#it's just gutting!!! it just is!!!! even when it's partially his own fault!!!!

[wlwmedarda]

I'm honestly just looking to rant and this might be long depending on how fast I get irritated the more I type so if this isn't coherent or well written I apologize in advance. Since it looks like Ambessa will take on a more antagonistic role in arcane season two, I would like to unpack the fandom's antiblackness that you guys are either blind to or aware and too pussy to call it out as my gut is telling me it's gonna increase and if no one is gonna start the difficult conversation then I sure as hell will.

Sevika:

Mel:

Starting off strong with the definition of "you guys want complex female characters but can't even handle her". Mel Medarda is in quite the predicament seeing how she's morally grey, a black woman, AND "gets in the way" of a mlm ship so she was kinda screwed from the start. A cunning politician disowned for her pacifism who acts as a sort of bridge to Noxus' slow introduction, and is THE ONLY CHARACTER IN THE SEASON 1 MAIN CAST SPECIFICALLY CREATED FOR THE SHOW. She's treated like satan incarnate or a Jezebel (highly suggest looking into that if you don't know what that is), GOOD character analysis is rare, and when she is talked about positively, it's so often chalked up to appearances that I'd rather yall not talk about her at all. Oh you love Mel? Then can we talk about her relationship with her mother? Unpack her dynamic with Jayce? Maybe more fanworks centered around her? I've seen yall's fake asses dropping the shittiest fucking takes about her only to turn around and gush over how pretty she is, and yall think you're slick about it and you're not. I would say I prefer the ones who are loud and proud about their hatred but that'd be a lie, they're two cheeks on the same ass; annoying and couldn't give a decent break down of her character if a gun was pointed at they head even she's perfect to dissect. I could talk about her more but we'd be here all day and so many black women even from outside the fanbase have already talked about yall so there's no need for me to add on 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️.

Quick question, have you guys ever tried to talk about her in a non sexual way? Yes, Sevika is undeniably sexy and you could argue that true stans of hers talk about her outside of horny time, but a good half of the fandom is a different story. In a similar case to Mel's, deep dives into her character are rare to find which is crazy when she acts as Zaun's own "kingmaker". She's loyal to her city and the cause, never to a specific person and will not hesitate to betray you. She could be your right hand man one day, and the next she might find a better kingpin to follow and stab you in the back like it all meant nothing. "Were you tempted?" "Not for a worm like him". Simple and subtle and probably my favorite Sevika scene; she comes to realize Silco is no longer the best leader for Zaun, but he's as good as it gets for now and so she sticks by him. I remember a YouTube comment breaking down how she's essentially the quintessential Zaun: a brute warrior molded by her environment, who defied Vander's peaceful ways and embraced Silco's cruelty. Her mindset and goal is interesting and you'd think it'd result in some fascinating meta or exploration of her upbringing when we got a hint that she potentially has some daddy issues right? Obviously, but what do we get instead? White sapphics treating her like nothing more than a sexual object. How delightful!

Ekko:

This might partially be Riot's fault because — and I hate to sound like a league lore nerd — Ekko is quite underdeveloped compared to the richer origins of his former pre arcane self, but I'm gonna hold off on that till the season finale to see how they handle him. Anyways, at this point the fandom clearly sees him as Jinx's trophy husband. When you talk about him, she is brought into the convo 90% of the time. That's exactly why I prefer black timebomb shippers over the nonblack ones because I trust they actually love Ekko as a character on his own. Even though I have my complaints regarding how's been written so far, I still know he's too good to be reduced to Jinx's loverboy. He fights and cares for his city, the only character that you can confidently say is pure of heart, and is the revolutionary leader Zaun really needs. He's just as smart as Jinx too, he is literally going to create TIME TRAVEL. Why does no one wanna talk about that? Can we be excited for his character development and arc not just for the timebomb scenes you'll get out of it?

Ambessa:

Can't even deny this woman is awful but her presence on screen enthralled me after a couple of rewatches and I also love bad mothers in media so I've settled on a love/hate relationship. Yes, she's definitely gonna have some influence on Caitlyn, which makes sense since she has now lost her mother; she's vulnerable and as we have seen, naive. She's practically free real estate for Ambessa. My recent worry though has been how the fandom seems to be willing to put all of Caitlyn's actions on her as if Cait isn't a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. Of course being grown doesn't mean you're immune to manipulation, but I've seen some Silco and Jinx comparisons and it is NOT the same. Mind you we haven't even seen the first three episodes; we don't know how far Ambessa's manipulation is going to go and we can't really tell what the dynamic is gonna be like based off of clips and trailers that are likely shown out of context on purpose to throw people off. I'll never defend her actions, hell I'll join in on the lashings, but my black ass is also not gonna sit here and let yall talk about her weirdly or pin all of this on her.

Some might say I'm overthinking this, but I've been here since November 2021 and have sat back and observed for 2 years. You don't have to write deep, philosophical conversations 24/7, I'm sure it's not all in bad faith and I won't act like I don't thirst over Sevika or marvel at Mel's beauty. I'm not saying you have to like these characters and that you're racist if you don't. My frustration comes from the lack of nuanced conversations and hypocritical opinions surrounding black characters in this show. When you try to say something about this, you're hit with excuses; it reminds me of how man obsessed fujoshis act when they're questioned for not giving two fucks about female characters. They're either reduced to one character trait, only admired for their looks, or only discussed when it's about the white character they're connected to. Do NOT under ANY circumstance be black and morally ambiguous, you WILL be held to higher moral standards than everyone's wittle blorbos who can do wrong and are defended from all sides when you dare to take the rose colored stan glasses off and criticize them. What's really ridiculous is you hear the "complex characters" bullshit every two to three business days and some of you have the nerve to boast about this series being diverse while simultaneously ignoring the complexities in the characters of color. This is the main reason I took a step back and with season two around the corner I thought "Hey, maybe it'll be better this time!" and it was a mistake. Good to know yall still have an underlying racism problem you don't wanna address but with some extra classism thrown in. "What will we do once Arcane ends?" hopefully get a job, touch some grass, and reflect. Lord knows yall need it. The faster yall sizzle out the better. I'm done that's all I have to say lol goodnight 👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

If I keep my motivation up with the animatic project, I plan to make ganondorf just. soooo uncomfortably correct about things. you know, in that event horizon of being both indefensible enough in his actions that you feel like he's just saying things to make himself look less bad, but also you can't really retort a proper counterargument without revealing huge biases in your own perception of reality

just riding that wind waker swagger to more extreme extremes

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Tails is missing.

Those three words echoed in Amy's mind as she paced around the Restoration’s control room and to say she was stressed out was a huge understatement.

Not only was Tails one of her closest friends, his big brother didn’t know about it…

And said big brother would be here any second.

They had sent the fox on a simple solo mission. It was easy. Just check out a spot that had a signal where a signal shouldn’t be. He’d done it plenty of times with Sonic so there couldn’t have been any harm in sending him off alone, right?

Wrong. Somehow his comm went offline and his location just vanished. Vanished! Tails never took off his communicator and would make a huge fuss about whenever someone did! He almost glued the watch onto Knuckles’ wrist for crying out loud! Why would he suddenly take his off?

It didn’t make any sense. Tails was way too cautious of this situation to be happening at all.

It was entirely possible that he accidentally turned off his communicator, but the fact that it hadn’t responded for almost 30 minutes shed some doubt on that optimistic train of thought.

Luckily, they had his last known location, which was a few feet away from the point, and that’s why Sonic was on his way over. If anyone could get to that point fast enough, it was him.

Only problem is that Sonic didn’t even know about the kit’s solo mission. Amy didn’t think they had to tell him because Tails was growing into his own hero and, again, it was a simple mission that shouldn’t have even taken him an hour! But, of course, the one time Sonic isn’t involved in any missions that Tails has, it all goes horribly wrong and now she has to explain that to the blue hedgehog who was rapidly approaching her location.

The familiar sound of a dash and volunteers getting angry came from outside the room and her breath hitched.

Chaos, he was here way too soon.

“Hey Ames! Sorry I’m late! Saw a chilidog stand on the way and you know me! Just couldn’t resist.” Sure enough, there was a chilidog in his hand. He took a bite before continuing, “So, what d’you need? What's up?”

If Amy wasn’t sweating before, she sure was now. The way Sonic was staring at her was enough to make her start crying right there. His usual grin and friendly emerald eyes unknowingly stabbing daggers right through her.

It felt like she had betrayed him. His little brother was missing and it was partially her fault. She should’ve just gone with her gut and told him about everything.

She just knew that Tails was working really hard to grow out of Sonic’s shadow (or at least that’s how he phrased it) and she just thought that maybe he’d appreciate getting a solo mission! Show him that the Restoration didn’t just see him as Sonic’s sidekick, but as his own person!

How she wished she could turn back time and stop herself.

“Ames?”

She had been staring.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry, must’ve just spaced out for a second haha!” She laughed nervously leading him over to the computers.

“Ooooookay. So what’s this all about? You said something about checking up on someone?” He asked.

Her heart sank. She had to tell him, there was no dancing around it.

“Yeah… about that,” She anxiously tapped her thumbs together.

Sonic cocked a brow at her, a teasing grin appearing on his muzzle. “Yeah, about that.” The hand not holding the chilidog went to his hip as he leaned into it.

She inhaled sharply.

Just get it over with, he needs to know.

“The person you need to check on is Tails.”

Sonic just stared at her for a few seconds before chuckling a bit. It felt so out of place but he didn’t know that.

“I saw him yesterday. He’s at his workshop.” He took a bite of his food, “Y’know, you should really visit sometime! It’s been awhile!”

When he noticed that Amy wasn’t smiling or looking at all relieved, his grin faltered, “Ames, he’s fine, I’m serious! If you need proof, just check his location!” He brought up his wrist, “Look, I’ll even check it no—“

“Sonic, he’s not at his workshop.” She blurted out before he could check.

The blue hedgehog stared at her as he slowly lowered his wrist. His grin was completely gone, a confused stare taking its place.

“What are you talking about?” He asked.

Amy took a shaky breath, “Please…please don’t get mad…”

Now he looked worried. “What? Amy? I won’t, just tell me what’s going on? Where’s Tails?”

You could always tell when Sonic’s patented “Big Brother Mode” was activating. He just had a certain stare he gave you when you even hinted that his little brother may be in trouble. It was a look of worry, fear, and worst of all, anger.

An angry Sonic was a Sonic you didn’t want to mess with. Not much really made him mad, his chill personality was definitely not just a public opinion, but there were a few things in life that really set him off…

and something happening to his little brother was at the very top of that list.

“Sonic, I..” Her voice shook, “I don’t know.”

—————

Sonic had been having a great day. A fantastic day, even.

He had spent it checking out old spots he and Tails used to make camp at, making mental notes that they should spend the night at a few of these locations for old times sake. It could be a week-long camping trip for them! It had been some time since the two of them slept under the stars together!

Visiting these places made him nostalgic in ways he never knew he could feel. He missed the days when all he and his brother had were a backpack and a few heroic deeds to their name. When their biggest worries were Scratch and Grounder, not gods and wars.

Back when his little brother was the sweetest, most adorable little four year old to ever exist (that was a fact, not an opinion).

They were simpler times.

He was so excited to get back home and tell his brother all about his idea so imagine his surprise when he gets a call from the Restoration saying something about needing to check up on someone who wasn’t responding to any calls only to find out that person is supposedly Tails.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He didn’t want to get mad right after he told Amy he wouldn’t, but the hedgehog had no idea how long he’d be able to keep his cool. “Just…just tell me what’s going on.”

Amy turned her gaze to the floor for a few beats, tears pricked her eyes. He started tapping his foot impatiently.

He really didn’t want to be mad at Amy. She was twelve years old and, while she wasn’t in charge of the Restoration anymore, she played a huge part in making sure it stayed afloat. She was already under a lot of stress and raising his voice would not help that.

She inhaled before speaking. “We sent him on a solo mission and his comm suddenly went offline.”

She must’ve seen the look on his face because words came flooding out of her mouth to attempt to explain.

“Sonic, I swear it was nothing dangerous. We just had him go check something out! A weird signal! That’s all!” She cried out. “He’d done it plenty of times before! I-I just thought this wouldn’t be any different! I-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He cut her off. His tone was harsh and he almost cringed at the way it made her wince. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that his worry for his little brother’s safety was strongly overpowering his worry about hurting his friend’s feelings.

It sucked, but he was a big brother first and foremost.

“Because I didn’t think it was a big deal! He's gone to check Chaos Emerald reading on his own, this wasn’t any different! He probably would’ve even been back by now!” The pink hedgehog reasoned, a few tears had slipped down her muzzle.

“Yea, ‘not very different’. Except it’s very different because it was an unknown signal! Not a Chaos Emerald reading! That signal could’ve been anything!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice but damn it, he was stressing out. “And even when he goes to look for Emerald readings on his own, I still know where he is in case of situations like these! I always know where he is because he’s eight years old, Amy! He shouldn’t even be looking for readings alone but he does anyway!”

He didn’t even realize he had thrown his free hand up, still holding onto the chilidog in the other, and walked a few steps away from her. His free hand was on his forehead as his mind flooded with all the scenarios his baby brother could be in right now. Images of Tails being scared and/or hurt and his screams of pain played over and over again.

Finally, he turned to look at Amy. For a lack of better words, she looked awful. Her quills were a mess and she looked seconds away from breaking down.

“How long?” He asked

“W-what?”

“How long has his communicator been offline?”

It took a few beats for her to finally respond. “Around 30 minutes ago…”

All Sonic could do was stare. The chilidog in his hand fell to the floor with a disgusting splat.

30 minutes. 30 whole minutes. Chaos knows what happened to his little brother and it took them 30 minutes to call him?! Why was he even told to come to the Restoration HQ? He should’ve been at his last known location by now figuring out what happened!

Oh Chaos what if it was too late. It had to be, right? Sure, 48 hours was usually the crucial time when it came to missing children, but in this line of work, even just 5 minutes alone could spell disaster, let alone 30!

“30 minutes…why didn’t you just send me the coordinates?! Why did you ask me to come here?!”

“I don’t know! I- I just panicked! This has never happened before and I didn’t know what to do!” She collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her muzzle as she held her face in her hands.

He felt bad for yelling at her, he hated yelling at his younger friends, but self control was something that was in limited supply at the moment. He looked at the floor, his quills raised as if the knowledge of Tails possibly being in danger meant that the hedgehog was in danger as well.

His legs were itching to just get out of this damn room.

“I’m so sorry, Sonic…Tails could be hurt and it’s all my fault…I should’ve told you…I shouldn’t have even sent him alone…I’m so sorry…” She cried into her hands.

Sonic didn’t respond to her.

Instead, he looked around the room at all the Mobians who were staring at him in fear. None of them had ever seen the hero this upset before.

“Someone send me his last known coordinates.” He demanded. “Now.”

One of the volunteers at the computer quickly typed something into the device and clicked the mouse a few times. His own communicator in his wrist lit up with a notification.

A set of coordinates on the outskirts of White Park Zone.

With the location already memorized, he gave a nod to the Mobian at the computer who sent him a shaky thumbs up back.

He looked back down at Amy. He wanted to say something, wanted to say that it wasn’t her fault and that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t find his voice.

He ran out of the HQ, pushing himself to go faster and faster. He’d already wasted too much time talking.

‘Hang tight, keed. I’m on my way.’ He thought as the boom of a broken sound barrier shook the area around him.

—————

Somewhere far from White Park Zone, a little fox slowly opened his blue eyes. A headache pounding against his skull as he tried to make sense of the area around him through his concussion.

He didn’t remember much, only the feeling of something hard hitting the back of his head and blacking out. He remembered he was checking something out for Amy, it had been his first solo mission for the Restoration! Except that mission seemed to have gone wrong.

He just hoped his brother wasn’t mad at him.

[mysticalsoot]

he said he'd cure your ills (but he did and he always will)

A/N; i wrote this in like an hour which is entirely a record for me lmao. there will be an alt vers posted tomorrow!! i’ll also post an intro and masterlist later!!

TW// manipulation, cheating, swearing, Wilbur is a bitch, it gets worse before it gets better sorry, fluff at the end I promise, partial derealization??, most of it is a nightmare.

Words; 2,004

Pairings; cc!Wilbur x Reader

Pronouns; Not mentioned, one use of y/n

Inspired by;  The Smiths – This Night Has Opened My Eyes

Bittersweet angst version here

masterlist

-----------------

"Wilbur," You begin, voice trembling and caked in uncertainty, "Don't go. You can't."

"Why can't I? I have free will," Wilbur's tone is sharp like claws that slowly pick at the flesh around your heart, begging to rip it from your chest. And you're sure it will. His arms are flayed out, stretched out on either side of him. The same way they always are when he's angry. "Who's to stop me from leaving your pathetic excuse of a person?"

"You don't mean that.." Your voice gives out at the end, and you back up from him and into the wall. You want to run.

You want to scream.

You want to call him names.

Yell at him the way he's been doing to you.

Threaten him in the same ways, only worse and more tortuous than he could ever come up with.

But he's right.

You're pathetic, and so you curl up inside yourself, you freeze, and you die inside. You're rotting from the outside in. You're rotting, and isn't it his fault?

"I mean every word." His words come out slowly, it's calculated, the way he says it. It's like he really does mean to hurt you, that every word is a swing of the sword he's wielded for months. Slowly getting duller as each swing cuts deeper.

First, it was the distance; he stopped being as affectionate in public or at home. He no longer asked for it either, he just let you initiate it as if it was a chore he'd rather forget about for months on end. But you let it go, he was probably just tired!

And then it was the phone calls; his phone would ring and he would leave the room. He always said it was "work" stuff, but you knew the people he worked with and you were even friends with his manager, let alone his bandmates. But you let that slide too. Who knows, maybe it was a secret project! It's not that concerning..

The last straw was your friends. They were his as well, but they were just as much yours as they were his.

They were the ones that caught him. Up until this point you had been willingly oblivious, always pushing the gut feelings and the second thoughts as far away from you as possible and burying them six feet in the ground.

Wilbur was out during the day, he had gone to the beach that day (although he told you he went to the studio), to meet up with them. James was walking past the boardwalk that afternoon and he saw the tall man over by the water, out of the corner of his eye. He thought it was odd given the fact that Wil almost never went to the beach without you. So, he moved to a closer spot and hid far enough away that he wouldn't be noticed by his friend but close enough he could still see. It was deceptive and over the top, yes, but James was always one for theatrics.

He watched as Wilbur had gotten closer to the person he was with, holding their face the same way he watched him hold yours. He smiled at them the same way he smiled at you. But this person, they were the complete opposite of you and it made James' blood boil. He knew that you had no knowledge of this person because if you had known, he would have known. And he was in the dark, so you must be too.

And unfortunately, he was right. He went to the others first, the band, Alex, Tommy, Niki.. He covered all the bases for your closest friends and gathered them all together for dinner and game night at his place. And so, James told them everything, everything he saw or heard; the fact you probably didn't know.

They hatched a plan that night, after discussing all of the details, and their own suspicions. The plan was simple, they would stage an intervention. When worded like that, it sounds as if they pushed you into it. They didn't, the words they used were this; we found something out and we think you should know, but we have to tell you in person; and don't bring Wilbur.

It caught you off guard for sure and it filled your body with buzzing worry and nausea. But it subsided when you had gotten to the agreed apartment (Niki's), only to build again when you saw the expressions on their faces. Ones of grief, guilt, and pain.

They told you everything.

And then you went home (after plenty of comforting until you were semi-stable again), and you told Wilbur. You knew. There was no getting past you anymore. The secret was out.

And now you're here. He's making it out to be your fault and you so desperately want to believe it's not, but his arguments are more compelling and convincing than you thought.

"You, Y/N, have always been a nuisance. You're clingy, and possessive, you talk too much and you never know when to stop. It's always Wilbur this and Wilbur that. You never give me a break. You're overbearing, you're controlling. And I hate every fucking bit of your shit existence!" It hurts so bad to hear every word he says and know that he means it. The ache in your chest feels like a throbbing and if you didn't know better you would've assumed your heart had been ripped out and shredded over and over and over again, the hole in your chest then gushing blood from the half-assed job of heart surgery. All done by the sharpness of Wilbur's words.

God, you wished this was just a dream.

"If I'm such a nuisance, why have you stayed?" You ask, tears burning the skin of your red cheeks. The bags under your eyes are more prominent now than ever, it's the exhaustion from life combined with the stress of...this.

"Because I pitied you," He pauses, eyes narrowing before stepping forward, closer to you, "I never loved you."

You wish this was a dream, it has to be. He's not this cruel, it can't be him.

"What about the promises you made? Did those mean nothing to you?" You're begging him to spare your heart now, to not rip into it in the same way he ripped it from your chest. Your tone simply begs; please spare me, Wilbur, please.

"I never meant a word."

You feel yourself fade from reality, the sight of his anger-ridden red face fades into darkness, your surroundings going with it.

And then your body is frozen. Everything is black and you're crying, you can feel the wetness on your skin, somehow chilling you whilst burning you at the same time.

"Hey, hey, hey.." A soft voice speaks, it's muffled and you can barely make it out, but it's familiar; comforting.

You want to say something but your throat is locked, it's just as frozen as the rest of you, and you can't speak.

"It's okay, it's just a dream." The voice speaks again, and your brain subsides the fog previously inhabiting it and you remember. It's Wil.

Your eyes shoot open, his arms are wrapped around you, your head resting on his shoulder with his chin resting on the top of your head.

You shake your head, "No, no," you sniffle, grabbing onto the t-shirt he slept in, a simple white Los Campesinos! shirt, "it's not okay, it's not okay." The fabric entirely muffles your words on his shoulder but he can hear, he can make it out.

He pulls you closer to him, arms holding you in a tighter grasp. The feeling is warm, fuzzy, and good.

"Love, you're okay. I promise it's not real. This is real, I'm real, you're real." Wilbur rests his cheek against yours, the warmth of his touch enveloping you in a care you'd almost forgotten could exist.

You open your mouth to argue, but find yourself without words yet again, you simply whimper as you cry into his shoulder, soaking it in tears. He traces circles on your back as he whispers to you all of the things you didn't know you needed. He's warm, he's loving, and he's nothing like the nightmare Wilbur.

Moments pass until you've cried all the tears you could, and you pull away from his shoulder to look at him, adjusting yourself to sit in his lap facing him, rather than laying across his lap like before. The circles under his eyes are darker, and his hair, albeit longer than usual, is fluffed up and sticking up in every direction. He looks tired and worn, but his eyes hold the same concern and worry he has whenever you're upset.

He reaches his hands out to you, palms up and hovering in front of you. You take his hands in yours, holding on tightly, hoping and praying this isn't a dream either and you can stay. You desperately hope this is real. You want it to be real.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, head dipping slightly to meet your eye level, he's still taller than you even when sitting.

You weigh the options, if you told him, he would console you most likely. Or something would click and he would act in the same way he did in the nightmare, irritable and cold. Cut off from you. Was the risk worth it?

On the other hand, if you lied or perhaps omitted details, he may move on and the risk of him mimicking that same behavior is tremendously less likely.

You choose to tell him, there's a risk to it but what could it hurt?

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, "You cheated on me." You open your right eye a bit, just enough to gauge his reaction.

He looks to you expectantly, knowing there's more and so he waits patiently. You let go of his hands and move forward towards him again, wrapping your arms around his middle and your face pressing up against his chest. You can hear Wilbur's heartbeat, a pitter-patter against his ribcage.

"It was a long dream. James caught you and he told our friends and then they told me. Everyone else suspected it but didn't want to believe it until they had gotten proof. I didn't know until then. I went home and I told you that I knew and you-" You pause, voice wavering in fear. "You blew up on me. You told me you never loved me and told me all the things you hated about me." A single tear runs down your cheek, and you nuzzle further into him, your hands gripping the back of his shirt. "You said you never meant the promise we made. You didn't mean it."

After you finish, you stay silent, and so does he. His breathing becomes uneven and before you know it, he's crying too. You lift your head up to face him again, your hands rest on his cheeks and you wipe away the tears on his face with your thumbs.

"I would never, ever, do something like that." He mutters, his arms tightening their grip on you, pulling you closer.

You nod, "I know. But it was still scary."

He nods back, and then places a kiss on your forehead, "I'm sorry, Wil." You whisper, your arms leaving his back to wrap around his neck.

"It's not your fault, my love. We all have fucked up nightmares like that from time to time. I promise."

It's a simple promise, a promise that you're not alone and that he too has dealt with similar things. And despite the turmoil of the dream, you're glad you're awake and no longer in that hellish world.

You're home, and home is him.

Wilbur said he'd cure all of your ills, but he did and he always will.

Wilbur is yours and you are his. And you couldn't be happier.

[odder-oddish]

Without Expectation

AKA, the phrase "ace Ace" made me laugh so I made a story about it. A short fic about a newly established relationship with a 2/1 ratio of comfort to anxiety.

Ace's relationship with Felix was like walking on a tightrope. Lean to much either way, and go tumbling down.

More specifically, Ace's physical relationship with Felix was like a tightrope act. In every other way, things were steady, under control. Since that early morning three months ago, when Ace had finally gotten his act together and had a real, adult conversation with Felix, the two had become more comfortable in each other's presence. They shared a living space at the camp, checked in on each other but gave space when needed, and established expectations and boundaries like normal, functioning adults. Felix had needed some time to adjust before they told their friends about the new step in their relationship and Ace had granted it. Ace had some concerns about what that meant for the trials, and they talked about it. In all ways but one, things were perfect.

Which lead to Ace's predicament. He should really be more mature about this, and tell Felix, but it wasn't something he'd told anyone before and despite his bravado and proclaimed self-confidence, Ace was nervous about sharing. Every time they held hands, cuddled, kissed, the puddle of anxiety in Ace's gut grew.

They really needed to talk about it. Ace shouldn't have to steady himself every time Felix held him. He liked things the way they were, and that was the problem, wasn't it. He liked it exactly the way it was.

In the four years Ace spent in the realm before Felix arrived, and the year after before they got together, Ace learned just how damn cold the Entity's realm could be. Not just in temperature, but in bone-chilling loneliness. Dying, or nearly dying, day after day was miserable, numbing. A psychiatrist's wet dream, but living hell for those experiencing it. Ace had been lonely in his life before, knew the feeling of being touch-starved, but out here? It had felt a million times worse.

So when Felix first laid his head on Ace's shoulder, the fuzzy feeling hit Ace like a train. Or perhaps a hatchet. Having someone else to comfort and stay with was a feeling of warmth he hadn't felt in years, and Ace would be damned if he'd let it go now. Curling up with Felix made the good days better and the bad ones sting a little less. And when Felix had first kissed him, at the end of a trial no less? Ace couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so happy, even before the Entity took him.

So yeah, losing this closeness, this feeling, the only physical connection he had with someone out here would be disastrous. If the Entity fed off of hope, losing his relationship with Felix now would leave Ace dried up and empty. He couldn't bear the thought, which was partially why he hadn't said anything yet.

But at the same time, Ace worries about what's supposed to come next. He's not an expert in long-term relationships, but he knows that at some point, there are certain expectations that follow in regards to, well, physical intimacy.

Ok, sex. Ace is a grown man, he can say the damn word. But that doesn't make it any less a touchy subject. At some point, the subject's going to come up. Felix probably will drag his heels, but that's just his style. Ace should be the one bringing it up; he certainly acts like it around camp with his dirty sense of humor and overall demeanor. Most likely, Felix would start to wonder why Ace hadn't propositioned him yet, leading to the same conversation Ace was dreading. He'd ask if he was doing something wrong, and Ace would have to explain that it was his own fault. He just didn't want sex.

Ace had always known he didn't have interest in sex the way most people did. He remembered what time in Vegas, he'd gone to a night club with a couple buddies, and they'd started pointing out which of the other patrons they'd most like to have a night with. While most of them were laughing and leering, Ace just looked around the room, feeling bored. It all just felt, bland.

For awhile he wondered if he just wasn't attracted to anyone. But while he failed in the relationship department, he wasn't spared the unrequited crushes and romantic interests that most people developed. When he stayed in a town for more than a few months, he'd build connections, develop feelings, but never act on them. Not until Felix, that is.

Now, he doesn't know what to do. He really likes Felix, but he really, really doesn't want sex. Sooner or later the question will come up and he's afraid that Felix will be disappointed, or worse, feel guilty for making Ace uncomfortable. Which he's not even doing.

It really doesn't help that Ace is a very touchy person. Whenever he's stressed or too keyed-up from excitement around camp, his favorite way to calm down is to cuddle up with Felix. He's gotten laughs and groans around camp for excessive PDA but who can blame him? It makes him happy, and it helps that his partner is mind-numbingly attractive.

These thoughts have all been on mind as of late, AKA, the last fifteen minutes, because Felix is currently on top of him, kissing him, and Ace is equally elated and terrified. It's his own fault, really. Felix came back from another trial, wearing the olive green variant of his classic suit, a color Ace privately prefers to the navy, and Ace hadn't hesitated flop down on the scavenged mattress they shared and pull Felix down on top of him. Felix had teased Ace's eagerness, so Ace had shut him up with a kiss.

And here they were. Curled up with each other, enjoying the gentle contact. The kisses were soft, chaste, anything but demanding. Ace's hands idly roamed Felix's back. Felix had one hand on Ace's side and the other just beneath his collarbone.

This was perfect, the center of the tightrope. If they could stay just like this forever, Ace wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life in the Entity's realm. It's the prospect of more that terrifies him. And he can't tell if the hand on his side wants to drift lower or if the way Felix shifts on top of him means he expects something or if he just feels restless. Ace really should ask, but what if he does, and Felix backs off? Takes it as a sign Ace hasn't been enjoying every moment of closeness they've shared? Besides, the worry in the back of his head is nothing compared to the warmth spreading through his chest. He's happy like this, so he'll keep his mouth shut as long as he has to.

Which lasts all of another five minutes.

Because when Felix pulls away, rises up to his knees, and shrugs off his jacket, all the while looking down at Ace with a gentle smile, Ace panics. He slides back, knocking Felix off of him and sprawling onto the mattress, and sits up.

Felix swears loudly in German, and Ace realizes why. Because he'd been in the process of taking off his jacket, the sleeves trapped his arms behind is back. When Ace knocked him off, he'd landed roughly on his arm, bending it in an unnatural direction. "What was that?"

"Shit, Felix. I'm sorry," said Ace. He helped Felix back into a sitting position and pulled the jacket the rest of the way off. "I just didn't know what you were doing and I guess I panicked."

Felix was still wincing in pain, but now he also looked confused. "I just, ouch, I just wanted to change out of this suit."

"Oh. Yeah that makes sense. I get it." Ace began to ramble, embarrassment quickly setting in. "I guess I didn't really give you a chance, jumping you as soon as you got back. Guess I just wasn't thinking."

Felix nodded along, not really listening as he rubbed his sore arm. Then, he slid his vest and shirt off, wincing as he did. He went over to the trunk he kept his extra clothes in and fished out a soft, light blue t-shirt with a koi fish design. Then, he traded his dress pants for the silver pajama pants that Ace had stolen on more than one occasion.

"We should probably talk about what happened," said Felix.

"Yeah, I messed up. I'm sorry," said Ace. Even though he really wanted to go back to cuddling, Felix was right. He sat on the edge of the mattress and Felix joined him.

"I'm not upset with you, Ace. I'm worried about you. You seemed, scared. Scared of me." There's a pained look on Felix's face. He looks as if he's about to cry. It's a gut wrenching sight, seeing Felix look at him as though he'd done something wrong.

"No, I just got in my own head. This is all my fault," Ace said. He couldn't help but lean into Felix, pressing their sides together. "I thought you were coming on to me and wasn't prepared." Wasn't prepared. What a terrible way to describe it. Ace would never be prepared, what was wrong with him.

Felix nodded, but didn't seem convinced. He was quiet for a long time, staring at the dirt beneath him. "But, you seemed scared. Did you think that, I was going to-" he swallows and takes a deep breath. Ace know what's coming before Felix says it, and his heart breaks. "That I was going to force you to do something."

"No! No, it was nothing like that, I swear. I know you'd never try anything like that. I just, it's hard for me to talk about."

Felix relaxes as Ace speaks. He rests a comforting hand on Ace's knee. "Will you try? I don't want to cause you any worry."

"You don't cause any. It's just me, overthinking everything." Ace took a deep breath and covered Felix's hand with his own. "I'm asexual."

He's not really sure what to expect. He certainly isn't expecting Felix to flip his hand around so he can hold Ace's and smile. "Oh, is that all?" Ace's mouth hangs open in shock and Felix quickly amends his statement. "All that was on your mind?"

"Yeah. I mean, that and I didn't want to disappoint you. I mean, I don't know how important sex is to you, but I just didn't want to make you upset or anything."

"It's not important to me at all."

Another major surprise. "Really. You do relationships without caring about sex, like at all?"

Felix shrugs. "Maybe not always." He barks out a laugh. "But Ace, we spend hours a day covered in blood, live outside in a shared space with twenty other people without a sliver of privacy, and last night, I found two rats chewing the mattress. I'm not sure what kind of sex you envisioned me wanting, but here? Absolutely not."

Ace is laughing too. He remembers when Felix first arrived, absolutely appalled by the prospect of living outside 24/7. He was disgusted by all things nature, from the dirt stains on his clothes to the small bugs that roamed everywhere. Now, he'd adapted like the rest, but now that Ace thought about it, there was a big difference between dealing with the outdoors out of necessity and choosing to have sex in a habitat shared with all sorts of critters.

"Yeah, that makes perfect sense," he admitted, stretching out his legs. Felix is quiet again, but this time it's an easy, comfortable silence.

"If you don't mind me asking, how come you didn't tell me, when we had that conversation about expectations a month ago?" he asked finally.

"Because I was afraid I'd lose this," said Ace, leaning more firmly against Felix to make his point. "I didn't realize how lonely I was until you. I like the others, but just, having someone to hold makes a big difference." Ew. That sounds really mushy, even for him.

Felix must have appreciated the sentiment, because he pulls Ace into a strong, warm hug and holds him there for awhile. "You think you were touch-starved then?"

"For a long time probably." His voice is muffled as he speaks into Felix's shoulder. "I mean, back in my old life, didn't exactly have anything like this. People don't exactly go out to bars and say, hey, wanna go to my place and cuddle all night with our pants on?"

That makes Felix laugh again. It's such a comforting sound, hearing his partner at ease despite the difficult conversation. "No, I don't suppose they do. But just to be clear, tonight aside, have I made you uncomfortable with anything?"

"Nah, I think it was more that you didn't know what was bothering me and I was scared to talk about it. But I'd give away my flashlight collection before I'd put a stop to what we have."

"That's a bold statement."

"Well I happen to feel quite strongly about it." He pauses. "But I was really scared that if I told you, you'd stop wanting to touch me because you'd be nervous about doing something wrong."

"I can assure you, I won't. You get all pouty when I don't cuddle you."

Ace immediately pulls away. "Hey! I so do not."

Felix doesn't respond, just reaches up to cup Ace's cheek and kiss him. He looks smug. The confidence looks good on him. Ace is just about to suggest that they go back to lying down and picking up where they left off when there's a tapping sound on a tree behind them. He turns to see Dwight standing behind them, fist against a nearby tree.

"Dude, there's no door. Why are you knocking?" asked Ace. His voice was hoarse as he spoke.

"Sorry, I just didn't want to interrupt."

"Well, you have, so what's up?"

"We were wondering if you wanted to come play poker," said Dwight.

Ace looked at the younger man, then back at Felix, who still hadn't moved his hand away from his face. He broke the contact to pull his jacket closer to him and fish the deck of cards out of his pocket, tossing them to Dwight. "Knock yourselves out."

Dwight and Felix looked equally stunned. Ace had rarely turned down a game. "Are you sure you don't want to?" asked Felix.

"Well, yeah, but I don't want to leave you," said Ace. To his surprise, Felix stood up before offering him a hand.

"Come on, then. I'll join the game too."

Beaming, Ace took the hand and let Felix pull him to his feet. They followed Dwight back to the campfire and sat down on an open log.

"Dwight, why don't you deal first," said Ace, refusing to let go of Felix's hand to take the cards.

The game began, and Ace was soon distracted by the cards in front of him, strategizing on how best to play each hand. But he found he wasn't taking the game as seriously as usual, letting other survivors bluffs get past him and folding more readily in favor of leaning against Felix. After a few hands, Felix slipped his free arm around Ace's waist, and Ace absolutely did not squeak, thank you very much.

He'd never thought he'd find a stable relationship, not before the Entity and certainly not after. Especially with someone so understanding, kind, and gentle (and also really, really hot.) But here he was with Felix, defying all the odds. A warm sensation bubbled up in his stomach again, but this time, there was no fear, no anxiety. Just love.

Tbh, I don't know that I see Ace as actually being.... ace. But this made for a really cute fic that I enjoyed writing, and I hope y'all enjoyed reading. :)

[magmahearts]

TIMING: current PARTIES: @muertarte & @magmahearts LOCATION: the woods, near the magmacave SUMMARY: desperate to make amends, metzli finds cass. CONTENT WARNINGS: implications of emotional manipulation, mentions of past domestic abuse.

The intensity of the march of ants under Metzli’s skin became overbearing. Each step sent another wave of them crashing into their nerves. They counted quietly to themself, focusing on keeping their mind grounded enough to feel real inside their own skin. Metzli knew they couldn’t let their place in this spectrum shift them away from where they were meant to be. There was a job to do, whether or not they’d be allowed to perform it. All they could do was try, and so they were. 

“Cass?”

Uncertainty and fear was unraveling them completely as they reached the outside of the cave—had been since Cass utilized cruelty and blocked Metzli from all contact. “Cass?” They called again, seeing dark hair bobbing just above a bush. Without much thought, they smiled with relief and excitement. As they always did when they paid her a visit. Because Cass had become a missing piece Metzli didn’t know they needed. Whenever they laid eyes on her, everything was easy and fun, which was something they had always wondered was like. They didn’t have to anymore.

“Hi…!” Their smile remained, and they patted down their pockets to find the gift they brought from Ireland. “Was missing you very much. Arrive very  last night so I waited until I think you might be awake to visit.” Finding the gift, Metzli held it close to their side and tilted their head curiously. “May I hug you?”

 Everything felt — twisted lately. The world as she thought she’d known it had shifted on its axis, and it should have been a more noticeable thing. It should have been jarring the moment it happened, but Cass wasn’t even sure she could pinpoint when the shift took place. Was it the moment her fiery skin made contact with that hunter, or was it the moment his blade met Ariadne’s skin? Was it when her father clued her in on the fact that everyone in her life aside from him was a temporary fixture, or was it the first day he’d appeared in her cave? Was it when she asked Leila to leave, or when Metzli told her they were gone? It felt like each moment was happening simultaneously, like the world had folded in on itself to make things that happened months apart touch at the edges. 

She was still trying to navigate all the changes, but some things remained constant. She wanted Makaio to be happy here, wanted him to stay. That was the one thing that hadn’t changed since the first moment she’d stumbled upon him in her cave, and she would do anything to hold onto it, to hold on to him. 

Right now, that meant collecting rocks. Like Cass, Makaio was an oread. And like oreads, he enjoyed rocks and stones. It was the only aspect of her heritage that Cass really carried with her outside of the obvious physical parts, so it was the only part of her she could be positive her father understood without trying. She had her pockets stuffed with different stones, both common to the area and harder to find, and she knew he’d be proud. She clung to that feeling, pushed away the rest.

But some things were harder to push away than others.

A familiar voice rung out, yelling her name, and Cass froze. She’d never stiffened at the sound of Metzli’s voice before, never felt this pool of dread within her gut at the way it moved towards her. Today, though, she felt something strange tugging at her chest. Preemptive grief, maybe, or the sting of betrayal. After all, hadn’t they left again? Wouldn’t they keep leaving, over and over again? It was partially Cass’s fault, she knew; after all, it was easier to leave when you knew you’d be accepted back so easily. She should have been less of a pushover last summer, when Metzli left despite her pleas and returned because of things that had nothing to do with her at all. She shouldn’t have accepted them back so readily. If there were more consequences, after all, wouldn’t they have thought twice before leaving again? Wasn’t it Cass’s job to make herself harder to walk away from? 

She stood like a statue as Metzli approached, their smile burning. Already, she thought, they seemed eager to act as though nothing had happened at all. Did they expect Cass to welcome them back with open arms again, like it didn’t sting? She thought of Makaio, back in the cave. Makaio, who would not leave her, who understood the parts of her that she didn’t understand herself, who listened to what she’d done to that hunter and never once questioned it. Wasn’t that what love was? 

Metzli came in closer, and Cass took a step back. She pushed down the part of herself that was desperate, the pathetic girl who wanted love too badly to respect herself. That girl would say yes, would melt into Metzli’s arms, would forgive and forget in a heartbeat. But that wasn’t who Cass was now. Cass was volcanic, and volcanoes didn’t melt. 

They erupted.

“No,” she said, the word not as sharp as she’d meant for it to be. It sounded sad instead of angry, and she hadn’t wanted that. She clenched her jaw, tried to look — the way she was supposed to look. Mount Vesuvius, not Pompeii. “What are you doing here? If I wanted to see you, I would have said.” She hadn’t even known they were back. Had she not been important enough to tell?

—

Right. Of course. 

Why would Cass be eager to see the person she had told to stay away, going as far as to block them? Of course she said no, and of course there was an eruption building behind the ashes that made up her rejection. “I…” Metzli dropped the sketchbook and took two steps back to retrieve their phone. “I wanted to ask to visit, but you did this block on my account, remember?” They opened their application to show the last two messages, one from them, and one from Cass. 

Swallowing past the ball in their throat, and blinking the burning tears in their eyes, Metzli spoke again. “Um, I-I am done helping my friend. I know you are upset, but I mean everything I say when I said I wanted to see this vampire movie and see if it have accuracy. And-and the store!” Metzli’s anxiety reached a head as they explained, causing them to stutter while they struggled through their confusion. 

They never meant to make Cass feel abandoned. It wasn’t as if they left without a word, or retreated in fear of hurting everyone again. No, they were called to help, and as they would’ve done for Cass, they answered without hesitation. Metzli continued to hold the phone up to Cass, hoping she could piece together the puzzle she had shoved into a thousand pieces. “I thought I did right thing when I was helping my friend. Was n-not leaving you. Just helping a friend. I will-will not leave like before. Was just helping, I promise. I promise I was not going so I can leave you. Why-why-why will I make plans if I have no wish to return?” They pocketed the phone and scrambled to pick up the sketchbook they had taken specifically to recreate what they saw for Cass.

“L-look! I-I…” Metzli’s chin quivered, “Was thinking taking rocks was wrong, so I draw them. For you.”

What were they talking about? Part of Cass wanted to ask, but she steeled herself against the desire. Wouldn’t Metzli say anything to justify their departure? Hadn’t they done the same thing a year ago, when they’d left and told her it was ‘for her own good’ ? She didn’t look at the phone as Metzli showed her, kept her eyes locked on a spot just over their shoulder instead. Looking at their face would hurt her resolve, and she needed to be strong. Stand up for yourself, Makaio would tell her. You’re not gravel, made to be walked on. You’re a volcano. So erupt. 

“Right,” she said flatly. “So you’re back for… how long? I mean, we’re just going to do this all again next year, right? Or sooner.” It was a cycle, wasn’t it? Metzli left with some grand excuse, then returned to grovel. And last time, Cass had welcomed them back with open arms, had said it’s okay even though it hadn’t been. How many chances was she supposed to hand out? How many times was she supposed to let herself be abandoned? It wasn’t fair for her to have to sit with her pain over and over and over again, wasn’t right that she should have to exist inside of it. Why did she have to forgive people for letting her down? Why was it on her to set her feelings aside to make room for other people’s? 

If she were thinking more rationally, she’d better understand the situation. She’d see that Metzli had done nothing wrong, that going on a trip to help a friend wasn’t the same as abandonment. But rationality had been a faraway thing for a while now. Cass had been living in a fantasy world since the moment her father found her. It felt like a fairytale, like something she’d waited for all her life. She’d do anything to hold onto it, even if it meant leaving logic far behind her.

She scoffed, shaking her head as they continued. “I don’t want your promises!” Desperation clawed at her throat, her heart pounding. “I only ever wanted you to stay. And I don’t — why is that so hard? It’s not asking much!” Makaio did it as easily as breathing, wanted to be around her all the time. Maybe that was part of the appeal — he had no one else, and he wanted no one else. He wouldn’t run to Ireland to help a friend or rescue someone from themselves and leave Cass alone in the process. Makaio loved her. She thought she might be the only person Makaio loved. There was something thrilling about that.

Any other time, she would have been thrilled to see the drawings Metzli had come back with, but right now, everything felt suffocating. She didn’t look at the sketchbook just as she hadn’t looked at the phone, kept her gaze fixed on that spot above their shoulder. “That’s not — You left! You keep leaving! And you come back with — with apologies, and sketches, and I forgive you, and you leave again! That’s how it always goes, and it’s not — It isn’t fair, Metzli. It’s not fair to me. I shouldn’t have to swallow how I feel to make other people feel better! Don’t you get it?” 

— 

Metzli furrowed their brows, confusion quickly turning into irritation. Not at Cass, but at themself and the situation as a whole. None of it made sense. How could a visit somewhere else equate to leaving someone in totality? In no world did the logistics Cass sought to set into reality work. Metzli didn’t ask her to swallow her feelings, and they weren’t groveling for acceptance after leaving her. None of it had any sense, but they made sense to Cass. That’s what mattered in that moment. She was hurt and she was allowed to express herself no matter how little sense it made. Because her ramblings were that of a child that never had enough significance for someone to stay and love her as any child deserved.

“I-I did not leave you, mija. Going on trip and leaving p-people forever is-is different. What do you want me to-to do when f-friend needs help and has danger? Will have done s-same thing if it was you.” They blinked their tears away, urging their legs to remain in place instead of pacing erratically. Cass deserved a version of Metzli that remained calm and listened, while also being able to have a conversation. So, as always, they tried. “You can tell me how-how you feel. I a-am lis-listening.” 

As much as it hurt to be confused, and as much as it felt like they were losing Cass, Metzli remained still and kept their fragile composure. They trembled, eyes widened and tears threatening to fall, but not once taking a step or talking over Cass the way they wanted so they could explain. It wasn’t their place, and she wanted them to listen and not tell her how to feel. And while most things people felt were difficult to understand, and Metzli still had a long way to go, they’d always been able to read eyes. Hers were on the brink of eruption, and when that happened, they would watch.

Because Cass believed they left her, and that was all that mattered. Not their explanation, not their reasons, and most certainly not their gifts. They weren’t her family, and whoever was in that cave had that right. Even stayed while they, in Cass’s eyes, left. What else could they do? It didn’t matter, not really. And it especially didn’t matter that it felt like the inside of Metzli’s chest was caving in. All that did matter though, was making sure Cass knew she was loved through her experience and supported despite understanding eluding them. 

“You already know you-you d-do not have to-to forgive me.” They said, face contorting with the effort to keep the tears from falling. “I understand. And-and, um, I-I know there is-is m-man in your cave who l-looks like you.” Metzli’s attempts to keep their tears from falling were futile, but they kept their expression as neutral as they could. Though their voice broke, revealing all they felt. “It—I, um…you deserve f-family.” They scoffed at themself speaking the obvious. Of course she deserved it. She always had. “You-you know this. S-sorry. You know this. I-I-I just…” A sniffle, “I am very glad you have family now. Real one. He takes-takes care of-of you, yes?”

They didn’t understand. Wasn’t that the thing that kept coming up, over and over and over again? The world ended, the world kept ending, and no one understood. How many people had claimed to be leaving for a short trip only to stay gone forever? How many had left with the intention of staying gone only to return and claim it was just a vacation? Cass could go into it now, if she wanted. She could tell Metzli about the boy she’d shared an empty warehouse with in Florida who said he was going to the beach and never came back, or the girl in Ohio who swore she was just making a trip to the store only to stay gone forever. On the streets, that was how things had always been. Most people didn’t want to tell you they were leaving, so they disappeared with an excuse. How was she to know that that hadn’t been Metzli’s intention? 

Of course, there was more to it, too. Metzli said they had to go help a friend with something ‘dangerous’ — and wasn’t that part of it, too? There was more than one way to disappear. If they’d gone to stupid Ireland and died there, wouldn’t Cass have wound up just as alone as she would if they’d left her intentionally? She thought of her father, when she told him about Ariadne’s history with hunters. What’s dead will always want to die. And wasn’t that true of Metzli? Hadn’t they tried, a thousand times now, to leave with a stake in their chest? The only difference between someone walking away from you and someone getting themselves killed was that you weren’t allowed to be angry at the latter. It wasn’t any better. 

So Metzli was here, and Cass was angry. And the anger didn’t fit her quite right, felt a little like playing dress-up in too big clothes, but it belonged to her father and so did she. Wasn’t this her inheritance? What she was born for? Volcanoes erupted. Makaio erupted. Cass would do the same, if she had to. 

“You did leave,” she accused. “You’re always leaving. One way or another, you are always leaving. I’m telling you how I feel. I’ve been telling all of you how I feel! And you always just — you say I’m wrong, or it doesn’t matter, or you make excuses! And I’m tired of it, Metzli, I’m tired.” Her voice trembled, her hands shook. For over a year now, she’d been clear on her feelings about being left behind. And, for over a year now, people kept doing it anyway. They said it’s not because of you, or they said you’re looking at it wrong, or they said you’re overreacting. Didn’t it all boil down to the same thing? They didn’t understand.

But Makaio did. 

Makaio sat in her cave, and he told her he wouldn’t leave her. Makaio sat in her cave, and he meant it. There was nowhere he wanted to be more than he wanted to be with her. She couldn’t say the same about Metzli, who would drop anything to die for the first person who asked. She couldn’t even say the same about Ariadne, who sometimes spoke like she wanted hunters to kill her. Makaio was the only one who understood. Hadn’t he said as much himself? Wasn’t he incapable of lying, just as she was? 

Metzli spoke about Makaio, and Cass bristled. There was a phrase she’d learned living on the streets, sleeping wherever she could and searching for anyone who might care, a thing repeated among the kids her age over and over and over again: Never show them what you love; they’ll take it away. Would Metzli knowing about Makaio end with him leaving, one way or another? He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he was here, and now people did. What if he was angry with her about it? 

“He takes care of me,” she snapped, “and he doesn’t leave.” She tugged the anger a little tighter around her shoulders, snuggled deep inside like it was an oversized sweatshirt instead of a too-big pair of shoes she couldn’t quite walk in. “And — And he is my family.”

—

Something snapped, crashed into an unforgiving wall and crumbled Metzli completely. Who were they to take the place of Cass’s true family? What did they know of family anyway? For all they knew, Metzli was the last of the Bernal’s, only a fragile shell left. Their parents despised them, locked them away to keep their outbursts from erupting embarrassment over them. Their extended family didn’t know what to make of them, almost too scared to approach because the sensation of their skin touching Metzli’s almost always ended with a shove. Customs became moments of disrespect, and gatherings nearly came to a halt for the trio because they couldn’t handle the stimuli. 

So what did they know of family? What did they know of being a parent? Just as their parents had done so many times to them, Metzli had hurt Cass. They hadn’t meant to like Lupe had with a fajo. They hadn’t meant to like Balta had when he grabbed their neck to force them to look at their mistakes. They hadn’t meant to, but yet they had. Somehow, some way, Metzli had become their parents. Cass had every right to be angry, to cast them away to protect herself. They were no parent. Maybe they were no friend either. Maybe they were still nothing at all, and they always would be. 

Because nothing couldn’t become anything, and Metzli hated themself for believing otherwise. Hope was a dangerous thing, but it turned out that their existence was far more vicious.

“Okay.” They finally muttered, nodding their head and wincing as they looked to the ground. What right did they have to look at Cass anymore? What right did they have to be there? The heinous offense that called itself skin didn’t feel like Metzli’s, and more than ever they believed it likely wasn’t theirs to begin with. “You deserve that,” They said, defeat weighing on their voice enough to remove all tremble. “If you are tired, you can rest. You will not have to fight anymore. I…here.” Carefully, slowly, Metzli placed the sketchbook on the ground, allowing Cass to do what she wished with it. “I am sorry I did everything wrong. Never have family. Very stupid thinking I can make one when I do not know what family is. I…I am sorry.”

It was more and more frustrating, the guilt building in her chest. And that wasn’t fair, either, was it? Shouldn’t she be allowed to say how she felt without someone she cared for taking it and using it as another excuse to hate themself? Shouldn’t she be allowed to say something upset her without worrying that it would be immediately internalized, used as a way for Metzli to insult themself? She made a low, frustrated noise in the back of her throat, shaking her head and throwing her hands up.

“It isn’t about that! God, it’s not — You’ll take any excuse you can find to hate yourself, won’t you?” It didn’t matter what Cass said, just like it had never mattered what Cass felt. She didn’t think it was intentional; if she were in a better frame of mind, she’d recognize that this wasn’t Metzli consciously trying to manipulate her, just like Leila probably didn’t mean to make her feel discarded and Ariadne probably hadn’t intended to make her feel judged. But none of those intentions changed the way things felt. 

She looked down at the sketchbook, shaking her head. She didn’t want to look at it, but wouldn’t things only be worse if she didn’t pick it up? Wasn’t this exactly why she’d spent the last year of her life working herself into something she wasn’t like a hunk of clay? Why were her only options to be someone she wasn’t or to listen to her friends call themselves stupid and wrong and undeserving of family? 

Leaning down, she picked up the sketchbook with trembling hands. What choice did she have? What choice had she ever had? The only one interested in offering her any kind of a choice at all was Makaio. She couldn’t imagine him doing something like this, couldn’t picture a world in which her words made him twist himself up into something that filled her with this much guilt and grief.

“You don’t understand,” she said, looking down at the sketchbook and not opening it. “None of you do. And I — I can’t keep explaining myself over and over again if this is how you react when I try. So I’m sorry, I am. But I’m not doing this. I’m not going to keep… holding everyone else’s hand through everything so that they can feel better. It’s not my job. It isn’t.” 

She turned, back towards the cave and, for the first time in a long time, she hoped she wouldn’t be followed.

[onstoryladders]

A Byler flashfic because why not 🥰 light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, coming out. Maybe a bit ooc but I don't give a damn. Enjoy 💖

NOT MY TYPE

“I thought you liked her”.

Mike doesn't know why he said that – the words just rolled off his tongue without so much as a warning, and he let them. It feels good, though, and it's worth it just to hear Will's soft laugh so close to his ear.

“You thought I liked Angela?”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, well. I didn't know she was an asshole at the time, cut me some slack”.

“Sorry, it's just-- so absurd”.

He elbows Will's side. “It's all your fault!”

“I didn't even speak a word to her, Mike”.

“It was-- it was before that. I mean, you didn't give me the painting at the airport, so I thought, y'know-- it had to be for someone else. And since we were meeting El's friends at the rink-- well, it sounds dumb now that I know, but. Yeah”. He shrugs. “I didn't have all the facts. I had no idea she was Satan incarnate”.

“You're doing Satan a disservice”.

“No doubt about that”.

They remain silent for a little while. It's nice, sitting so close to each other, this time with clean clothes and no smoke twirling above their heads. Just them and the stillness of a Friday evening – as still as the end of the world can be.

When Will speaks again, his soft voice sends shivers down Mike's arms. “I wouldn't like her anyway. Even if she was nice”.

“What, you don't like blondes?”

“I mean...”

Will turns to the side, and Mike does the same. He's not sure it was a smart decision, because now their gazes are interlocked, so close that they can see their own reflection in each other's eyes, and his gut is twisting with something warm he cannot name.

“I've always been partial to darker hair”, Will says.

Mike's throat is suddenly dry. “How dark?”

He doesn't know why he asked. It's a stupid question, it barely makes any sense at all, and-- and what answer does he expect to get?

Like yours, a little voice in his head supplies.

That makes his stomach churn even more, and suddenly it's like he can feel all his thoughts and emotions on his face, written with fire on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He turns away.

“It's not about her hair, though”, Will says.

“Hm?”

“Angela, she's-- she's just not my type”.

“Yeah?” Mike bites the inside of his cheek. He wishes he was wise enough to let the conversation die, but he's always been a little bit of a masochist. “What's your type, then?”

For a few seconds, Will doesn't answer.

Then: “Taller. Broader”, he says. He sounds a little weak, a little strained – like he's forcing himself to go on even though every molecule in his body is against it. “With bigger hands and-- a deeper voice”.

Mike frowns. That's not the description he expected. Those aren't traits that people usually ascribe to girls. It almost sounds like Will's talking about...

“Boys”.

Oh.

Mike's breath catches.

“Oh”.

When he turns towards him, Will is staring at his own hands. He looks scared, and Mike doesn't even think before reaching out to take his hand and hold it.

“Hey”, he says softly. “It's okay”.

Will shakes his head. “They were right”.

“Who?”

“My father, Troy. The others at school”.

“Those jerks weren't right about anything”.

“But they were!” Will raises his head, and Mike's stomach knots up when he realizes he's crying. “Don't you get it, Mike? They took one look at me and knew, even before I did. They were...”

His voice breaks, and something deep inside of Mike shatters just the same. He grabs Will by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “Wrong”, he says, arms tightening till their chests are pressed against each other. “They've never known shit about you, Will. Not Troy, not your father, not the other assholes at school”.

Will grips Mike's shirt. “They weren't wrong”.

“So what?” Mike threads his fingers in Will's hair. The awareness of just how close they are would drive him insane if he couldn't feel the dampness of Will's tears against his neck. “All the things they said to you-- it was bullshit, Will. All of it. And it's got nothing to do with whether they were wrong”.

Will shakes his head, tries to push Mike away. It's weak and half-hearted, and Mike doesn't let him.

“Listen to me”, he says, feeling his heart in his throat. “Remember what they used to call Dustin and Lucas? Or even me?”

“That's different”.

“Why? I am a nerd. Lucas is black. So what?”

Will doesn't answer that, and this time it's Mike who pulls away so that he can look at his face, all red from crying. Will is a pretty crier, and Mike would kick himself in the face for thinking that in a moment like this, but right now his priorities lie elsewhere.

Seeing Will like this hurts too much.

“So what?”, he asks again, trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes. “And they didn't know, Will. They just assumed something about you and decided that it was a bad thing, but you know what? There's never been anything wrong with you, so screw them”.

New tears stream down Will's face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Screw every. Single. One of them”.

That makes Will chuckle, and Mike preens at the sound. “You made your point”.

Mike scrunches up his nose. “I don't know, you don't look too convinced”.

“I'm not sure I even look alive right now”.

Mike snorts. “You look fine”, he says, and before he knows it his hands are on Will's cheeks, thumbs swiping under his eyes to dry them from tears. “Just a little red all over”.

Will's eyes widen slightly. “Because I cried”.

“Yeah, I know how crying works”.

“Just making sure”.

Mike doesn't lower his hands after that. He keeps brushing his thumbs against Will's face, touch as soft as a feather, and Will lets him. His eyes are still wide, alight with a flame that Mike has never seen before. It turns his insides into liquid heat.

“Thanks for telling me”, he whispers. His own voice is startling in the silence between them.

“Thank you for not freaking out”.

“Hey, you're my best friend, Will. I love you”.

And it's so easy – letting the words out. He doesn't need to think about them, doesn't have to wonder what they mean, because it's second nature: he knows he loves Will like he knows he needs oxygen to live, one of the undeniable facts of life. Connotations don't matter here.

Except that they kinda do, now, because as easy as it was to say it, Mike's hands are still cupping Will's face, and his eyes keep flickering to his lips, and nothing about this feels like it's supposed to do. The warmth in Mike's body is familiar yet strange – and for a second he wonders if Will's confession did change everything, after all.

Am I such a bad friend?

“What's wrong?”, Will asks.

Mike raises his gaze. “Huh?”

“You're crying too”.

Mike blinks, and a wet veil drops in front of his eyes. “Oh, shit. I don't-- I don't know why”, he says, suddenly feeling small and weird and like he shouldn't be here. “Shit, sorry”.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because it's dumb to cry without a reason”.

“It's not dumb”.

Will raises his hand, and for a second Mike thinks – hopes – that he's gonna reach out and wipe away his tears like he did for him, but Will seems to change his mind halfway through. His lets his arm fall in his lap again. His fingers curl.

Mike wants to tell him that it's okay, that he can and should touch him back if he wants, but doesn't know how to do that without turning into glass – cold and fragile and see-through.

Vulnerable.

He takes his hands away and rubs his eyes.

“Are we okay?”, Will asks once he's done, and whatever doubts Mike was feeling disappear without a trace at the earnestness in his gaze.

“Of course”. Mike smiles. “We're a team, right?”

Will smiles back. “Best friends”.

“Cool”.

“Cool”.

Mike's confusing feelings can wait a little longer.

This is all that matters now.

[ronearoundblindly]

I'm literally coming up with so many ideas that my head keeps flashing me with new images of best friend Ari x reader

This is one of them:

I CAN'T get over the scene where reader slaps on the table to gain twittle brother's attention🤣🤣 (btw they actually give me a little Weasley twin vibe bc of their bickering) so my brain offered me a clip where reader is being furious, possibly towards a handful of people, Ari included. When reader is holding a stern face and says something like: "this is unbearable!" Ari wants to soothe her temper, trying to soft-talk reader. He only finishes the first part of his sentence, when reader shoots him a death-glare: "Uh-uh. Don't even try. You are part of this too MISTER."

and Ari gives the rest of them an expression that reads "sorry, tried my best, you're on your own"

I love this. All of this. P.S. the kitten has claws in this one. Reader lashes out. She is feisty. Warnings for language, arguing, and implied intention of violence, mostly for humor. (Headcanon format because I'm lazy.)

Temper

You show up at the house after a long day to find Ari working on painting the 'dining room' (you're not sure if you'll get a whole dining set for in there yet).

He's got headphones on, so you don't bother him. He hasn't noticed you're home.

Then you hear a bang from behind you, from the other end of the house, down the hall with the bedrooms.

Voices--familiarly childish voices--argue with each other.

"Your fault." "No! This is your fucking fault."

What are Dimitri and José doing in your house? What...What have they done to the WALL?

You can peer right through a four-inch hole between the spare bedroom and the hall. A sledgehammer tilts against the hall side presumably because it fell all the way through the hole.

You see Dimitri's wide eyes beyond the crumpled edge of drywall, and he panics.

You had to pass the doorway in order to see the damage, so both men-children get ahead of you racing through the house, shrieking for Ari to save them and you to calm down.

José tries to hide on the other side of Ari but startles your boyfriend so badly that the brush smears paint all the way across José's cheek and into his open mouth.

"The hell is going--"

"These two idiots put a sledgehammer through my wall," you scream, advancing on Dimitri while he too maneuvers to put Ari between you.

Ari swings with the paintbrush again, this time smacking Dimitri in the gut so that his shirt is ruined. "You did what? Honey, I'm sorry. I'll fix--"

"OH NO, MISTER, you brought them into this house--"

"It just happened, honest."

"We were just fooling around."

"Why would you fool around in my house?" Ari booms.

"Shut it, Levinson. This isn't your house yet, and I have half a mind to make you sleep outside. You should have been watching them!"

"We're not kids," Dimitri whines, shifting to the other side of Ari because it's closer to the exit.

You can't even find the words. You barely have oxygen from how hard your whole body clenches in rage.

Ari turns to the boys and just says, "run."

Ari jumps to try and stop you from grabbing one of your friends as they bound out. You get ahold of José's shirt sleeve and yank him back toward you, latching your arms around his neck, attempting to climb onto his back and take him down. Dimitri trips over Ari's toolbox and faceplants into the partial dividing wall to the living room.

Everyone goes silent as Dimitri removes his bracing hand from another hole and then he looks at the dent his skull made right beside it.

"Shit," he whispers softly before the room erupts in shouts again.

"You mother fucker," you howl, shoving yourself off of José, but then Ari has you by the waist. All you can do is flail at Dimitri as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum scurry away.

"I gotcha, kid," Ari keeps repeating as you hurl obscenities at their retreating car. "I'm gonna handle it. I swear. Take a breath, woman."

A full week later, you sit at your usual table at the bar across from two tentative (and scared shitless) men.

"You two are doing all of the yard work at my place this whole summer."

After a quick glance between each other, they nod.

"And you--" you turn to Ari who stops mid-swig of his drink "--are building me a She-Shed. One off-limits to all dudes."

[Main Masterlist]

Anybody have a name idea for this series? I got nothing so far. Just having a blast writing it.

[ill-try-to-do-book-reviews]

The Cabin at the End of the World

Paul Tremblay

RATING: 🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯 (5/5)

The Cabin at the End of the World is a horrifying tale of homophobia, cultism, and perhaps even Catholic guilt. It has a slow start, but when it picks up speed, it absolutely does not stop. No matter where you are in this book, you will not figure out the ending. You will find yourself questioning if maybe this little pseudo-cult is right, and you will wonder up until the very end about who, if anyone, is going to make it out of this story alive.

SUMMARY: Seven-year-old Wen and her parents, Eric and Andrew, are vacationing at a remote cabin on a quiet New Hampshire lake. Their closest neighbors are more than two miles in either direction along a rutted dirt road.

One afternoon, as Wen catches grasshoppers in the front yard, a stranger unexpectedly appears in the driveway. Leonard is the largest man Wen has ever seen, but he is young, friendly, and he wins her over almost instantly. Leonard and Wen talk and play until Leonard abruptly apologizes and tells Wen, “None of what’s going to happen is your fault.” Three more strangers then arrive at the cabin carrying unidentifiable, menacing objects. As Wen sprints inside to warn her parents, Leonard calls out: “Your dads won’t want to let us in, Wen. But they have to. We need your help to save the world.”

Thus begins an unbearably tense, gripping tale of paranoia, sacrifice, apocalypse, and survival that escalates to a shattering conclusion, one in which the fate of a loving family and quite possibly all of humanity are entwined. The Cabin at the End of the World is a masterpiece of terror and suspense from the fantastically fertile imagination of Paul Tremblay.

MY DETAILED REVIEW (SPOILER WARNING):

This story is fucking gut-wrenching. There were times that I had to take a break from reading for my own sanity, despite how much I wanted to keep going until all of my questions were answered.

And all of your questions will not be answered. Is the apocalypse actually happening? Who fucking knows. But really, isn't that the point? It doesn't matter if the apocalypse is happening or not - because we will go on.

Normally, I'm not a reader pushed on by romance. I could normally not care less if the protagonists have somebody waiting for them back home - it just doesn't motivate me to read any faster than if I were already hooked. But Eric and Andrew's love for each other, and their love for Wen, it was a pretty big factor in my finishing of this book in 7 hours, 48 minutes. I wanted, needed, to know if their small little family would make it out alive. I couldn't bear the thought of little Wen being without one of her dads, or one of her dads being without his husband, or, gods forbid, her dads being without their daughter.

Wen's death was a gut punch. Not a wholly unexpected one, I admit, but still a heart shattering moment to know that the little girl they had fought so long and hard for had died. And, though I do regret to admit it, the fact that she died so unceremoniously.

A gruesome death befell everyone in our story, and narratively, it is rather fitting that Wen was shot, on accident, by a man who loved her and a man who lied to her and took advantage of her trust and naievity.

As much as I feel whether the apocalypse was real or not does not matter to the story, I also can't help but find myself making my own interpretations of whether or not it was. As a born Christian, now pagan, I found myself on Andrew's side for a majority of the book.

But what is all the more frightening is how I was also finding myself beginning to believe Leonard and his gang, just like Eric.

I made notes to myself throughout my reading that I was predicting Eric was going to give in and believe, at least partially out of Catholic guilt, once that second earthquake and tsunami hit. Finding myself to be partially right was vindicating, but finding that I am also susceptible to cult-like mentalities, especially on the basis of end-of-the-world, the-Rapture-is-here talk that is so engrained into my mine, was also a reminder. A reminder that no matter how sure you are of yourself, you are not immune to propaganda.

Anyways, as for whether I believe the apocalypse or not, no. I think that it was a religious nutjob who rallied other religious nutjobs. Granted, I cannot explain whether Redmond or O'Bannon was stalking Andrew or if it was n unfortunate coincidence that they were the ones at the cabin, or anything like that. There are questions I have leaving this book that I do not have enough evidence to base an idea or theory or solid answer off of.

All in all, The Cabin at the End of the World is a gut-wrenching story that had me biting my fingers in suspense from start to finish. I have a feeling it is going to be one of those books that you read once and the story sticks with you for the rest of your life. Regardless, a physical copy is in my future, because I loved this book from front to back.

[internalsealpanic]

Mechanics of Living part 5

summary: A short conversation over an ice cream machine. a/n: This is a really, really, really late up date and it’s fairly short. I struggled with this one and I cut a lot of stuff that I didn’t think fit.

masterlist 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“C’mon Jay, pleeeeeeeas,” you whine, clasping your hands together, “don’t make me beg you.”

“I won't.” 

Your shoulders rise with excitement. 

“You're not good at it.” Your shoulders droop along with your mouth. “Why does that complement sound like an insult?”

“What part about that did you take as a complement?” Jason asks, the crate of little spigots and screws resting on his hip. He’s standing still unsure of where to shift his weight.  He looks down at you like you’re a gnat but you can’t really find yourself being intimidated by that look mostly because there’s this broad streak of grease over his nose that highlights the way his nose scrunches. “None of that functions as an insult.” You flap your hands dismissively. 

“(Y/n), just go away.”

“You’re so mean.” “What part of ‘no’ don’t you get?” “The letters.”

He sighs. “Smartass.”

“Pleeeeeease, Jay!” You say, tugging on his apron. The edges are starting to fray and you suspect it’s partially your fault at this point.  “It’s just one machine and-- and-- You owe me!”

The lines in Jason’s face harden into a scowl.  “For what?!”

“You know… the thing!” You twirl your hand. 

He narrows his eyes at you. “I don’t owe you shit.”

“The thing!” You insist, flapping your hand unsure of the correct word.

Jason continues to squint at you and you watch as his eyes slowly widen in recognition. “HOW DO I OWE YOU FOR THAT?!”

“You literally did not pay me!” You jab at his chest. “Dude, I just need you to figure out how to fix this thing and I will NEVER bring that up again. I swear.”

Jason sighs, knowing you’ll never drop it. “Fine, what do you want me to fix?”

You grin. “Wait, right here.”

“It’s like I’m going anywhere.” He groans. “Bring it to the shop floor.” 

You smile wide, stupid, and outrageously endearing. It makes Jason want to slug you sometimes. 

Jason stares at the contraption you’ve got in front of him. 

“Can you fix it?” You ask, resting your elbows over your knees. 

“I probably could if you get off my workbench.” 

“I’m not even blocking your view!” You say, waving your hand in his face. 

He smacks your hand, making you pull it away with a whimper. “Heard of personal space?”

“Are you getting performance anxiety, Jay?”

Jason’s face goes through every shade possible before settling on a deep crimson. “I *will* throw you out on your ass.” Jason snarls, his screwdriver held like a knife. You’re unfortunately not stupid enough to keep annoying him, so you raise your hands in an effort to appease Jason. 

When Jason stops contemplating murder, he turns back to the machine disassembling it. You sketch the parts as he takes them out one by one but sometimes your hand veeres off scrawling the jagged lines on Jason’s skin onto the page like dark sprawling roots. 

“Do you know what this is even for?”

“Sure,” you say, fixing a crooked line you’d drawn on a spring, “bristol said it was an ice cream machine.”

Jason looks up at you and when you don’t look at him back, he nudges your foot with his elbow. “First of all, what the hell is an ice cream?” 

“Food.” You say simply, looking back down to your sketchbook, and Jason had no idea what he expected. Looking into your eyes, Jason isn’t sure the complexity of your thought process goes beyond food. 

“Second, you’re still running around with the bristol kid?”  

You level him a look which Jason volleys with his own hard look. “It’s only for a little while,” you say, shifting a little.  “The kid’s out on his own for the first time and I thought I’d be nice.”

“And?”

You huff. “Can’t I just be nice?”

Jason sweeps his hand over the gutted machine. 

“Ok, fine. He’s got a cat. Besides, he can read and that’s incredibly useful.”  You explain; the last few words are sticky and bitter in your mouth. It makes you gag but you feel a little relieved that Jason isn’t accusing you of being sentimental. At least, not blatantly. You can’t tell if the hair ruffle he gives you is accusatory or not. 

“Where is the brat anyway?”

“Brat? Ok, old man.”

“Shut up. I’m only 2 years older than you.”

“Pffffff, whatever you say.”

He scowls at you again and in the interest of not losing an eye you raise your hands again. “Ok, ok, he’s buying the ingredients. We found it in a recipe card next to the thingy and *no*, I did not give him money.”

Jason clicks his tongue in approval but doesn’t say more than that. “No manual?”

“I wish.”

“That makes two of us.” He lifts the machine inspecting the base, then jots a few notes down.  “It seems like this thing--” he points to the base “-- spins this thing--” he points to the metal cylinder “--Instead of this--” he holds up a spatula-like thing. 

You scratch your head. “Uh sure.”

“Why is it you can listen to richie rich explain the purpose of the phone book but not listen to me?”

“I like his voice more.” 

“Pfffft.”

“You say the same thing about--”

Something whooshes past you. You feel yourself sweat as you glance to the opposite wall. That is definitely a screwdriver embedded in the wall. “Shut it or the next one goes through your head.”

With a theatrical sigh, you say: “Your customer service skills are atrocious.”

“Well, you’re an atrocious customer.”

You shrug. “Fair but technically, I pay part of the rent for this shop so...”

“I have more tools.”

“Ok, ok, shutting up.”

Jason threads his hand through his hair and cupping his hand over his mouth. He taps two fingers against his cheek in contemplation.  “I’ll see what I can do,” Jason says finally. He points to the screwdriver, poking the air over and over as if pressing a button to get your attention.  You shake your head and hop off the workbench. Tilting your head to the side, you ‘gently’ kick the chair startling Jason. 

“Do you trust him?” 

The line on the page becomes unfettered and misshapen. The screw on the page looks odd with the jagged line cutting across it’s clinically well-spaced spirals like it had cracked or broken. Your eyes flick to Jason’s neck, not daring to lower them to his shoulder. Your hand slows down and the answer comes out as easy as breathing. “No.”

Jason hums and nods as he inspects a part. 

You wiggle the pencil in your hand which is getting harder to do the smaller the pencil gets. You’re going to need a new one soon if you’re going to try and sell maps. You should switch to charcoal. It would be much cheaper and it would be easier to find. You frown. You’d need to start learning how to use it though. 

Jason snaps his fingers in front of your face. Your shoulders bunch up and line you were drawing trails off the page. 

“I need you to grab something for me.” “A friend? Heard Amusement Mile had a discount on them today.” 

Jason flips you off. 

You incline your head to the side and cup a hand behind your ear to show you’re listening. 

“I need you to get 2 flange nuts, 2 round head machine screws, and copper wires.” He lists, talking rapidly and thickening his Bowery accent (the one you could never quite get a hold of). You squint, jutting your bottom lips. “Got all that, yeah?” He grins. 

You blow out a breath and recite them back to him word for word. “Asshole.”

Jason shoos you away with a wave of his hand.

[dongfuck]

February 14th - l.dh (Teaser)

pairing: bf/ex!donghyuck x fem reader (ft. jisung cause i’m a whore for him)

genre: angst

warnings: toxic relationship, cheating but not really cheating, verbally fighting, lots of curse words, haechan is a jerk and so are you, slapping (not sexually), you’ll know when you read

og title: 748 days

——————————————————————

748 days. you and donghyuck had been together for approximately 748 days... you think. it’s not like you kept track of it though, so you’re really not the one to say.

748 days filled with fights, hatred, jealousy, and resentment. there was barely a day in a month where the two of you weren’t at each other’s throats, always finding stupid reasons to bicker, which, you admit was partially your fault.

it was always “i told you you weren’t allowed to see that guy! i fucking hate his guts!” or “go on, invite your pathetic little girlfriend to OUR house like you always do. in fact, she doesn’t even needs to be invited, she walks in like she owns the place! if she’s going to be here 24/7, why don’t you ask that whore to start paying rent?! besides, i heard she has a boyfriend? and you still have the audacity to fuck with her?!”

it was toxic really, your relationship, but the both of you just can’t seem to let go of one another for some reason.

truth be told, none of you were cheating on each other at least as of right now. you guys were just being unconsciously childish and was pretending to cheat to get on each other’s nerves. immature.

but everything is bound to come to an end… and so does your relationship.

——————————————————————

Part one

Part two

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[pearl-blue-musings]

Hi hi!!!

This is a very VERY late Christmas gift for the lovely @cupcake-rogue and I couldn’t wait to get this done!

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!reader x Kaminari (pro heroes and aged up)

Warnings: 18+, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand jobs, threesome

Word count: 3.5K

“Oi, who taught you how to drive? You almost killed us, Dunce Face!”

“It’s not my fault that deer showed up out of nowhere! Did you expect me to hit it?”

“I expect you to know how to drive in the snow, dumbass!”

“Hey!” You finally interjected, “there’s a reason why I’m driving now, okay? ‘Suki, Denki, apologize or I’m canceling this much needed getaway and neither of us wanna do that!”

Your hands had finally loosened up around the steering wheel as you had finally calmed down. The two blonds, now in the backseat, had begrudgingly apologized to each other and remained quiet for the duration of the drive up to the winter resort. This whole trip was your boyfriend, Denki’s, idea for the three of you. The two of you have always been close with the high ranking explosive hero and wanted to treat him to something nice and relaxing. The way the three of you ebb and flow within each other’s lives, something like this was bound to happen. It was more shocking that the three of you didn’t vacation together sooner but with how busy the three of your lives were it made sense. With all of you being high ranking heroes in your own right, finding adequate time for all three of you without overlapping schedules or missed dates was more than difficult. However, this time everything worked out perfectly.

About 20 minutes pass by and the three of you reach your destination. You park at the designated area and Bakugou is the first to exit the car and start unloading the trunk of your suitcases. Kaminari opens your door and gently kisses your hand before untying the snowboards and skis on top of the car. Although the intent of the trip is to relax, you all had super fun and exciting things planned! And that doesn’t include the skiing and snowboarding. Within the next few minutes, all of your things are unloaded and at the doorstep of the chalet and the three of you enter. You’re blown away by the hominess of the living area while also feeling like it’s a getaway. The partially wooden walls lit with candles and lanterns adds to the getaway atmosphere as you trudge your belongings in.

Crimson eyes scan the area, giving a small grunt of approval. They then briefly land on your figure for longer than necessary until the sight of the kitchen momentarily distracts him. Bakugou doesn’t know why he’s even third wheeling on this obvious couple’s vacation, but he just can’t say no to you. The way your eyes shimmered in anticipation of his answer had him hiding his blush at the time when he agreed. It didn’t help that your electric boyfriend had also begged and bugged him about it. He wouldn’t so readily admit it, but there was something endearing about the fact the both of you cared about him so much and wanted to include him.

The first night in the chalet is calm and relaxing, the three of you enjoying a movie by the fireplace with warm hot chocolate. Outside snow falls in preparation for the next day of winter fun. You and Kaminari are cuddled on a couch sharing a blanket while Bakugou looks on from the loveseat nearby, simultaneously watching the movie and sneaking glances at the two of you. The cheesy but lovable romcom on the screen reminds him of the days when he met you first. You were assigned to the same mission and something about how you maneuvered your way amidst the rubble and fire to subdue the villain and save the citizens, and how you chewed him out for his behavior had his heart pacing faster than he thought possible. Regret settles into his gut as he thinks he should have asked you out first. Because maybe it would be him snuggling up to you on the couch and not dunce face. However the possibility of being in the middle of that pile had crossed his mind as well. Not that he’d admit it, he would never admit to having feelings for the electric, bubbly, and cute blond—

“Fuck.”

“Hm? Everything okay, ‘Suki?”

His eyes widen slightly as he meets your concerned gaze. He huffs and returns his attention back to the movie. “It’s nothin, don’t worry about it.”

You shrug and rest your head again on Denki’s shoulder as he plays with your fingers, occasionally looking over to Bakugou with a slight frown. The electric hero has a keen sense for feeling others emotions and knew Bakugou wasn’t okay, but also now aware of how getting brushed off hurt you as well. He ponders to himself if maybe this trip was a bad idea. But then he’s met with a reassuring kiss on the neck and his doubts falter. Maybe life would be better if he was giving another blond a kiss but that talk would come later.

The next day involved some fun inner tubing and Denki and Katsuki showing you how to snowboard. You had done okay on the bunny hill but both blonds had gotten annoyed with the small hill and wanted to go harder. You’re clinging to your boyfriend for dear life as the three of you go down an advanced slope. That didn’t end well for any of you. At first you were doing okay, swerving correctly and keeping balance. But once there was a bad turn and you couldn’t slow down, you crash into Bakugou. At first the explosive blond was about to shout a slew of insults but then realizes that the body on top of him is yours and he stops talking. You’re not sure if it’s the close proximity or the cold but you can’t help but notice the reddening of his ears and cheeks as his hands comfortably hold your waist. Your breath intermingles with his and you swear you thought you saw vermillion eyes stare down at your lips. The temptation was too real as you could have sworn he moved closer but the moment is interrupted by a yell of:

“Whoa you two! Are you alright, beautiful? Sorry for not helping you!” Denki lends a hand to help you up and tries to hide his growing blush at the two of you. He makes sure to thank his friend and proceeds to help a reluctant Bakugou. Once the both of you are balanced on your boards is when you realize just how turned on you are from those interactions. You knew you were attracted to the high ranking hero but you’re unsure of how long you, and Denki for that matter, can keep your feelings at bay. With the sun high in the sky and the fresh powder beneath your feet, the beautiful atmosphere around the three of you doesn’t match the turbulence of feelings going on in all of your hearts.

With the activities of the day done, you all return to the chalet to rest and get ready for dinner. You and Bakugou had decided to put your brains together for a simple meal of chicken tenders and fries. However, knowing Bakugou you brought fresh potatoes to shred, fresh chicken to coat, and an air fryer to make the food. After about 30 minutes of preparing the food and putting it in the air fryer on a timer, the two of you return to the family area and join Kaminari who was asleep on the couch. His legs were sprawled out with his right hanging off the furniture. Crimson eyes roll as you sit on the love seat and wait for the awake blond to join you. “About what happened on the slopes—“

“Tch, ‘s fine. Don’t over think it, alright?”

You nod to him as the two of you settle on the love seat. A wave of tiredness hits you and you rest your head against Bakugou’s firm yet comfortable shoulder. The man next to you is unsure of what to do. On one hand it feels absolutely incredible to have you next to him, just the way you melt into him and fits perfectly into his side profile has him grunting internally. On the other hand, your sleeping boyfriend could wake up at any minute and get upset with him, or not; he knows Denki is a very open person. Either way, he readjusts to have his arm wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer. Did he detect a small smile on your glorious features? He snickers as he gets comfortable as well, setting a timer on his phone for the food before lightly shutting his eyes. He can’t help but think it would be more perfect if that annoying dunce face was with you two. Fuck, he really is in over his head.

When Denki awoke from the movie, he had become aware that you were no longer beside him. However, he saw the cutest picture opportunity ever and couldn’t help himself. He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you and Bakugou cuddled up together. He knew it was right, and just couldn’t wait to finally bring it up to him. Denki leans over to kiss your lips, hoping you don’t stir before he turns to the explosive blond. He always knew he had kissable lips but temptation was just too real.

So he leans in to peck him on the lips—

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

His whisper shout startles Kaminari and unfortunately wakes you in the process. You start to question what’s going on before Bakugou abruptly gets up, leaving you feeling cold. “Your idiotic boyfriend just tried to kiss me!”

When you don't react in the way he’s expecting, Bakugou practically has steam coming out of his ears. “Aren’t you supposed to be yelling at him? He was about to cheat on you with me!”

“It’s not,” you interrupt. “It’s not cheating…”

“The hell do you mean?!”

You fiddle with your fingers and rub your thighs together anxiously, eyes darting back and forth between your boyfriend and Katsuki. You bite your lip as you try to find the right words, knowing Kaminari would word it wrong. So you take a deep breath and slowly begin to talk.

“What we mean is, we had an extra motivation for inviting you with us.” Your anxiety starts to peak as the upcoming questions and responses hang in your mind. “Denki and I, we both realized that we love you. A lot. And—“

“And we want you to be with us! Romantically, platonically…sexually…”

You huff and reach out to punch his arm as you grunt at him. “Denks! You were supposed to let me tell him!”

Kaminari rubs at his arm and hesitantly chuckles, all the while trying to meet Bakugou’s eyes. The man in question isn’t sure where to look. The ground, you, Denki, the snow outside…no where was good enough to help him collect his thoughts. With his hands stuffed in his pockets he begins to pace in front of the television.

“So let me get this straight,” he starts, “you two…” he pauses briefly to glance at the nervous couple. “You want to add me into your relationship? Why? Y’all aren’t satisfied with each other so you want me to liven it up?”

“N-no!” You interject, standing up to approach Bakugou and carefully pull his hands out to caress them. “We love you, truly! We felt incomplete, I guess? And we love being around you and noticed how much better you do when you’re around us and—“

Your rambling is cut off when a pair of unfamiliar lips are gently pressed against yours. The hands holding yours tighten slightly as a way to reassure the both of you that this was happening and it was real. The both of you pull away slowly, heavy panting and the exchanging of breaths happening between you two. It was magical, euphoric even. It was everything you had wanted it to be. Even Bakugou was feeling the same way.

“Wow.” Both of you iterated at the same time, while Denki approaches you two by saying the same sentiment. Golden pupils widen as he meets crimson ones, scared to ask as he places his hands on the blond’s cheeks to pull him closer. “May I?”

The usually exuberant blond is left speechless as he lightly nods, falling into the embrace as he kisses one of his long time friends. He finds his hands resting on Kaminari’s waist as he pulls him in, letting his pierced tongue enter his mouth for a tantalizing kiss. A small groan rumbles from the back of Bakugou’s throat as the kiss gets more heated between them. You nibble on your lip as you watch the two men in front of you go from kissing to full on making out. When the two strikingly different blonds in front of you part for air, you grab a hand from each of them and ask:

“Does that mean you accept our offer?”

Bakugou smirks and kisses your lips again, taking your breath away as he does so. You relax into the kiss as the hand that’s holding Denki’s tightens in excitement.

“What do you think, sweetcheeks?”

The devilish tone in his question has the both of you looking at Bakugou in awe. Ruby eyes roll and the bombastic hero starts walking toward the stairs, eyeing the two of you with knowing eyes as he silently trudges up to the next level. He doesn’t even have to say anything to let the two of you know that he’s ready to show you how much this really means to him. You and Denki bundle upstairs behind him with giddy grins, almost fumbling into the main bedroom and into Bakugou. He grunts slightly but then quickly grabs your shoulders to pull you into a searing kiss. Behind you Denki grabs hold of your waist, kneading at your skin as he kisses at your neck sweetly. His little whines into your heated neck have you moaning into the warm and fiery lips to your front.

Once he notices you’re in the middle, Bakugou begins to grind his hips into you and deepens the kiss. His hands slide down your sides, placing them over the brighter blonds hands and taking charge. He then releases your lips and gazes over to the both of you. “Don’t misunderstand, just because I’m new doesn’t mean I’m letting either of you be in charge.” The both of you gulp as Bakugou merely smirks and bites his lip. “Dunce face, strip off her clothes. And then you get naked, too. Understand?”

The two of you silently consent and start to do as your boyfriend undresses you. “Oi, I’m gonna need verbal confirmation, you two. Do you understand?” With a snarl, the pupils in his eyes dilate as lust lids over them. Your eyes meet gold as you open your mouths to speak:

“Yes Daddy.”

“Yes Master.”

Three pairs of eyes widen in a mixture of shock and lust as the air is filled with a growing tension. The first to break the building silence is you as you nervously laugh and lowly mutter, “I don’t even call him daddy…”

“At least I call you mistress sometimes!”

“Just do what I say, damnit!”

You and Denki stop, both feeling the arousal budding within the two of you as you respond with a yes. The electric blond brings you to the bed and slowly strips you of your clothes, kissing every inch of exposed skin before laying you down. Once done, he then quickly removes his constricting clothes and sits beside you to wait for further instruction. Bakugou slowly approaches the two of you and lowly smiles. He licks his lips and steps closer and appreciates the view. “Sweetcheeks, on all fours, ass up towards me. And make sure to treat him to that sweet mouth of yours.”

You shiver in anticipation as you place yourself on the bed in between the two eager men. A harsh slap comes to your ass and you yelp in response. Warm hands grip and rub at the skin before a couple fingers swipe up your now leaking folds. In front of you, Denki places his cock at your lips, holding it in his hand as he taps it against your cheek. “Open up for me, babe. Just how you like it.” He hisses as the warmth of your mouth takes in the tip of his cock. “Fuck yeah baby, love the way you suck my cock.”

You take him in slowly like normal, but moan around his length when Bakugou licks a tantalizing stripe up your slit. Your hand grabs at Denki’s thigh for leverage as your thighs shake. The blond in front of you whines when you remove your mouth from his dick to whimper behind you. “Daddy, fuck. You feel so good! Sh-shit!”

The man behind you spreads your cheeks further apart and slaps your ass again. “I didn’t tell you to stop blowing him, baby girl. Don’t disobey Daddy.”

You nod and go back to wrapping your lips around his cock and taking him fully into your mouth. The moans you hear are sweet earworms as you press your tongue against his shaft. At the same time, a pair of lips circle your clit and suck hard causing you to buck backwards. A tongue flits in and out of your heat with a voice groaning into your core. Your stomach tightens in pleasure as you hollow your cheeks and feel the tip at the back of your throat. Above you, Denki sings your praises as he pistons in and out of you to chase his high. His hand clutches your hair in pleasure as his eyes shut and he tosses his hair back. “Fuck, Master can I cum? She’s taking me so well,” he whines louder, “please lemme cum!”

Bakugou glares over your body and lifts up, chuckling at your own whines and squirms as you feel your orgasm coming. “Not until I make her cum, sweet boy.” Your pussy clenches at the term of endearment for Denki and you slow your ministrations as you wait for your release. Bakugou slides two fingers into your hole as his tongue works you to your orgasm faster and faster. You can feel him groaning into you to cum on his tongue. Not wanting to disobey, you nod and work Denki harder as the man behind you works you to release. You moan loudly around your boyfriend as you feel yourself leak all over Bakugou’s mouth, thighs quivering from your intense ecstasy. In a haze of lust, Denki groans at his new lover licking his lips of your essence and cums hard down your throat, moaning both of your names as his hips stutter to a stop.

Katsuki crawls on the bed toward Denki to capture him in a sexy lip lock, sharing your juices and saliva. You roll over on the bed to catch your breath as you watch your boyfriends engage in a kiss. You never thought that this would be as magical as it is and it’s making you even more sleepy. Bakugou pulls the whiny blond closer to rub their erect cocks together and sloshes their tongues together. He then grabs both of their dicks and jerks them off together. “Master please, I wanna feel you cum.”

“Tch, oh yeah? Then look me in the eyes, yeah? Don’t take your eyes off of me as we cum.”

Bright golden eyes don’t leave vermillion ones as his hips buck into his new boyfriends touch. The growl in Katsuki’s voice riles up the other man as he keeps his gaze on his lover. The second a stray finger slides over Denki’s slit, his hips stutter and he’s cumming hard. “Fuck yeah, just like that baby.” Bakugou growls as his release hits him too and he slows his hand. Both men are panting heavily, Denki lays his head on Katsuki’s shoulder as he catches his breath.

Unknown to the two men, you had gotten up to grab some towels and water. You didn’t want to interrupt the moment of ecstasy so you carefully got up to get ready take care of your boyfriends. Bakugou chortles and takes hold of one of the towels and helps clean Denki up. You take a sip of water and clean yourself up as they finish up. “Didn’t even hear ya get up,” Bakugou softly smiles and whispers, “did I not rock your world hard enough?”

You giggle as he kisses your cheek and cuddles you in bed after all of you are clean. “You really did,” you speak lowly. “Now I just wanna sleep.” You trail off and rest your head on his chest and Bakugou easily rests his hand on your waist. When Denki returns to the bed, he mimics you on Katsuki’s other side and gets comfortable. You reach your hand across his chest and interlock your fingers with your electric boyfriend. Something about how you’re resting right now feels perfect. Laying with the two loves of your life on a wintry vacation isn’t something you thought would happen but you wouldn’t wish for any other way to cement this new way of life.

Taglist: @cupcake-rogue @kaysayshey @hi-rubi @katsupeach @katsukichu @zireaels-igni

[merakiui]

hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!

cw: angst + heartbreak  note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Xiao] 

One Call Away—

The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.

“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”

“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”

Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”

“No!”

Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.

But now he’s stuck with them.

“No?”

“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”

He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.

“Fine.”

And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.

Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”

“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”

Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”

“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”

The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.

So then why are you so sad?

Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.

Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.

“Is...something wrong?”

He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”

“You’re not sad?”

“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”

Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.

“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”

But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.

Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.

Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.

[Scaramouche] 

To Mend a Broken Heart—

You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.

“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”

“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”

“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”

Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.

“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“

“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”

“I get it. I’m not a good person.”

“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”

Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.

“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”

“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”

“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”

Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Hm?”

“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”

It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”

Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”

Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.

You feel the same, right?

No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.

“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”

And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.

Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.

You Must Break Another.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII - - - - Part XXIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Ahsoka watched normal space slip away with a numb sort of disbelief.

Somehow she couldn’t quite accept that her Masters would actually—she felt small and selfish to even think that this was them abandoning her, considering Obi-Wan’s life might—but still—she was rapidly exiting the inner-rim and Obi-Wan and Skyguy were...somewhere else. Even after breaking orbit, she had childishly half-expected one of them to jump out with a wild explanation of how the whole thing was a huge misunderstanding, or a crazy scheme—or—some kind of explanation. And now she was back in hyperspace, on her way back to the front, alone. Master Skywalker’s presences felt closed off, and far-away—she hadn’t even sensed Master Kenobi on Coruscant.

She hadn’t even gotten to see him...

She was startled out of her slowly sharpening melancholy by the sudden clasp of a hand on her shoulder.

“You alright there, Commander?” Rex asked softly. Ahsoka stiffened her spine. Right, Obi-Wan and Anakin hadn’t just disappeared on her—she wasn’t actually alone, and she had a duty to the men who were here.

“Just thinking about crushing some Clankers,” she replied over-brightly. “How’s the Resolute holding up?”

“Same hiccup with gravity in the kitchens during the jump—it seems they didn’t have time to actually fix the issue when we were in dock, but we were prepared for it so it wasn’t too messy,” Rex replied, hands falling into a loose grip behind his back as slipped into his ‘Captain Reporting’ voice. “A few odd issues with our communications systems, but I’ve got men on it; I’m told it’s nothing to worry about, and should be back to normal by tomorrow. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Ahsoka nodded. “And the troops?” she asked lightly.

Rex was silent for a moment. “Perhaps we should speak somewhere more private,” he responded finally. 

“Of course.”

She followed him from the observation port to an unused briefing space a few decks down, cheerfully greeting each vod they passed, all of whom radiated relief at the sight of the familiar Jedi commander. Another pang of guilt passed through her. She should have already been greeting the men, not wallowing in self-pity. They knew even less than she did about their missing Generals. She had to be more of Jedi than usual, not less. What would Skyguy think of her moping? What would Master Kenobi—

She smiled at another passing group, one of whom she recognized as a Snow Wolf. 

“Commander Tano!” he cried. “We had heard rumors—” Another soldier shut him up with an elbow to the gut. 

Ahsoka smiled harder. “At ease, Mit,” she said, relieving him from his hasty salute. “I know there’s rumors flying around about, ah, General Skywalker’s and General Kenobi’s special assignment, but I’m sorry to say that you guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Mit and the others chuckled briefly at the admittedly weak joke.

“Rex and I have to be off now but It’s a long flight to the Expansion Zone; I’m sure I’ll see your faces again,” she said with a snappy two-fingered salute, striding off before they could work up the courage to ask any follow-up questions. 

“As you were,” Rex ordered, and the Captain and Commander continued on their way.

Finally they stepped into the quiet room, door snapping shut. Ahsoka composed herself for a moment, plastering on a confident smile before turning to face Rex.

“What did you want to talk about, Captain?” she asked, falling backwards into a seat and looking up at the Captain with careful casualness.

Rex pulled off his helmet. His expression cracked Ahsoka in half.

“You don’t have to do that with me, Commander Tano. I know General Kenobi’s not on a mission,” he said quietly, voice as sad as his eyes. “Cody and I—and I think Waxer, we’re the only vode who’ve been read in on...what Kenobi tried to do.”

She looked away from that pitying, pitiful gaze, eyes suddenly burning. 

“The last direct news I got was more than two days ago,” she finally said, giving up on the act and slumping forward as Rex set his helmet gently on the table. “Skyguy called me to ask a bunch of weird question and told me...you know. I felt Master Kenobi’s presence earlier this—kriff this was just this morning...” she trailed off.

“Language,” he corrected automatically. She chuckled wetly and absently pulled out a chair for him with a wave of her hand. He settled into it stiffly.

“I found out the night of,” Rex admitted. “They called Cody to ask about—about possible toxins. I think they were just searching for any kind of explanation. They let me visit him yesterday—”

Ahsoka hunched further and Rex paused for a moment before continuing awkwardly.

“It just looked like he was sleeping—healers said he was physically doing fine, so. I’m not a medic, but he’s definitely really well cared for.” Rex cleared his throat. “In terms of General Skwalker, I, uh, got a message from him the night before it happened about something completely unrelated, then nothing for three days, then a message before dawn this morning saying he had to ‘step down due to personal failures’ and he ‘trusted me to lead the 501st in his stead.’ Wrote that he needed to ‘earn his current rank.’” 

Ahsoka’s head snapped up, intense focus charging the room. Rex let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“I commed him right back, and he said that it was ‘partially about Obi-Wan, but more about past wrongdoing’. He apologized for abandoning me and the rest of the 501st, but told me he had to work on ‘his judgement’ before he could trust himself to act as General. The official memo about their temporarily absence from the command structure, for ‘undisclosed reasons’ came out about 5 minutes after we talked. Along with the promotion of Krell and General Tiin.”

“He messaged you this morning? He stepped down voluntarily?” she asked, feeling betrayed all-over again. “What the kriff?”

“Did he—he told me he was planning on comming you once you were closer to Coruscant...” he asked, looking at her hesitantly.

She let out a frustrated snarl, chair falling to the ground with a clatter as she began pacing the room. “Well he didn’t!” she ranted, attempting to stalk off her frustration. “Something more must have happened, and the council doesn’t want us to know what! What you saw on the loading dock was all the information anyone gave me! For all I know they’re both dead!”

Rex inhaled sharply and the padawan attempted to backtrack her words. “No, I don’t mean that, I can sense Skyguy he’s just—distant.”

“But you can’t sense General Kenobi,” he said grimly. 

“I don’t have a direct training bond with him,” she replied severely. “And he’s good at shielding, and he’s usually—it’s not like he’s the loudest Jedi, you know?”

“You said you felt his presence this morning?” he pressed. “General Tiin and Krell did too, I think. Tiin seemed relieved at first but then—”

“He disappeared,” Ahsoka said quietly. “It’s like he reached out and then—it wasn’t even like letting go he just stopped.”

“Krell said he died,” the Captain reported matter-of-factly.

Ahsoka flinched. “There are—there’s other explanations. He might have just pulled up his shields really abruptly. It—I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’ve felt Jedi die before and it doesn’t usually feel like that.”

Rex shifted awkwardly. The tortugan padawan paced back and forth, trying to release her helpless uncertainty into the force.

“Do you think it’s possible they might be on a special assignment?” he asked wearily. “I mean, it makes more sense in some ways that General Kenobi was just setting up some really intense cover for himself, and—and—General Skywalker got—accidentally wrapped up in it.”

Commander Tano rubbed her temples. “I wanted to think that too...I mean, it would be a pretty messed up choice of cover story, but...I really don’t think so” she said finally. “Skyguy was trying to put on a brave face when he talked to me but he was pretty—I’ve never seen him so destroyed—I mean getting shot down on the battlefield is one thing, but losing someone because—because you didn’t tell them how much you appreciated them, or because you added to their alright insane workload just through your presence—”

Suddenly Rex was in-front of her, chair scraped back and hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been through this was Cody, and I’ll go through it with you again as many times as it takes—you cannot blame yourself for this.”

She looked away. His hands tightened. “I’m serious,” he said emphatically. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you and Cody are the best of the best—if there was any warning sign to see, any enemy to fight, you would have identified it, fought back, won. I’m sorry, but the whole high council was surprised too, and they see him often enough! It’s—the whole situation’s kriffed up but it’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Ahsoka said quietly. “I’m sorry Skyguy stepped down on you—”

“That’s not your fault either—”

“Yeah, I know, you’re repeating yourself Captain—”

“Well, it’s hard to tell if you’re listening sometimes—”

Ahsoka gasped theatrically. “Is that anti-montral sentiment? I think it might be, after special Kamino sensitivity training too—”

“More like anti-anti-helmet sentiment. Seriously you’d think—”

“I’m a Jedi and I practice ataru. Armor would just—”

“—’slow you down’ I know, I know.”

Ahsoka giggled and the two of them found themselves wandering over to the small viewport, watching stars distort and stretch as they sped along the hyperlane.

“Have you—are you familiar with Krell?” Rex eventually asked.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admitted, wrinkling her brow. “I know he’s a pretty talented duelist—he’s got his own four armed Jar’kai style that’s apparently almost impossible to do anything against, but I’ve never actually gotten to see it in action—I don’t remember him hanging around the temple much growing up, and I’m not really certain where he’s been stationed during the war. I guess Master Windu assigned me to 501st duties so specifically so I wouldn’t bother him too much for sparring practice while he’s figuring out his duties? What’s your read on him?”

Rex radiated discomfort and Ahsoka eyed him cautiously. 

“I haven’t—seen him on the battlefield. I’m sure he’s very capable. He’s not the most...respectful Jedi I’ve met.”

Ahskoa smirked. “Well, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem, right? If he gets the job done? I mean once you got a jetpack you made it your personal mission to throw Anakin of a cliff as often as possible! And Kix stole all of Anakin’s pants after he kept escaping bacta and messing up Medical.”

“I don’t mean respectful like that, Commander,” Rex said quietly. 

“What do you mean, then?” she asked, feeling a prickle of unease. 

“It’s nothing to worry about right now, but I’d—appreciate if we could talk about your...impression after our limpet meeting with the Negotiator tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Captain. We’re—we’re in this together, right?” Ashoka replied hesitantly. For the first time that conversation, she reached out to him, softly placing a hand on his arm and desperately trying to press her tangled feelings of friendship, loyalty, and gratitude through the force. 

Rex smiled, seeming to get the message. “Yeah Commander,” he responded hoarsely. “We’re in it this together.”

Part XXV

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt S5b Plot Bunny, Pt 6

By the time the others return from the desert to report an absolute bust, Lena is secured in the infirmary and Kara has hastily wrapped her injuries in messy piles of gauze.

Alex takes one look and immediately shifts into medic mode. "What happened?"

"Lena, she-- she tried to kill me," Kara murmurs. Her gaze shifts to her friend, still unconscious where she's strapped to a gurney. Despite what happened, all she feels in concern.

"She almost succeeded," Alex tells her, prodding the stab wound in her side. Kara groans. "Good news is, you're already starting to heal."

She sets Kara on a stool and wheels over a sunlamp. When she clicks it on, Kara sags under the relief it provides.

"It wasn't her fault," Kara tells Alex. Alex shoots her a look, but Kara insists. "It wasn't! She-- she tried to warn me. And then--"

"You're right," J'onn says, pressing two fingers to his temple. "Her mind has been corrupted."

"How?" Alex asks.

Kara scans Lena with her xray vision, and her blood runs cold when she locates two inorganic devices: one in her neck, the other at the base of her brain stem.

"Brainy--"

Kara describes the devices to the best of her ability. Brainy's eyes alight with understanding.

"It would seem Lex has covered all his bases," Brainy explains. "The first appears to be a small capacitor, capable of delivering an electric current. The other is an inhibitor of some kind, grafted onto her central nervous system. There would be no way for Lena to fight whatever mandate Lex installed."

"Can we remove them?" Nia asks.

Brainy considers that for a moment. "The first would be quite simple to remove. However the inhibitor is a different story. Even assuming Lex has not rigged the device with a failsafe, attempting to remove it could render Miss Luthor comatose, or dead."

Kara releases a shaky breath. "Then what can we do?"

"If we could deactivate the device, I could reverse whatever mandate Lex installed," J'onn offers. "Her mind would be her own again."

"How do we deactivate it if we can't remove it?"

Brainy perks up. "An EMP could render the device inert. There is a chance the device could be reactivated, but doing so would require physical adjustment."

"And I'm not going to let Lex get anywhere close to her again," Kara declares.

J'onn nods. He looks to Brainy. "How soon can you have a device ready to deliver the EMP."

"A few hours at most. I shall begin immediately."

Brainy goes off, and Kara turns to Alex. "Can we keep Lena sedated until it's ready?"

Alex eyes her. "You sure?"

Swallowing, Kara nods. Though partially driven to spare Lena the discovery of being strapped to the bed, more fervent is the need to never see the hate in Lena's eyes again.

"Yeah."

Alex nods. "Okay."

---

The hours pass slowly. Kara spends them under the sunlamp, refusing to leave Lena's side. Alex uses the time to fish the capacitor from Lena's shoulder, and Kara fights the urge to vomit when the small device clinks to the bottom of a sterile basin.

Seeing her distress, Alex offers her a steadying smile. "She's going to be okay."

Kara gazes at Lena, unable to banish the apprehension coiling in her gut. "Yeah."

When Brainy finally returns, they clear the infirmary of anything electrical. At Kara's nod, Brainy activates the device. The wait as it beeps once, twice, three times, then falls silent.

Awkwardly, they wait for something to happen, but nothing does.

"Brainy?"

"The EMP has been delivered."

Lena doesn't stir. Kara looks at her sister in concern. "Alex..."

"The sedatives should wear off any minute."

The wait in anxious silence until Lena finally begins to stir. Kara steps forward, taking Lena's hand in hers. "Lena?"

Lena's eyes open, rolling slightly before squinting against the overhead lights. She groans, then pries her eyes open to look at Kara.

"Kara..."

Lena breathes her name, smiling at the sight of her, her features soft and relieved. Kara studies her, and feels her heart fall.

Alex moves to unfasten Lena's other hand.

"It didn't work," Kara snaps, freezing Alex in place.

"The EMP was delivered--"

Kara pegs him with a sharp glare. "It didn't work!"

On the bed, Lena's grin deepens to something menacing, and a giggle pours out of her. Her grip on Kara's hand tightens, fingernails digging into Kara's skin like claws until Kara jerkily pries herself free.

"Nice try, Supergirl," Lena taunts. "But you can't change the truth: you're a menace--"

Alex silences her with a sharp jab of a syringe, administering another dose of sedative. In moments Lena is out like a light.

Thrusting the sunlamp away from her, Kara stalks to the side of the room, then paced to the other in furious agitation.

"Why didn't it work?"

Brainy thinks for a long moment. "It's possible the device is in fact biomechanic in nature. The nervous system is effectively one large conductor, carrying electrical impulses from the brain to the rest of the body--"

"The device could be powering itself using those impulses," Alex jumps in, catching on quickly.

Brainy nods. "It would be impossible to power it down completely so long as though impulses are present."

"So there's no way to save her?" Kara asks.

Brainy tilts his head, catching Alex's gaze. "There is a way..."

"But it would be risky," Alex finishes.

Kara stops pacing and looks at her. "How risky?"

"If we're right, and the device is powered in part by Lena's own electrical impulses, then we would have to suppress those impulses long enough for the device to run out of juice, then hit it with the EMP."

"And by suppress her electrical impulses, you mean--"

"All electrical impulses. Zero brain activity."

Kara's mouth goes dry. "You mean kill her."

"Only temporarily," Brainy points out. "As soon as the EMP is delivered, we would be able to revive her, and she will be herself again."

Sensing Kara's distress, J'onn places a hand on her shoulder. "It's risky, but it may be Lena's best chance."

Kara takes a deep breath, her mind racing. Losing Lena this way terrifies her, but in her heart she knows the decision Lena would make if she could. She wouldn't want to live like this-- she wouldn't want to be Lex's puppet.

She nods.

"Let's do it."

----

It takes almost an hour to prepare. Alex preps the drugs she'll need to slow Lena's heart, and the drugs she'll need to restart it. She collects a crash cart as well, just in case. In lieu of more advanced technology, which they don't have in the tower, J'onn will monitor Lena's brain waves to determine when it's safe to administer the EMP.

Kara can only watch it all with a lump in her throat, praying to Rao that she hasn't made the wrong decision.

"Ready?" Alex finally asks.

Kara nods. She steps up to Lena's bedside, taking Lena's hand in both of hers. She watches as Alex administers the first syringe, listening as Lena's heartbeat begins to slow. She prays silently as the thumps comes farther and fewer between, then cease entirely. Looking at J'onn, she waits with tears in her eyes as the seconds tick by.

"J'onn..."

"Not yet..."

Dread pours through Kara, filling her swiftly and completely. She shakes her head. "It's been too long. Alex..."

"Kara, wait--"

"Alex!"

"Now!" J'onn shouts. Brainy activates his device. The thing beeps slowly-- once, twice, three times.

Then

"The EMP has been delivered."

Alex surges into action. With sure, swift movements she uncaps the second syringe and plunges it into Lena's chest. Without waiting, she vaults onto the gurney, straddling Lena to begin delivering chest compressions.

"Alex..."

"We just have to keep her blood moving until the drugs kick in," Alex pants. Counting softly, she shoots a look to Nia. "Nia, rescue breaths, now."

Nia obeys without hesitation. Kara's tears spill over as she watches them work on Lena, unable to do anything more than stand idly by. As the minutes pass, Kara feels her hope dwindle.

"Brainy, the crash cart," Alex barks finally. She climbs off the stretcher while Nia breathes air into Lena's lungs. Brainy wheels the crash cart closer.

"Kara, let go."

"Alex--"

"Let go!"

Kara steps back, and Alex presses the paddles against Lena's torso. "Clear!"

Lena's body spasms as the current courses through her, only to fall limp when it stops. Alex presses two fingers to Lena's neck, seaeching for a pulse. Delivering another round of compressions, she then waits for Nia to perform the rescue breathing before shocking Lena again.

"Clear!"

Lena spasms again, and Kara has to turn away, covering her sobs with one hand. For a long moment, there's nothing but heavy silence before Alex calls out.

"I've got a pulse!"