#please excuse the typos

[deltadarlingf1]

Alright! We need a Classic F1 counterpart to the Boy Band prompt, so let's do:

Classic F1 Drivers as a Motown Group

Quick disclaimer: 1. We're doing this irrespective of age and 2. This one is more of a narrative for funsies. We love a writing challenge.

Bonus points for name suggestions for the group.

1. The Label Owner

Between balancing several acts, managing stakeholders, and cutting deals, this man's job is essentially herding feral cats all day- but he's definitely the man to do it. He's known for being blunt and, at times, cutthroat, but never unfair. He knows talent when he sees it and has been known to give the underdog a chance.

2. The Group Manager

If the label owner is herding feral cats, our manager is wrangling rabid dogs. Between getting our lead talent out of hot water, negotiating pay, and booking venues, this man is TIRED. But he loves it- after all, it wasn't long ago that he was the one on stage.

3. The Scorned Talent

This man was undoubtedly talented- he had the voice, the had the moves, but his prickly off-stage demeanor and inability to keep things fresh ultimately lead to his fall from grace. After one-too-many times being called a "one-trick-pony" in the press, followed by a nasty physical altercation with the manager, the label made the call to let him go and replace him with a younger lead singer. He would spend the rest of his career as a washed-up has-been telling anyone who'd listen what a "fraud" his replacement was.

3. The Band Leader

When the manager is out, he's our guy making sure rehearsal runs smoothly, setting up for the show, and dragging the singer's ass out of bed when he "oversleeps" (is hungover). While he loves the band and plays a mean sax on stage, he spends the majority of his time learning the business: As life on the road wears on him, he prepares to transition into being a label executive so he can spend more time at home with his wife and son.

4. The Backup Singers

These three lovable idiots are the glue holding it all together. When things get tense between our pianist and vocalist, they're the ones cracking jokes and keeping it light. They also keep butts in seats with their playful on-stage antics and smooth moves.

5. The Pianist

Fans of our group will spend a lifetime arguing who really made the music what it was: the pianist or the singer? Our pianist has been heralded as a "musician's musician" with an ear like no other: He knows what the melody needs, how the rhythm should feel, how to make the listeners dance one minute and cry the next. Unfortunately, between his constant inputs and the label pulling him in to help other acts, he and the singer are at odds constantly. The number of fights those two had and threats to leave if the other stayed cannot be counted. Still, his legend lives on and many acts that followed reference him as inspiration.

6. The Lead Singer

Where our scorned talent missed the mark? This. Kid. HAD it. The moves, the voice, the winning smile, the stage presence- he had it all. Ladies bought the vinyls because they wanted him. Men bought them because they wanted to BE him. He kept every single show packed and never once put on a boring performance.

He wasn't without controversy though: He was a bit of a loose cannon, known to party a bit too hard after shows, drink too much, and get caught up with notable women who may or may not have been married. If he was at constant odds with the pianist over control of the music, then he was certainly always playing jumprope with their manager's last damn nerve. Several times our manager begged the label executives to get rid of the kid or keep him in line, but with our singer churning out hit after hit, there was nothing for it. There was no end in sight for our singer's stardom.

Until the end came. When he didn't make it to rehearsals, the band joked that maybe he'd run finally run off with some new blonde for good. When the news that night rolled footage of what was left of the plane he'd boarded, silence befell them all. It was all the nation could talk about for days- he left a hole in the music scene that no one could ever hope to fill.

BONUS: The Critic

A constant thorn in the side for our group. This man seemed to know EVERYTHING about what went on behind the scenes with the act. Scathing reports and salacious details of our singer's late-night antics poured from his pen, baffling the man. Multiple times our singer called out the critic by name in interviews, calling him a hack and a liar. It wouldn't be until years later that our label owner finally confessed to serving up secrets to the critic because, well, all press is good press.

Still, no one could write the soul of our singer better than the critic, and when the tragedy came it was the critic that wrote a memorial that could move even the surliest of men to tears. In every documentary and exposé of our group that followed, the critic and his ongoing battle with the singer were always mentioned- the two's stories forever intertwined in legend.

[countessofravenclaw]

So remwber how I said that I might not continue the Nina Castillo house fic...

Well...

Ana was sitting in the living room going through her email when her phone rang. 

“Isla, Hi.” Ana answered the call. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“I know,” Isla’s voice responded, “I have been meaning to call you for weeks, but I’ve been drowning in work.” 

“That is not surprising,” Ana responded, “I read about that project you’re heading, it is huge.”

“It is, and it is also an immense honor and a responsibility. It is a very good thing though, especially given the attention it requires, I’ll get to stay here more, especially when Marco got that promotion and we just think it's for the best to stay put a little more, for a lot of reasons,” Isla continued, “This is not what I called you to talk about. That was that Gastón told us that you moved.” 

“Oh yes, we did, with Nina.” Ana nodded, “She actually told me that you live in this area too.” 

“Always trust the kids get information across on our behalf,” Isla laughed before getting more serious, “I do have to mention that he also told us why you moved. I guess congratulations are in order. German Castillo, really?” 

“I guess you could say it like that. I don’t really want to make a number about it.”

“New phase in life, nonetheless. It's never too late.” Isla’s voice noted, “Now I am actually finally getting to the point why I even called. Marco and I would love to have you two over for dinner sometime.”

“That would be lovely, but I am not sure when we can make that happen.”

“You’ll give us a date and we’ll make it work. We insist.” 

“Who was that?” German walked out of his office. 

“Isla.” Ana put her phone away after the call disconnected. German made a confused face. “Oh, you obviously don’t know who from that. Isla Perida.”

“Oh, so… Mother of that boyfrined of Nina’s?” German questioned. 

“Well, yes, she is his mother, but we’re are also friends,” Ana explained, “Actually, it is quite an interesthing story, how I did some legal work for her and her husband when Nina was about five. They were in their 20s just starting out. We got along quite well, it was quite unfortyunate that we didn’t stay in touch. So, it was quite pleasant to find out that Nina was after their son. Surely you know Isla and Marco too, given their promidence today.”

“I do know them,” German nodded, “In a professional level, and I guess socially as well, but I would say vry personal friends. I didn’t know they had a child.”

“Not many people do.” Ana responded, “They’re really privated that way, don’t voplunteer much information about him if tehy don’t have to. Quite undestandable given their background and ecerything they have been though, that they don’t truth just anybody. It has obviously been the right decision, given how well ajusted and raised Gastón is.” 

“So…you approve or him and your daughter?” German questioned. 

“Why wouldn’t I? Nina could have found much worse.”

I didn't lie, but maybe now we actually will be continuing it....

[lenteur]

random thoughts about strong girl nam soon, episode two

(read more because i always get carried away lol and this post might contain spoilers)

i didn’t mention it but i really like the opening song

it might not mean anything to most people but i appreciate the fact that they start the episode with the last scene from the previous episode. helps refresh my memory.

another thing i forgot to mention is how nam soon has good taste in men lol she's a shawol and she likes other kpop idols hehe

nam soon and hee sik are doing such a great job for a first scene together. the close up shots of their faces adds to the fun of that moment. I can't wait to see more of them together

the bitcoin bit had me on the floor. i was literally the man listening to the explanation. went from one ear to the other

kang hee sik dressed as a woman and with a fake baby too

you could feel nam soon's pain of looking for her mother and being involved in so many situations instead. it's starting to wear her down but her knight in shining armor arrives at the right time

cool blurry effect on the camera to mimic nam soon's tears and the romantic music in the back when he asked her if she ate. It's the little details that make this scene even better.

i see nam soon has already started to rub off on kang hee sik. He just repeated what she said to him a few seconds ago and with the same intonation. I think I'm gonna have a blast with these two.

i can't get enough of the comedic scenes in this drama. the little dance hee sik does and nam soon's laser vision getting to see it live lmao she was bewitched by his lack of a*s and dancing skills

the actress playing hwang ja is doing an amazing job because i want her to fail so bad!!!

miss madame hwang geum ju... i need you to stop being so iconic and elegant and fierce and gorgeous. My heart is a little too fragile to handle all of that

the fact that geum ju chose not to follow the dress code for the elite billionaire club thing speaks volumes about who she is. even her little speech, she wants to create a world that is livable for both the rich and less rich people. one thing that has been consistent with her is her consideration for the less fortunate. she lent the money to ms. park, helped her and chased the two men who were selling ms. park dr*gs (censoring just in case). she does know where she comes from and it was obvious with her choice of shoes: sneakers. she shocked the elite and proved that she was on her way to change the world. i really like her character because she doesn't give up and will go through literally anything to reach her goals.

once again, the trailer for next episode makes me want to watch it asap

overall, a good second episode

i hope the next episode will develop both the villains' arc a lot more because i'm left hungry for more scenes and character development. i know we're only in episode two so that's why i'm curious to see where the story will go in future episodes.

i'll rate it a 8.5/10

[krismiss-cos]

DPxDC idea thing

Now with AO3 post!

So picture this, the Justice League have just captured the new vigilante called Phantom. So far he has refused to talk to any JL members and seemingly vanished every time they tried to speak to him. After a particularly difficult battle Superman is finally able to put power restricting cuffs on Phantom and bring him to the Watchtower. Phantom has been silent since being subdued and looks like he's being walked to his execution.

Meanwhile, Red Hood has been brought in on an unrelated case and is speaking to a League member when he feels a kind of tugging in his chest. He starts walking in the direction he's being pulled and looks through the one way mirror looking into one of the interrogation rooms. He locks eyes with the green eyed boy and feels fire start burning in his chest as his brain screams protect king help. He's consumed with a feeling almost like the pit rage as he bursts through the door and makes a beeline to Danny. Batman starts to step in front of him but Jason throws him into the wall and undoes Danny's cuffs. Once Danny is free Jason blinks and looks around, feeling unbalanced now that the all consuming need to protect Phantom has subsided.

Danny is completely stunned as he looks at this leather clad mountain of a man that radiates safe protected friend. He's quickly snapped out of his shock as Superman enters the room and starts to grab Jason's shoulder. Danny's protective king instincts kick in as he darts between Supes and Jason, in a voice filled with static and cracking ice he says, "Don't touch my Knight."

[meowpupp]

owner!price trying to teach puppy!soap restraint but he can’t stop humping puppy!reader all hours of the day :( <3

tw://hybrid smut, denial, noncon(?), electrostimulation, edited by someone with dyslexia

ghost who goes on deployment, forcing him to leave pup!soap with price. he has no other choice, after all, soap is known to be rather.... energetic.

the other hybrid practically sends you into an early heat. every opportunity he gets, johnny pushes you down, rutting his leaky cock against your ass.

he can't help it! johnny's never been exposed to something like you. you're so soft, sweet and submissive. he's never been allowed to bully something so pretty. it's not his fault that your cunt is always drooling for him, or that your back arches so pretty when he bites your neck.

he's relentless, always shoving his big hands under your shirt. if he's not grinding against your ass, he's groping your tits. face buried in your chest as he sucks and bites your nipples. he makes you cry and whine, trying desperately to escape while he holds you still. he won't stop until you cum just from him mouthing your tits.

price doesn't mind at first. he enjoys the way you become even more sensitive. how you whine and cry in his lap after johnny's been particularly rough. but that changes once he slips his fingers in your abused cunt, finding the other mutts cum stuffed deep inside.

it's the following morning that he calls simon, speaking lowly on the phone. not even two hours later, and johnny's sporting a brand new collar.

now each time he touches your pretty body, a jolt of electricity runs up his spine. it's painful. and what's even worse is that it leaves his poor cock flushed and red, pre leaking. all he wants is your pretty cunt wrapped around him, whimpering and whining at your feet.

but price isn't known for being merciful. he doesn't take the collar off, nor does he give the pup any toys. johnny ends up spending days trying to get off. rutting against his hands, the couch, your panties. but nothing helps.

and to make it worse, price fucks you hard each night. not even letting johnny see how your pretty cunt gets all swollen and flushed when price forces his cock in you, or how your tits bounce with each harsh thrust.

poor johnny can only listen as you whine and cry, the wet smacks from price hips slamming against your ass. all while he whimper on the other side of the door, rutting his neglected cock against one of your pillows.

[daenerysies]

i think the biggest problem i have with the whole team discourse in f&b + hotd is that it isn’t just about which characters you like more/who you want to sit on the throne at that end; it’s that each side is fighting for completely different ideologies, regardless of one members personal beliefs. grrm could not have made it anymore clear.

team black isn’t just fighting for rhaenyra to be queen, they’re fighting for the monarch’s right to choose an heir, for the oaths they swore years before, for the complete opposite of precedent/tradition: the king’s word is law. team green isn’t just fighting for aegon to be king, they’re fighting for tradition, that no matter the words of a king being law sons will always come before daughters, that oaths are fickle and don’t matter. each side is in some way fighting back against what’s already been established for the kingdom, but the end goal is completely different.

we’re not given as much insight into why most of the houses initially sided with rhaenyra, but we do have an inkling into how the green council felt and acted, however. jaehaerys choosing baelon over rhaenys (against andal tradition, the king can choose his heir) is one point. the great council of 101 is another. alicent, despite being the leader of the council, is removed from the equation and shoved off to the side when it comes to swearing oaths of loyalty between the members on account of her womanhood. daemon being a second coming of ‘maegor’ (despite what we know would be a better suited title for aemond, but i digress) is also used. when discussing who would side with them the vale is automatically disqualified from the list, due to them presently being ruled by a woman, jeyne arryn. she doesn’t choose to fight for rhaenyra for the sole reason of them being kin, but because her own right to rule can and will be put into question if aegon steps over rhaenyra. because she is a woman. she does so in spite of her dislike for daemon (and his supposed maegor-ness) too.

even if one were to look at each characters personal feelings about the succession the fact of the matter is that rhaenyra is usurped because she is a woman. it’s stated almost blatantly multiple times before and during the war. the greens use scapegoats and smokescreens in attempts justify it (her ‘bastards’ chief among them, but legally her sons live and die as the trueborn children between her and laenor, with the reminder that septon eustace refutes this claim to begin with). even when she is killed grrm has her breast pricked to arouse a dragon that doesn’t want to kill her (and why is that?). aegon ‘wins’ against her and is king, but then why is jaehaera, as his last living remaining child not named his heir? why is aegon iii put ahead of her, despite being the enemies son? these are rhetorical questions. aegon had no plans to ever consider her his heir, he made it clear with how excited he was to marry cassandra baratheon and produce more ‘strong’ sons. his dragon (who had fought and bled for him the entire war) wasn’t mourned properly, he couldn’t wait to hatch a ‘new dragon, prouder and fiercer than the last.’ yet he wasn’t even capable of doing that in the six months before he too was killed.

it’s also safe to mention that grrm created an entire separate lore story, one that would seem to have no bearing on the original story unless you’re capable of understanding symbolism. the amethyst empress is usurped by her younger brother the bloodstone emperor, and the first long night ensues from this decision. rhaenyra (amethyst = arryn blue + targaryen red) is usurped by her younger brother aegon ii (bloodstone = hightower green + targaryen red) and the dying of the dragons, the very creatures needed to stop the next long night, are eradicated, along with the magic needed to hatch them and keep them alive (until). the war is the blacks (power, death, grief, rebellion, restraint) versus the greens (ambition, greed, jealousy, anger, wealth). the amethyst empress is important to the main story in the same way that rhaenyra is important, that snubbing the women (an integral aspect to the power the targaryens held) of house targaryen can lead only to disaster. daenerys is the key, the one to break the cycle and fix the wrongdoings caused by her ancestors obsession with power. mother of dragons, mhysa, breaker of chains, slayer of lies, daughter of death, the dragon queen, azor ahai come again, the prince that was promised will bring the dawn.

you can argue for technicalities sake all day, but there is a meaning to this story beyond the scope of rightful heirs. and it shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just so you can praise your favorites and hate those who go against them. it makes for a poor consuming of the actual story. fire and blood was created as a history book to expand on daenerys as a character. her family, what and where she’s come from, and how she relates to them. she’s the antithesis to every targaryen that’s come before her, a hero in her own right. the only targaryen’s we can say are radically important to dany’s story are the conquerors (aegon the conqueror with teats) and rhaenyra (the amethyst empress). i don’t know, just some food for thought.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I was re-watching some highlights and clips from season 5 and I keep forgetting how brutal Jouno’s death is. Told he was only taken in by Fukuchi because Fukuchi never really believed in him at all. All his escape exits blocked as he clearly tries to hide his growing worry. His particles set on fire. Stabbed all over his body all at once. Bitten and restrained and carted off somewhere. And all of this, all of it, catalyzed because Jouno really had changed for the better. Because he did care, and Fukuchi gravely misunderstood him.

And man. Tecchou forgetting himself. Something’s wrong and he knows it. Tecchou turning violent without valid resistance which goes against his method of justice. Tecchou placing Jouno above justice, which for Tecchou, to whom justice is central to his honour and character, is tantamount to placing him above all else. Tecchou, the one person who repeatedly shows no fear of Jouno, the only one who vouches for his true character as someone who seeks justice also. Who was probably a major instigator of Jouno’s steady change. Who would understand Jouno’s choice to confront evil for the sake of justice at the risk of his own life better than anyone… but who still prioritized him over all else anyways. The sheer desperation of knowing something’s wrong with the person you know best, know everyone gets all wrong… but you don’t know if he’s safe right now. You can’t get to him.

Since I refuse to believe Jouno is actually dead: Asagiri, their reunion, when Tecchou gets to see Jouno is okay and the kind of person he’s become and Jouno realizes that there is someone who cares for him enough to throw everything aside but will still return to himself in the end… it better be something really special. They deserve it.

[answer2jeff]

i was just thinking about dad!carmy missing his wifey when she's on a girls trip for the first time since their daughters birth and anxiously waiting for her to call him...

valeria has just been put to sleep after a seemingly endless hour and a half of rocking, soothing, and shushing.

"relax baby, mommy's gonna be home before you know it," carmy says, kissing the top of valeria's head and wincing a bit when her little fist tightens around his thick index finger. "yes i know," he sighs as she lets out one last wail of 'mama' followed by incoherent babbles before her body begins to relax at the sound of her daddy's soothing hums. no one is exactly sure where the song came from. maybe it's a pre-existing song further expanded on with different notes. maybe it's a whole new song with a lack of words he made just for his little girl.

carmen's back is sore and his hands mourn the weight of his precious girl in his arms, even if he's more than happy that she's finally at peace in her crib. the reality of his temporary loneliness really sets in the moment he closes the door to his daughters nursery.

he tries to distract himself from the sight of your nearly empty home. he's been wiping down the perfectly spotless kitchen counter with a microfiber towel for the last 3 and a half minutes while he scrolls aimlessly through your Instagram with his free hand, smiling to himself with every photo of you glistening in the summer heat. a margarita in one hand, a friends shoulder in the other. he's always thought you're the most beautiful when you're happy. with the sand in between your toes, salt water frizzing up your hair, the sun caressing the spots of your skin he wished he was the one to hold and kiss—seeing you free warms something in him.

meanwhile, you're falling onto your back and feeling the silky cold fabric of your hotel room bed against your skin. the bikini you've had on for hours is still a little damp from the ocean. it makes you shiver. you giggle at your 2 friends who pile into your shared bathroom, ready to puke and laugh and cry at their sickness from alcohol. you decide that you should kill some time before it's your turn to shower and boil yourself in delicious hot water. the balcony calls your name, and you quickly grab your phone from your beach bag, getting up to slide the glass door open to your left. the air feels warm and sweet against your sunkissed skin. your bare feet patter against the concrete foundation before you lean against the railing. you don't even bother to check anyone else's attempts at communication with you today. carmen is the only thing on your mind.

carmen nearly jumps at the sound of his cellphone vibrating against the bathroom sink. he quickly spits the minty toothpaste out of his mouth and accepts your call, raising it to his ear and wiping the corner of his lip.

"hey, baby," he breaths into the line, smiling almost uncontrollably as he drops his toothbrush back in the mug. the absence of yours with that pink little clip that covers the bristles is so disheartening. it's kinda silly, the way he frowns at the missing pieces of you all around your house.

"hi!" you chew on your bottom lip. it's like you're hearing his voice for the first time again. the petname sends butterflies swarming through your stomach. hell, even with a ring on your finger, it feels like you'd just met yesterday. the sound, smell, and feeling of him could never get old.

carmen yawns, leaning back on the bed and feeling his stomach drop when the little dip in the memory foam mattress has completely raised up to its original form. god, he misses the weight of your presence. but he tries to keep it cool.

"i was just thinkin' about you. well, i've been thinking about you this whole weekend," he laughs, running his hands through his sweatlogged curls. "glad you called."

"i know," you whine, "me too. missing you both, actually." your head feels fuzzy when carmen's little huff of agreement hits your ears. for a moment, his calm attitude surprises you. but maybe it shouldn't. he insisted you should go on this 2 day trip, swearing up and down he could handle being with valeria for a little over 48 hours.

"missing you so much more."

you didn't doubt his ability to keep his temper down and his self-discipline up when taking care of her, but you almost felt a little guilty.

"how are things?" you anxiously ask. carmen goes to answer dishonestly, but you quickly clarify. "and before you tell me, i know things have probably been kinda crazy. but oh my god, carmy, thank you for letting me do this. really, i mean—"

"what?" he cuts you off with a chuckle. "letting you? baby, you—you needed it. fuck, you earned it." carmen sits up in disbelief. it pains him knowing he can't fill in the much needed space of valeria's mother, but the guilt of ever daring to ask you to fly back home would kill him even faster. all he wanted was for you to be happy. even if that required sacrifice. especially since he knew deep down you did that for him every single day, even if you didn't notice it.

"mhm."

"i'm so glad you're having fun. things have been hectic, but i'm managing, okay? valeria has just been..." carmen pauses, gnawing at the inside of his cheek and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words.

you relax a bit, letting out a deep sigh of relief. but the anxiety still eats at you. the feeling of your bikini strings digging into your skin and the sand on your inner thighs forming what would soon become a rash if you didn't shower soon certainly wasn't helping with your situation.

"...tough recently. that's all. nothing for you to worry about."

"i know, i know. i just—i don't know. i feel bad. like, my mom instincts are screaming 'go home and take care of your daughter like a proper mother you sick, sick woman! you're not a teenager anymore! god, your poor husband is taking time off of his career too! not just you,' y'know?"

the attempt of trying to make some light out of your guilt just comes out awfully sad. carmen sighs, wishing he could just envelop you in his arms right then and there and drag you back into bed, kissing and squeezing and softly biting your neck and shoulders. but his needs can be dealt with when you get back. this, your sanity and your happiness, is far more important.

"try not to even think about it like that, sweet girl. just enjoy yourself. promise me you'll do that? not just for me, but for you?"

you nod, humming in agreement and sitting down on the cheap plastic chair on the balcony. you knew he was right. carmen spends next few minutes whispering over and over again how wonderful of a person, wife, and mother you are. he assures you that this is right and that it's good for you. oh, how he wishes he could take every worry that ails you and toss it away. or even carry it on his own shoulders if he absolutely had to.

"call me when you get to the airport on monday, okay?"

"okay, i will. i'll text you as soon as i take off and as soon as i land. promise."

"alright, thank you. g'night, baby. get some sleep so you can have even more fun tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah. okay. gotcha."

"i love you."

"i love you, carmy."

"so much," he breaths.

"so much," you reply.

taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[justafewsmallsteps]

Another quick art and ficlet for @kagomes-hanakotobamatsuri ! This one focused on Week 3, Fertility and I used the Yellow Rose (new beginnings) as my inspiration flower. I started writing this while I was pregnant 2 years ago, but didn’t get around to finishing it until now.

Title: Potatoes Word Count: 1113 Rating: T Pairing: Inukag Warnings: Pregnancy

Try as she might, Kagome couldn’t help the uncontrollable (and unreasonable) flood of negative emotions that came with her unfulfilled pregnancy craving.

Wacdonald’s, of all things. Of course she was craving one of the most unobtainable foods possible in Sengoku and one of the easiest to find in her modern Tokyo. 

She didn’t really feel regret at leaving the modern world behind, not with Inuyasha and a life of friends and nature to surround her, and yet… 

Kagome found herself seething in angry tears. Angry at her body, angry at her attitude, angry at life. While she was always an emotional person, this hormone-induced storm was driving her crazy. She felt everything stronger, and no amount of logic or sleep was pulling her out of it because when she really really thought about it, it was all so unfair. She was raging at the world for making her choose between one family and another. The past was her future, and the future was now her past. But why did she have to choose? Why couldn’t she have a child with the love of her life and introduce her baby to her mother and grandfather and brother? Her righteous sorrow and her selfish cravings swirled into an indistinguishable mass of feelings. One second there was joy, another pain, the next irrepressible annoyance. She was guilty that she felt this way, upset as a tantruming toddler over a greasy burger and salty fried potatoes. 

And ultimately she was sad to be so far from her mother. 

Her thoughts turned to her poor husband. 

Inuyasha had been very sweet since she’d gotten back, and her pregnancy ramped up his doting completely. From warming her bath, to fetching her the ripest fruits, to building her the most comfortable approximation of a mattress possible, she felt spoiled and grateful. But her pregnancy-addled brain and hormonal body had her feeling so at odds with her heart. She loved being here. She loved her friends and the family they found in each other. She loved Inuyasha. 

Yet she longed for the crepes at the Shinjuku station mall, ice cream from a stand, steak from the grocery store cooked at home… her mouth was practically a waterfall at the thought. But by far the biggest craving was a Wacdonald’s cheeseburger with extra cheese and a side of fries dipped in ketchup. Make that two sides of fries. She could cry thinking about it, which she knew was stupid. 

It didn’t help that so many things made her feel nauseous. She’d helped out with pregnant mothers before, giving them herbs to help, learning from Kaede the rough timeline. She’d given reassurances and her best empathy, but in the throes of morning sickness Kagome wished to strangle her past naivety—and as much as she adored Kaede, the woman never actually had to go through pregnancy. 

Sango helped the most, understanding her anger, giving practical advice to give her the slightest relief. After all, carrying the twins had been an ordeal.

But Kagome was tired of ginger root and plain rice. 

She was tired in general. It has been such a joy to find out she was pregnant, and the first few weeks were a breeze. Then the morning sickness kicked in and subsequently kicked her ass. Morning sickness. God, it was unending sickness. Any time of the day sickness! She huddled under her blanket, willing the fatigue and nausea away. 

Then Inuyasha emerged from the door with her requested pile of potatoes. His look was apprehensive. He wanted to help her in any way he could, knowing that his wife often repressed cries for her mother. 

“I scrubbed ‘em already, and the pan’s good to go.” 

“Thank you, Inuyasha.” 

“I’ll cut ‘em too. It’s supposed to be like sticks, right?” 

She nodded. “Not too thin though.” Her husband was really good with a knife. She might be envious of his skills if he wasn’t such a good partner. 

Before he could start chopping, she stopped him. “Wait! Maybe cubes are better. They’ll move around the pan more easily.” 

“‘Kay,” he replied easily. 

Kagome stifled a groan as she slowly got up. Inuyasha had set the pan to heat already, so all she had to do was add the oil. 

“This look alright?” Inuyasha asked, checking in with her about the size. 

“Those look good.” 

Something about the sound of him chopping away triggered something. Everything triggered some emotion or another—but the domestic simplicity of their lives came at her full force as she heard the rhythmic sounds of their knife hitting their wooden chopping block. 

“It’s wonderful,” she whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes. 

“Woah, woah!” The hanyou turned around in concern, his hand immediately at her back to try to comfort her.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she lifted her head and sobbed, unable to hold it back. “It’s just the hormones, but I do think you’re wonderful. I’m so lucky to have you!” she wailed. 

His entire being was on high alert since she got pregnant, and even though he knew emotional outbursts were bound to happen, he still went into overdrive trying to make sense of it and fix whatever he could. “T-thanks.” 

“Thank you for getting me potatoes so we could try making fries. I’m sorry I’m probably going to hate it or throw it up but it’s the closest thing I have to Wacdonald’s.” She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffled. 

“I told you, woman, I’ll do anything I can. I’m sorry we don’t got wako’s or whatever here.” 

“I’m being unreasonable.”

“It’s normal. You know it is. I know it is. You shoulda seen Miroku while Sango was having her cravings. Damn near swindled every ingredient from every vendor in every town just to find something she couldn’t remember the name of.” 

Kagome gave a watery laugh. “That makes me feel better.” 

“We’ll make something good, and if you hate it and retch I’ll make you two something else.” 

‘Us two,’ Kagome thought in awe, placing her hand on her belly. “We appreciate you.” She sent him a smile and got on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. 

“Yeah, yeah. If you’re done, I’m going to go finish cutting now,” he brushed off, trying to hide his blush as he turned around. 

“Okay, but we’re following you,” Kagome declared. As her husband resumed chopping the rest of the potatoes, she wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her cheek against his back. 

“I’m gonna be done in five seconds, you know.” 

“Go slower.” 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes, but the quick beat of the chopping slowed to a different, sweeter ballad, and Kagome hummed contentedly along.

[quinloki]

Random ass Eustass Kid one shot.

College AU I guess.

Reader just got dumped, no pronouns used. Kid calls ‘em Mouse because I love it when Kid calls the reader Mouse so you’re probably going to see that in Every Single Kid Fic I Ever Write.

SFW, comfort

Cheesy

“You alright?”

The gruff familiar voice crashes over you like rain, and you dry your tears hastily before glancing up at him. You can’t feign contact long though, and look away.

“Yeah.” You say, with a defeated huff.

There’s a pause, and it’s almost awkward. You’ve never known Kid to suffer awkwardness.

“You sure?” He prompts, sitting down beside you. There was no shaking him now, but you weren’t sure you wanted you to.

“Yeah.” You say a little more energetically. “I’ll make it.”

Kid snorts, looking around a little before he rummages in his pack and pulls out a candy bar and a soda. “Anything you want me to deal with?”

You laugh, a sharp barked sound, taking the offered snacks without arguing. You know what kind of help Kid’s good at, and it’s not diplomatic, that’s for fucking sure.

“Nah. It won’t fix it.” You admit, wiping a tear that’s pricked the side of your eye for a different reason.

“Might make ya’ feel better.” He offers, pulling out another soda and opening it for himself.

You smile, the concern is appreciated at least. “It… won’t. Is what it is, I just need to move on.”

“… it woulda made me feel better.” He grouses, and you look over to see his ears are pink.

You look away at the implication and busy yourself with the candy bar for a few long moments. It’s comfortable around him, always has been. He’s just too loud, too proud, too dangerous for you.

It wouldn’t work.

At least that had been what you told yourself when you’d turned him down, picking a different guy to date a few months ago. Kid had warned there wouldn’t be another chance, he wasn’t someone who waited around for a pretty piece of ass. It had almost been a fight between you two, the first real one you maybe ever had.

“I… thought you were gonna move on.” You murmur quietly.

The silence stretched on for long enough you figured that was the end of the conversation. Eustass Kid wasn’t going to dent his pride for someone, no matter who they were. One of the guys maybe, someone who’d been in his life for decades. You could see him pushing aside his pride for Killer or Heat or Wire, if he had no other choice.

Still, it was nice to have someone around while you shrugged off the pieces of a failed relationship. Besides, you wouldn’t risk treating Kid like some rebound.

You shift a little, trying to find the words to say farewell for now, but Kid gets up. A heavy hand ruffles your hoodie against your hair, pushing your head down as you grumble at him.

“When you’re ready to give some flaky loser another shot, Mouse, let me know first.” He says, in a voice that’s trying to sound flippant.

“You’re not a flaky loser,” you retort, scrambling to your feet. “I don’t want you to say that about-!”

Kid turns on his heel suddenly facing you, hand wrapped in your hoodie as he pulls you into a rough kiss.

The action shatters your brain, so sudden and desperate and needy you don’t know what to do but sink into him. The kiss breaks and his eyes are locked on yours, a crooked grin on his face.

“Not how I meant that, Mouse.” He hums, in a voice soft and sure and devastatingly sweet to your ears.

He lets you go, turning and walking away. “Think it over. I’m not stupid enough to let you go if you’re dumb enough to pick me.”

[pepperpixel]

“put me on a pedestal and i’ll only disappoint you

tell me i’m exceptional, and i promise to exploit you

gimme all your money, and i’ll make some origami honey!

i think you’re a joke!!! …but i don’t find you very

fuuuuuuu~nyyy”

More tagr art!!! Assorted stuff this time! Featuring some cute chibi stuff. Some solo gaz’s, a lil uhhh. Comic of an altercation.. and a very belated Halloween pic I started drawing last Halloween and didnt finish lol. Also featuring lyrics from pedestrian at best cuz that song rllly rlly fits my ver of tak lol.

[its-chelisey-stuff]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA but why???? why was she up there? HOW did she get up there so fast? I have so many questions

He looks so done lmao

Saw a comment somewhere, that this was the literal description of "You could step on me and I'd thank you". Sunjae is that big of a loser for her.

Comedians.

[nomelwelloy]

Legolas imagine / drabble, [Legolas x reader]

☆*:.｡.

His hair is relaxed, unadorned by circlets or braids, gently lifted by the soft evening breeze, billowing about his face. Legolas walks towards you and for a moment is caught in the moonlight- hair illuminated white silver in her rays, eyeslashes casting long shadows over the sharp curve of his cheek bones, and the fine embroidery along his silk robes shimmer to life.

At that the sight of you, he smiles, quick and bright like a firework; flare fragments sprinkling in the brilliant specks of his irises. His hand comes to rest on the small of your back, and he greets you with a kiss to your temple. “Melleth nin,” he greets in a rough airy voice. “I found you missing when I woke, and the bed had grown cold. Have you been out here long?”

“Only for a while,” you reply, your own quiet smile coming to grace your lips. “The skies are beautiful tonight.” You both gaze up, drinking in the immense expanse of the dark skies and the soft, flickering pinpricks of light.

“A blessed sight,” you hear him murmur and feel his gaze sweep over you. “It is a little regretful that i've spent most of the day sleeping,” he muses quietly, “when such moments are already rare to come by.” His other arm comes around your waist in a loose embrace. He noses the side of your head with a wistful sigh. “Is there anything you'd like to do?”

“You slept so soundly,” you reach up to brush a stray lock from his face. “You must have been exhausted.”

He chuckles, the vibrations reverberating through the close proximity of your bodies. It's pleasant, soothing almost, and you sink further into his embrace. “It is because you were next to me, that i managed to sleep at all.”

It was indeed rare to see him like that, for elves needed little to no sleep after all. “Is there something troubling you?” you ask, hoping to understand the reasons for the grey pallor under his eyes and his unusually long rest since returning from patrol yesterday. You yourself had returned earlier this week, and upon your reunion after weeks away on separate duties, the first thing you’d done together was spend the entire day in bed- sleeping.

“Only that we have been apart for longer than i can appreciate,” he tightens his hold, brushing his lips over the cold skin of your shoulder. “But like this, i wish it could be forever.” His fingers curl into your soft sides, thumbs brushing over the thin fabric of your tunic.

You turn to face him, unsatisfied with his answer. Legolas smiles, recognising the look on your face, and he tries to placate you with a kiss under your eye, your cheek, and the corner of your mouth.

“I'm all right,” he whispers against your skin, his lips ghosting over yours, “You have my word.” he kisses you gently. “But i would feel better if you indulged me a little,”

You feel his kittenish grin, and you can't help your own as you return the kiss, hands coming up to weave through his loose locks. It is always a refreshing sight to see him with his hair like this, and it made your heart flutter. There is something so vulnerable about it, like it is reserved for only your eyes to see. And albeit tired, he appears even more criminally breathtaking.

“There is nothing else I’d like do,” you confess under your breath, “for I am so very content like this, with you,” and this only causes Legolas to break out into a silly smile, capturing your lips in another heart-fluttering kiss.

☆彡

a/n: finally got this out after months-long of a brain rot, with another rotting sitting in my drafts but hope you enjoyed this one! Reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[homosekularnost]

the end of network effect / art meeting the inlaws

(+ inspo)

[tusks-and-claws]

Miguel being depressed and picking up an anomaly who notices and is sweet and understanding with him.

Okay I'll write some feelings just this once because I like this. Reader is the anomaly in question. SFW angst/feelings under the cut

And it arrived in the unlikely form of a hulking figure in red and blue. He leaped through the darkness in near silence, binding you up with neon red webs as you struggled to break free. Was this Spider-Man? He didn't look like the Spidey from your dimension. And you, apparently, didn't look like any anomaly he'd ever seen. You looked so scared, so confused. Utterly helpless. When he finally realized that something was amiss, his mask retracted into his suit, revealing his face. It was angular and strong, but there was such weakness in his eyes. It struck you, and you stopped struggling.

-

You didn't know what an anomaly was until you became one, falling out of your dimension and into another. The experience was far more painful than you ever would have been able to predict. You looked out of place, you felt it, your body knew it. The longer you were there, the more it hurt. Until help arrived.

He approached you slowly, his hands up, showing you he didn't mean any harm. "I don't know what's going on," he said, his voice low and level. "But I do know that we need to get you out of here." Apologetically, he released you from his webbing and lifted you up into his capable arms. He carried you through a new portal that he created, bringing you to his headquarters.

There, he placed you in an orange containment device of some kind, and the light of it made you squint. "To keep you from glitching," he had said. "Wish I could give you a day pass, but I don't want to set a bad example. At the very least, I'm expediting the process to get you home. But there are some dangerous characters that need to be prioritized." You nodded. You understood as best you could. He asked you about yourself. And you both learned that there was a version of you from a different dimension that became some kind of villain. Your matching DNA confused whatever presence or influence transported you, and so there you had been, traveling through space and time without a single inkling as to why. A completely regular person in your own world, but a villain in another.

You were in a line, now, a line to eventually go home. The man who saved you seemed to feel terrible about you being there. It wasn't your fault that your interdimensional counterpart was evil. He brought you food and drink from the cafeteria. Empanadas, burgers, all sorts of things. One day, he sheepishly brought you a burger with a bun that looked like his mask. It made you laugh, and that seemed to soften him like nothing else had.

"What about you?" You eventually asked him from inside of your cage. He told you his name, Miguel, but not much else. "It's just that... you look so sad." You admitted.

"I know what it's like to feel so out of place."

"No," you said. "It's more than that." He picked his head up at that, suddenly on guard. "You don't have to tell me anything. I'm sorry. You do so much good. Surely, it outweighs whatever is hanging over you."

"Nothing will ever outweigh it...." He finally said, his expression tortured. "I do all of this because I know what happens when someone doesn't do it. I've made that mistake, and I can never take it back."

You shared a moment of silence with him before saying, "I hope you can at least rest knowing that you saved me. You're my hero because of that. Your past and your mistakes don't matter to me. You'll always be the man that saved my life."

He actually smiled at that. It was small but genuine.

The day came when it was finally your turn to go home. He brought you another burger with his mask on it. A goodbye gift. The sentiment tasted better than the burger ever could. He watched from the platform below as the machine detected your DNA signature and started to weave an enclosure around you. When the portal opened, Miguel's face was the last thing you saw before finally going home.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

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

Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

*

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

*

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

*

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

*

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

*

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

*

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

*

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

*

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

*

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”