongs. “Are you and Ethan doing something fun tonight?”

Tatum shrugs, stifling her smile as a soft pink swirls on her cheeks. “Not really, but he is supposed to pick me up."

"Oh!" Drew tugs on his jacket. "Are you going to his place? It's on my way, if you need a ride."

"You don't have to do that," Tatum smiles kindly, appreciating the offer.

"I know I don't have to," he titters. "C'mon. It'd be a waste of gas on his part."

Tatum knits together her eyebrows in consideration. Drew makes a fair point, not to mention she trusts him. "Okay… let me text Ethan so he's not sitting there, waiting for my call."

Ten minutes later, Drew and Tatum were walking the three blocks to where he parked his truck. Even though it was fairly late into the evening, the walkways were illuminated by the street lamps and the bright silver moon.

They were chatting about the previous week's lecture when a pair of headlights blinded them, slowing down to park next to the street curb where they were walking.  Being chivalrous, Drew protectively stepped in front of Tatum, shielding his eyes with his hand in an attempt to see the driver behind the wheel. Treading closer, they both instantly make out the figure.

"Oh, hey, Ramsey," Drew waves, relief in his voice. "I was worried there for a moment."

"Me too," Tatum giggles along with her colleague as she approaches the passenger door, waving at her boyfriend. "Hey," she smiles curiously, "what are you do–?"

"Get in."

Tatum halts. Hearing the gruff tone, she turns up an eyebrow as her eyes roam over Ethan's surly expression. "You okay?"

He gives a curt nod, his gaze unable to meet hers.

"Oh… okay," Tatum quietly mumbles, turning to Drew. "Thanks anyway," she offers a crooked grin as he opens the door for her.  "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"See ya, Erikson," he nods, shutting the door as his hazel eyes flicker over to a brooding Ethan. "Uh… good seeing you, man. Will you be at the next poker night?"

Ethan glares at Drew, his nostrils flaring. "We'll see," he mutters as he begins to pull away.

"Ethan," Shocked irritation seeps from Tatum's whisper. "That was rude."

He remains silent, his attention fixed on the road as his jaw ticks tighter.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Ethan continues to drive in silence, his lips pursing to hold back unspoken words. 

"Did… did I do something wrong?" Tatum probes further. "Are you mad at me?"

Ethan glances briefly at her, an indiscernible heat forming in his gaze.

“Are you flirting… or starting a fight?”

When he still doesn't speak, she sighs, slumping back into her seat. She props her elbow on the door before resting her head in her hand to look out the window. "You could at least talk to me."

The silence between the young couple grows painfully haunting as they are left with only the rhythmic rapping of rubber meeting the pavement. Each block they travel, Tatum's face contorts as her anger festers.

They had never fought before– not like this. Ethan and Tatum were fairly reasonable people with clear heads, and while they can irritate each other, they've always been able to be thoughtful, be logical and discuss their problems. What was different now?

"You know what?" There's a sudden sharpness in her tone. "Just take me home, Ethan."

Ethan continues to drive, the car remaining at its current speed with no signs of changing direction.

"Did you hear me?" She raises her voice, staring at a stoic Ethan. "Stop being such an asshole and take me–"

Tatum suddenly screams as the car jerks  off the side of the road into a grassy wooded area. Kicked-up dirt billows around them as the brakes screech to a halt.

"Have you lost your goddamn mind, Ethan Ramsey?" Tatum unclicks her seatbelt, reaching for the door handle–that is until a large hand grips snuggly around her wrist, yanking her back into her seat. She instinctively turns her head, glaring at Ethan, wrestling her arm away from him. "What the hell is wrong with–?" 

Her words fall silent as Ethan pulls her against his chest, pressing his lips to hers with a searing kiss. He slips his hand behind her neck, deepening their touch, but with her hands on the firm planes of his chest, she pushes him away. Shock and confusion rest in her eyes. "Wh-what was that–?"

Ethan is left breathless from their kiss, a predatory, yet conflicted glint in his smolder. "I don't know what the fuck you've done to me, Tatum Erikson," he growls. 

"Me–?"

"I am logical," he interrupts, "I've always been. And level-headed." He pauses, looking out the window as if searching for the right words. "I am not that guy–you know I am not that guy, Tate. I don't dream about futures and marriage and babies and-and meeting your family and taking you to meet mine. I–" he stumbles into silence.  

He slowly turns towards her, his crystal gaze instantly meeting hers.  A sudden crackle of electricity ignites in the stillness as they stare with hunger baited on their quickened breaths. "Tate," his voice softens, "I don't get unreasonably angry, not over a girl.  And I especially don't get jealous."  He cups her face tenderly as he continues. "But you… you're not just a girl. You're the–" he stops himself, feeling a sting of warmth growing behind his eyes.

He swallows thickly as he draws closer to her. "The thought of you… being alone with any other man–”  

"Ethan," her breathing becomes ragged. "You have nothing to worry about, baby. I–"

"It's not you I worry about, Tate," he sneers. "Guys like that are biding their time to touch… to take… to fuck what doesn't belong to them." A weighted groan clings to Ethan’s exhale, his eyes growing dark, possessive. His thumbs press more firmly into Tatum's cheeks, more protectively as if claiming a prize.

"Tatum," he growls from behind his gritted teeth. "You. Are. Mine. Do you understand?"

A heat coils in Tatum's lower belly at her boyfriend's confession. They had become exclusive before Christmas, but she knew well before that she was falling for him. And this new, overwhelming sensation terrified her; sure, they were committed to one another, but did he feel the same butterflies, the same bundle of nerves, the same vulnerability? Or was she alone?

But just like that: Tatum knew. They weren't just exclusive; they were in love.

With her head in Ethan's hands, she tenderly grabs ahold of his wrists before closing her eyes. She leans her forehead into his, the frustration from moments ago melting away.

Ethan's breath shudders at the feel of her soft skin pressed against his own. Embers of feral heat kindle his growing length as his lips crave another crushing kiss.

This woman…  Somehow without notice, without even trying, without even believing things like this were possible, she had become his everything. 

His thumbs trace the curves of her cheeks before dragging across her supple bottom lip. 

Tatum's eyes flutter open, Ethan's lustful gaze piercing through hers, desire pooling between her legs. She turns her attention to his intimate touch, pressing her mouth to his hand. She plants sweet kisses along his palm before taking his fingertips into her mouth. A glimmer of dow-like innocence permeates her stare, her tongue playfully swirling around his knuckles.

"Tate," his breath hitches, a spark of arousal coursing through his veins. "You… you're teasing a dangerous line… and I'm not sure I can control myself…" His words are dark, ominous, warning.

"Maybe I don't want you to control yourself…" Her words drip like sweet honey, yet ignite like kerosene.

He pushes his large fingers further into her mouth, an abrupt choke rasps as he reaches the back of her throat. A corner of his mouth curls deviously as he watches her eyes glitter with tears. He pumps his hand again, the sound of her gag causing his jeans to tighten further, his eyes swirling into a deep obsidian. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He spreads his fingers apart, allowing her tongue to glide back and forth in between his knuckles. 

Tatum hums as he pulls out his fingers, licking her lips as an invitation for more. Keeping her hooded gaze on him, she pushes Ethan back into his seat before lowering his head. She straddles across his lap, his large hands finding her hips before caressing the thick curves of her ass.

"You know what I want?" A Cheshire grin crawls across her face as she roughly combs her fingers through his soft, espresso waves. "I want you to show me what belongs to you."

Ethan's eyes grow curiously large as Tatum grips the hem of her shirt, discarding it quickly before unhooking her bra. "Touch me, Ethan."

His hands slide up her bare back, his fingertips hungrily digging into her skin as he pulls her into a crushing kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck as his tongue swipes to deepen the kiss.

He finally nips at her bottom lip, giving it a tug before tracing kisses down her chin to the delicate lines of her jaw. 

Soft moans escape her mouth with tickled giggles as his mouth dips lower across her delicate skin. She grabs his hands, guiding them to her pert breast, his grip suddenly eager and rough. His thumbs tease the ache of her hardened nipples, stars of her own arousal dancing before her eyes in bright glitters of white.

And then bright lights of red.

Then blue.

And then red again.

And suddenly, there's a gentle tap against the window followed by the intruding strobe of a flashlight.

"Alright, kids, take it home."

"Oh, fuck," Ethan mutters as Tatum lets out a stunned scream.  He abruptly grabs Tatum to hurry her back into her seat; but with his jerks pulling against her own attempts to hide her nakedness, she tumbles off of his lap, landing on the floorboard with a loud thud. 

He sits his seat up while trying to adjust the obvious and painful bulge in his jeans. Wiping his mouth, he rolls down the window. He clears his throat and fixes a charming smile to his swollen red lips.

"Evening, sir."

"License and–" The police officer stops, hearing whimpers coming from the passenger side of the car. He shines a light and notices a crumpled Tatum, her shoe stuck behind the gear shift and trying to crawl into her seat from the floor. "Son, I highly recommend that if you want to–" he dramatically coughs, "continue the rest of your night, you fix that."

"Y–yes, sir. I will–uh… right now?"

"Right now," the cop gives a wry smile. He glares at Ethan as he sucks on a lollipop. "As for you, young man, in the spirit of Valentine's day," he scoffs into a snicker, "I'm letting you off with a warning." He sighs, shoving a small notebook in his pocket. He turns on his heel to leave, but stops to inspect Ethan one more time. "Get a room."

As the officer returns to his car, Ethan breathes a sigh of relief… then he jumps out of the car to race around to the passenger side. 

"Tatum! Shit, I'm sorry!" Ethan gently helps her up, positioning her into the seat before taking off his jacket to drape across her bare chest. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she quietly answers, holding her head in her hand. "I think I'm fine." She moves her arm to pull the jacket over her shoulder when Ethan gasps.

"Oh God," he hisses, "you hit your head!" He gently takes her chin into his hands, turning her neck to get a better view of her face in the light. A large, purple knot was growing along her hairline, several blonde strands now stained a deep rouge. "Shit. We need to get you to the ER–"

Suddenly, Tatum cups her mouth with her fingers, stifling her laughter.

"What could possibly be funny? You might have a concussion–"

Tatum lets out a snort before a bubbly tirade of giggles fills the night air. "I was hoping you'd leave a mark on me tonight… I just… I didn't picture it quite like this."

Ethan rolls his eyes, but is glad she can see the humor of the moment. He snickers under his breath, fastening his girlfriend's seatbelt. "I'll keep that in mind." He shuts the door, hurrying back to his seat. He starts the car, but before driving away, he glances at Tatum with a mischievous smile.

"What?" She questions, dabbing away her tears from laughing so hard.  He chuckles, licking his lips. "What? Tell me!"

"Oh, baby," he smugly croons, "trust me; that contusion is nothing compared to the marks I have planned for you later." 

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

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[thebeastofblackmoor]

MEGANGATE: A Complete History

Given the way the lore of Megangate keeps cropping up in the Clue Crew and because some people have expressed confusion as to what it was, I thought I'd compile a COMPLETE history of Megangate so that even if you weren't there, you can feel like you were! This is compiled entirely through my own point of view; although I was very involved and kept regular tabs on #Megangate drama, I may well be missing information or funny posts that were a part of it. I encourage you to add anything I missed!

Long post, so TL;DR: During the pandemic, a bunch of us went insane trying to figure out who was behind the sideblog @picture-of-megan that literally just posted pictures of Megan Vargas from Warnings at Waverly Academy as that was a meme at the time. Full story under the cut.

The Setup

Even before Megangate, Picture of Megan was a meme in the Clue Crew. It all began with a post by @shawnandthecenturion-blog from 2014, six full years before Megangate would be upon us.

(For those who haven't played or watched Warnings at Waverly Academy, there is a part where you need to get a picture of someone named Megan by beating another character at air hockey, which can be difficult.)

From then on, we joked that a picture of Megan would be rewarded whenever we truly botched puzzles or needed a pity win:

This meme floated harmlessly around the Clue Crew for six years or so until April of 2020, when a sideblog called @picture-of-megan (or POM, as it was later known) appeared, and rewarded Clue Crewers expressing frustration with puzzles with pictures of Megan:

The blog revealed no personal details or links to their mains or other sideblogs, but knowing the in-joke, they were obviously a member of the community. Being mystery fans who were stuck inside, it didn't take long for people to start asking who was behind POM...

The Controversy

The first accusations of Megangate, to my knowledge, occurred on April 27th of 2020. After some discussions about who POM could be, which even included analyzing typing patterns and emojis, @henrikvanderswoon accused @knockoutqueenoftheunderworld in this historic post. In short, she believed that @knockoutqueenoftheunderworld was in a Tumblr chat with herself because the URL of POM was listed first, which wasn't the case when she messaged other people, leading her to believe that the culprit had slipped up and the chat had actually been screenshotted from POM's perspective.

Of course, this was debunked quickly as general Tumblr bugginess in this subsequent post. But the first accusation had been made, and it had been made with memes and Ace Attorney-esque argumentation. It was undeniably fun, and soon accusation after accusation was flying right and left as people were trying anything to reveal who was behind the blog. (The linked accusations are only a small sampling of the accusations flying around at the time; everyone had their own theories and they weren't afraid to share them!) At one point, I sent anons to almost every Nancy Drew blog I followed and to POM to see who would respond closest to when POM responded... It was a dark and desperate time.

Because of this, I was dubbed the head investigator of Megangate, a title I took proudly (I made the sideblog @megangate to save important Megangate-related posts), and I was even invited to the @clue-crew-podcast episode that week, covering Megangate... WHERE POM HERSELF WAS ALSO INVITED TO SPEAK:

This, of course, largely eliminated myself and the three others who hosted the podcast (@naancypants, @professorhotchkissesta, and @hurricanesonny). POM's speaking voice also made it unlikely that the culprit was a male, so the few male members of the Clue Crew were largely dismissed as suspects as well.

But far more importantly, POM herself had teased a reveal! The end was in sight...

The Copycats

Now, Megangate was getting a lot of attention. From the beginning, reply-heavy posts and accusations dominated peoples' dashes, and the memes were booming. (The memes linked are, of course, only a small sampling.) This was, understandably, annoying to some people, but others wanted in on the action!

As mentioned in the podcast, as Megangate gained more attention, copycat blogs and anons falsely claiming to be POM herself started taking off. @picture-of-picture-of-megan, @painting-of-megan, and @picture-of-painting-of-megan all sprung up in one day. Anon messages like this one appeared in many inboxes, spurring more controversy with their choices of emojis. Before POM herself denied ever sending anons, it was difficult to discern the fakers from the real POM, and some were made with the intent of framing others.

Additional copycats, like @horse-shirt, @bucket-himself, and a Dwayne Powers persona blog sprung up, taking on the identities of people or objects from the games.

You'll notice that a lot of these blogs aren't around anymore... That's because the copycat blogs came and went remarkably fast, as they didn't gain nearly as much attention as the original POM.

The Reveal

As promised, the original POM blog launched an online puzzle series event that would culminate in her reveal. This was excellent timing, as many of us had gone as far as we could with our investigations and were getting nowhere fast.

In a rather cryptic reply, POM set a date for her reveal. Graciously, she specifically made it after my university classes let out so that I could devote myself more to her reveal puzzles.

On May 9th, 2020, after quite the hype, POM dropped this link. A webpage with a puzzle for every Nancy Drew game, truly a treasure for us, like a love letter to the games and the community. Nancy Drew-themed playlists made by members of the Clue Crew were promoted on the site for people to listen to while they worked, and POM happily gave out hints. People worked individually or in groups to finish all of the puzzles and put together POM's true identity. I would highly recommend visiting the site and playing through the puzzles yourself, as they're all still functional and it's much more satisfying to see the reveal video after working for it.

But if you really want to know, click here to watch the reveal... Or here if you'd prefer to forgo the video.

Overall, Megangate was just such a weird and wonderful thing that was made a billion times better by the culprit's willingness to not only go along with the whole thing, but design such a wonderful series of puzzles. I really think it helped bring us together as a community, and it was very rewarding for those who chose to get involved. I would like to say that the only reason I went so far in for Megangate was because the pandemic made me a little looney but... well, I just spent an hour typing up this retelling of it. I would love to see more weirdness like Megangate in the future, and I hope that if that happens, people don't hesitate to get involved, make your own posts and accusations, and have fun with it!

I really can't thank the mastermind behind POM enough; it was definitely the highlight of my experience in the Clue Crew on Tumblr, and I've been here for ten years this year!!

[lunar-writes-things]

25) Forced to Leave

Later that night, Y/n stood with Mumbo to represent Boatem at the meeting of most hermits regarding the moon. 

It was determined that they had to leave before the end of the week. 

"I don't want to leave," Y/n said to Mumbo as they walked back, hand in hand

"I know, I don't either," Mumbo said, "But If we don't we might die. I don't want to risk losing you or anyone in boatem." 

"I know," Y/n whispered and bumped their shoulder into his "How are we supposed to leave the overworld." 

"Well, There are three options. We create a rocket and get out of here, Go to the end, or go into the nether." Mumbo said and let go of their hand only to wrap his arm around Y/n’s shoulder  “and the End and Nether can be dangerous.” 

“Do we have enough time to make a rocket?” Y/n had reasoned "That can take quite a bit, especially with six of us to prep with an undetermined amount of time." 

"Yeah, But it's the safest option we have right now." Mumbo whispered, voice shaky and eyes soft and watery "And safe is the way to go. I want us to be safe." 

There was a moment of silence before Y/n nodded and breathed out an "okay. I trust you... Let's go tell the others." 

When they reached Boatem the two spit their ways and went home-bound. 

Heading home hasn't been the easiest thing recently, as chunks of land would randomly fly into the sky and Gravity has been shifting to either weigh down or lighten people. 

However, it seems as if all the bases were untouched by these floating chunks of land and the weird gravity. 

That night, the group met up with each other under a full moon close and detailed enough to be a painting. 

It was terrifying

Mumbo had proposed a plan but not before revealing literal missiles and attempting to shoot them at the moon 

No way he would miss a target that big... Right?

He missed

HE MISSED A TARGET THAT WAS PROBABLY 5 FEET AWAY FROM HIM

there was laughing, Pearl had to respawn and the group had listened to Mumbo shrug as if he forgot the plan he and Y/n made hours earlier.

Y/n couldn't help the soft eyes that they made looking at the people they loved with everything they had. They looked so happy and as they looked at everyone, they could see, that even despite it being the end of the world, they were laughing. 

They looked at Mumbo who looked proud of what he accomplished (even if he failed) and has been there since before Y/n could even realize they had been in love with him

At Grian, Who was cackling in delight because of the failed nukes and Pearl having to respawn but within that prankster demeanor was a great person who Y/n knew they could count on. 

At Pearl, who was berating Mumbo for Killing her with the biggest grin on her face. Despite only joining this year, Y/n was glad she found her dynamic within everyone. 

At Impulse, whom they met in season six when Y/n was rudely awoken from their nap and had fallen deeply in love with for his caring personality and his roguish grin. 

At Scar, whose charming demeanor and extroverted tendencies drew Y/n closer and closer to him and had Y/n falling head over heels for him. 

Y/n was glad that their last moments were spent laughing and together. Y/n loved them... so much... it hurt their heart thinking they might have to choose between them if push comes to shove. 

Grian, however, spoke up and said he had requested scar to build a rocket at the price of all their diamonds but they now had a plan out. 

The next night they would suit up and board the rocket and leave the place they had called home for the last past six months. 

"If anything goes wrong," Y/n spoke up as the rest of Boatem was about to leave, they turned to look at them with concern and it made Y/n's throat tighten up before they continued "If anything goes wrong, please know, that I love you guys." 

Masterlist

[nerd-cat-rambles]

My Whole Chronological 2022 OC Lore

I was thinking "I've drawn random characters but I've never made an oc... why is that" AND THEN I REMEMBERED I GOT A JOURNAL IN YEAR SIX THAT IS FILLED WITH OC LORE BEFORE I EVEN KNEW WHAT OC LORE WAS?!?!?

Like omfg-

Like each planet represents different emotions and characteristics (e.g saturn = love mars = war etc etc)

It has poems and stuff too because why not.

It has angst for planets???? It has another galaxy outside of the Milkyway called the Mystical?

THERE'S A PRINCESS CALLED PRINCESS MIST WHO HAS A FAT ASS CAT THAT I ABSOLUTELY LOVED DRAWING!!!

Like her parents were slaughtered by a "Red Moon Demon" or smth? Idk??? I didn't even know I was writing lore I was just creative.

There are a few other characters too.

Liora -> Battle demon who guards mist, she moved to the moon after Mists parents died. She couldn't deal with the guilt that she was supposed to protect them.

Faceless -> Faceless is a neglected demon who attempted to invade the Dark Side of the Moon. (Idk why but 12 y/o me spelled "Invad" instead of invade-) he shot an arrow into Liora's head, but Mists mother had made her immortal so it had no affect.

Crisp -> A royal guardian of mist? She is a half demon who has fire powers. Crisp came from Mercury like most demons, but swears her allegiance to the Mystical Galaxy.

Eye -> Eye is a royal guardian who watches each planet in the Mystical. He's a Guardian of Goodness? Idk what that is but 12y/o me did-

Saturn has a Love Tester for some reason and I decided to make Crisp and Mist lovers but closeted for some reason. This whole OC lore kind of revolves around their romance from what I can remember.

Apparently Mist visits the Milky way and other planets every blue moon. (Plot Holes: If she's the ruler of another galaxy how do people know her? Isn't it dangerous to go to Mercury if demons are there? How does she see the blue moon if she's not in the Milky-Way?)

Then I drew a bunch of random cats as variations of pets people had. King-Fat-Cat was Mists cat btw.

Stardust is used for currency on Saturn and Venus. It can also put out fires faster than water does (just throw it on the demons???) it can also be used as bait for catching starfish. Not literal starfish like we know, but like... fish that glow and swim in the galaxy.

And I also made an Ariana Grande OC???? HELP- I named her Intergalactic Ariana and made her an alien that performs pop music. She's a descendant of Ariana Grande apparently? I also randomly stopped the OC lore to say that I had double booked on something?

Idrk what that was but anyway....

Then Mist and her castle are under attack and something is changing everybodies pupils to X's like that one gacha eye thing. And then Mist almost gets like infected with the Gacha Eye Virus and Crisp kisses her? I dunno why? Consent doesn't matter? Anyway, they have like no chemistry whatsoever but idrk I was bored when writing it.

Back on the moon Liora notices her brother Faceless is trying to attack her for some reason, his eyes have an X on them and he tries to kill her. I'm pretty sure Liora wouldn't feel guilty about killing her demon brother who tried to shoot an arrow in her head, but she did and she cried for some reason.

And there are things called Peace Lilys that can bring somebody back to life but only bloom once ever blue moon.

Back at the palace Mist is confused and doesn't realise Crisp kissed her. They move on too quickly from that, and somehow Crisp has a shotgun. I don't know if it works like this, (it doesn't but I was 12 so it was plausible) but Crisp shoots a guard in the wrong position and it deflects from his armour right into her forehead, so she like shoots herself somehow.

I time-skipped to the moon where Crisp somehow awoke, Liora used the Peace Lily on Crisp instead of Faceless, (but if it was a blue moon, Mist was supposed to be visiting other planets? Why was she in her palace in the first place-)

Then some Queen came and was the one who took over the galaxy? I didn't write this lore down because it was too long but wtv.

So Queen Seraphine killed Liora in a short-ass battle. Then Crisp stabs Queen Seraphine and realises "oh shoot if I kill somebody from the royal family the area they're in blows up" I don't know how this works, or how Liora is even alive since this was what happened to Princess Mists parents during a battle.

There's like a timer or something and Crisp tells the Princess about the kiss when she had the gacha eye virus and then they kiss again not realising the urgency of "Oh shit we about to blow up on the moon" then some flying debris hits Mist in the head and she's unconscious. She was out for a week and they had set up a tent somewhere I don't know why the others didn't go off to save the world, but I think I implied in the lore that killing Queen Seraphina got rid of the X-Eye-Gacha curse.

They go back to the palace and all the residents of planets cheer for Mist even though she did nothing, everybody is happy and then it ends. I added extra lore on the end for some reason... This is it word for word...

Music that inspired this journal: (28/2/22)

Pages 1 - 20: Washing Machine Heart - Mitski

Pages 20 - 40: Princess Castle - Jazmin Bean

Pages 40 - 60: Space Song - Beach House

Pages 60 - 80: Bang Bang Bang Bang - Sohodolls

Pages 80 - current: Freakshow - Pukinloveee

... NAHHHH I cringed so hard reading all 'at.

Then I end with some random quote from Pinterest and that's all the pages in the journal.

Uh that's a lot of plot-holes but I needed to write all this down because my first OC lore was terrible...... reblog with your oc lore if you really want-

[whump-me]

Martyr, Chapter 9: True Believers

Chapter 9 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: defiant whumpee, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring, war crimes mentions

---

Wraith

Isadora paused to draw in a long breath, then another. She sounded like she was breathing through a straw all of a sudden. Huh. Now that was interesting. She looked like she was actually having trouble getting herself to talk.

She was probably faking, of course. Isadora Pope didn’t have feelings, let alone show them to a prisoner. No, she just wanted him to think they were here to bare their souls to one another—as if they were two old friends sitting on a park bench late at night, staring up at the dome, sharing a bottle of something bitter and strong between them. As if anything could make him forget where he was.

On the other hand, she did have feelings—he had firsthand evidence of that. Firsthand, literally—his right one, the one she had kicked when she had lost control.

He leaned in attentively as she took another delaying breath. Whether she was faking or not, this was going to be interesting.

“I was a young soldier back then,” she said. “Earth was my first assignment. I drew the short straw—I didn’t want to be here. No one did. I wanted to make a difference by fighting the rebels in Russia who were burning their own cities to spite the Unified Earth forces—not babysit a bunch of factory workers.”

Babysitting. Was that what they called it? The only thing that stopped Wraith from tightening his hands into fists was that he knew exactly how much pain it would cause him. Instead, he tightened his jaw until he could practically hear the bones straining against each other.

“It was sheer dumb luck that I wasn’t in the right dome when it happened,” she said. “My commanding officer sent me to deliver a message halfway across the planet—or at least it seemed that way to me that day. I resented being used as a messenger. If there’s one job that feels more useless than guarding a factory door, it’s running a message clear across to the next dome like a cheap drone. So I went as slowly as I could. I suppose I thought I was making a point. I missed the train back, and to take the next one. It was halfway to the dome when it exploded.”

She swallowed. Her neck was tight. She didn’t look like Isadora Pope just then. She certainly didn’t look like a statue or a goddess. She looked… human. Like anyone who had seen too much—and that was everyone Wraith knew, these days. It made the lines of her face looked uncomfortably familiar.

It was an act.

“From where I was sitting, I had a great view,” she said, her voice bitter and raw where she had shown nothing but ice and stone before. An act. It had to be. “I saw buildings fly apart. I saw… people. Or at least pieces of them. I even thought I saw my commanding officer, but it was probably my imagination. It wasn’t like there was much to recognize. He was missing half his face.”

Wraith shook his head slowly. “Is this supposed to make me feel sorry for you? Because even if I believed this little sob story of yours, which I don’t, you’d have to do a lot better than that. You want war stories? I’ve got all kinds I could tell you. Like the time you murdered an old man for hanging anti-Earth posters in the tunnels. We took out the soldiers who did it. And by we, I mean I. I took care of both of them personally. Dropped them on your doorstep after.” He gave Isadora a jagged grin. “And in retaliation, Special Security killed everyone the man had been in contact with for the past six months, and all their families with them. You were in charge by then, weren’t you? You were the one who ordered it. So if you want to trade stories, be prepared to come up with a decade’s worth.”

“They sent me back to Earth,” said Isadora. “They said I needed to recuperate. Get therapy. No doubt rot away in some desk job for the rest of my life. I let them send me back, because when you’re a soldier, you do what you’re told. I took the six months. I did all the therapy, aced it with flying colors, until I had my clean bill of health in hand. And then…”

“And then you did what a soldier isn’t supposed to do,” Wraith guessed. “You objected to your orders. You asked to be sent back here, and then you asked again, and again, until they put you on a ship just to be rid of you. Can’t say I blame them.” He shook his head. “This place almost killed you. It’s only dumb luck that kept you alive. And practically the first thing you did was demand to come back. You’re one to talk about people who have more anger than sense.”

But he frowned, because while a mission of revenge made sense, it didn’t fit what he knew about Isadora Pope. Then again, all he knew came from her former prisoners, which meant they hadn’t been in much of a state to give reliable testimony. But in the short time he’d known Isadora personally, she hadn’t struck him as the vengeful type.

For all her talk of his crimes, for all she must have spent the past ten years wishing death on the leader of the rebellion, she hadn’t shown even the slightest temptation to vent a decade’s worth of anger on him. Not like that guard from his first day here. She had been coldly professional, even while breaking his fingers. When he had finally made her angry, it didn’t have anything to do with the long list of crimes in his file. It was because he had made her look bad.

Isadora let out a mirthless chuckle. “People like you see everything through the lens of anger, don’t you? You’re animals, letting the heat in your blood drive you this way and that, until it drives you to your own destruction. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t only a problem with your side. Every year, Earth sends me recruits brimming with the desire to avenge those who died. Some of them are very good at their jobs, even fresh out of training. It doesn’t matter—I always send them back. Anger is a dangerous master. Especially when you convince yourself it’s not the one in charge.”

“You missed one,” said Wraith, thinking of the beating he had taken.

“Pardon?”

“One of your vengeance-fueled recruits. He decided to take out his anger on me when I first got here. It’s a good thing his fear of you was stronger, or we might not be having this conversation right now.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t change the subject.”

There it was again—that small spark of heat in her cold eyes. He had done it again, poked her ego right in the soft squishy middle, and he hadn’t even really been trying. He smiled at her, just to let her know she had seen. Aloud, he only said, “If you didn’t come back for revenge, then why? I know it wasn’t for the weather.”

She went silent for a moment, and Wraith got the impression she was weighing her words carefully, trying to decide how open to be. That alone was surprising. Hadn’t she come prepared with all the lies she’d need? Was it possible she was actually telling him the truth?

When she spoke, her voice was strangely soft. “Purpose,” she said. “The thing I thought the military would give me. I wanted to be a part of something greater than myself. I want my life to mean something. But there isn’t much meaning in following orders and delivering messages. My therapist used to say sometimes tragedy opens a door in a person’s mind that lets them see what they were born for. In my case, it was true.”

If she hadn’t been Isadora Pope, if he hadn’t known she must be an accomplished liar, he would have thought she was giving him a genuine confession. Hell, he was halfway to believing it, even knowing what he knew. Something about the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice, spoke of an almost painful sincerity. It made him want to trust her, even though he knew there was nothing more dangerous in this world.

“So what’s your purpose, if not revenge?” he asked. “Seems to me there aren’t many other reasons to care so deeply about wiping us out.”

“From the beginning, Earth was careless about Mars. Everyone resented being here, and so no one approached the task of pacifying your planet with the necessary singleness of purpose. Myself included.” She shook her head. A few strands of hair flew across her face. She pushed them out of the way. “My purpose is to change that. I’m here because someone has to care what happens on this planet—care enough to give up everything to make sure what happened ten years ago can never happen again.”

Maybe it was the way her perfectly straight hair grew ever-so-slightly mussed when she shook her head. Or maybe it was how the severe lights overhead reflected off her eyes, which gleamed with raw conviction suddenly, making her look like she was lit from within. Whatever the trigger, another image popped back into his head, overlaid on top of the image of Isadora sitting in front of him. He saw Gabriel, sitting at his desk, his hair like a halo. And just like that, he knew why his gut wanted to trust her.

That conviction in her voice was Gabriel’s conviction. That glow in her eyes, which grew until it seemed to outshine the harsh light from above, was Gabriel’s inner fire. It triggered a reflexive warm glow in him, even though that was the last thing he wanted to feel in Isadora Pope’s presence. And along with that glow, he felt a familiar yearning, a pull just above his belly button—the longing that came from being just outside the circle of light, wanting in.

Wraith wasn’t a true believer. Not like Gabriel. The only inner fire he carried with him was of the type Isadora so reviled. Anger drove him, hot and bright and righteous. But it was not his master. And Gabriel was the reason for that.

It would have mastered him, back in those early days, if he hadn’t had Gabriel by his side. Oh, how he had hated Gabriel’s voice of reason, his soft words and gentle touches that cooled the fire in Wraith’s veins. But it had kept him alive.

He had come to appreciate the deep conviction that drove Gabriel. But he didn’t share it. He was grateful for that. If he believed the way Gabriel did, he would never have been able to do half the things he had done. Gabriel was all heart, and his heart still remembered how to do something other than burn. It was impossible to do what was necessary when you felt everything.

But he understood true believers, even if he wasn’t one of them. Ten years’ worth of late-night conversations with Gabriel would do that. Which meant Isadora had just handed him a powerful key.

He fought to keep himself from grinning like a madman. He didn’t want her to know what she had done. Not just yet.

He knew who Isadora Pope was now. He knew it the way he knew Gabriel—all the way down to his bones. And because he knew Gabriel’s secret wishes and hidden fears and darkest thoughts, it couldn’t be that hard to figure out all those things about Isadora. It was like that stuff in school he had barely paid attention to—given X, solve for Y. Where X was the man he loved, and Y was his worst enemy.

“So you see,” said Isadora, jolting him from his triumphant thoughts, “I understand you better than you think.”

At first, he didn’t understand how she was echoing his own thoughts back to him. But she wasn’t, of course. She thought she had the key to him. That because of who he was, because of his position in the rebellion, he shared those core convictions, that inner fire. Because how could someone lead a rebellion for ten years otherwise? How could he inspire people to follow him?

With any luck, she would never know the truth of that. What he had truly done for the rebellion. How he had ended up where he was.

But her assumptions could serve him well. She wanted him to play Gabriel, did she? He could play Gabriel. There was no one on this planet or any other that he knew better.

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper

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[stripeydani]

Get to know your fic writer!

1 2 16 39 42 53 71

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

See I would have said one-shots all the way, but that was before I finished a chaptered fic that let me really dive headfirst into character stuff. I had a blast, even if there was a lot of pressure to finish!

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Absolutely. I like to have a clear idea of what the 'point' is of each chapter and what needs to be covered, even if it's just smut 😂

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Six. I'm desperate to write a Soulmarks/Soulmates AU but just can't get the pairings squared away in my head. I also have a Sheamus/Drew fic that's haunting me because I love them.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

Cody couldn't sleep. The statement wasn't unusual, he was a man who drank an appalling amount of caffeine and struggled to quiet his mind even on a good day, on a bad night he had no chance.

42. What's the last fic you read? Would you recommend it?

Okay so... the last fic I read was a wild ride. Punkena, Punk is a nasty, horrible, secretly incredibly sensitive man with a huge chip on his shoulder around his sexuality, and he takes it out on good-natured John who's just happy to be there. Be warned: There is one particularly gross scene involving piss that made perfect sense even if it turned my stomach... Anyway it's called Brush Buddies by ungefug 18+ only.

I loved it, I wish I'd written it (piss and all). But it's gross lmao.

53. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

I consume so much fic as I read so fast. I have literally run out of Cody fics to read (minus ones with pairings I don't fuck with). I read a lot more than I write.

71. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

I will often skip ahead to a point if I suddenly get the inspiration for it, often I find it helps with the route getting there.