#like its not even something that should be discussed its just. a gun is too easy to use and too dangerous

[kneelingshadowsalome]

literally can't stop thing about highschoolsweetheart!au where darling is 24/7 clinging onto a slightly annoyed/frustrated könig's arm, autistically chatting his ear off about random things like cute cat videos that she saw, dinosaurs or art, gushing about how much she loves him, how utterly handsome he's looking and that they're absolutely meant to be!! 🥺 always nuzzling him and pressing sweet kisses to his face.

until... maybe he snaps and shuts her up :// not in a nice way. maybe i'm projecting here, but i've been silenced before and it did nasty things to me. (bit of advice for unknowing peeps, don't make autistic people stop rambling, if you can help it. let them down gently if you must 💌)

back to our sheep... she suddenly shuts in. doesn't chat as much as before, slowly sticking to only utilitarian stuff. avoids his gaze oftenly, gradually starting to keep her distance, stops initiating affectionate things. she still absolutely adores him, but she's hurt, heart constricting in her chest. thinks she's doing him a service by listening to his 'request' at shutting the hell up, thinking she's making him happier. she's still itching to babble, making an active effort at stoping herself from going back to her rambling habits.

how would könig feel? react?

imagine what would it be like, if after some time of this distance, at a social gathering or something, he sees a man approaching her. another MAN!! how is this possible?? and he's... he's asking her about things? looking interested in her talk, eyeing her up and down??

would you do me the honour of tormenting this poor man for me? :33

Her ramblings were cute at first, then they started to go in one ear and out the other. König has a budding tinnitus from work and only wants to rest, but she skitters to him like a lovesick cat, climbs into his lap, and starts to talk his ear off about attachment styles and some pop psychology.

The enthusiasm in her eyes is what bothers him the most – he’s hit with envy, bright hot and red, because he has no time for intellectual interests these days. There's nothing but gun oil and gym to keep him busy. He was supposed to become either a philosopher or a fighter, but since they said philosophers can’t get pussy, he chose the other option (and still got little to no pussy), sad wanker as he was back then.

He either doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about or, he would want to discuss with her about the subjects she’s into, so much in fact that it would soon become an autistic competition of its own. But the deeply ingrained memory of being called a scrawny nerd is keeping his mouth shut even now, when he’s approaching his mid-thirties.

So he tells her she should read an actual book about the subject and stop filling her head with nonsense layman theories.

It hurts; it fucking burns, the mute, helpless stare she shoots at him. She scoots away, sorely upset, and won’t come back to him before the evening fall.

There's no cute noises and kisses peppered all over his face, no dangling from his neck and prattling away about the differences between C. S. Lewis and Tolkien; no videos where a cat tries to fish the last pringles with its paw or memes that remind her of him. There's just a broken girl and a knife in his heart, but he’s too ashamed and proud to apologize.

And so she comes back to him when he won't go to her, the deep yearning always overthrowing her pride. It feeds his self loath by gallons: she's better than him, always has been.

She hugs his middle when they lie down to sleep, forehead pressed against his upper back. She’s too small to reach the back of his neck, but she won’t wriggle upwards like an adorable little worm to place a kiss there like she used to. Just falls asleep with a sigh, holding him tight.

His sleep arrives only after hours have passed, and the knife inside his heart has finally done its duty and euthanized the whole organ.

They never talk about it: but she prattles far less nonsense to him now. He nearly breaks the silence one day and asks her about the Myers Pigs test or whatever it was called, see if she would crack open from her shell and laugh. He could coax her to tell him what her newest interest is nowadays, what makes her eyes bright and shiny when he’s away. But he’s too fucking ashamed, too goddamm proud to tell her that she’s annoyingly cute when she talks so much and that he fucking loves her for that. That she’s the silliest girl he’s ever met and if he had a hat, he would take it off every time she wanted to share another monologue.

If he had the balls, he would ask if she had all this madness inside her when they were kids but never had the courage to spill it out… If he's the only person she has allowed to see this side of her without fear.

...

He returns to the party after having a smoke – a bad habit everytime he knows he's about to down a few beers – only to see she’s engaged in a heated conversation with some other guy.

Or, the guy is asking questions, while his girl is about to burst out of her dress from the eagerness to tell him everything about some new hyperfixation of hers. Something she hasn’t really shared with him; not anymore...

The knife is still in his heart, it seems, because it twists. Violently.

He looks for a weapon to defend himself: an empty beer bottle, a knife on the table, an untended umbrella by the door; his fists, ungloved. It’s just a routine check, a simple habit that was hammered in his system years ago, and of course this is not the time or the place for violence. He just… fantasizes about stabbing that guy in the liver with some blunt cutlery, pounding his ribs to pieces until his knuckles bleed with jealousy. He even fantasizes her screams when she sees what kind of a man he really is: a weak wanker who turned into a pitiful beast of a man.

These flashes take only a second or two, then he squares his shoulders and goes to get his girl back.

“How about we dance,” he offers his hand to her, palm up like the other guy was made of air – or not even that.

Her eyes light up with surprise, pure, undiluted hope, her interest in her chat companion now completely gone.

“You... You want to dance?”

His lips compress into a thin line, his nostrils flaring from the need to either claim her right on this floor or turn and beat the competing dick beside him into a pulp.

Then her hand finds his, her soft little smile pulls him back, her eyes now shining to him and only him.

It’s a slow one, the song, and he only notices it when she lifts her hands and cups the back of his neck. Tingles shoot down his spine and send a curious little twitch down his dick – even his testes pull up a notch. They’ve fucked a thousand times, and still, she has this effect on him... All she needs to do is smile and touch his neck, and his body answers; he’s hers.

“Does this mean you like me…?” She asks with a playful smile when his hands come to naturally claim her waist.

“...What?”

“You saw me with that guy and came to whisk me away.”

He tries to avoid her stare, fakes to steal a glimpse at the other pairs dancing, but it’s challenging when she looks at him like… like that.

“He was drooling all over you back there,” he mutters.

“...Oh? So you came to save me?”

“You have difficulty saying no.”

She's relaxed, while he's stiff, the adrenaline leaving him slowly and with a rising boner. It doesn't help that she's drawing little circles on his skin, right there where it tickles and sends more pulls down his cock.

He tries to breathe deep and slow, but it doesn’t really work much. There are times when he gets a hard-on from her playing with his hair or brushing a set of fingertips across his nipple, and then there are times when he really wishes she wouldn’t do shit like this. Not when they’re at a party and he almost had a temper tantrum in front of everyone.

“König… You never dance,” she says with a weighted stare. He answers it with a heavy glare of his own, eyes that should tell her enough about his true feelings for her.

There’s a thin line between love and hate, but never has he felt this undeniable truth as acutely as he has with her...

“If you don’t stop with the tickling I’m going to have to take you upstairs for a fuck.”

Her tiny little fingers stop immediately, but her eyes shine brighter than ever before. From shock, love, or awe, who knows. Then she picks up that annoying habit again, a bit too keenly to convey any kind of actual fear.

“You’re begging for it, aren’t you...?” He comments with genuine contempt.

“...Yes?” She answers with a breath of a smile, pure love in her stare.

He grunts as if tired, then scoops her up, right there on the dance floor and takes her upstairs when everyone can see.

“You like me. Admit it,” she babbles when he carries her inside some guest bedroom and kicks the door shut, with her snug and smiling in his arms.

“Yes, yes. You can tell me all about everything when I’m done with you.”

“All about everything?” She giggles as he throws her on the bed and starts to take off his shirt. Her eyes shoot to his pecs, then to his fingers when he unzips his pants. There's no lie, no deceit in that stare, just adoration and want.

“First you have to be quiet. Think you can manage that?”

She opens her pink little mouth, then shuts it, starts to nod like a broken doll.

When he eventually slides in, the poor doll whimpers, just like he thought.

"Hush," he gruffs, but doesn't cover her mouth.

He can have a little taste, a sip, a treat... Because the knife in his heart stops rattling only when he makes love to her – he does that often, even if he calls it 'fucking' in his mind.

[rs-hawk]

Gender irrelevant, an enthused archaeologist encounters a creature which would change the known history of the entire area, and sets out to track it to its lair for further (actual) research.

Instead, what awaits them is an education in why this thing was worshipped, and why they should start worshipping it too.

This just broke me out of my slump/writer’s block 😍 TW: the Raven Mocker. Light horror smut

You have been studying the development of civilization and population growth in the Appalachian Mountains. It was always your “special interest” as a kid, and now in your early 30s, you’re finally able to devote yourself to it properly. After years of studying everything in books, charts, even occasionally going to Indigenous Cultural Centers to discuss what they knew about their ancestors who lived there, you finally get to get into the field. Yet, there’s one creature that keeps popping up that you can’t get out of your head for some reason is the Raven Mocker. It makes you hesitant, but you push through.

Of course, even as a child your mother told you about them. You always sort of brushed it off because you always thought that it was just stories that your mom picked up from her mom. It’s not like you really grew up in the culture anyway. However, in the mountains, setting up your camp as night falls around you, a shiver creeps down your spine. There’s something watching you. You know it. The primal part of your brain is on sending out high alert signals to every part of your body.

You tell yourself you’re being silly. At worst there’s some predators, but you have a gun, and a fire going. You just want to make your way to a spot where your colleague said he saw some fragmented pottery and what he thought might be evidence of a small band who used to worship something they thought lived in these woods. From what he could gather from the shards, it seemed to be some kind of deity of death. This thrilled you. Against hope, you hoped that you might be able to discover a small, lost village or band that had vanished with time.

With that hope warming your heart and pushing away the anxiety creeping up your spine, you crawled into your tent, finally able to get some sleep. Although it was against the regulations of the park you where in, you left the fire going to ward off animals. You just set an alarm for every 90 minutes to check in and tend to it. That night, you are lucky. Nothing happened. But your recklessness has caught the eye of the very creature who lives in the back of your head.

Every branch you stumble over. Every time a twig scratches your face. Every time you cross a stream or go off trail because of something blocking your path. It’s there. Watching you with a curiosity that it hasn’t felt since it had its own body. How long ago has it been now? It looks down at its rotting limbs, twisting them this way and that. Flexing its wings. Centuries. It’s been scavenging for new body parts for centuries.

The sound of your voice filling the air as you curse a rock you had stubbed your toe on brings its attention back to you. The creature decides to scavenge new parts before approaching you. Just in case you can see it, it doesn’t want to look a mess.

You make your way to another spot you think is safe to camp. That might, you decide not to leave the fire going. You feel safer. More secure. And you’re worried about what might happen if you sleep through an alarm. The thought of being why a giant forest fire sweeps through the mountains makes your mouth run dry. No. It’s not worth it. You shouldn’t have even risked it last night.

Tonight, you curl up in your sleeping bag again, dozing off quickly despite your skittishness about your surroundings. However, you’re woken up by the sound of what at first you thought was a wild hog. Your blood runs cold as you sit frozen, knowing that you’ll be killed. You have no way to properly protect yourself from one, but you were in an area not known for them. After a few minutes of listening, you see a shadow cast onto your tent walls by the moonlight. It’s a bear.

You’re not sure what happens next, but before you know it, you’re laying on the shredded floor of your tent as the bear wanders away after not being able to find the food you’d tied high above the ground. The attack leaves you weak, but you manage to call 9-1-1 and tell them in a gurgled voice where you are. They promise to send park rangers as soon as possible. The woman asks you to keep talking, but your reception is spotty at best. After mere moments, the connection is lost. All you can do now is hope that they get here in time.

The Raven Mocker finds you easily. Even more so than it would have thanks to the delicious scent of your death. It flies over to you, inhaling the sweet scent of your life force. Through blurred vision, and a trembling voice, you ask it for help.

“Please. Just, make it quick,” you ask, knowing what it is as its wings fold behind its back. Those beady eyes peering down at you. “It’s not like they’re going to find me in time.”

It looks at you curiously. Do you really want to die? It can’t decide. Instead, it walks around you before straddling your weak body. It leans close to you, slowly drinking in your life and it leaves your body. You wince, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. In fact, how gentle its being, the way its holding you as it slowly steals your life, is almost kind. Maybe its the blood loss. Maybe its because you’ve always been scared, and its not that scary. Not really. But you lean up to meet its deformed lips.

The Raven Mocker is caught off guard, even pausing its drinking of you. However, it soon returns the kiss. Its foul tasting tongue invades your mouth, making you let out a tiny sound of approval. The creature hasn’t felt like this in a long time. So long. It had been a long time even when it was a human. Its hands wander, exploring your slowly dying body, but you respond to every touch. Your cunt starts to get wet as it slips a hand between the two of you, palming and teasing it over what little cloth still covers it.

It tears the rest of it off with ease, quickly sinking two of its decaying fingers inside of you. A soft moan escapes your lips as it pumps in and out of you, spreading its fingers to stretch you out. You’re arching as much as you can in this weak state. You’re starting to feel cold, but this distraction is helping.

Before you know it, the creature pulls out its fingers and replaces it with something so large that you can’t help but cry out as it’s crammed inside of you. You can’t even look to see if the cock now jackhammering inside of your wet cunt is human or not. Not that you suppose it really matters. The creature’s wings shield you from the drops of rain that have started to trickle down onto the two of you. It was making you even colder until it shields you.

Its withered hands hold your upper body closer to it as it hunches over you, slamming its cock in and out of you. It bullies your poor cervix and stretches you more than you ever have been stretched. You can feel your life starting to slip more and more away as its talons scratch down your back, though not unkindly.

Precum coats your womb as it crams itself inside of you. To your surprise, you feel something else pushing into you. You try to shift slightly, the pleasure now becoming more of a pain, but it doesn’t let you. Instead, it pushes you to the ground and uses its full weight to pin you there. Before you realize what’s happening, there’s a popping noise, and you’re fuller than you’ve ever been. You grimace and try to move, but the decaying creature on top of you holds you still, decaying and cracked lips finding every soft spot of exposed skin as its wings shield you from the now onslaught of rain.

The cum feels hot. Too hot. Inside of you as it pumps rope after rope into you. All you can do is lay there, slowly slipping into unconscious as your blood pools under you. Just as it pulls out, you hear park rangers. The creature caws as it straights and bursts into a run before taking flight. From a distance, it really does just look like a raven.

The rangers manage to save your life, and the Raven Mocker leaves you alone. Even when you try to call it back, worshipping it for its power. All you can do now is wait for Death.

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Through The Portal: Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Ford must talk Y/n down from making a rash decision. Both must face their tormentor head on.

Pairing(s): Stan x reader (platonic present, romantic past), Ford x reader, Dipper x best friend!reader, Mabel x best friend!reader Bill x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of hopelessness, torture, mental manipulation, PTSD, unrequited love, flashbacks.

A/N: The events and ideas are based on a theory I have about the Nightmare Realm. This is in no way canonically true, just my theories based on what we canonically know about the Nightmare Realm.

“What!? Are you crazy? I would never even think about doing that to you!” Ford was frantic, he really couldn’t believe I just blurted that out so casually.

“Using the memory gun and erasing the thoughts of Bill, and what I saw and went through in the Night Realm, it might just work. I’m willing to make that sacrifice if it means keeping the rift safe.”

“No! That’s not even an option on my radar.”

“I’m aware, that’s why I’m making it an option.”

“No. I’m not doing that. I care about you too much to erase your memories all willy-nilly like that.”

“It’s not willy-nilly, Ford. I know what I’m asking of you and I know it’s a hard decision but…”

“A hard decision!? It’s an impossible decision that I am refusing to make. I’m not gonna do it, and neither are you. End of discussion.”

I sigh, “may I ask why?”

“Because, if I erased your memory of your time in there and your memories of Bill…you’d forget who I am.”

His words struck me. Was this Ford’s weird way of hinting at something? I shook the thoughts away. Ford and I had been through a lot when it came to Bill, and maybe he finally felt like someone truly understood him fully. He wouldn’t come out and say it, but he was scared of being the outcast he felt he always was.

“Okay, I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay. As long as you promise never ask me to do that again.”

I nod, “is there anything else you need from me?”

Ford shook his head, “you can head back upstairs. I just felt like you should know what I found. You and I are of like minds and we both know how evil Bill truly is.”

I nod, “okay, if you need anything from me, you know where to find me.”

We shared an understanding look for each other before I walked back upstairs where the twins started to bombard me with questions and stories again. It felt nice that they were accepting of me into their life.

The next couple of weeks were interesting. Dipper and Ford told me about their adventure playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons that was then brought to life because Stan had thrown their dice, making the infinity sided die to roll out of its case. I enjoyed them sharing their adventure with me as I tried to make sense of my night terrors as Mabel called them.

The following week I helped the twins help Stan run for Mayor of Gravity Falls. I supported him 100% as the Stan I knew back in 1973 would have made a great mayor. I didn’t realise how much he had changed, or what little knowledge he had on politics. Still, I was happy to support him no matter what. After saving the kids, he was elected mayor by getting the birdly kiss from the mayor picking eagle. Little did I know Stan had a very extensive criminal record. I guess people do really change more than you realize.

I knew the adventure this week, though, was going to be interesting. I was fast asleep when all of a sudden I was in the middle of the nightmare realm. I feared it was another nightmare, then suddenly it morphed to where I was standing in the middle of a field.

“Y/n?” I heard Ford’s voice call out.

I turned around and saw him standing there, “Ford?”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

That’s when we heard the malicious laugh of Bill Cipher. It was no coincidence Ford and I were here. Bill had a plan for us. Big plans.

“Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eye. Stanford Filbrick Pines, my ol’ pal. And, could this be, my sweetheart? Y/n? I think it is.”

“Bill Cipher. What do you want from us?” Ford asked, pulling me behind him.

“Oh quit playing dumb, IQ. You two knew I’d be back. You think shutting down that portal can stop what I have planned. I’ve been making deals, chatting with old friends, preparing for the big day. You can’t keep that rift safe forever. You’ll slip up and when you do…” Bill then shows us a tear leading from our world to the nightmare realm, and I feel like I’m gonna puke.

“Get out of here! You have no dominion in our world!” Ford yelled at Bill, keeping a protective hand on me.”

“Maybe not right now, but things change, Stanford Pines,” Bill’s voice morphs into a creepy deep one, “things change.” He then rises into the tears laughing maniacally.

I shoot up screaming. Scared out of my mind. Bill was coming, and I was utterly terrified. The thought of actually facing Bill scared the shit out of me. Bill was someone I never wanted to actually face ever again. The fact that he appeared to Ford and I meant he was growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. That was the thing that scared me the most.

The next morning I could barely get out of bed. I sat there lost in thought, I was unable to fall back asleep after our meeting with Bill. I heard Ford call for a family meeting and I gathered all the courage I could muster and walked downstairs.

“Y-Y/n? Are you alright?” Ford asked, looking at me concerned.

“I’m scared, worried, I didn’t go back to sleep last night if that’s what you mean.” I stated.

Ford felt terrible I had gotten dragged into this, but little does he know I did it to myself. Bill’s infatuation with us was no coincidence.

“Ooh, mysterious scrolls and potions. Are you going to tell us we’re finally of age to go to wizard school? Is there an owl in this bag?” Mabel asked hopping in a chair and started to go through the bag Ford had on the table.

“No, I assure you if there is an owl in this bag, he’s long dead.” Ford took the bag from her.

Dipper and her sat down as I stood behind Ford. He pulled out a scroll paper and showed it to the kids, “Now, tell me children, do any of you recognize this symbol?” He holds up a scroll with Bill on it.

They both gasp before Dipper speaks, “Bill.”

“Y-You know him?” Ford was shocked, and so was I.

“Know him!? He’s been terrorizing us all summer. I have so many questions and theories.” Dipper spoke frantically.

“Dipper’s been pretty paranoid since Bill turned him into a living sock puppet.” Mabel added.

“The important thing is, we defeated him twice.” Dipper interjected.

“Once with kittens, and once with tickles.”

“It was a lot more heroic than it sounds.”

I looked at Ford concerned about the kids. This was serious, the fact they have faced Bill. It means he now has access to their minds, especially Dipper. Ford looked back at me with the same concerned look.

“The fact you have dealt with Bill is gravely serious.” Ford spoke up.

“So, how do you know Bill?” Dipper questioned. I knew I wasn’t ready to talk about that yet, and I knew Ford wasn’t ready either.

“Y/n and I have encountered many dark beings in our time, Dipper. What matters now is, his powers are growing stronger, and if he pulls off his plans, no one in this family will be safe.”

I wanted to punch Ford for confirming my suspicions. He was never good at comforting, so I don’t blame him entirely, but I didn’t want those to be confirmed. Neither did the kids as they gasped at what Ford just stated.

“Fortunately there should be a way to shield us from his mental tricks.” He unrolls a map onto the table, and grabs a marker, “a way to Bill-proof the shack. All I have to do is place moonstones here, here, here, and here, “he draws circles on the map, “sprinkle some mercury, and let’s see. I always forget the last ingredient.” He flips through Journal 1, “ugh. unicorn hair.”

“That’s not, like, rare, is it?” Dipper asks.

“It’s hopeless. Unicorns reside deep within an enchanted glade, and their hairs can only be obtained by a pure, good-hearted person who goes on a magical quest to find them.”

Mabel began screaming at the top of her lungs. She begged Ford to let her go on this quest to get the hair. Naming everything she has done that proves that she is obsessed with unicorns. Then she mentions that she is probably the most good-hearted person in the room. No one argues with her about that. Ford agrees to let her go, giving her the journal and a crossbow.

“Y/n, you wanna come with me and the girls on this quest?”

“I actually need Y/n here with Dipper and I.” Ford answers before I can say anything.

Mabel shrugs and calls her friends and sets off on the quest for unicorn hair. Ford leads Dipper and I down to the second floor of the basement. A place neither of us have seen yet.

“If we can’t Bill-proof the shack, we’re going to have to do the next best thing. We’re gonna have to Bill-proof our minds.” Ford pulls out a device that strangely looks like a torture device.

Ford begins to turn the machine on and places the metal helmet on Dipper’s head. This must have been the device Ford wanted to use on me a couple weeks ago, but worried my mind would still be vulnerable to his torment because of my dreams.

“So, what is Bill exactly?” Dipper questions.

“No one knows for sure. Accounts differ of his true motivations and origins. I know he is older than our galaxy, and far more twisted.”

“No kidding…” I mumble, still traumatized from my extra time with him in the nightmare realm.

Ford gives a sympathetic look before he continues, “not a physical form, he can only project himself through our thoughts through the mindscape. That’s why he wants this.” Ford holds up the rift, “I dismantled the portal, but with this tear, Bill still has a way into our reality. To get his hands on this rift, he would trick or possess anyone.”

“So how do we keep Bill out of our minds?” Dipper inquired.

“There are a number of ways I personally had a metal plate installed in my head.” Dipper doesn’t believe him, so Ford taps his head proving he does, “but this machine is safer. It will scan your mind, biologically encrypting your thoughts so Bill can’t read them.” Ford switches the screen on, “now, say hello to your thoughts.”

Dipper thoughts play across the screen. Some are interesting, others are utterly embarrassing. I felt bad that his poor thoughts were on display for us.

“By the way, you two never told me what your history with Bill was.”

“Dipper, do you trust us?” Ford asks, and he nods, “then you’ll trust that’s not important. Now, focus. It's time to strengthen your mind.”

The three of us sit there for hours as the machine slowly encrypts Dipper’s thoughts. I look over at Ford who has fallen asleep at his desk. “Must be nice to be able to sleep anywhere…or at all…”

“What’s been going on with you lately by the way? You’re more distant and paranoid, especially today.”

“It’s Bill. He scares the heck out of me. The thought of coming face to face with him in a physical form terrifies me.”

“S-so you had a bad experience with Bill too, huh?”

“I-it wasn’t always like that, Dipper…Bill and I were actually very close…then I got a true peak at what he really wanted…on the other side of my portal…he tortured me…Ford and Stan won’t be happy I am telling you this, but you and Mabel were going to find out eventually…”

���W-Wait, your portal? Y-you didn’t go through with Great Uncle Ford?”

I shake my head, “no…I had made my own. I found an old book in my parents' attic. They used to be Anti-Cipherites, or descendants of some. A group looking to take down Bill. It had an encryption on how to summon him. I did, and that night he appeared to me. He showed me his equation, he tricked me with his flattery, saying I didn’t need school or friends. Helping him would give me everything I ever wanted. Including helping my friend so he could finally go home before his brother left for college….that friend was your Uncle Stan…”

Dipper's eyes widened, “h-how old are you then?”

“Technically 61, but the place I was stuck in has no concept of time, so I never really aged…”

Dipper’s jaw dropped, “s-so you knew Grunkle Stan before he was banned from New Jersey?”

I nodded, “Stan lived with me.”

[liyawritesss]

Hi! Hope you having a great day, do you still taking Arcane request. If so can you do a Ekko x GN reader where the two of them having really bad fight then the reader said they should take a break of this relationship and left the Firelight place. Didn't come back for a while. Both of them regret that decision but they too stubborn to said it.

It's been a week since that fight, the reader was a mechanic. They trying to fix something for a friend but ran out of things to fix, so the reader go out to find some supply. At that time the firelight was out fighting Silco's people, At first the reader choose to ignored but notice Ekko got injured from one of the guys that when the reader run out to help Ekko and the firelight beating those bad guys.

After a while helping Ekko get back to the try to make the wound better. The reader about to leave, returning to their work place. But Ekko pulling back, want to make up the fight before and didn't want their relationship to end like that. The reader apologize about that fight and they make up!

(You can make it a little drama like having a boy or girl got too comfy with Ekko or not your choice! Angst at the beginning then fluff in the end and sorry if my grammar bad, English isn't my first language)

ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ; ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

Pairing: Arcane!Ekko x Black!Fem!Firelight!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 5.0k

Synopsis: When a minor mistake leads a stakeout mission astray, Ekko’s choice of words has you wondering where his emotions for you lie. It becomes apparent that even after seven years, the toic of discussion is one that still cuts deep for the both of you.

Warnings: cursing, show-accurate violence, mentions of drugs and drug-use (shimmer), mentions of guns & explosions, mentions of injuries

A/N: havent written for my man in a hot minute so thank you for this request! Absolutely adore Ekko, and while I think this could be way better, i know if I mess with it it wont be as good as I want it to be lmao. Sooooo here it is, hope you enjoy! Song Inspiration: “Devil Doesn’t Bargain”, “Boy in the Bubble”, and “Let Me Down Slowly” by Alec Benjamin, “lovely” by Billie Eilish ft. Khalid, “Broken Clocks” by SZA, “like that” by Bea Miller

Tags: @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @cafehyunji @lulu-network @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @vander-affectionate @evermorewest

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The air that surrounded the Firelight soldiers as the squad returned to the hideout could be described as something akin to tension.

It was heavy, weighing on the soldiers shoulders as the squad of five hung their battle wear and accessories in their respective cubbies for housing. No one dared to speak, for fear that the unbridled temper that was thinly veiled by their leader’s quiet demeanor would be unleashed if a word was spoken into the unanimously agreed upon silence.

It was thick, evident in the way the squad members pushed through the hot and sticky summer air to hang their belongings. The hesitance slowed their movements, careful not to cause any abrupt disturbances in the carefully crafted momentum that would guarantee the three other squad members precise escape from the gear room and into the open clearing of the sanctuary, where although the air was still blazing hot, it was better to breathe than the air inside, looming with hostility.

Three would find their escapes successful, returning to their individual rooms to release the stress that had settled in their muscles from the night's events. And although they had escaped the worst of it, something still lingered in their stomachs as the distance between them and the last two remaining squad members in the gear room grew.

It wasn’t just tension. It was apprehension.

White locs were dirtied with gunpowder and sweat, a thin layer of it also coating his dark cacao skin. A deep frown makes its way onto the leader’s face, frown lines prominent on his forehead, thick nose scrunched in vexation. He leaned against a nearby table, arms swollen and toned with muscle folded across his chest as he stared at the woman before him. He was trying to calm himself, formulate the words he would say in a way that wouldn’t be regrettable, but as the events of the night continued to replay in his mind, he found his efforts nugatory.

It wasn’t just tension; it was apprehension.

He watched the woman before him take her precious time in putting up her gear. She wasn’t ignorant to the tension in the room. She wasn’t ignorant, but she knew the cause of it. She knew the reason why she was taking her time in stripping off her coat, making sure it hung on the right hook by the right tag. She knew the reason behind taking extra care in extracting her mask from her face, placing the facial ornament flat onto the floor of the cubby. She knew the reason why she was taking extra care in removing her gloves instead of ripping them off like normal.

It wasn’t just tension.

It was apprehension.

“So,” the leader’s voice echoes out into the room, the first vocal sound to do so outside of the rustle of clothing against wood and clacking of the same material against the frame of the cubby made from metal. His voice  was deep, laced with madden, restrained, “wanna talk about what the fuck that was out there?”

“Nothing,” you responded, short and curt. You were biting your tongue, the both of you knew it. You were restraining yourself just as much as he was, “it was nothing-”

“Bullshit,” the white haired boy interjects, “you don’t do shit like that and call it ‘nothing’, (Y/N).”

He could see your jaw flexing, attempting to keep your mouth closed and your resolve intact as you stored away your last glove, closing the cubby door, all without looking at him. 

“I’m not doing this with you.” You firmly announce. Your pair of feet that had been stuck in the same position finally followed your will to move as you turned to the doorway, preparing to leave the room.

“You don’t have a choice, Captain!”

His voice is booming, thunderous like a God, and it commands you to halt your movements. The use of your title makes you grit your teeth, a tight breath slipping past your lips in a gamble for reclaiming your composure.

The leader pushes himself from his leaning position, standing firmly on his own two feet, hands coming together in a prayer motion in front of his face to stifle the agitation in his voice he was sure to let slip.

“We had a plan,” he says securely, though ironic in the current situation, “we had a plan to track movement. We had a plan to solely track that shipment; why the fuck did you divert from the plan?”

This wasn’t just tension; it was apprehension.

“The fuck do you want me to say, Ekko?” You seeth through gritted teeth, slowly but surely turning to face the boy behind you. “What the fuck is there to say?”

There’s an intensity in the air that comes from the severity of the situation at hand. Both of you restraining yourselves from enacting a yelling match, attempting to prevent the inevitable; trying to remain civil for each other’s sakes. Because if anyone knew how badly this could end, it would be the both of you.

“I fucked up,” you admit, though that was already evident in the heated silence that followed the squad home, “I made a fucking mistake. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” Ekko answers imply, “no, that’s not what I want to hear. Because that’s bullshit, too.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your expression mixed with shock and disbelief. “How are you gonna tell me about what I did? You think I don’t know what a fucking mistake is-”

“That wasn’t no fucking ‘mistake’, (Y/N)!” Ekko interjects again, and it’s the subtlety of which he does so that begins to spark an ember in your core with him. 

“We been in this game- we been together- for seven years, (Y/N),” the brown eyed boy continues, “seven fucking years. You think I don’t know your mistakes by now? You think I don’t know you?”

Of course he does, you think. Otherwise he wouldn’t be as angered as he is right now. 

“I know what it was,” he proclaims, pointing at you in an accusatory motion “it was your head.”

“My head?” You reiterate, said limb on your body tilting to the side, a growing annoyance evident in your voice. “What about my head, Ekko?”

“You really gon’ make me say it out loud?”

“Yes, cuz I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

It was a lie; you knew very well what he was referencing. You weren’t sure how it was so easy for such words to spill from your lips. Maybe it was because of the suddenness of this confrontation, despite knowing it was bound to happen. You’d played every plausible scenario of how this exact moment would play out, attempting to prepare yourself for Ekko’s questioning, and the inevitable argument that would take place. Maybe it was because you wanted him to hurry this charade along, despising his natural skill of dragging things on for far longer than what they needed to be.

“I have you as my sniper for a reason,” Ekko begins, “I have you as my second in command for a reason. Not because you’re the only person I’ve got left-” a fib of his own spills from his lips, but addressing it would not steer the conversation anywhere but in circles, “-not because you’re my fucking girlfriend, but because you proved that you could always hold a chill head. That you could take the orders given. That you could make the calls when I can't.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to a point eventually, Ek.” You scoff, refraining from rolling your eyes as he lectured you as if you were still children, holled up in an alleyway on the streets of the Undercity, hiding from enforcer soldiers.

“Whatever the fuck that was out there, was not a calm and chill head. So I need you to tell me,” Ekko steps closer, the sound of his combat boots echoing throughout the tattered walls of the gear room, “what did you see that knocked you off?”

“This is ridiculous, Ekko,” you profess, “what’re you gonna do if I don’t?” Take me off the tracking team? Demote me?”

Perhaps it wasn’t wise to say such daring words to the very leader of the rebellion you swore your life to. If there was anything about Ekko that was redeeming, it was his unyielding devotion to owning his title and standing on his word. And as he stands before you, an arms length away with chocolate brown irises blazing into yours with a fire so hot it could scorch your own fierce ones, there’s a gnawing at your stomach that tells you that he absolutely would. 

“You think I won’t?”

Silence filled the already tension-thick atmosphere, seeping into the folds and making it all the more unbearable. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other in a battle of will, a common practice the two of you engaged in whenever a disagreement arised. Without an audience, the glares in exchange lasted for what felt like minutes, hours. 

And Ekko wasn’t backing down.

“Are you serious?” You muttered through gritted teeth. “All this over a dumb mistake that will never happen again?”

“It was a mistake that could have costed us lives!” Ekko bellows once more, and if it weren't for it being the second time he had raised his voice, you may have flinched by the volume it had risen to. “We can’t afford to make mistakes, (Y/N) - especially with what we do - you know that more than anyone here!”

“And it wont happen again!” You declared, garnering agitation in your voice from having to repeat yourself more than you would like to. 

“And how can I know that, (Y/N)!?” Ekko shouts, challenging your words once more, and it more than suggests to you that he doesn’t believe them. He knows you’re not telling him everything, and it irks him to his core.

You turn once again with a mission to leave, even getting your feet to start moving, but that doesn’t stop Ekko from continuing to speak his mind. “What’s so hard about telling me what you saw!?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it was nothing?”

“You can tell me a thousand times and I still won’t believe you-” the white haired boy rebutted, “because this isn’t you, (Y/N)!”

You weren’t sure for how long your back and forth ensued. Countless minutes of shouting back and forth, overlapping words, pleas to come clean, pleas to forget. This kind of situation wasn’t unfamiliar territory for the two of you. Ekko had a lot of weight on his shoulders, a lot of trauma he hadn’t yet faced, that he had pushed deep down to never be addressed. You understood, because you related. 

You both were there that night. You both witnessed the same act of monstrosity from the sworn enemy of your people’s leader. It was the very catalyst for the current occupation the both of you shared as leaders in a dwindling community, striving for peace and unadulterated existence while simultaneously fighting against the overwhelming clutch Silco’s grasp held on Zaun.

The woman you had become was because of that bastard's treachery and cruelty, who played a game that cost the lives of thousands. A woman of practicality, precision and calculated action. In this world there was very little room for emotion. Years ago, you wouldn’t gotten roughed up a little, but now, it got you a one-way ticket to the green, polluted waters of the desolate sewer system to be feasted on by the rats…and whatever other poor monstrosities that came from SIlco’s Shimmer.

Ekko knows this. Ekko knows all of it. Which is why he finds himself so frustrated that you won’t talk to him. It’s only in the midst of his grunting and growling that it clicks to him. A possibility as to why you acted out of such a practiced routine. Yet, he doesn’t know if he should rejoice about his revelation, or grow even more heated.

“You saw her.”

Three words that seemed to silence the world spilled from his lips in a breathy gasp. He knows he’s right when your lips come together in a tight line, and for the first time since the confrontation was initiated, your eyes divert from his.

You saw her.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” He asks, but is met with silence once again.

The topic of Jinx was always a sensitive one. Ekko may have been able to fool himself into detachment from the blue haired girl, shredding whatever hope he had left of recovering the old Powder who loved to go on runs with the two of you and made trinkets for your birthdays out of scrap metal and hard work. However, the same could not be said for you.

“(Y/N)-”

“So what if I did?” The rebuttal is sharp tongued and weighty, heavy with emotion, and Ekko knows what is inevitable to come.

“So what if I did see her, Ekko? What would you say?” You ask through gritted teeth, words strained as you feel the dam of emotions inside of you starting to overflow. “The same old shit you say all the time? That she’s gone and there’s no path of redemption for her? That she’s not worth saving?”

He’d never said such words aloud, but Ekko was guilty of thinking them, and to hear them verbalized tore open the same wound in his heart he’d patched up time and time again with each mention of the long lost friend.

“You may be able to let go, Ekko,” you grumble through gritted teeth, eyes watering over, and Ekko doesn’t know if its the sight of you crying or if it's the way the conversation has shifted that has him stilling, jaw clenched tightly, “but I can’t do that…I just can’t.”

And then, you left. And suddenly the unbearably thick summer air turned bitingly cold against Ekko’s skin as he watched you walk away. And as Ekko wipes down the length of his face, he knows there’s nothing much left for him to do but wait.

Wait until the air has become more bearable to breath. Wait until the tension has subsided. Wait until apprehension no longer clogs his stomach heavily, so that regrettable words would not be spoken.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Going to the market?”

“Yeah. Your bike needs a rotator chain, I’m gonna see if I can find one on the west end.”

One week. Seven days. 168 hours since you’ve last seen Ekko.

“Be careful out there. Silco’s goons have been making rounds again, and they aren’t sparing anyone in these parts.”

You don’t remember leaving the sanctuary. You just remember waking up on your friends couch after, according to them, was a rough and stormy night. You probably blacked out after your screaming match with him, and had an overwhelming desire to just get away. Your friend’s place was the only spot safe enough for you to crash at until you got your head straight.

Though, after seeing what you saw, could you really expect to snap back in a mere few hours?

“I’ll be good. They won’t touch me if they know what’s good for them.”

You left the tiny home of your friend, clad in the same clothes you had left in and a jacket you were quick to grab from their wardrobe. They lived pretty high up above the marketplace - the homes of the residents of Zaun were built into the underside of the extravagant Piltover, where everything was dark, dank, and cold. Layers upon layers of makeshift apartments stacked on top of one another for conservation of what little space the undercity did have.

Your hand grabbed the pole of the crossbridge that led from the side your friend’s apartment was to the other, and with expert precision, you maneuvered your way down the several levels and layers of homes connected by bridges of wood, metal and concrete.

Memories of parkouring as a little girl began to flutter into your mind. How you loved to best Ekko, the self proclaimed ‘King of Parkour’, at his own game. How Powder would tag along with you because she wanted to be with her friends-

Fuck, you weren’t suppose to think about her.

You were thankful your feet met the ground before more thoughts of Powder filled your mind, because if you had still been swinging from pole to pole and jumping from wood to metal, you’d surely lose your balance and come falling down the rest of the way. It was the effect the past had one you; and an unfortunate one at that.

It’s as if the second you find landing and start to walk in the direction of the marketplace, your ears catch wind of commotion to your left. The muffled grunting and clamoring causes you to pause and turn, peering out of your hood to see what was happening.

You’d always been the one to answer a call to action, so there wasn’t much surprise when you found yourself inching closer to the alleyway of which was producing the concerning sounds. It had only been ingrained into you from your youth, and had become second nature in the wake of Silco’s reign. Having a knack for helping people was a blessing and a curse, and while it got you into more trouble than you would like, the favors that you’d stocked up on came in handy.

Approaching the alleyway closer you could make out two figures standing - Silco’s men, no doubt, given the way they dress and the horrible filth they speak. Then there’s a person on the ground, wearing green.

Green was the color of the Firelights, and so naturally, you assumed the worst.

With your ankle pressing against the small knife hidden in your boot, you knew what had to be done. You crouched down behind a stack of crates and whistled, catching one of the perp’s attention. As they approached your direction for inspection, in one quick motion, you slipped the knife from your boot, took hold of the perp’s arm and knocked him into the wall. The blade made itself a home in his neck, muffling any yell he would’ve mustered out.

By the time you were finished, the second perp had been taken care of as well by the victim they were cornering. Revealing yourself from behind the stack of crates, your worries had been confirmed when getting a closer look at the coat the other person was wearing.

It was indeed a Firelights coat - a deep forest green to blend in with the shadows but still be distinguishable. The Firelight had been injured it seemed, as they held their arm close and with care, wincing with every movement of it that was made.

“Hey,” you called out to them, advancing closer to them as you did so, “you alright? Where’s your partner? You know if you’re patrolling you gotta be in pairs-”

“(Y/N)!” The Firelight gasps out in relief, confusing you. “Lieutenant- you’ve gotta help us! We were outnumbered- a-and got split up, they jumped us!- from every corner, we didn’t see them coming-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” You quickly soothing, grounding the obviously frightened soldier with reassuring hands on their shoulder, guiding them to breathe, “you have to slow down for me, and breathe so you can clearly-”

“-a-and it’s Ekko- Ekko, he got hurt-”

And in that moment, your world slows, and there’s an instant pit in your stomach that comes from thinking the worst. If Ekko of all people got taken out of commission, whatever that was going on was serious.

“...okay,” you start after your shock passes over you. As if a switch in your brain is flipped, and now you’re in fight mode, “you need to take me to where you all split from. Now.”

Your voice is commanding and stern, leaving no room for discussion. The Firelight, still holding his arm, nods at your command. As the two of you leave, you pick up the weapon that the second perp had been carrying on his back; it wasn’t anything compared to your sniper gun, but it would have to do.

According to the Firelight, the mission was to stop one of Silco’s Shimmer transports to a hotspot location known for distribution of the drug. The normal prep for such a mission was done properly, but there was an underestimation of power in numbers on Silco’s end. What’s more, a certain blue haired girl decided to make her presence known as well, and her erraticness threw everyone off square. To save face, Ekko commanded everyone to split up.

Which meant Ekko was alone, and hurt, and probably wallowing in some form of guilt, and that could not do. A guilty Ekko was not a functional one.

“We were over there when the fight started,” said the Firelight as the two of you stood on top of a roof overlooking the distribution post, “when he made the call, I saw him go east in the direction of the Last Drop. The two other soldiers went west, and I ran south.”

Two large, burly men, littered with tattoos and hardened by the streets, guarded a small cart covered with blue metal barrels, a strip of thick translucent plastic going down the side, showing the bright magenta liquid inside. Four more paced around the small clearing area, seemingly on the lookout for someone.

Six men within a ten yard radius of each other. If you were right, that cart held about thirty gallons of Shimmer. Tests done on the drug proved that it was highly flammable, which normally meant that with your sniper gun, setting the scene ablaze would be easy. But with a mere regular shotgun in your possession, you’d need an extra boost.

“Look in your pouch for me,” you direct to the Firelight soldier, “do you got any of those spark pouches?”

The Firelight uses his good arm to fish in his thigh pouch, producing a small, red sack of gunpowder. “What’re you thinking, Lieutenant?”

“We need to take these guys out while destroying that shipment in the process,” you explain, pointing towards the triangular shape of trajectory between each of the guardsmen and the cart, “the spray of the Shimmer is about fifteen yards, which will cover more than enough of the ten yard radius those guys are in. I need you to throw that spark pouch right in between the two guards on my signal. When I shoot, it’s gonna be enough Shimmer spray to kill them…but we gotta move fast to avoid it.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone looked at you crazy for such a straightforward plan. You’d garnered many such stares since you first began in the Firelight ranks. There was a method to your madness, as Ekko would put it, and there had never been a reason for anyone to not trust your judgements or plans. Despite the Firelight’s initial questioning of the credibility of such a plan, there was no choice but for him to go along.

The two of you backed up as much as possible on the rooftop to make it easier for a clean getaway. Once in position, you pulled out the gun you had acquired earlier, checking the magazine for sufficient bullets. Then, you took aim at the center of the cart, inhaling a deep breath to steady your hand and focus your vision.

At one, the world began to slow when your aim focussed steadily.

At two, you prepared your wrist for the recoil that would shock your hand.

At three, the Firelight soldier threw the spark pouch with expert precision. Not a second later, the shot from your gun rung out.

The sight that Ekko wakes up to is a pleasant one compared to the week he’s had.

The sun is blinding through his makeshift sunroof. There’s a dull pain on his side, and a ringing in his ears that subsides the more his vision focuses. It’s a great contrast to what he thought he’d be seeing when he awoke, but he welcomes the feeling of home that washes over his being.

His eyes turn to his side where he sees you, sitting next to his bed. His jacket is thrown loosely over your shoulders, and in your hands, you twirl a piece of folded paper. His eyebrows furrow at the sight; he isn’t expecting you to be here with him.

Noticing that he’d woken up, you focus your attention on the injured man. The folded letter is placed on the crate that acts as a nightstand next to Ekko’s bed, and you lean forward onto the bed to get closer to him. His hair is disheveled, locs splayed everywhere on his pillow and on his face. His abdomen is bandaged tightly, yet even the white gauze leaves little to the imagination. And the sun shines on his cocoa colored skin, contrasting against your own as you slip his larger hand into your own.

You needed to feel him, and be thankful that he was here.

“Hey, you,” Ekko croaks out, voice raspy and patchy from what you can only assume was yelling and sleep.

“Hi,” you mutter out against the back of his hand, lips pulled into a tight smile.

“Thought you were still mad at me.”

“”m not mad,” you mumble, shaking your head, “just glad you're okay.”

The fact that you’re not being snarky with him tells Ekko that there’s something weighing on you; something that’s not remorse for your absence, but something deeper. His eyes travel over to the nightstand, falling onto the letter once again.

“What’s that?” He points out, curiosity filling his patchy voice.

There’s a moment’s pause before you speak again, your voice somber and emotional; “It’s….what I saw.”

What I saw can only be referring to the incident a week prior, Ekko determines. His eyes turn back to you, his hand giving yours a gentle tug towards him, gesturing for you to climb into bed with him. He meets little resistance, and takes a little pride in how easily you slip into his side, molding against his form as you were made to. His arm wraps around your shoulders, helping you hide in the crook of his neck; a much needed escape you’ve wanted to indulge in for a while.

“Deal with it later,” he mumbles against your hairline, “jus’ stay with me.”

Resting against Ekko’s broad chest, you thought on his words. Knowing yourself, dealing with things later wouldn’t be as productive as he’d hope. You’d want to forget the subject entirely, revert back to the same concealment as before. Knowing the both of you, it couldn't be dealt with later.

“It was her eyes, Ekko,” You mumbled into his shirt, prompting the darker male to turn his attention to you, “there was something in them, Ekko. I swear there was.”

Seeing Jinx on that night wasn’t what any of you had intended. She’d very scarcely shown her face on the streets of Zaun, presumably at SIlco’s behest. As mad of a kingpin he was, he himself couldn’t deny the deranged nature the blue haired girl had. And yet, when she showed signs of stability, he seemed to allow her off on transportation missions at the very least. And it just so happened that after six years, a week ago was the first time you’d seen Jinx since the night Vander died.

When you saw those blue eyes, dulled and lifeless, it hurt. Hurt to know that the possibility of Powder truly being gone was higher than what you’d let yourself believe. Hurt to know that you would never have your friend back, and that there would never be any chance of recovering the family you’d list all those years ago.

You’d seen her, and then, she saw you. And when she did, the world slowed. And for a second, when your eyes caught each other, a flash of something came across her eyes that caused your body to react against your well-trained judgment. It was as if she had recognized you and felt a sense of…wistfulness.

Though it didn’t reflect anything of the like when she raised her gun towards you, and you had no choice but to act before she could.

“There was a moment where I…thought she recognized me,” you muttered, “but then she….raised her gun to me.”

Ekko’s chest stuttered as he released a shaky breath to your words. There’s a pause before you speak again, “Is it easier for you to just…believe she’s really gone?”

A long moment of silence passes…”Yeah, it is.”

Ekko has always thought about Jinx. It’s hard not to when her presence can change any of his plans on a whim, since he has people to protect and her mentality is as finicky as a time bomb. But Powder…he hates to think about her.

“If she was gone from the start,” Ekko mutters through a voice crack, “it means there wasn’t a chance to save her in the first place. Means I never failed in saving her, I guess.”

Your hand reaches up to caress Ekko’s face, jaw clenched tight from his own words, and when you look into his eyes, you can see the vulnerability he tries so hard to hide when talking about the blue haired girl. There was beauty in it, you always told him, though you never thought he truly believed you when you said it. Ekko was never given much grace to be vulnerable, to be a boy. He’d found that in you; so you knew it took a lot for him to even admit as such to your question.

You don’t really get to be a kid after watching the people you love die in front of you. Even the ones who still walk the land with another soul in their bodies.

You press a kiss onto his lips; gentle, affirming, and grounding. Your thumb runs the length of his cheekbones and  you find comfort in the crevice of his neck once again. When Ekko relaxes against your hold, you release a breath of air, and think that perhaps it’s best that you adopt his way of thinking as well.

Powder was gone, but at least in this hell, you had each other.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[pinazee]

Gus’s dad may have killed an old guy

Gotta gif right outta the bat! Liams run here! So cute!

I tell you what, i love the Shassie friendship here because yes, Shawn is going to mess with him by getting him something he hates for christmas, but then he’s also going to casually convince Jules to invite him to her family dinner because he knows he’s lonely.

Ohmygod i missed this part somehow! Gus forcing a vision see it! see it!

So a few things about the Gusters and how that plays into Gus’s character.

If they thought Shawn was a bad influence, then why let him hang out at his place all the time? Obviously they couldn’t just refuse to let him see him anymore but why not have him over at your place so you can keep an eye on him? Plus, Henry’s a cop… its complicated is all I’ll say. I think it had more to do with the fact that Shawn was just too much to handle as a kid. He strikes me as the type that needed to be constantly stimulated (i might go into more detail about young shawn in a later ep. Possibly when i try to narrow down their origin story). And Gus apparently agreed with his parents, so i have to believe part of him blames Shawn for how his life turned out, which is a little unfair.

I love the juxtaposition of how they treat Gus compared to how henry treats Shawn. Gus was heavily sheltered and coddled, whereas Shawn was being hardened for reality. Both are overprotective to a degree, except you’ve got Gus’s parents putting up foam guards on all the corners of their furniture until he’s 18, and then you have Henry who probably taught shawn how to swim by throwing him into the deep end of a pool when he was three. Weirdly, i think of the two, Henrys way was a little better, because even though he was a pretty shit dad, he, for the most part, didn’t try to shield Shawn from the world. In fact he was taught to observe it, to understand it.

This ep made me wonder if Gus was born sick. It would explain why they act like he has a “Delicate health and weak disposition”, why he didn’t have that many friends growing up, why they didn’t want him to go to that school. His parents are so overprotective and stuck in the mentality that he is a feeble child, that i think thats what made Gus so terrified of everything, but on the flip side, sparked his need to know how things worked, and why he has such a wide variety of interests. Shawn also does this, though. He never told Gus Henry killed his dog (henrys a canonical dog killer lol and i think he accidentally killed one of shawns pets too in a later ep. How many pets have to die before its no longer considered accidental???) and just in general he’s looking out for him whether emotionally (agreeing with him that he is definitely happy with his life at the end of 9 lives) or physically (standing between him and a gun in the same ep)

But they should be concerned that Shawns Psych business put Gus’s life in danger on multiple occasions already but that wasn’t discussed. So I have to assume Gus hasn’t told them those bits yet because he knows they’d freak out and make him stop.

Ernie freaking Hudson and Phylicia freaking Rashad! Which is even funnier when you remember Gus/Dulé keep getting referred to as Bud

I love that they’re a family of super sniffers and it bonds them. shawn seems to really get a kick out of seeing it too (probably because a family enjoying each other is so foreign to him 🙃)

U-turn Singleton everybody! I love when Gus has a little thing to go with his nickname!

Gus was really about to kick lassies ass! Dulé is killing me in this ep!

Gus being very subtle as always

P.S I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (but he definitely cheated)

[flowers-of-io]

Legacy First [the Bray family fanmix]

Listen on Spotify

//song list and lore under the cut//

Queen of Peace – Florence + the Machine

I understand you're angry with me. I would be too, if I'd watched my father come so close to salvation, only to die the way he did. Believe me-the groans and snaps of his exobody tearing itself apart haunt me almost as profoundly as the things we said over his deathbed. [...] But what I am working on here could have saved him. Could save him still.

His only son Cut down but the battle won Oh, what is it worth

Moons of Jupiter – Freezepop

“Europa has relit the fire in my soul; one that even its freezing winds cannot chill.”

I think you are the moons of Jupiter I think there's something hiding underneath the ice

Nice to Meet Me – Zack Hemsey

The K1 artifact promised me an offering. A gateway to the secret of immortality. I call it Clarity. It is waiting on Europa.

And I feel like I got a gun Like I've been changed more ways than one And this whole world has just begun

Kingdom Fall – Claire Wyndham

“Agatha, clearly we have not found our solution. I'll leave this, hm, mess in your incapable hands. Don't ever bring me up to witness an event like this again. Disgusting.”

Nothing here is shining Shining like it should

Her Father In The Pool – The National

“That's your son's quote,” she snapped. “You know, I've seen the video of his final days. That naked, white exo, just paramuscle and soft membrane, writhing in its cradle. When you were done with him, he looked like nothing more than a slug, Clovis. A twisted, limbless giblet. Did you 'support and nurture' him while you tortured him to death?”

Mistakes – PHILDEL

I know how much you've lied It's too much to discuss numbers I know how much I've let slide

Numbers – Daughter

Fine. I’m coming. […] If you tell the family I’m sick, I’ll never speak to you again. I won’t even let you treat me. You’ll have to watch, helpless, as your own granddaughter falls victim to your mistakes. I hope you’re still someone capable of being troubled by that.

You’d better make me better

Organs – Of Monsters And Men

“I activate this... and it all goes away. [sniffles] Cheers to that.”

And I cough up my lungs Because they remind me of how it all went wrong But I leave in my heart Because I don't want to stay in the dark

Rabbit Heart – Florence + the Machine

She’s done it. My girl has transubstantiated. My legacy is safe. […] The scan was flawless, and of course, fatally toxic. My granddaughter’s human form died on the table 14 hours later.

And Midas is king, and he holds me so tight And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Destroy Everything You Touch – Unwoman

“Of course you dreamt about killing us. Your grandfather made you this way. And he kills everything he touches.” 

Destroy everything you touch today Destroy me this way Anything that may desert you So it cannot hurt you

Over Cold Shoulders – Eliza Rickman

“The memory bank you just slipped in your pocket. That belonged to Elisabeth-1.”

You come in here looking for more And oh, you take all you can fit in your arms When you walk out the door

Make Up Your Mind – Florence + the Machine

If I do not survive the construction and delivery of this weapon, I ask that you share the news of my death with Ana and Willa so they can make proper goodbyes. I do this for them. Not for you. Pray for grace, Grandfather.

And although the axe is heavy It just sits in my hands

Landfill – Daughter

“You’ve always been my favorite, Elisabeth. Please…”

Wipe away your tear stains Thought you said you didn’t feel pain

Which Witch – Florence + the Machine

“Perhaps our legacy should be burnt to the ground,” she says

And it’s my whole heart While tried and tested, it’s mine

Legacy – Unwoman

The new Elisabeth has no mouth or nose. She did not consider them necessary. She'll see. But somehow, I could still see the wonder in her eyes as she leaned over me. “You're my grandfather,” she seemed to say. “Aren't you?”

The End Of Love – Florence + the Machine

“Legacy first… Elisabeth,” he says.

We were a family pulled from a flood You tore the floorboards up And let the river rush in

Tomorrow – Daughter

Repeating myself over and over, hoping something will change, but I know it's coming. Blood and betrayal.

But don't bring tomorrow 'Cause I already know I'll lose you

Lament – Destiny 2: Beyond Light OST

There was a world where we were a happy family. This isn't it. We both know it.

[nescaveckwriter]

Paintbrushes And Romance 🥰🐞

Dean x Reader

Part 6 🐞🥰

A/N: I don't think my heart is going to make this! 🥰🙈🐞

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Blood, Gore and Blood. 🙈

........

Here's your order, Julie said handing him, his coffee, not even smiling, he grabbed the warm cup and before heading out, Dean stole a quick glance to where your sitting, probably busy writing her new book he thought, going through the door , walking to the impala, running his hand over his face, his so damn tired, he thought to himself, eversince that day he got the note, he hasn't slept much, he wants to catch this bastard, and if he has to be honest with himself, its because his bed is empty without her, laying all tangled up, next to him.

Driving to his house with a CCR song playing on the radio, so that he can freshen up for another long night at the Sheriff's station, while humming to, bad moon rising, he's thoughts starts wandering of to the day he lost a piece of himself.

That morning, they made a breakthrough, gathering evidence over the past few months, from the victims, the biggest breakthrough came when they found beef yet again on one of the victims, cuts. Knowing there can't be to many butchers that closed down , and the predator will need a place where he can keep the victims for so long, they started doing some research on which butchers closed down, so after getting their gear together, they discussed that they will split up into three teams , he and deputy Jack (who was one of his best deputy's and a good friend) was one team that raided the one butchery on the farthest end of town.

Drawing his gun so that he'd be ready for anything but he weren't ready for what happened next, showing Jack some hand signs that'll he should go left and Dean will go right, entering through the two doors, the place has been closed for a while now, the moment he walked in, it hit him, the smell of iron hanging thick in the air, there's blood everywhere! He looks at the center of the room, a large steel table, the blood oozing off, he walks closer, a woman laying there, damnit he says, shock showing on his face. Her hand was cut of at her wrist, shaking his head in disbelief, looking around, is he still here, he wondered,

Excruciating screams filling the room, what she's alive, the sadistic bastard starts removing limbs, while their still breathing, quickly removing he's jacket, covering her wrist, trying to calm her down, hoping she can give them a description of this predator. By the time the ambulance got there, it was to damn late, she lost too much blood!

.........

Late that afternoon, he returned to the station, finding the envelope addressed to him, curious he opened it, first came the photos, then the note ... _She's nearly perfect isn't she? Sheriff, you where very close to catching me today, just know this I can come just as close to her, are you willing to risk her life?_

He couldn't help it, how the hell did he come so close, anger boiling inside of him, putting his fist through the wall, damnit shaking his fist out, seeing the blood on his red, swollen knuckles, shoving the pictures and note off the table.

By the time Sam walked through the door, finding Dean on the floor, playing with what looks like a diamond ring and a nearly finished bottle of whiskey, papers and files scattered all over the floor. What the hell man, he said looking at Dean, while locking the door behind him, closing the blinds, and walking over, taking the bottle from him, Dean just looks up at Sammy, mumbling I'm going to kill that bastard! What? Who? Sam said confusing and concern in his voice, showing Sam the photos, the note. I will never forgive myself, if something happened to her Sammy.

He sobered up, and went to her house, trying to not break in front of her, he revisits the anger, and hardened his face, banging on the door, he had to convince himself and her, that what he said was true, knowing all he really wanted to do is pull her close to him and never let her leave the safety of his arms, she opened the door, her beautiful face filled with concern, big eyed she stood there, he could smell the freshly baked pie, flour still visible on her clothes, with every word he said he could see the heartbreak on her face, he couldn't take it anymore, turned around and walked away, afraid, that if he stood there any longer his eyes would betray him, all he wanted to do is protect her, and if the killer saw that the two of you weren't together anymore, he'll back off.

Grabbing the closest shirt he could find, throwing it on him, he could smell her, the vanilla and orchid scent still strongly on his shirt, she sure did love to wear his t-shirts he thought walking to the impala. Just then he saw a truck pulling at to his driveway, its Deputy Jack he recognized the truck, hey man, Dean says, while Jack gets out, what's wrong buddy, seeing Jack looks like he's seen a ghost, Sheriff, Jack said I'm so sorry!, Sorry for what deputy? Came Dean's question, he has my sister Julie, and he said that if I... Uhm he strutters don't do this, he's going to kill her. Dean's searching, Jacks eyes, for any clue to what he means, seeing, Jack pulling out his firearm, No Jack! wait, let's figure something out together!, I'm, I'm sorry said Jack shakily.

Then came the noise, the look on Dean's face when the bullet hit him in the chest, wasn't anger, but sadness, knowing he'll never get to spent his life, growing old with the one he loves. Sit-laying next to the impala, he hears the screeching sounds of tyres driving away.

Thinking if this is his last breath, he's going to make damn sure, that its worth it, saying how much he loved her, taking his phone out, of his pocket, feeling the vibration in his hand, seeing her name on the family chat, which included all of them, he didn't remove himself from the chat, it was his way of keeping in touch with her. The message broke him in more ways than one, ...Mom, I'm in trouble, I got into a cab, but something is wrong, I can feel it, its the serial killer!

The phone fell to the ground, a stray tear rolling down his cheek, whispering her name, it all went dark, despite the moon shining so brightly...

[chickenstrangers]

I knew Our Skyy was gonna give us something to chew on with the architecture/engineering plays plot but this was so good!

I have talked extensively (too much?) about the Romeo and Juliet/Kwan and Riam framework in Bad Buddy, but the new plays fit really well into the themes I explored there. Bad Buddy uses two literary tragedies to explicitly create an optimistic and revisionist story of queer possibility and queer futurity.

The original show follows the story of Romeo and Juliet and Kwan and Riam (Plae Kao). As I wrote before, Bad Buddy uses multiple moments of crises (the outing, the gun shot, and the fake breakup) that specifically emulate these stories but subverts them so that tragedy is averted.

Most relevant for Our Skyy 2, the time jump between episodes 11 and 12, reflects a revised version of Juliet's faked death. While in the play, Juliet fakes her own death and Romeo is deceived, in Bad Buddy, Pat and Pran are both in on the trick, pretending to be dead (broken up) to the outside world while continuing to be together. So this is the moment in time where we find ourselves now.

But now we bring in two additional literary references (yes, one of them is P'Aof's own show, but I am treating it as a literary text in its own right). Both of these texts nuance the original Romeo and Juliet story line.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is a fairy tale. Unlike Romeo and Juliet, it has a happy ending, even in the Grimm version. But just like in Romeo and Juliet, it has a false death when Snow White eats the poisoned apple. Just as in Shakespeare's play, people believe her to be dead, putting her in a coffin.

If we take the time gap in episode 11 and 12 as the scene when Juliet has taken the poison and appears dead, these two episodes take place in a very liminal moment between life and death. Like Juliet, Pat and Pran give the appearance of death (that they have broken up), but they are both in on the deception.

The death motif continues into the Snow White allusions as well. They explicitly discuss Snow White's coffin, with Pran playacting as dead. The show is deliberately bringing focus to this part of the story. The four year gap takes place during both Juliet and Snow White's false deaths.

It's also significant how Snow White is buried. She still looks so alive that the dwarves cannot bear to bury her in the earth; instead they put her in a glass coffin. Here she can be seen in her state of death. The glass coffin is analogous to the glass closet that Pran and Pat are in. Many people know or at least strongly suspect that they're in a relationship. Even in the Bad Buddy finale, we see that the parents know even if they're not ready to acknowledge it yet. Pat and Pran are both Snow White, pretending to be dead, their false death on display.

And then we have the A Tale of a Thousand Stars play, which we learn is based on a true story and written by Tian, so presumably it follows the events of the show.

ATOTS is also not a tragedy, but it too inhabits a liminal space, playing with the idea of life and death. Tian nearly dies at the beginning of the series due to heart failure, but like Juliet and Snow White's, it is a false death.

Tian's story is about learning to live again, learning to not feel guilty for his life. He gets a second chance at life, but in his chest beats the heart of a dead girl. Throughout ATOTS, Tian's mortality is a looming question, as he keeps pushing himself harder than someone who just had a heart transplant really should. But being in the mountains is the first time Tian gets to really feel alive.

All of these stories are about death to an extent. Romeo and Juliet and Plae Kao end in both the lovers' deaths. Bad Buddy the series subverts these deaths, refusing to end in tragedy. Now in Our Skyy, we see Bad Buddy specifically aligning itself with stories that have happy endings. Even in this illusion of death, Pat and Pran are living.

I talked before about genre awareness in Bad Buddy, and especially episode 12 is about Pat and Pran taking control of their own narrative, choosing to not become Romeo and Juliet or Kwan and Riam. They break the fourth wall when they narrate in voiceover how they have been dating in secret. This is the exact same voiceover that is used at the start of Our Skyy! Pat and Pran get to tell their own story, subvert the genre conventions of tragedy and romance, and live their life as they want to.

And now we have Tian and Phupha telling their own story as well. Tian apparently wrote it down, and a central tension surrounds whether or not to give away the rights to their narrative, wanting whoever else tells it to tell it with care. Both these shows are about the characters taking control of their own stories, queering the narrative.

When given the choice about which stories to tell, which plays to put on, this time Pat and Pran don't want to tell a tragedy. They want to tell a romance.

[herrlindemann]

Sonic Seducer - September 2004, interview with Till and Flake - part 1

Thanks to ramjohn for the scans!

For a long time it was quiet around frontman Till Lindemann's scandalous, muscle-bound troupe, who completely cut themselves off from current music events after their last album 'Mutter' and, apart from the DVD 'Lichtspielhaus' at the end of last year, didn't let anything be heard of themselves.

But from July 26, the Berlin Neue Deutsche Härte flagship rockers will break their strict news ban with their single 'Mein Teil' and the fourth album that will follow at the end of September, in order to once again put the tolerance limits to a hard test after their abstinence and in domestic bourgeois idylls again blowing the deer antlers, cuckoo clocks and dusty Spitzweg oil ham with their bombast metal from the oak paneled walls.

Rammstein are back — with a vengeance! For a good year and a half, singer Till Lindemann, drummer Christoph Schneider, keyboarder Christian 'Flake' Lorenz, guitarists Richard Kruspe-Bernstein and Paul Landers as well as bassist Oliver Riedel have holed up with regular producer Jacob Kellner to work on Album number 4 (whose ultimate title at the time was not 100% certain when this issue went to print, after having already discarded working titles such as 'Reise, Reise' or 'Das rote Album') to go into group dynamics intensively, to collect oneself and to discuss the impatiently awaited successor to the controversial one in Stockholm, completely undisturbed 2001's chart-busting ‘Mutter’ to work. The fact that a lot has happened in the meantime with the notorious Provo Rock pyromaniacs from the Spree can now be clearly heard on the first single release 'Mein Teil', with which Rammstein, after numerous heated discussions, settled for artistic freedom , good taste, piety or political views in the past once again best recommend as probably the most controversial and most polarizing German band of the hour: In the usual ambiguous manner, 'Mein Teil' invites you to a macabre feast, the source of inspiration from the sensational cannibal murder trial of Rotenburg is fed in the middle of last year. After its successful general overhaul, the battleship Rammstein is once again tackling all existing conventions and moral concepts - and it's not just musically that you shoot out of all guns, as Till and Flake, who lined up for the six-eyes talk, make clear in great detail in our multi-part interview.

However, the Berlin command center is not aware of any concerns about finally breaking the bank with his calculated taboo. Fire free for Rammstein: "I wouldn't expect anyone to get upset about 'Mein Teil'. Making a song about something that really happened is the most normal thing in the world to me! Nobody complains to the spokesman for the Tagesschau either, what horror reports he reads again”, says Flake indignantly. "Of course people will get upset again — whether I understand it now or not," Till Lindemann, in the past rather reluctant to be interviewed, also intervened. “With the last album, the headline in BILD was about us: 'Disgusting - dead baby as record cover! This band should be banned!' I was really happy about that and thought for the first time: We've really made it... I think there will be something really, really bad to read about us this time too... “ (smiles). And even with songs like 'Mein Teil', 'Daila Lama (Fear of Flying)' or 'Amerika' the chances of a respectable repeat success in terms of page 1 scandal band are more than good. Since the release of the 1995 debut 'Herzeleid', the blameless average citizen has had a highly allergic reaction to the distorting mirror held up by the widely misunderstood metal satirists and will presumably also react to the new tracks about plane crashes, the Iraq war or masturbation of any kind of humor or Traditionally closed to sarcasm. Entertainment or derailment - as with all uncomfortable artists, the crucial question, the answer to which each listener must be left to themselves against the background of great art. “Actually, you can go just a little bit deeper into the subject matter of the individual songs, read the lyrics or take a look at us, you can't misinterpret Rammstein - unless you're really really stupid!” “Or malicious,” adds Lindemann. “I very often have the feeling that Rammstein is dragged through the dirt with spiteful superiority! I do not know why. There is absolutely nothing to misunderstand with us.”

Such discussions have been held too often and for too long in the past, against more or less unfounded accusations, false suspicions and nasty slander, for one to still feel any great desire today to explain oneself and one's texts to the masses like a mantra . Although, as in the case of some of the content on the last album, this seems to have been a matter of urgency for some. Rammstein is undoubtedly one of the very few German/German-singing bands whose lyrics and forms of expression make you reflect and question them, as Till Lindemann's very own (thought) world and lyrical expressionism are not always easy to understand; the quirky, deep black humor and latent sarcasm are not always immediately apparent and misunderstandings seem to be inevitable. “Many will once again not understand it and will be terribly outraged at us... But you simply cannot change the world, and so we don't care anymore! Let them get upset with us as much and for as long as they want!” That the relationship between Rammstein./. While the general public is irreparably shattered, Flake also has to admit: "One example: I don't like Daniel Küblböck either, but I would never scold him or call him an asshole or a spasm. He gives me no reason to get upset with him and no one forces me to listen to his music either! That's why I can't understand why people complain about us — we don't force anyone to listen to our records either! If people don't bother to find out what our songs are about and if we possibly do things, then they have no right to judge us!”

“It's getting on our nerves so much now, talking about these stories over and over again, discussing it, evaluating everything... - our success simply proves us right! However, the fun stops at these malicious things: If the press writes things that we didn't say, or cuts our statements together incorrectly, then there's a bomb in the leg, as is well known, someone must have noticed that painfully (a few years ago Rammstein played on at a festival, they 'pranked' the then MTV program executive by tying him to a chair and tying a smoke grenade to his leg because the TV station had spread falsehoods about the band). That's just the last thing for me, you just don't do that! Then the journalists should just pull something out of their fingers and write about us in their newspapers and just leave us alone! But if you meet face to face and it is then distorted or lied to afterwards, then it's on the mouth!” Unmistakably clear words from Till Lindemann, who, however, cannot really deny that the cultivated middle-class household shock effect has always been a more or less important part of Rammstein's artistic identity.

With the tongue-in-cheek to sarcastic anti-USA song 'Amerika', they venture into completely unknown territory for the first time; This time, Rammstein pull the manic national pride and the almost totalitarian American Way Of Life hysteria of the American throwaway culture through the cocoa in an almost cabaret manner.

In the past they repeatedly emphasized that they wanted to do without deeper messages in their songs, but this time they seem to be making an exception. “We don't transport a message in 'Amerika', but state facts and facts in a slightly sarcastic way. We dealt a lot with the Iraq war at the time of writing the song and felt that now was the time to say something about it.” Flake adds: “Everyone is quite outraged by the lyrics and asks us how dare we suddenly say something about politics. (laughs). We tried to make a song that sounds very positive and beautiful at first and which is also in a little bit of English so that Americans would be happy! We look forward to the moment when Americans think they're being courted and that Rammstein also ended up writing an anthem to America and that everyone — even Rammstein — would end up loving it now. We think it's a great gag, since anyone who listens to the song more closely will immediately understand what the lyrics are actually about. When it comes to the live implementation of 'Amerika', I could very well imagine that we will drop a few bombs, you could do a great job here with pyro and airplanes...” Rammsteiner-style humor, with many a politically correct joker saying this this time too Laughter should get stuck in your throat...

But it gets even funnier: The second part of our big Rammstein interview will follow in the next issue! No animals had to suffer for this photo session. It is a photomontage.

[sothischickshe]

Up for a discussion question? If we’d gotten a full season three as intended, what would you have expected/liked to see from Beth and Rio?

Hey sweetie, I'm always up for a discussion question danke 🙇🏼‍♀️🥰❤️

I stand by what I said once re what i'd've liked to see from s3, particularly: the full s3 😭😭, whatever their vision for that was, so I could judge it on its own merits!! It remains a very romantic concept to me, bc while I certainly have my issues with other plots in s3 (terrible therapist, donor family, here's a hitman let's give him all our money woo, dean's salesman shenanigans & boring affair with gale etc) the angsty messy sexy brio scenes were soooo delicious 🥺🖤 and then while I understand s4 had a lot to reset from/deal with, s4 (b)rio frequently doesn't make all that much sense to me 🤷🏼‍♀️

but also! i finally started posting a fic which is kinda about that? (rio pov, post s3, eventually very long etc). so im gonna say a lil more (thus warning: minor fic spoilers) behind the cut...

....but this thing keeps moving where i put the readmore?!

how do u make a website this bad. um anyhow

pay-off to the boring dean/gale stuff!! helllooooo beth and dean both sleeping with their bosses?! hilarity goldmine no?!

MORE RHEA. like you can't just introduce a character beth's having a quasi-romance with & rio's presumably had an actual one with, who's seen them both at their softest and uncovered worstnesses, and is surely best placed to comment on say their similarities and then do nothing with it???

beth and rio yelling at each other. surely this was coming??

not ending on that next time empty the clip line (which i don't like) / wrapping up the hitman plot

given the (sudden!) arrival of nick in s4 and depressing rio backstory, i'd've loved some suggestion that rio was like consciously paralleling nick & beth's betrayals of him & considering them as similar and/or that his mentoring of beth had something to do with even the vaguest of plans to extricate himself from nick (plus Revenge) etc

like. acknowledgment and processing of trauma???

weird angsty sex

more brio bar scenes, more brio drinking, more brio laughing (at each other)

if not the furniture return, then at least it being more a topic of conversation...like how wasnt it? beth pitching ideas for earning the return (at least of her kids' stuff??) or rio holding it over her head or at least him going on abt how much he's enjoying her lamps or something!

death divorce. the show held this over our head for far too long. i also like this being decoupled from the brio stuff as much as plausible. beth needs to divorce dean not bc she's interested in rio but bc dean is the worst.

plenty of boland bubbles, that spot lasted abt 0.4 seconds after we sat through all that dean nonsense... we should have at least got rio testing out an empty hot tub cos he doesnt know theyre supposed to have water in or something.

inordinate amounts of brio bickering

ending of hitman/plot consciously paralleling s1 and 2 finales, even if it wasn't literally beth + rio + some man + a gun (ideally with some rationale as to how rio finds said hitman, whether or not that was a reveal of his magical powers)

Incentive Convo Callbacks (also rio vs sushi like a million more times, pls)

scars.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 36 of Harrow the Ninth

I've spent most of Saturday entering 145 of my ~200 sims into a new family tree program, which is sort of like the mental equivalent of stimming, but I think it's time to take a break and do more Locked Tomb liveblog

The symbol on this chapter is, I gather, meant to be a Herald, or possibly something else that's resurrection-beast-adjacent. Also, we are at one week before the prologue, now, if we can trust these chronological notes

Harrow has an absolutely massive case of Former "Gifted Child" syndrome, but she's only 18

She's one week away from probably dying while fighting a resurrection beast and she's way more worried about who is betraying John. It's also interesting how she compares her various experiences to decide whether or not something was a hallucination

I kind of wonder if at some point she is going to come to the conclusion that BOE can perform resurrections, since she saw three apparently resurrected (based on her memories of them) people, who claimed to be with BOE, or if that would be too sacrilegious an idea for her

First of all, what does "G" stand for in "J. G."? If John has a cavalier, I'd expect it to be A.L., or possibly the soul of Earth, not someone whose name starts with G

Second of all, why do they have callsigns? The purpose of callsigns (at least in ham radio, anyway) is to uniquely identify each individual radio geek, communicate their position in the radio geek hierarchy (and thus what frequencies they have access to, etc.), identify where they are from, and be relatively short because Morse Code is pretty verbose. But they are communicating in spoken language here, there's no reason for them to use Morse Code or a similar system, so there's no reason for them to shorten their names. Also, if this really is meant to be English, enunciating single letters over radio in English is notoriously prone to miscommunication due to how similar a lot of letter names sound, and for the purpose of being clear while doing this the NATO phonetic alphabet was invented, if you're actually going to do a radio thing in spoken language, you should be saying "Juliet Golf" instead of "J. G.", etc. Anyway, in addition to all this, this system is not even guaranteed to create a unique callsign for each Lyctor, it happens that all of these are unique, but that's just an accident. Goddammit, this pisses me off and I'm not even a real radio geek, I was just raised by radio geeks

So I'm guessing the resurrection beast/herald fear aura is directly related to guilt over the indelible sin, which makes sense if they specifically pursue people who committed the indelible sin. I believe when they were discussing how BOE hunted down a herald in order to make it into herald bullets (which I now retroactively realize means that BOE must use guns) they said that it affected all necromancers, so I wonder if it's more generally about gaining power from death

Also "it knows what you did to its kin", maybe referring to John consuming the soul of Earth? Or locking it in the Tomb? I'm not sure anymore

I mean, I think the Body going away probably has to do with the resurrection beast and not with Harrow, but haha, poor Harrow

You know, I've heard non-Americans complain that saying "Not!" after a sentence in this way is an Americanism, so I'm surprised to see this here. Or maybe it's only here to emphasize how grating Mercy's lecture is?

Is this a reference to the "it's for a church, honey, next!!" lady?

I know this is supposed to be a "Mercy is not fun at parties" thing, but honestly I feel this

I was curious how far that actually was, it turns out that is 33 and a half astronomical units. Yeah, that's pretty far away

That 2,000 kilometers is a mere 1 2.5 millionth of the total distance of 5 billion kilometers, though. I would think just covering that whole distance in a reasonable amount of time would be harder? Supposedly they don't have access to the stele system out here

This is the "Sex Pal" moment of this book, isn't it? I have no actual idea if John is lying about the peanuts or not, but I love the idea of Mercy just fuming over this one peanut incident for a significant part of 10,000 years

Also, the way describes this fantasy exchange between her and John feels like a bible story to me. Is it just me?

Ok, so this is interesting, because Number One has been mentioned, which means that if the beasts are numbered according to the way the Houses are numbered, then Earth can't be the missing beast. Previously we had only heard about Two, Six, Seven, and Eight, now we are up to One, Two, Four, Six, Seven, and Eight, which leaves Three, Five, and Nine. John said at the beginning of the book that there were three left to defeat, one of which is obviously Seven, and I guess the remaining two are Three, Five, or Nine. I wonder if the beasts are instead numbered based on their order from the sun, which would make Earth Three? That would make Seven actually be Uranus, which does match up with the 50,000 kilometer in diameter number from earlier, but I thought the point of that number was that the resurrection beast was supposed to be bigger than the original planet?

Does north/east/south/west even have any meaning in space, or in the River, without the presence of a magnetic field? I mean, the resurrection beast is a planet, so it might have a magnetic field, but we've established that they will not be attacking its actual body

Is this actually some missing information about what the fuck Mercy's powers even have to do with the rest of the Eighth House, or is Augustine just saying things to be saying things?

I wonder if it actually turns out to be something different, seeing as John literally has no intel on it

Also, you definitely do believe in sin, like, I don't think the concept of sin is necessarily universal across all religions, but it's definitely a big part of this one, necrophilia has been mentioned as a sin, we also have the indelible sin, and Mayonnaise Uncle definitely seemed to feel like some things were sins back in Gideon the Ninth

[lpsgirl109]

Ok but since we're all gonna die (/ref) can we actually discuss how kind of insane it is how little sm:mm matters to the overarching storyline of the insomniac universe

Like I genuinely believe if you were to erase the game from the timeline entirely, the only person this would affect is Aaron. Not even Miles. Aaron. That's it. The game is so insignificant that the main character of the game wouldn't change at all if it never happened. And that's really absurd when you consider how genuinely traumatic the events of sm:mm would be to Miles. Imagine you're tasked with protecting the city on your own for like a week and in that time, this mafia terrorist group pops up and starts causing shit, you find out your best friend is leading it, a whole ass gun war breaks out in the streets that definitely killed several innocents, and said best friend gets blown up. By you. You blew up your best friend. And you're telling me none of this matters to Miles in msm2??

and like I'm not even saying that the events of that game should've been a Huge major focus in this one. Obviously the game should focus more on the current story its trying tell than past events. But like. God. SOMETHING to acknowledge it happened at least. And no, various easter eggs around the map that you could go the entire game without ever finding don't count.

This is why it irks me so much that Phin was excluded from Miles's nightmare sequence, the scene in which he's being tormented by fake versions of all the people he feels like he failed. I really feel like the childhood best friend That He Blew Up would've fit perfectly there. And I've said this before but the only excuse I'm accepting for her not being in that scene is that Jasmin Savoy wasn't available to do it, because at least at that point its kind of out of the writers' hands. Otherwise it really feels to me like Insomniac just didn't care enough.

I also don't wanna hear any "Well maybe they don't wanna acknowledge sm:mm because it's badly written!! Maybe they don't wanna talk about Phin too much because she was badly written!!" Because. Really? You're gonna pretend the game about your black protagonist didn't happen just because it wasn't very good? The game that YOU didn't write very good? That just feels like excuses. Like, I agree that sm:mm wasn't written very good!! Absolutely!! But that's no reason to skip out on potential character arcs for Miles, especially when he, the black protagonist of these games, already gets pretty sidelined in favor of the white protagonist

My biggest hope for msm3 is that Miles's arc in that game centers around overcoming the trauma of like, Everything he's gone through thus far. He's already pretty much tackled what happened to his dad, now it's time for him to face everything else. And I think we already have the perfect set up for this, considering he's been left in charge of the city again, and the last time this happened everything went to shit in the worst ways possible. Have it be something about how the whole Underground Roxxon incident makes him doubt if he has what it takes to handle everything on his own again, and with the help of everyone he loves, he learns to push past all of that and feel more confident in himself. My awesome buddy @fun-k-boards also mentioned once that having Cindy as a potential step sister now could remind him a lot of his relationship with Phin, and I think that's a really sweet way to not only work Phin into the story but give Cindy a lot of significance to Miles's story

Honestly I just. Really hope msm3 makes this game significant to the story again. Like can we please all agree how wild it is that sm:mm doesn't really matter to anything at all

[vesperpharsalius]

speaking of darrow and cassius at the gala, i think i’ve found a comment from you on reddit (i think that was you, the name and the pfp were the same, if not then apologies because this will be nonsense😭) on one of the countless discussion on cassius and mustang at the gala together. the majority of the people were just bashing mustang for being with cassius (average level of reddit misogyny) but you (if that was you) said something on how it felt incomplete that mustang pov was never properly addressed concerning that moment. i do agree with you but on the other side it’s funny how that scene got people screaming crying throwing up on reddit for the “love triangle”, calling mustang a bitch and cassius a dickhead, then in lb you have cassius and darrow for no reason at all “hey do you remember the gala? lol”

it’s such a dassius moment i think pierce has forgotten mustang was there too

Thanks for the ask!

It was me! Honestly, I’d be surprised if someone else was ever using my username, because it’s referencing an original character from my own book, which I haven’t published or teased or even talked that much about, online—so, it’d be a little spooky.

But yes, I remember—that upsurge of interest in the Mustang x Cassius after LB came out. I was fairly new to the subreddit, not yet accustomed to its brain–dead takes (There I was, trying to have a thoughtful discussion about their relationship; after a few days of wading through, I went ahead and jumped into the pond, like the silly little goose I am.) but one thing that astonishes me is how many people believe that Darrow and Cassius were fighting over Mustang, that PB introduced a love–triangle here, because that is just… so wrong. Literally, refuted multiple times—before, during, and after. 😩

Of course, there’s countless undercurrents and nuances and juicy tensions and delicious little conflicts throughout the whole episode, but one thing made abundantly clear—and she literally complains about this—is that Mustang’s being ignored. She tries to defuse the situation (which, as far as she knows, is wrecking her otherwise–successful schemes to save her family) but she keeps getting sidelined, especially by Darrow, who’s blind and deaf to her—to everyone, really, except for his bad man.

I’m not saying that Mustang didn’t play a significant role at the Gala—hell, she saved Cassius. But she’s definitely on PB’s back–burner here. Dassius, though? My God, there’s simply too much (flirtatious?) banter in this chapter to cover, but I would be remiss not to mention this—

I cock my head at him. “Come now, brother. Don’t you want to see how well I can really fight?”

And this? What is this?! This loaded–fucking–gun of UST?

Women are screaming for Cassius. Lovers he has had in his youth, who now watch the man they grew with, the man who bedded them, left them with false promises, and made them think they'd just lost the strongest of a generation. They watch as another man turns him into a throbbing mess of blood.

Bonus points for this banger, which still makes me swoon, even in–context—

“You will not steal what is mine.”

All this to say, I’m Pro–OT3, but this is a Dassius Moment. It has disaster–date vibes in LB, as it should.

[dangerdodger]

hello! i’m one of the readers of fish in the sea. sad to see it’s being discontinued. did you and the other writer have any outline for how you wanted it to go? would you be okay with someone completing it after it’s been orphaned?

Hi! I'm sorry we never got to finish it before things went south, but I think that's the nature of fanfic sometimes. An open-ended thing that you have to decide the ending for yourself.

HOWEVER there was a very rough outline for the story.

This is Basically what we had in mind:

Reader was going to get tangled up in a cuddle puddle with the three guys. Wakes up at some point, tries to get out because they're sleeping, but Azul's suckers are like glued to them. Floyd would scare the shit out of Reader, but then explains how to coax the tentacles of. Reader would be panicky about him being awake, for obvious reasons lmao. Floyd would turn on the rizz and be like "Actually let's go for a little trip!" and would "sneak" them out of the cave. They'd need to drink another potion, but they'd fight it. Not sure what we meant but REVERSE CPR TERRIBLE is bolded in the doc so whatever that means! They go outside and swim around with Floyd being a charming little creep showing them cool ocean stuff like reefs and fish and whatever. I wrote "HOLDING HIS HAND GIGGLES." Truly something I should have written purely for myself. They'd meet a whale by the end of the chapter and they swim up to. However, the whale would have put its fin between Reader and Floyd, like warning Reader that yeah he might be charming for this little outing but even this creature recognizes he's a dangerous predator. Floyd would be >:[ about it and go "Gotta get back before the other two realize we sneaked out :>"

Basically following that plot line Floyd would be the most physical out of the three, but also the one who gives Reader the most freedom. They would have a very intense relationship.

We had a couple of Jade scenes planned too. Mostly along the lines of him being the "answers" of the group. In a very manipulative way. We planned on him being the indoctrination part of the process. The relationship with Reader was going to be very, hm, "Poor thing, come here I'll make it better" while making it much, much worse.

For Azul he was planned to be the golden cage trope. Reader was going to be his precious doll who adored him. Whatever they wanted (within reason of course, there are thing's Azul cannot provide — like letting them leave) he would have gotten it for them. This would backfire because then Azul would be making demands, citing everything he's done for them.

The midpoint of the story was going to be dramatic and full of action/consequence. Reader was going to use the flare gun. Which would have been seen by Jack and Ace, and under Azul's watch they were going to escape. Like get out and almost be found escape. Jack would have just seen them in the water on the horizon before they were jerked underwater and nearly drowned for yet another time to go back to the cave. At that point the trio would have decided to force Reader to become a mermaid. They had originally planned for it to be a consensual thing. It was going to be heavy on body horror/pain as the potion needed time to make and the boys rushed it for a punishment.

We didn't have a whole lot between then and the ending, actually. Just more scenes of Reader slowly losing their will to fight and accepting the role the trio wanted them to fulfill.

The ending was never officially written anywhere, but we had discussed it at length. Reader was eventually going to learn/read how to make another potion to turn them back to human. They'd escape, swim as far as they could before taking it. It would be as bad, if not worse, as the one that turned them into a mermaid. They'd be found and taken to a hospital. There would be some time passing while they healed/were questioned about their disappearnce. Ace and Jack were going to be contacted. However we were going to have a "mysterious visitor" come visit Reader in the hospital. It was going to be Jade, in his human form, telling Reader, "There you are, poor thing. It's time to come home."

ADDITIONALLY, we were going to do books for the majority of characters in the series! They were going to be stand-alones, but with easter eggs and mentions of the previous/other books. Like Jack and Ace would be interviewed by a Reader of another book, I think Malleus', and Jack would talk about seeing his Reader in the water that last time. Something like "They think I was hallucinating. I hadn't been sleeping well during the time and all. I took their loss hard, I guess. But I'm certain of what I saw. I heard them scream for help." And how they got the false lead from the hospital and all that.

As for you're other question, absolutely! Take the story and run like the wind however you wanna take it. I'm glad you enjoyed the story for what it was and that it's inspired you to want to write. Have fun with it!

And here's the orphaned link:

[fiction-giga]

Dungeon Master

30 Day Blurb Challenge - list link here

Day 23 - Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader

Warnings - none :)

Word Count - 0.8k

Just wanted to let you guys know I'll be double posting tomorrow since I missed yesterday's post, so keep and eye out for that. - giga <3

You wouldn't really consider yourself a D&D player. Hell, let's be honest, you hadn't even heard of the game until you met Eddie.

He loved it. Loved everything about it. The roleplaying, the costumes and personas, the funny voices that came with the story telling.

But his favorite part of the game was the freedom that came with it. The way you could create and tell your own stories, with thousands of different possible outcomes. It didn't confine him to a box, to a standard of playing. And Eddie loved it.

You were pretty much forced into the process, not that you minded in the slightest. You always thought Eddie was cute when he got all nerdy, but you found it so incredibly sweet when he tried his best to include you in the process. He didn't want it to feel like a solo thing. He wanted to be able to share it with you and discuss ideas amongst one another.

His campaigns made a great improvement when you stepped into the picture. Granted, you didn't know a whole lot about the game, Eddie always felt as if you the missing piece he always needed. You completed the experience for him, made it new and exciting all over again.

Tonight was another one of those nights. He was about to start up a new campaign with the boys, and he was stressed. He always stressed himself out, practically drove himself up the wall one night.

He had been sat at the dining room table for hours now. Just him and his ridiculously large binder, papers and pens strewn all around.

"You don't see anything missing? Nothing I can add or take away?" He anxiously asked you, pointing to a small stack of papers. You glanced down at them.

You had already read those papers four times in the last twenty minutes you had been sitting there. But for Eddie? For Eddie, you can stand reading them for a fifth time.

"Ed's, I don't really see anything else that needs to be added or taken out." You muttered, not fully understanding his quick scribbles. You knew enough to tell that he was prepared and maybe even a bit...over prepared? I mean, could you be over prepared for a D&D campaign? Was that a thing?

He chewed on his nails as he reviewed the papers again.

"Do you think something could be added or taken out?" You rebutted his own question against him.

He was quiet for a moment, the gears in his brain clicking as they turned. His messy bun bounced as he cut his neck to look at his open manual. He read over a few lines, guiding his reading with his forefinger.

"I think...I think I can maybe take out the trolls..." His eyes cut over the papers, seeking your opinion.

"I think you can too. I mean, the boys did just get out of a tight fight with a rock giant, if they made it out at all. Think you should go easy on 'em until you pull out the big guns." You smiled at him.

He smiled back. "I think you're right. Too much rolling." He huffed, picking up a blue pen and scratching out the troll section of the campaign.

Once he re-wrote the section, he stepped back, eyes roaming over the lines over and over again, tweaking it here and there until he was sure it was good enough.

"Here," He shoved the re-write in front of you. You read the chicken scratch as best you could, trying to decipher what words meant what. From what you could tell, the rewrite was good, a vast improvement by a simple cut of rolling for chance.

"Is it good?" Eddie was staring at you, under eyes darker than before. His head rested on hand, his ringed fingers curled under his chin. His doe eyes were staring up at you in expectancy for your honest opinion.

"I think it's way better, Ed's. Think it got its flow back." You smiled up at him.

"Really?" His eyes were practically sparkling at the small compliment.

"Really." You giggled.

"Oh thank god." He groaned. He leaned fully back in his chair,head lolling back to face the ceiling. His fingers rubbed at his stinging eyes. He was exhausted and it was clear to see.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed." You held your hand out, his warm hand slapping into yours.

He slinked out of the chair, shoulders drooping uncharacteristically low for the normally energetic man. He followed you down the hall and into your bedroom where he plopped face down onto your side of the mattress.

He groaned as you nudged his side.

"Scoot." You nudged him a bit harder when he didn't budge.

He huffed before dramatically rolling over, situating himself, further snuggling into his side of the bed. You joined him shortly after, cuddling yourself into his warm chest. He gave your forehead a chaste kiss before settling in for the night.

"Goodnight, Dungeon Master." You whispered to him. His arm around your waist tightened as he pulled you closer into his chest.

"Goodnight, Princess."

[decks-writing-blog]

The Borealis: Chapter Four: Is That True?

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

“Or at least I’m assuming you’re both from Black Mesa. Only one of you is in uniform. Not surprising coming from Black Mesa. Not that I actually know, now that I think about it. But you’re our rival so I’m supposed to imply you’re inferior. Though is not wearing a uniform really…”

“Who are you?” Alyx interrupted. Lowering his shotgun, Gordon angled himself to face her as he leaned against the wall. Perhaps since his association with Black Mesa was being brought up, he should say something, but it was easier to let her handle it. Especially since he might have to communicate through her anyway if whoever was watching on the camera couldn’t read sign, a decent possibility. “And, more importantly, why and how did you get here before us?”

“Right, of course, strangers introduce themselves. It’s been a long time. Before we get to those introductions though we need to discuss the reason I let you inside. The one wearing the Black Mesa trademarked Hazardous Environment Suit, please lower your helmet.”

“You let us inside? So you’ve been here long enough to figure out the ship’s controls. Which just makes me want to know why you’re here and who the hell you are even more. Are you with the Combine? What do you need to see Gordon’s face for?”

“All will be made clear after I test my thing. It’ll be quick, I promise. Also the door at the end of the hall is locked so just play along. It’ll be easier for all us that way.” Their tone wasn’t threatening but it didn’t need to be for their words to carry one anyway.

But, whoever they were, didn’t seem to be Combine. The closest the Combine had ever got to speaking with Gordon was through Breen but really, that had been Breen acting on his own. The Combine weren’t interested in talk unless that talk was surrendering to them. This person had implied they were from Aperture which also couldn’t be the case, could it? When the Borealis had ended up here it had brought people with it but there’s no way they’d survived out here that long. So not worth trusting for sure but also not automatically an enemy. Playing along for now was probably their best bet. It didn’t hurt to see what would happen.

So he lifted a hand pressed the button that lowered the helmet. Biting cold hit his face, clouding his breath and make his glasses fog up. The hallway smelled of old metal and blood. Though the latter was likely from the blood splattered and frozen to his suit.

“Thank you. Now, please hold still.”

With a whirring of old, not well tended but still fully functional machinery, a panel opened in the roof almost right above him. A rotary gun barrel descended from it; a turret. Gordon jumped back, raising his shotgun to shoot at it at the same time Alyx shouted, “Gun, watch out!” Not enough though, even old and damaged it was already revving up and firing. The hall was too narrow to get away and above head height, it had the perfect angle to hit him in the one place he was now unprotected.

As was often the case upon dying when not ready for it, time reset to when he entered a new room. The door panel was just closing behind him and Alyx, casting the hall into darkness once more.

“God damn it,” Alyx whispered. “Just when I think we’re finally done with dark places.”

With an inward sigh, Gordon turned on the HEV suit’s flashlight again. And now the androgynous voice would come over the speaker. He’d be ready for its trick this time though.

“It is you!” the voice said, speaking as predicted but… “A long standing mystery finally, finally solved.” That was different. How? Everything, including the things people said, always happened the same unless Gordon interfered somehow. So… why was it different?

“First off, who are you?” Alyx said, sounding even more hostile than before. “Second, what the hell do you mean and how are you here before us?”

“As suspected, you don’t remember. Which confirms that it’s your friend and only friend as the drone footage of your fight with the fellows up top suggested. Ooh, I wish I had someone to share this with but… that’s fine. Come further in so we can talk properly.” The hall lit up, though not fully. A few of the small lights lining the walls were burnt out.

“What don’t we or… I remember? And what’s this about a drone watching us? Also, before we go anywhere, I’d like to know who the hell you are and why you’re here. I don’t think you can exactly blame us for not trusting you given the circumstances.”

“Right, of course, strangers introduce themselves. It’s been a long time.” That was finally something that was the same. Everything else though… did whoever they were remember the resets? “You can call me BOA. I was built and designed to oversee and assist Aperture personal with the Borealis’ computer systems.”

“Built and designed, huh? So… you’re a robot?”

“Incorrect. I’m an artificial intelligence.” Perhaps that had something to do with how it knew about the resets? It certainly explained how it was still alive, if it could even be said to be alive in the first place. Presumably, the Borealis had some way to produce it’s own power. Probably solar, given half the year, the sun never set. “Now your turn.”

“Um… I guess it’s fine, right?” Alyx glanced at Gordon but he didn’t have anything to give so he just shrugged slightly. Trusting BOA wasn’t a good idea, especially after how unhesitatingly they’d killed him earlier, but giving their names probably couldn’t hurt. “I’m Alyx Vance and this is Gordon Freeman. We’re here because uh… we think there might be something on board that can help us in our fight against the Combine.”

“My assumption is that ‘the Combine’ are the other fellows who tried to board me. I didn’t let them in. It’s against protocol. It’s against protocol to let you in too of course but watching the video feed of your fight with the fellows at the top lead me to the conclusion that your friend Gordon is responsible for the time anomalies. A mystery that has been plaguing me for ages. And by ‘ages’ I mean the way humans use it sometimes to exaggerate how long its been for emphasis. It’s really only been a bit more than twenty years.”

So for sure, they remembered then. Gosh, finally. Was that a finally? Was it even a good thing? Probably not, right? Him being the only one who knew was easier but… someone else knowing meant he wasn’t alone in the knowledge. It wasn’t someone who cared or even understood though. And for sure one bad thing about this was that Alyx didn’t need to know.

Her face was of course unreadable under all the cold weather gear but her stance changed, indicating interest. “What do you mean by ‘time anomalies’?”

Gordon could perhaps try to intercept that question, suggest the AI might be glitched after whatever had happened for it to end up here. Surely she would trust his word over theirs. But then again, she’d known for a while that something was up with him and now was one step closer to knowing what it was. How likely was she to let it go without a fight? Probably not very. Especially after he’d brushed off her attempts to learn more from him directly. If he tried to steer her away from this topic, she’d likely suspect his lie.

Instead, he turned his body so only the camera at the end of the hall could see his hands. “Don’t tell her, please.” Would an AI know how to read sign? If it had been programmed to, yes. How sentient was it even? Like Dog or more so? So far it had been talking like a person but that didn’t mean it was comparable to one.

“I believe that is sign language,” BOA said. “Uh… kinda awkward but that’s one of the few languages I don’t know.” Damn it. “I suppose it makes sense though, doesn’t it? I don’t have hands. Probably you are trying to tell me or ask me to answer her question in a specific way. I can’t help you with that though. But anyway, introductions out of the way, come further in. It’s against the rules to let you into my command center but I’m already breaking rules so who cares, right? Besides, you want something from me and well, there’s something you could do for me too so we might be able to help each other.”

“I’m hoping we can help each other,” Alyx said as they started walking, Gordon in the lead. “While we walk though, let’s not drop that ‘time anomalies’ thing. Are you saying Gordon can… time travel?” Of course she wasn’t letting it go.

“Hmm… perhaps. I have no recall of anything that might happen before the blip back, I can only sense that a jump has occurred. It started in 2001. Or perhaps, it’s more accurate to say, that’s the first time it happened. Following 102 blips in quick succession, they stopped before resuming relatively recently.”

Gordon had died 102 times to the Nihilanth, huh? Not a happy thought but it sounded about right.

“The reason I assume Gordon Freeman is responsible for at least this latest round of time blips is whilst watching you fight the fellows at the top of the cliff, they lined up exactly with his reactions to avoid things that would’ve killed him. A few times such was the case with things that should’ve killed you, Alyx. But even in those instances, he was the one reacting to it in time to save you.”

“So, Gordon, that’s it? Your ‘lucky streak’ is time traveling?”

Gordon couldn’t exactly say ‘no’, could he? That was what it was. Probably if he insisted hard enough that he had nothing to do with what BOA was talking about, Alyx would take his word over a stranger’s but… he’d never liked lying. He didn’t really want to confirm it either though. So, not turning to even look her way, he just kept walking.

The halls were all steel and narrow, as expected from a steel ship. Doors opened at their approach, creaking and squeaking as a clear sign of how long it had been since they’d last undergone maintenance, but as a sign of their quality they were still fully functional. Combined with the lights, they were being lead presumably to the Borealis’ command center. Exactly where they wanted to be. Having to work with this BOA AI was not a scenario he’d have ever guessed they’d encounter but it was Aperture Science. From what he remembered hearing about them, they’d had a big AI program in charge of their main facility too. Black Mesa’s spies had vanished with the Borealis before much could get out from them about said AI but still, given that, it wasn’t too surprising that they’d made another to put in charge of whatever was on board this ship too.

“I theorize,” BOA said, “the way his time traveling works is he dies and time blips back. I could be wrong of course but that’s the impression I got based off the footage. I don’t remember testing it but I did intend to and got a blip when you two entered so I assume I did.”

“Gordon, is that true?” Alyx sounded a lot less excited by the idea than she had a moment ago. The exact reason he didn’t want her to know. It was his burden to bear.

He kept walking. The alternative would be to stop and talk about it. They didn’t have time for that and… he didn’t want to.

“Gordon!” she tried again but he was nothing if stubborn.

Before she could try something else, they reached what could only be the command center. It was large room, especially compared to the narrow halls they’d traversed to get here. Much of the space was taken up by a ring of computers in the middle, a lot of which wasn’t immediately recognizable. There were also frozen corpses, three; one draped over and frozen to part of the command center, the other two huddled in the corner. Presumably some of the people who’d vanished with the Borealis. Naturally without cold weather gear, they hadn’t lasted long.

On the ceiling was a crisscross of railings. Attached to which was a large mechanical orb with what was clearly meant to be an eye at its center. It looked down at them, panels over its green ‘pupil’ clearly meant to replicate eye lids.

“I’d love to study him to know more.” BOA’s voice now came from it. This was meant to be the AI’s face, something to look at when talking to it? “But I don’t have the means to do that onboard. GlaDOS would be delighted if I brought you home for her to study and test though. Which is where we might be able to help each other. I would like to…”

“Wait, wait.” Alyx stepped forward, raising a hand. “Before we discuss that,” she stepped directly in front of Gordon, making it much harder to escape her gaze, “is it telling the truth? Is that what your ‘lucky streak’ is? You die and… and… come back or whatever? That’s crazy but…” She trailed off.

Gordon looked away. Lucky for him, delaying just a little bit long, BOA made sound imitating one clearing their throat. “Not an ‘it’. It’s offensive to assume AI’s are automatically ‘its’ just because we’re not human. Not that some aren’t, nothing wrong with being an ‘it’. But I’m head of a ship’s systems and ships are she/hers so I am too, obviously. I suppose I can’t expect Black Mesa pick up on such obvious things though. You probably haven’t figured out how to make anything even half as advanced and intelligent as I am yet. You’re so far behind.”

“Okay, fine, whatever, sorry. Is she right, Gordon? The fact that you’re not answering is kinda making me think she might be. And like… that doesn’t make much sense because time travel can’t be real, can it? But also, you clearly know what’s going to happen before it happens sometimes. You basically admitted to it. How else would you know where to go to avoid Combine air patrols and stuff? And you were the only one who knew about the Advisors that somehow got into the White Forest base. You even knew there were two, almost as if you’d seen them before. Also, if you can be put into stasis for twenty years then clearly we don’t know everything, right? So just… say something. Or sign it, you know what I mean.”

And so everything came falling down at last. As soon as he’d admitted something supernatural was happening with him, he should’ve known this was inevitable. But well… if he were to ever tell anyone, it would be Alyx, his long faithful companion who he’d do nigh-on anything for. With a sigh, he lifted his hands. “It started with the resonance cascade. I don’t understand why or how,” nor did he care anymore, that curiosity had long since been beaten out of him, “but when I die, time resets. There are limits on it but I can choose the time I wake up in. It’s the only reason I’m still alive.” Also the only reason she and so many other people were too. If he had this power he was obligated to use it for good and so he was.

“What’s he saying?” BOA asked in stage whisper halfway through his signing. Both of them ignored her.

Alyx lifted her hands to respond in sign. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“What good would it have done?” It was his burden to bear. All her knowing did was make her worry about him. They didn’t have time for that.

“I don’t know but…” she hesitated, her hands hovering indistinctly for a few second before continuing, “it would’ve been nice to know you were dying over and over. That sounds awful. Are you okay?”

“No.” He hadn’t been okay for a long time.

She stared at him in silence for a few seconds before replying. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s why we’re here.” As much as it hurt and sucked to die over and over again, the amount of people he’s managed to save because of it made it worth it. If he could save the whole planet from the Combine too, he’d go through it all again.

“I’m guessing you can’t go back to before the Combine?”

“I couldn’t go back to before the resonance cascade or I would’ve stopped it from happening.” Which would’ve presumably stopped the Combine from ever noticing them. “Now I can’t go back to before the stasis.”

“I see. Can I ask how many times you… you know?”

“A lot.” More than he wanted to know. “Apparently 102 times to the Nihilanth.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes.” Most of the time.

“Have I ever died?”

“A few times.” No need to tell her how many times even if he’d known the number. Also no need to specifically tell her how he ‘manually reset’ to bring her back for many of those times. She could probably infer it all on her own if she gave it enough thought. Hopefully she wouldn’t.

“Do you ever…” she trailed off, lowering her hands for a moment before raising them again. “Now’s probably not a good time to talk about it, huh?”

Gordon let out a heavy breath as he rolled some of the tension out his shoulders. This wasn’t as bad as it he’d thought it’d be. Maybe it was even kind of okay? Better than a somewhat unfriendly AI being the only other one who knew. “We should get in contact with White Forest if we can.” Let Eli and the rest of the resistance know that they’d made it and now had to negotiate with an AI.

“Just so you guys know,” BOA said as she rolled her orb over to look down at him from their other side, “the army that was camped at the base of cliff, that got stirred up by the attack on their top forces, will be here in approximately two hours. Presumably they will be looking for you. I won’t let them in, of course. But if they decide to look even harder than before, they might find the panels and pry them open and then who knows what’ll happen? So now might not be the best time to be having a chitty-chat about whatever it is you find so important to talk about in a way I can’t interpret.”

“Yeah, we know,” Alyx said as she stepped back. “We were just finished anyway.” She headed for the console in the middle of the room. “Do you have a communication’s device or something? There’s a call we’d like to make if possible.”

BOA’s orb rolled across the ceiling to look down at her. “Let me guess, Breen, head of Black Mesa?”

“Nope. He’s dead and uh… Black Mesa in general isn’t really a thing anymore. I assume you don’t know since you said earlier that you don’t know who the Combine are but they kinda came and killed almost everyone on the planet like twenty years ago. We’re trying to get them off the planet and more importantly prevent any more of them from arriving. If we can’t, we’re kinda fucked.”

BOA’s eye narrowed, mimicking a thoughtful expression. “I suppose a world ending invasion would explain some things, namely why no one ever came to look for me. The Combine’s the thing you want my help with, correct?”

“Correct. If not, we’re gonna at least try to keep you from falling into their hands. And you said earlier we might be able to help each other, meaning you want something from us too. So I would like to be able to call our people to help us negotiate that.”

“Fine. Part of what I want from you is to restore my systems anyway, we’ll start with my communications. You’ll need to move Johnny before I can open the panel that leads to it. He’s the dead guy to your right.”

The frozen corpse draped over the console. Gordon approached it. Thanks to the unending cold, Johnny was preserved remarkably well, making his ice encrusted face rather harrowing. Or it would’ve been harrowing if Gordon weren’t numb to the sight of death. A clear bullet hole in his back, through his chest, made clear how he’d died; likely at the hands of someone else.

Gordon used the crowbar to pry him loose of the ice holding him in place, revealing his frozen blood splashed over where he’d lain. Once free, he dragged the body over to the other two corpses in the corner. No visible signs of violence on them, presumably they’d frozen to death. All together the three corpses were a good reminder not to trust this AI. There was a good chance she wasn’t at least partially responsible for their deaths.

The lower panel Johnny had been blocking popped open, the rest of the ice covering it audibly shattering. Underneath it was a nest of machinery and wires. Alyx knelt down beside it.

“While you work, could you uh… explain the Combine in more detail to me?” BOA placed her orb right above Alyx, looking straight down at her. “Also, anything else of note that happened in the past twenty years. I am so far behind on the latest news and gossip happening in the rest of the world. It gets kinda um… lonely and boring up here.”

While Alyx got to work on the wires and explaining the Seven Hour War and the Combine invasion, Gordon set to exploring the rest of the room. At first glance it wasn’t that much different from any other technological command room one might find. But while some of the screens, dials, and various other monitoring and control means present on the ring of central computers were related to the functions of the normal ship stuff aboard, many clearly weren’t. Almost none of it being on made even guessing what any of the other stuff was for even harder.

The presence of so much tech and the ship being overseen by an advanced AI confirmed that there was something big on board though. Not that that confirmation was needed, it was kept top secret by Aperture, even more than their other projects, and then vanished right out of the dock, bringing some of said dock with it, after all. Could it help in their fight against the Combine though? And would that be enough to be worth giving BOA whatever it was she wanted from them in return for the help? Only time would tell.

~

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