#rt reader insert

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 11 - Desperate Times

In an act of sheer desperation, Y/N prays to the one man that is always listening.

(1.3k)

Sam’s head comes clean off with a swift slice to the neck, rolling to the floor with a sickening splat. His knees buckle as his body collapses on the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him. His wide, lifeless eyes stare at Dean, the pained look forever painted on his face.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yells with a strangled cry, his body pinned against the wall by an invisible force.

“Wait your turn,” Lucifer taunts, admiring his work with a twisted smile.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” He shakes with anger.

Lucifer shakes his head and laughs like Dean had just told him the funniest joke.

“Sammy…” Dean whispers, unable to peel his eyes away from his mutilated brother. Tears stream down his cheeks, a look of horror and sadness pains his face.

“Now,” Lucifer steps over Sam with complete disregard for what he’s done. “you won't be getting off so easily.” He stops, just inches away from his face.

“I know what you’ve been doing with my lover,” he growls, his irises glowing their intimidating red color. He caresses his cheek with the knife, just teasing the skin.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” He presses the blade just above his cheekbone, leaving a deep gash.

Dean grits his teeth, refusing to show his pain to Lucifer.

“Did you really think she could ever love someone like you?” Lucifer seethes, his face twisting with anger. “She is mine!” He growls. His hand flys up to grasp Dean’s neck, squeezing with an unrelenting force.

Dean desperately gasps for air, his eyes bulging and face turns a cherry red. “FUCK… YOU!” He chokes out, spitting directly in his face.

Lucifer growls and wipes the spit from his face in disgust. Without a second thought, he plunges the blade deep into his chest, taking pleasure in the gush of blood splattering his face.

Dean lets out a strangled scream that’s cut off by him choking on his own blood. His eyes widen with horror before going slack. His head drops forward and his body hangs limply.

“Pity, the game was over so fast.” Lucifer frowns. He releases his hold on Dean and his body slumps to the ground, twisting in grotesque ways. He crouches to his knees, looming over the bloody scene. “But it was fun while it lasted.” He smiles, admiring the gruesome scene he created.

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

“NO!” I shot up in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. Unrelenting tears stream down my face to the point my vision is completely blurred. My chest becomes tight, my breathing coming in more shallow until I’m full on hyperventilate. My wings curl around me, shaking.

After what feels like hours, I calm myself down enough to get a grip on reality and swallow down my panic. “They’re not dead. Not yet. I can feel it.” For once, my connection with Lucifer is a blessing rather than a curse. “There’s still time,” I reassure myself, calming my nerves.

Jumping out of bed, I grab the phone that Sam had given me for emergencies and dial his number with shaky hands .

“Pick up dammit. PICK UP!” I curse, pacing back and forth as the phone rings.

“It’s Sam, leave a message,” the answering machine says as if it were taunting me.

“We need to talk, NOW!” I leave a message, before disconnecting. I desperately dial Dean’s number, praying that he will pick up.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

“We need to talk immediately! I’m serious, you’re in danger!” I yell into the phone, before disconnecting the call once again.

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

6 hours. It’s been 6 fucking hours since I first called. No response. What’s the point of leaving me a number if you wont even pick up the phone.

I twirl the cheap burner phone in my hand, taking another sip of whiskey straight from the bottle. In times like this, I don’t see the point of drinking from a glass, I’d only have to refill it countless times.

I clumsily dial Sam's number again for what must be the hundredth time today. At this point, the sound of his voice on the answering machine practically burned into my brain. 

“It’s Sam, leave a message.” 

“FUCK!” I yell, just barely resisting the urge to smash the phone on the ground to pieces. I down the last of the bottle, still not feeling as drunk as I would like to be.

I can’t stop my brain from running a million miles per minute, replaying the thoughts that have plagued my brain for hours. I’ve considered the possibilities over and over, every single course of action I could possibly take. It all leads to the same conclusion. I know what I must do.

Calling up Dean’s phone for the last time, I pray that he answers. The phone rings and the last bit of hope that I hold onto slips away as the familiar recorded message plays.

““This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

I sigh and pause for nearly a minute, unsure of what to say, before I bite down my fear and start talking. “Dean, I’m not sure what to say, but I want to leave you one final message. You and Sam are in serious danger. I had a dream that Lucifer kills you both, and I can’t let that happen. I know what I have to do,” I pause for a second. “I’m going to give myself over to Lucifer in exchange for your lives. I’ll ensure Castiel gets home too. This is my mess and I have to be the one to clean it up.” I fall silent, choking back the tears that threaten to spill. 

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I’m sorry it ends like this. I’m sorry for everything. I’m just… I’m so sorry Dean. I wish we never got into that stupid fight, I wish I could've told you how much I care about you, how you make me feel things I can’t explain.”

“Tell Sam, thank you for everything,” I sniff.

“I guess this is goodbye Dean, take care.” I end the call, the line goes dead with a long beep. I smash the phone on the ground, broken pieces shooting off in every direction, releasing just a smidge of the pent up frustration that I have been holding onto.

I wipe my eyes and put on my best poker face. I take one last look around at the bunker. It had once been an unfamiliar prison that I was confined to, but now, it’s like the home I’ve always desperately craved. A deep sadness radiates through my core as I give one last goodbye to my home and the only family I've ever had. I find my way to the exit, shutting off the lights and closing the door behind me.

Stepping into the outdoors, the sun shines high above the sky and thick foliage extends around me, as far as the eye can see. The fact that I am really in the middle of nowhere truly sinks in as I take in the world around me. The soft wind blowing in my hair is a feeling I had almost forgotten in my time hidden away in the bunker. The crows in the tall mossy trees caw and the mourning doves coo softly, perhaps the last sign of innocent life I'll see for a long time. 

I close my eyes and pray to the one man that I know is always listening. “Okay Lucifer, come and take me. I’m ready.”

In a matter of seconds, the sound of wings flapping rushes through the wind and Lucifer stands tall before me. He’s covered head to toe in what I can only assume is Cas’s blood.

“Hello my love.” He gives me a cocky, but sweet smile. His eyes gaze into mine with an adoring look. “Just couldn’t resist, huh?” He chuckles. “I always knew you’d come back to me.” He places a hand on the small of my back and in the blink of an eye, the world spins and I’m taken far away from the bunker.

Series Masterlist

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Tags: @roseblue373

[garessta8]

Hot (lukewarm?) take: I feel like saying this "Void. Take. You." to Heinrix is really unfair to him. Just like making him choose between his duty to the Inqusition and his love for Rogue Trader in general.

Short version: this ranges between emotional manipulation and giving Heinrix impossible demands.

Long version:

Just think about it.

Here our sweet bun Heinrix put effort and time to arrange a date with you (the Rogue Trader insert in this case; the player AND the character; and also the reader of these words). He doesn't take you for granted, doesn't try to trick you, doesn't play games with you. He's just being nice, despite being in a generally bad mood lately for various reasons.

Even when you point the bad mood out, and what he worries about is that his moods have inconvenienced you!

And the reason for these moods... Is that he's afraid of the time when he will be forced to leave you. Because Heinrix is essentially a slave to the Inquisition. Hell, even if he wasn't in Inquisition's service, he'd be in service of someone or something else.

Even sanctioned psykers aren't left to just live their own lives in the Imperium. They are always in someone's service, except for some extremely (compared to the total amount of psykers) rare cases of psyker inquisitors, Rogue Traders and such.

Heinrix was a slave since he was discovered to be a psyker. He's only more a slave in the Inquisition, because the only way you leave it is in a coffin.

And of course, the entire "duty to the Imperium" and "you are a subhuman mutant" brainwashing Heinrix went through.

Considering this, blaming Heinrix for accepting his duty as something inescapable, inevitable and impossible (bad!) to fight against... is just cruel and unfair.

He doesn't choose between being with you forever and a well-paid white-collar job in the office.

In his mind, he chooses between being with you forever (in sin of heresy and abandonment of his duty; until an Inquisition-paid assassin kills him) and his holy duty to the Imperium (the only thing that can justify an existence like his in eyes of the Emperor).

It's a testament for how love-starved Heinrix is that he can choose the first option at all. (Oh, and it's a worthwhile to notice imo that he loves you dearly until the end of his life even if he chooses duty. Of course, the epilogue slide can be interpreted several ways, but seriously though... The ice scene plays almost the exact same way whether you "corrupt" Heinrix or not.)

Rogue Trader as a game is very generous with us players by letting us keep Heinrix as Master of Whispers without anybody killing him for heresy. (There are, of course, many reasons why this could be possible, starting with RT's influence, possible C'tan, Xavier being too dead to care and/or too in cohorts with RT to not spare an acolyte, other inquisitors not knowing about Heinrix, etc. etc. Still.)

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Marching on

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, Reader gets yelled at, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

“Quicken that pace battalion, this isn't some training course on Kamino!” 

If you had to hear one more fucking command from Krell, you may just inject him with all the painkillers in your pack.

It’s been almost 4 hours of his self-importance. You were patient, but by all the gods in existence you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Fives scoffed next to you, “The uh…new General has a way with words.” His tone was directed at Rex, who had wanted you at the front of the march with him. 

His reasoning for such a formation? ‘Keep an eye on the supplies’. In reality? ‘to protect you.’

The clone captain looked to the ARC trooper, “He's just trying to keep us on schedule.”

“By raising everyone’s ire?” You leaned forward slightly to look over at your lover. You didn’t mean to give him any grief, but it was a good question. Just what was Krell hoping to achieve by annoying everyone?

“Either way he's in charge, and we got a job to do.” Rex responded taking your question in stride, “Treat him with respect and we'll all get along fine.”

You sighed, “As long as that respect is mutual.”

“You know we don’t always get that luxury.” The captain looked at you. You could practically feel his disapproving gaze through his visor.

You backed down, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already was, “I know…I know…just…” With another sigh, you gave him a soft smile, “Just want to keep you and everyone else safe.”

“Especially me?” Fives chimed in, a smirk clear in his voice. 

You snorted, “Yes Fives, especially you.”

Rex let out a soft laugh, “That’s enough chatter. We need to focus.” 

“Speaking of.” The ARC trooper nudged the captain and pointed upward, “Do you see that?”

In the distance, two glowing…beasts were flying directly towards your battalion. They had impressive speed as they descended quickly. Their bodies were triangular, with bioluminescent under bellies and spiked tails.

“Yea, ready your weapons!” Rex commanded, pulling his pistols. The other troopers followed his lead. The barrage of blaster fire began as soon as one of them swooped, yanking an ARF trooper, Jock, from his AT-RT. It turned sharply and let go, slamming the clone downward into the ground.

You heard the crack through the blasters.

The second dove and grabbed a trooper behind you. He cried out in pain and fear as it flew upward again, taking him from the ground. The shots continued and you got up from the speeder to tend to the down ARF trooper. 

You didn’t make it far, as the first glowing beast made a second swoop aiming for you. Jesse, to his credit, did a wonderful job of protecting you by tackling you to the ground for the second time in a rotation, “Oh no you don’t!” He growled, aiming his gun upward and firing. 

The bioluminescent creature dodged every shot and made another turn, lifting upward to make another pass. 

“Thanks, second time you saved me.” You nodded to him, getting up and rushing to Jock. His leg was broken, fibula stabbing through broken plastoid. Immediately you administered painkillers. This poor man was probably in agony.

Krell had quickly disposed of the second. The Jedi had leapt upward and ripped the beast's claws open, dropping the other trooper. His size and weight worked to the advantage as the animal couldn’t lift. 

The two of them hit the ground where the besalisk stabbed both his lightsabers through its torso. It died with a high pitched screech before Krell sliced the last one as it tried to swoop, bringing it down as well. 

Rex and Fives kept their guns pointed at the beast, but the new General shouted, “anyone else want to stop and play with the animals!?” He punctuated his point by driving his foot down on the creature's body. It jerked before going still, “Didn’t think so. Now keep moving!”

You huffed, turning back to the soldier, “I got you.” Your voice was kind and soft, “I’m not going anywhere, OK?”

He nodded, gloved hands trembling and gripping his thigh. Even with the painkillers, you knew he must’ve been feeling like absolute hell. 

“Jesse,” You looked up at the senior trooper, “Can you get the speeder please?” The soldier needed surgery, but you couldn’t do it here. Not in the open. 

He saluted and quickly stepped away. 

“How bad?” Kix asked, pulling off his pack and kneeling next to you. He remained calm, despite the earlier excitement, “Damn, Jock. Don’t worry. We got you.”

“We are moving!” Krell shouted somewhere behind you. 

“Give us a few minutes!” you snapped, not looking up as you worked. “Help me stabilize the leg, I can't fix it here.”

“We have bacta and medication to deal with any infections later.” the medic beside you nodded, “Get a splint in place.”

“North, take his AT-RT,” You heard Fives’ command the ARF trooper you treated earlier. As soon as the ARC troopers words were spoken, North had gotten up from the stretcher as Jesse approached with the speeder. While you would have preferred him to rest, that currently wasn’t an option. Thankfully, he was at least conscious enough to operate a vehicle. 

Plus, leaving behind a perfectly functional and even devastating weapon in the hands of the enemy was a very bad idea.

Jock was trembling. Pain and shock from staring at his broken leg most likely. Even hardened soldiers would panic at the sight of one of their bones stabbing outside of their body, “Hey Jock, don’t worry. We got you, ok?” You shifted slightly, lowering your face so he’d pay attention to you and not his wound.

“Troopers!” 

“Can you not fucking see-!” a heavy hand yanked you back and to your feet. You stumbled, but kept upright. 

Krell was glaring at you, a fire of wrath in his eyes,“I told you, we. are. Moving! Do not ignore a direct order!” 

Now it was your turn to be enraged, “Respectfully, General, my priority is to the wellbeing of this army. It is my duty as a field doctor to help them when they’re injured. Surely as a jedi you understand the importance of duty.” You kept your eyes on him, refusing to look away. 

Arguing with your General normally wasn’t an option. However, in your training it was emphasized that your rank as a medic held special privileges, such as ignoring orders that may inhibit you from caring for the wounded.

But something told you that the Jedi in front of you didn’t really care.

You didn’t see how Hardcase held Rexs’ arm, doing his best to keep the captain from making a grave mistake. He was normally able to think clearly and not let his emotions dictate his decisions. Unless it came to you. The one he loved so dearly.

The new General huffed and straightened his back, “You have 60 seconds to get him stabilized and loaded on to the stretcher,” He clasped his arms behind him again and began to walk to the front, he turned his head back at you, “Next time, I will not stand for such insubordination, because it is my duty to lead these troops so the Republic can take the capital of this planet.” 

You swallowed and saluted, turning back to Jock. With the help of Kix and Jesse, the injured trooper was situated on the stretcher. You gave him another dose of painkillers and let him drift off to sleep. 

“You can tell the General we had 20 seconds to spare.” You grumbled to Fives, getting back on your speeder. Within minutes a formation was established again. Your pace was with the men, staying behind Rex, Fives and Krell. 

“Are you ok?” Kix asked as he walked next to you. 

“Yes.” You rubbed your face in your hand, ignoring the small sting of the blaster burn to your cheek. You still hadn’t dealt with it yet. 

Your medic friend patted your back in sympathy. He shared your frustrations. 

Anakin would never have pulled you away from tending to the injured. He would have knelt down and helped you, or had his lightsabers ready to protect you. His padawan would have done the same, perhaps even go after whoever injured the trooper to begin with. 

But Anakin wasn’t here. Neither was Ahsoka. Instead, you were stuck with Pong fucking Krell. 

About an hour later Rex had slowed his pace to walk next to you, “Mesh’la.” He spoke softly, making sure no one else could hear, “You haven’t dealt with the cut on your cheek.” 

Oh. Right, you keep forgetting about it. 

“It’s alright.” You gave him a small smile, “the men are going to need all the bacta they can get. A tiny scratch like this doesn’t matter.” 

He remained silent for a moment before shaking his head, “Please be careful, the men need you.” His words hid the true meaning, from everyone except you. 

I need you. 

“I am, Captain.” You answered, “You just promise me you’ll stay alive to lead us.” 

Please don’t become one of the injured I have to treat. 

“I promise.” His hand twitched. He wanted so badly to cup your injured cheek and kiss it better. But not right now. Not around others. Not in such a hostile place.

“Captain Rex.” Your voice became quieter, “Ner kar’ta.” 

“Ner narser.” He whispered back before straightening up. Your lover became the captain again, needing to focus on the mission at hand. Still, to hide your relationship, he spoke slightly louder, letting others hear, “you can’t disobey orders again, understood?” 

You nodded, “yes, Captain. It won’t happen again,” Subtly, you gave him a smile. 

He returned to his position closer to Krell after that. However, occasionally he’d cast a quick glance back at you. 

After about an hour, you heard some whispered chatter behind you. Looking back, you noticed a trooper, Oz, leaning against Tup and limping. You gave him a look of confusion and slowed the speeder to get next to them.

“It's nothing to worry about, Doc.” Oz informed you, “Just…probably twisted my ankle when that beast dropped me.” It was a clear lie. From your perspective it looked more like something had fractured in his knee.

Your gaze drifted to Jock, soundly knocked out on the stretcher. Why are so many soldiers getting leg injuries? 

“Regardless, we can’t know the true extent unless I get a proper look.” your gaze drifted to Krell. The bastard would flip out if he knew you stopped again. Still, Oz needed to get off that leg, “Take the speeder.”

“Doc?”

“You’ve used one right? It's easy.” You slipped off of the vehicle and pushed it along before Oz or anyone could argue, “Take it, at least to rest the ankle.” 

He paused but Tup pulled him slightly, “Come on, doctor's orders.” 

Without much more fuss, the injured trooper did as you directed. He sat down and let out a small sigh of relief, “Thank you.” clearly he hid his pain behind soldier bravado.

You nodded, deciding to walk next to Tup for now. Your eyes went to North, making sure he seemed alert and aware. For now, the ARF trooper was recovering from his wounds well, getting some weight off your shoulders. Still, everyone needed a breather. It's been about five hours since they started marching and while clones had stellar endurance, they would need a break at some point.

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on the backs of those in front of you. It was a few hours later when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Are you ok, Doc?” Tup asked you quietly. 

You couldn’t hide the irritation in your voice, “You are the second person to ask me that within the last few hours. Do I not look ok?” He seemed startled at your response and you honestly felt bad. Poor Tup was barely a shiny, so you sighed and nodded, “Just thinking, Tup. I'm alright.” 

Before he could respond, Hardcase draped his arm over your shoulder, “Hey Doc, I got a cut on my lip. Can you kiss it to make it better?”

You snorted, repressing your laugh. Sometimes the soldiers would flirt and joke, all in good fun. Hardcase was especially friendly, knowing went to chime in to lift the mood. Honestly, you appreciated it. 

Tup looked downright offended on your behalf, “Hardcase!” 

Jesse looked back from his position. Even under the helmet you knew he was looking confused. 

“Whatever happens next, I am not a part of it.” you responded with a shrug, looking ahead. 

“See? The doc doesn’t care, ease up.” Now the hyperactive trooper moved on to leaning against Tup. the two bickered quietly as you continued to walk. However, over time their voices died down.

It was around the 12th hour when you realized the silence was from exhaustion. Everyone, including you, was barely hanging on by a thread. The clone endurance you praised earlier had finally hit its limit.

“Kix,” You stepped up next to him, “Tell Captain Rex that we need a break.” your voice was a hushed whisper. You feared if Krell heard you make the request, he’d push the men even harder out of spite. 

The medic agreed with you and sped up his pace to speak to Rex. You, however, fell back next to the medical speeder and checked on the injured. Oz had been doing a good job at controlling the thing, though you could tell his leg was still bothering him. Jock was still out cold, you and Kix periodically checked to make sure he didn’t wake up in agony. North remained coherent and aware as well, he piloted the AT-RT as if he had never been injured, indicating the bacta you’d given him was working well. 

Your observations came to a halt as Krell’s voice pierced the air, “CT-7567 are you reading me?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Your secret lover sounded as confused as everyone was feeling. 

The jedi continued, “I ask you a question, CT-7567 do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?” Blessedly, he stopped to continue to yell at Rex. Despite how you felt at your lover being targeted so viciously, at least the men had something of a breather. And Rex was a man, he could take an angry General. 

The clone captain shook his head, trying to reason, “Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile, despite the difficulty of the conditions the battalion is making good time. These men just need a little break.” It was a desperate attempt to get some kind of humanity out of the besalisk. 

The General practically snarled and continued his verbal assault, “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet?” He motioned over all the soldiers behind him, “Look back, see those platoons? Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly, time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford!” Krell didn’t give up just yet, leaning forward an inch away from the captain's face, “The other battalions are counting on our support, if we fail everyone fails. Do you understand this? Does everyone understand this?!” His yelling was now directed at everyone around him. His critical gaze roamed over the battalion practically challenging anyone to speak up.

When there was only silence, he scoffed and turned, continuing his steps, “Now move on!”

Rex’s shoulders slumped slightly, but quickly, he returned to his stiff and professional posture. With a glance back and a nod, the 501st began to march again.

You shared a look with Hardcase and continued. It was going to be another long few hours of exhausted silence before you stopped again.

[spnfanficpond]

Weekly Pond Newsletter!

The year is only halfway done, and yet the US Supreme Court has made this year feel like it's going in reverse. To our non-US members, please keep us in your thoughts. To cheer us all up, have a gif of behind-the-scenes Bobby and Crowley kissing.

Old Business:

Manta Ray in the discord server! Admin Stacey was originally supposed to be in the server yesterday, but due to Life, the Universe, and Everything, had to postpone until today. If you want to come in and chat, head to the discord server in about 10 hours!

It's Fishing For Treasures weekend at the @fanficocean! In July, we're celebrating RPF stories so head on over there this weekend for some quality non-SPN actor fics! In two weeks, we'll be doing the same thing here, so if you've got some RPF fic recs for us, either submit a link via the submit button on the blog, or drop a link in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in the discord server. The deadline to submit is Friday, July 14th at midnight, Eastern US time.

Last week's #TweetFicTues prompt was:

Still working on building our own prompt generator, and what's coming out of what we have so far is WILD! How about for your #TweetFicTues you have Amara as a tattoo artist and Zeus as a chef in the 1980's with singing? Remember to tag us in whatever you write so we can RT it!

New Business:

Angel Fish Award nominations for June are due tonight! Although we accept AFA nominations all the time, the deadline tonight is to be included in the raffle drawing for prizes. Check out the prize list here. Every nomination is one entry into the raffle, and you can send in as many nominations as you want! Not sure who's a member? Click here for our member list! Nominations can be submitted via the submit button on the blog, or sent by DM to @mrswhozeewhatsis. Just send us a link to the fic and a few words on why you liked the story!

Manta Ray in the discord server! Next weekend, Admin Michelle will be in the discord server just hanging out! Wanna talk about Tumblr, writing, life, poop, or anything else? Come on in and chat! You can find the exact dates and times of Pond events on the Pond Google calendar, shown in your time zone. Or, stay tuned for announcement posts here on the blog!

Do you know about the Pond Tag Sheet? If not, you should check it out! Writers can use the sheet to find readers who want to read their fics, and readers can be added to the sheet and get notifications in their inbox of new fics they'll love.

Writers: Using the filter function in Google sheets, you can find a list of readers who want to read exactly what you're posting. Readers have to ask to be added to the list, so you know that they WANT you to tag them! There is no worry that you're bugging people, because if they don't want to be tagged, they will ask us to remove them from the list.

Readers: To get yourself added to the list, send an ASK to the blog with the following information: Your URL, if you are over 18 or not, and a list of what you want to be tagged in, organized by tab and column. For example:

Hi! I want to be added to the Tag List, please! My name is Michelle, I'm over 18, and I want to be tagged in the following: CHARACTER READER INSERTS: Fluff, angst, smut, crack, orgies, OC/OFC, Dean, Sam, John, Castiel, Benny, and Gadreel. PAIRINGS: Fluff, angst, smut, crack, all pairings. RPF READER INSERTS: none. GENFIC: fluff, angst, crack, reader insert, non-reader insert, all characters. Thanks!

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That's all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! We try to keep it as up to date as possible. If there's something you want to see on the calendar that's not there (maybe a convention we missed, or cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @princessmisery666, @thoughtslikeaminefield, and @katbratsupernaturalwhore!

[pallysuune]

Get to know you meme

Thank you @holylustration!

Get To Know You Meme

Three Ships: I have so many, and I'm a sucker for reader-inserts, so a lot of them revolve around that (ah, cringe self-indulgence xD) Other than that, keeping it in Warhammer:

Rogue Trader/Heinrix

Rogue Trader/Nocturne

Sevatar/Rushal (don't ask, and don't judge me).

I could have put RT/Marazhai, but I figured I'd do something a little out of left field instead.

First Ship: I genuinely don't even remember. Probably myself and some character. Maybe Link from Legend of Zelda?

Last Movie: Uhhhhh....I was in the room when my husband was watching the new Ghost Busters, does that count?

Last Song: I Feel Like I'm Surfin' On A Giant Pizza Slice Through Outer Space by MC Snax. (XD)

Currently Reading: I'm attempting to finish Ward by JC McCrae (Wildbow), a web novel, but ADD has been kicking in pretty hard.

Currently Watching: Nothing particularly specific. I've been letting a playlist of spooky tik toks play while I'm at work. Off work, it's usually a mix of game let's plays, animal videos, cooking shows, or anime with my husband.

Currently Eating: Toast with cinnamon honey butter, and drinking water.

Currently Craving: Besides an ever present craving for chocolate ice cream, nothing really. XD

Tagging: Anyone who would like to.

[zogdon]

You will comply: This post-Soviet country is too independent for the West. Punishment is at hand — RT World News

Here we go again.. this time it's Georgia under western political attack.

Again and again, the west tried to boss every country that has Own Freedoms as a guide.

But with powerful friends like the Russian Federation, Georgia has nothing to be concerned about.

The latest attacks on Georgia come from Washington's Kiev regime. Zelensky is 'warning' Georgia, as if he already rules in Tbilisi. But the Georgian people just laugh at Zelensky, as the puppet he is.

There is no way, that Georgia will ever join Nato, EU. The Georgian people see very clearly what has happened in Ukraine, and how the Ukrainian people have been used, and have suffered under western occupied Kiev regime.

That's no way forward, for the proud Georgian people.

We were surprised by the Tumblr management, when they inserted a 'warning' type of boxed text, saying: "We believe that this post is connected to the Russian Federation Government."..or, something very close to these words.

We were surprised, because Tumblr has been a fair platform.. didn't silence, nor delete honest, truthful, expert academic research, posted on their platform.

Of course, we give Tumblr room for a sensible excuse.. because they are in the US, and therefore Washington can put much pressure on them, not to allow the Russian side, nor any real proper reporting to surface on the Tumblr platform.

However... We must confirm: OUR RESEARCH AND ANALYSIS ARE COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT FROM ANY GOVERNMENT, ESPECIALLY TOTALLY INDEPENDENT FROM THE GOVERNMENTS IN MOSCOW AND WASHINGTON.

We use Russian media in our research and analysis, as well as the same form the western side.. As All proper research should do, ie. cover both adversaries..tell the story and the evidence presented by both sides, equally balanced.

However, as any proper academic will tell you; in the final analysis, the argument must take a side. Academics who claim 'sitting on the fence position' especially in violent conflicts like Ukraine and Israel, are dishonest, and only waste readers time, and deflect the proper resolution of the conflict.. in other words, support the continuation of war, violence, cold blooded murders of civilians. We see this now in Palestine and Lebanon..so clearly, where a Zionist leader is using endless war, as a way to avoid prison. Similarly, the Zelensky régime in Kiev, won't negotiate, bring Peace.. because then Zelensky's regime will have to call an election, which he will definitely lose. And he knows that very well, as most of the proper research in Ukraine, shows just under 5% support for Zelensky. Ukrainians hate Zelensky so much now, that Zelensky will try to extend the war, forever if he can.. even bring official Nato boots to the battlefields.

Unfortunately, for both, Zelensky and Netanyahu, these are just pipe dreams.. only extending the misery of all people concerned. But that only enlarges the public anger across the world, for both of them.

We believe, that the humanitarian side, the side that tried honestly and fully, exhausting all avenues to achieve sensible non violent resolution, always wins in the end.

And these winning, Justice and Peace driven sides, Are Palestine and the Russian Federation.

This is why, the Georgian people chose the Russian Federation side, overwhelmingly, in their proper, Democratic Elections. The Georgian people know well, that their security and prosperity has always been served best by their Russian Federation family. And they also know very well, that the Palestinian people are also served and defended best by the Russian Federation.

That's regardless of the recent and present Genocides, in Palestine and previously in Ukraine..now it seems in Lebanon as well.

The aggressors know just one way... Always Violence. But if they took the time to read the history of 'aggression', especially western aggression.. they will find just one final result... Always without a fail: The Capitulation of the Aggressor State. In large conflicts, it has always been the western aggression that was destroyed by the Russian/Soviet side. In both conflicts today, again we see the same adversaries.. Russian Federation vs the West/Zionists.

[rtscrobbles]

28 w/ jon risinger?

"Put me down!" You scream, Jon had you over his shoulder and he was carrying you around despite your protests and softly hitting his back. You couldn't be mad, you were laughing as he tipped you gently on the best and hovered over you.

"Are you going to make up for that?" You were making out beforehand so you knew he was hot and flustered too, and needed a bit of a release.

“Make me” Jon smirks, bending down and planting eager kisses trailing from you neck down.

[adscititious-cacoethes]

“Remove the hand before I remove it for you” in the Petrichor universe with Michael?

This is in the same universe as Petrichor, but it’s not the exact same canon, because in the original I had a few allusions of Michael and Lindsay being together, and this took a romantic turn…

If you’re not super familiar with Petrichor, it is a modern fantasy AU with supernatural elements, and Geoff runs AH - a group of supernatural beings who act as a sort of pseudo police/gang group that monitors the supernatural presence of the city and deals with the stuff that the “normal” police wouldn’t be able to, and whatnot. 

Pairings: Michael J./ReaderWarnings: swearing, threatening violence, general warnings that should be given when Michael is involved. open ended, can be interpreted as kind of sad? idk, that’s for you to decide for yourself. 

Enjoy!

You can send me prompts here, read prompting “rules” here, or read my other stuff here!

________________________________________________________________

You were relatively new to Ramsey’s crew, but up until this point, you had gotten on with the rest of them like a house on fire.

Key words, of course, being “up until this point.” 

You weren’t sure what you had done, but for some reason, Michael had taken a sudden and acute stance change from “friendly” to “completely ignoring you.” 

As a fire nymph, you figured that the demon, whose original domain is bathed in fire and brimstone, would be the easiest person to become friends with. And at first, you thought that was true. Michael was charming, if a little hot-headed, and seemed to give you tiny, secret smiles when the others weren’t looking. It made your heart flutter in time with your wings. It wasn’t long after you started when he started saving you a muffin at breakfast when he knew that it was your favorite or sitting in the chair you had decided was your “favorite” chair for briefing meetings until you arrived so that it was saved for you. 

It was cute. Michael was cute. The two of you got along well. And it wasn’t more than a few months into your employment with AH that you realized you were starting to like him, in a schoolgirl crush/romantic sort of way. At first, you were too scared to admit it to yourself, however eventually (with a lot of needling from Jeremy, who had accidentally discovered your crush), you decided to stick out an olive branch and see where it led. 

But, as soon as you sent him a tiny, secret smile back one night after a particularly rough run-in with some Unseelie fae that had been causing a ruckus, the next morning - poof! - it was like you didn’t exist. 

And, frankly, after a week, it was starting to piss you off. 

The first thing you did after you realized that no, this was not just a “Michael-being-moody” thing and was, in fact a “Michael-pointedly-ignoring-you” thing, was go to Ryan. The vampire had been in charge of your little group outing, so he was the most logical person to ask if you had done something that would warrant Michael ignoring you.

When you had finally found the elusive Elder Vampire, holed up in his office (even though you had checked there thrice earlier and he had not been there before), he had just responded with a shrug and a wave of his hand. 

“It’s Michael,” he stated with a frown as he fiddled with a gadget that looked to be at least a century older than you were, “I try not to figure him out anymore. Gives me too many headaches.” 

“You say that about everyone.” You retorted shortly, hands on your hips.

Ryan blew hair out of his face, finally looking up at you, “Exactly. And you’re about to be added to that list of “everyone.” Ask Gavin or something, I don’t know.” 

—

Heeding Ryan’s advice, you waited a day or two to see if Michael got over his whatever, and when he hadn’t, you set out in search of Gavin.

The siren, turns out, much easier to find. 

“Hmm…” He pulled at his beard, looking off into the distance as you told him your tale. Something flashed across his unnaturally blue eyes - a glint of recognition, maybe? - but it was gone before you could have the time to pinpoint what you saw. 

“Well?” You huffed, tapping your foot.

“I dunno. He’s my Michael-boi, but he hasn’t said much to me about it.” Gavin finally said with a shrug that looked suspiciously like Ryan’s had, dancing away before you had the chance to probe him for further information.

—

It seemed, however, that while your brief chat with Gavin brought you to a dead end, it had also amped up Michael’s avoidance of you. Instead of just pretending you didn’t exist, he had escalated to making every excuse to leave the room as soon as you entered, swapping out with others on scouts and missions, and so on.

You endured this for three more days before you couldn’t take it anymore. Michael was in the kitchen, his back to you, and before you could realize what you were doing, you were striding towards him, cornering him in the kitchen.

“Michael, we need to talk -” You stated, putting your brave face on as you lightly grabbed his shoulder with your hand. 

He spun around with faster reflexes than you knew he had and glared at you. His eyes seemed forever dark, an inky black had spread into his irises from his pupils. You took a split-second to decide whether or not pissing off the demon was worth it.

You decided it was. 

“No, we fucking don’t. Remove the hand before I remove it for you.” Michael spat, trying to step away from you, but you were faster, reaching out and floating forward in time with his movements to latch onto his wrist, this time.”

“Yes, we do! I’m not leaving, Michael, not until I understand why you’re ignoring me.” You pushed, trying to portray your hurt and despair over his actions with your voice. If only he would understand.

“I said, get off!” Michael practically roared, wrenching out of your grip and you watched as his body began to smoke, inky black, and the smell of ash and fire burned your nostrils. 

You knew it was supposed to be a threat, a warning. But Michael was forgetting that you were also made from fire. You let your own aura glow, your fiery wings revealing themselves, and you felt the flames licking at the tips of your fingers.

“I just want to understand, Michael! Why are you ignoring me?” Despite your own show of power, you pleaded, unsure of how to get through to the hot-headed demon. 

The darkness that surrounded Michael vanished as quickly as it came, and he sagged back against the countertop, “I just…I like you, okay? I can’t risk you getting hurt. I can’t risk it happening, not again.” He sighed and brushed past you, and you, too in shock at his confession, let him go. 

It took you a moment to bring yourself back together, but once you did, you went back to searching for Michael. No matter what he thought, the conversation wasn’t over.

You weren’t giving up on him. 

[5lbsofsmarties]

1 WITH TREYCO PAH-LEASE 😍

Word Count: 326Nuzzling Kiss

Thirty eight hours.

Trevor had been awake and traveling from the other side of the world for thirty-eight hours. When he finally arrived home you could almost see every hour etched into the dark circles under his eyes. But that didn’t stop him from hugging you tightly and asking how your week without him had been; even if every other word was punctuated with a stifled yawn.

Without a word, you all but dragged him further into the house and to the living room where you urged him to lay down on the couch with you. You knew that he had to be physically and mentally exhausted not just from the trip home but the insane schedule that he had while over in Australia. So, you laid back on the couch and allowed him to stretch out along with you. His erratic hair tickling the underside of your chin.

You reached out for the remote and found something to put on the television, mostly as background noise, as all you really wanted to do was look at him. It had been a long week without him home and while the pictures and videos posted online were nice, having here in person was so much better.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” he mumbled, lifting his head.

Trevor’s dark brown eyes opened and closed slowly, the light of the television reflecting within them and I sort of smiled. He stared at you in confusion, blinking, his eyelashes brushing against your cheek.

“Nothing."

You tried to hide your smile as best as you could. He rolled his eyes and nuzzled into your shoulder. You could feel reverberation from his chest as he shifted to press a soft, warm kiss to the hollow of your throat before he completely laid his head back down. After a few agonizing minutes as you were fearful to stir and disturb him, you felt him go limp and you smiled, cradling him to your chest.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.7 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter. 6 Chapter 8.

Silk

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Reader has an emotional breakdown, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

 While Rex and a few others scouted ahead, You took a desperate shot in the dark.

“General Krell,” you had the comm close to your lips, “We need the medical speeder. There's several wounded that need to get out of here.”

You were met with silence.

“Sergeant Appo, if it's you i'm talking to, get me General Krell before I shove my laser scalpel up your-”

“That will be unneeded, Doctor.” the General’s voice came through on the other end, “The wounded will be extracted when the airbase has been taken.” 

“Sir, some of the wounded can’t wait that long. They need to get to a safer location so I can-.” You were practically begging the Jedi at this point.

“I have the utmost faith that you’ll be able to save them from where you are.” He responded, but even on this end, you could practically hear the uninterested look on his face. You were about to respond but the comm cut. Krell was done with you.

You looked around you, taking in the injured. Three of them needed surgery. Two needed bacta tanks ASAP. Five were entirely unconscious from blood loss and missing limbs.

And one, Fisher, was leaning against a broken and destroyed AT-RT. His chest had been completely eviscerated, exposing broken ribs and damaged organs. You couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have the bacta or supplies to save him. Yet, it would take hours for him to die. 

So you held his hand in yours and gave him as many painkillers as it took to stop his heart. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. 

“Doc?” Nax had remained close, guarding you while Rex and the others went ahead, “Are you ok?” 

“No, Nax.” You admitted, “I’m not.” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had to mercy kill. But you hated yourself every time you did it.

He remained silent as he stepped towards you and offered a hand. He was sweet. Very polite. So you took it and stood, “Thank you.” 

The trooper looked like he was about to speak when the ground rumbled. Terror filled your blood. Were there more of those worm tanks!? The air crackled and burned with fire and explosives. They sounded different from the centipede tanks the men shot down earlier…new weapons? You desperately hoped not.

Several soldiers dove over your cover, breathing heavily. Very quickly others joined, remaining hidden. You didn’t want to risk your head to get a look at what was happening. So you knelt, looking at Jesse, who had made it before Rex or the others. He met your confused and worried gaze before answering, “Heavy tanks.”

Rex, followed by Kix and Fives, got to your position. the captain had his comm on, speaking hurriedly, “Sir, we’re overpowered. we need reinforcements!”

“The rest of the battalion is holding the entrance of the gorge, captain.” Krell was on the other end, sounding about as calm and uninterested as when you called, “They're guarding it so your troops can break through to the air base.”

Jesse jerked his head up, sharing a look with Hardcase. Seemed everyone expected such a cold response, but it was still despair-inducing to hear.

A shot exploded directly on the other side of your cover. The heavy tanks were attempting to break through the trees and roots that protected everyone. Another shot hit right above you, raining scorched plant matter down.

You dove towards an unconscious, bleeding trooper and held him close, using your body to protect him from the debris. Once everything passed, you got to work stabilizing him. 

Rex continued to argue with the General, “But sir, we can’t possibly-!”

“You must stand your ground!” Pong fucking Krell shouted from his comm, “Do you read me!? Captain, are you listening? Do not fall back! That's an order!” 

Your lover was unmoving. He was paralyzed in horror that Krell would still push this suicide mission. After a few heartbeats, he shook his head. 

Two voices cried out from the otherside of the cover. You and Kix shared a look before scrambling over to grab them and drag them with the others. Your hands were on one trooper and getting his wounds under control while Kix was dealing with the other.

“Keep the wounded as quiet as possible.” The clone captain nodded to you before addressing everyone else, “Alright, you heard the general. Let's go.”

Jesse whirled around from where he kept an eye on the battlefield, “You can't be serious!”

“I used to think the General was reckless,” Fives spat, “But now I'm beginning to think he just hates clones.”

Dogma stepped forward, clear on which side he stood, “The captain is right. Now let's move out!”

The trooper, Trident, under your hands spasmed. He seized, and you did your best to get him on his side and let the seizure pass, “With who!?” you snapped, cracking under the stress, “Everyone is injured and exhausted or dead!” Trident stilled in your arms, and once you felt his neck, there was no pulse. 

The traumatic brain injury he sustained was too much for him. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

“Isn’t it your job to patch everyone up!?” He retorted, “With all the dead, you certainly are doing a great job!” 

Your eyes widened and Hardcase shot forward, immediately punching Dogma, sending him to the ground. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted down at the trooper, “You’d be among the dead without Kix and-!”

“Hardcase! Enough!” Rex stepped between them, keeping his gaze level with the heavy gunner, “Fighting each other isn’t going to help.” Despite his words, he cast a glance at you.

Your eyes met him in his helmet. He was checking on you, in his own way. So you nodded, indicating that Dogma’s words didn’t affect you. You’ve been blamed before. Troopers that were grief stricken would lash out at you, blame you for your failings to save their brothers. Though, later, they’d come to you and apologize. You expected Dogma wouldn’t.

Still, you appreciated how Tup knelt to put a hand on your shoulder. Dogma didn’t look at you as he got up.

“What will help is finding another way to deal with the tanks!” Fives got into Rex’s face, clearly angry. Judging by the way his hands clenched into fists, he was ready to start getting physical too, “We can’t take them head-on.”

The captain remained steadfast, “You got any ideas?”

The ARC trooper looked down and shook his head, keeping silent.

“Then this is it.” Rex looked over at the men who remained standing, and turned to get out into the field. 

Hardcase huffed, adjusting the rocket launcher in his grip, “Ok, let's do it!” He, along with Jesse, Tup and Fives sprinted out. Kix was about to follow before he stopped and looked back. 

“Go. Send anyone hurt to me.” you nodded, remaining with the injured. He gave a salute before rushing to follow his brothers. 

Since the squad of soldiers had run out, all attention from the tank shifted to them. No longer were the trees that protected you threatening to fall or collapse from the shots. You looked over your cover, spotting the second tank that was shooting the trees across the field. Its focus was on the men who were fleeing into the foliage to hide. 

A trooper high in the branches fired a rocket. The explosive didn’t do much other than cause the massive tank to stumble. Once it corrected itself, it blasted the poor clone with its cannon.

You waited for the Umbaran to turn its focus away from that side before moving in. Your feet were quick, diving behind downed AT-RT’s, boulders and whatever other cover you could hide behind. 

Once you made it to him, you realized the trip was worthless. He was dead. Half of his body was gone the moment he was hit with cannon fire. 

But he wasn’t alone. Someone else was down, crying and writhing in pain.

Arm missing. Main problem is blood loss. Still awake. I have time. I can save him.

You got to your knees quickly, skidding on the wet ground as you did so. Your pack was off your shoulders as you began to get as many gauze pads and bandages on him as possible. Your hands were stained with his blood as you controlled the bleeding. 

“Come on,” you draped his good arm over your shoulder and stood, “I’m getting you with the others.”

You watched the tank again, waiting patiently before dashing to another point of cover. Getting back to the injured was slower this time, but you managed to get there. Leaning the trooper against a tree root, you commed Krell again, “General, I need the supplies on that speeder!” 

There was only silence. 

“General Krell!” You were desperate, and your voice was shaking from the fear. Fear for the men. Fear they wouldn’t even get a chance to survive, “General Krell, please!” 

Nothing. Unanswered. 

Your hands were shaking and you let out a frustrated, angry cry. The names of the dead replayed in your head over and over again.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

No. You still had supplies on you. You weren’t giving up. You refused. 

A trooper stumbled over the cover, carrying an ARF trooper. You recognized Silk and Hinge.

“Doc, he needs help.” The trooper slid the injured carefully down. 

Before you even inspected him, you could tell Hinge was barely hanging on, if he was even alive. His armor was blacked and scorched. Smoke still billowed from his body. When you approached, you felt his neck. 

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, Silk.” you murmured, taking off Hinge’s helmet. Carefully, you closed his eyes before standing. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge.

“...we’re all dead, aren't we?” Silk sat down, leaning against the tree. 

You hesitated to answer. Truthfully, you thought so. You wanted to agree. To accept the truth that Krell won and lead all of you to your deaths.

But…Rex would keep fighting. Your kar’ta wouldn’t go down without taking as many separatists as possible down with him. 

You looked at your hand, testing if you could close it in the brace, luckily, you could. You could feel the movement. Feel your fingers on your palm. Your arm, despite the immense damage, was healing. Your nerves were connecting. Your veins and arteries were directing blood flow again. Your body refused to give up.

You could still fight. Just like Rex would.

“No.” your voice was resolute, “I’m not giving up.” You looked over the injured. More had managed to find your location in various states of bleeding, dying or crying, “I’m not giving up on any of you. Even if I have to pick up your rifles to protect you, I’m not giving up.”

Silk sighed and stood, “Doctor,” he saluted, “I am at your command.” 

You couldn’t help but smile softly, “I’ll need your help. Stay within cover, prioritize your safety, but look for any injured. Bring them to me.”

“I’ll help.” Hem, another ARF trooper stood, rotating his arm to stretch his shoulder, “I’m not too hurt.”

“Thank you both.” you saluted as they climbed out of the safety of the trees and roots. The ground shook with another cannon shot nearby. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be out of view. Or the Umbarans weren’t interested in killing those who couldn’t fight back. 

Still, since those heavy tanks weren’t focused on you, it allowed you to continue your job. These soldiers were your patients. They needed you. They needed your skills. And with whatever supplies you had left, you’d try to save them.

So you got to work. Triage. Deal with the more serious injuries. Prioritize. 

Your training took over. You were on autopilot weaving between the troopers. Your supplies dwindled. You ran out of painkillers and bacta entirely. Your tourniquets were the lifesavers at this point. Using them allowed you to spread your bandages and gauze pads between everyone.

Despite your effects, you still lost a few.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno.

At some point Tup had made his way back to you, followed by Hem, carrying Zeke. Silk wasn’t accounted for, but you trusted he would be alright. 

“Doctor,” Tup got to your side, “How can i-?”

Wordlessly, you handed him bandage scissors. He looked confused, even as you removed the minimal armor plating on your sleeve. As a field doctor, armor wasn’t the priority, medical supplies were. You had some plates on your wrists, thighs and chest, but that was about it. Everything else was covered in protective clothing to allow more medical packs and more freedom of movement. 

Which came in handy, “Cut the sleeve up to my shoulder, and then cut it into long strips.” you commanded Tup. 

“Ok…don’t move. I don't want to accidentally nick you.” The poor clone sounded unsure, shy even, but did as you asked. Despite his shaky hands, he kept the shears steady enough to prevent any small injuries to your skin. Once the cloth was separated, you slipped your arm from the sleeve and returned your focus to the other troopers.

Tup was an efficient assistant. Not even a minute later he had the sleeve cut into lengthy straight strips. You grabbed them silently and used them as extra bandages. 

The ground rumbled and shook. One of the tanks was getting close. Too close. You looked up, taking a chance to peer out into the battlefield.

Three heavy tanks were damn near on top of you as they chased those on the field. Through their shining spotlights, you recognized the silhouette of Rex and Jesse running across the field. Rex had a rocket launcher, and with a broken heart, you realized Hardcase must’ve gone down. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Hardcase…

Hardcase.

“Doc!” You jerked your head up, Silk had returned with another trooper slung over his arm. Once he put the unconscious soldier down, he went back out into the field before you could stop him. 

Kix had found you. He was standing on top of a thick root, back to the tanks, looking over the injured you've collected. Something in him snapped because he shook his head before letting out a cry. Your medic friend began to fire his rifle in the air wildly. 

Tup shot up, “Hey, Kix, put it down! You're wasting aim!” When words didn’t work, he body slammed Kix down to the ground, saving him from the massive foot of a tank.

The Umbaran weapon turned its cannon to where Tup and Kix hit the ground. Before it could annihilate the two, it was hit by a rocket. The explosion caused it to stumble, and its powered up shot hit the branches above your triage area. 

Rex had gotten to your position, standing on a toppled tree that was part of your cover. In his arms was a smoking rocket launcher. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but think of how handsome he looked. Smoke and ash billowing around him. Back straight, standing tall and determined. You could picture his focused gaze under his helmet now. 

The tank readjusted, stabilizing its huge legs. It focused on the captain and was then joined by the two others. They all charged their shots, ready to destroy Rex completely. You ran towards him, intending to grab his hand and…do something! Save him!

Die with him.

Just as your fingers met his, shots rained down from the dark sky. Two Umbaran starships were shooting wildly. Their guns poured out bright green bolts like water, hitting everything they pointed at. 

You looked up and inside the glowing, round cockpit of the Umbaran ships were Fives and Hardcase! They were laughing, trying to navigate the never-before-seen tech.

They were alive!

“Clear out, captain!”

“The big guns have arrived, sir!”

The 501st captain wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as the tanks exploded. He leapt from the position on the tree and held you close. 

Their rayshields weren’t made for their own shots it seemed. They buckled and broke, breaking down and exploding from their own weaponry. That didn’t stop them from trying to shoot at the clone controlled air support. Thankfully, Fives and Hardcase were doing a good enough job flying; they managed to avoid getting shot down.

Fives and Hardcase skillfully cleared the field. They managed to keep control well enough to finally destroy the heavy tanks that have taken so many good men. As the burst and exploded, killing the Umbarans inside, there were cheers and celebrations.

“Woo-hoo!”

“Attaboy, Hardcase!” 

“Way to go Fives!”

Once Rex stood to cheer with his brothers, you dashed to Kix. The medic had calmed down and was tending to the injured, “I’m entirely out of bacta and gauze.” He looked up at you, “and I can see you’re out of bandages.” 

You nodded, snapping your focus back on the injured troopers. The fight had been brutal. Even those that had managed to get to you alive, were fading fast. For every soldier you saved, it was like two more perished from their wounds. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

You repeated their names. Over and over again in your head. As the quiet took over, Kix helped you with the hurt and dying that crawled their way to your position. You didn’t look up, even as reinforcements ran passed to take that fucking airbase.

“Doc, we need help!” Was the only statement that caused you to bring your eyes up. 

Silk managed to stumble from the smoke. His right arm had been ripped off and his chestplate was shattered. His left hand was placed over his stomach, keeping his innards inside his abdomen. 

“Kix!” You practically howled, bolting from where you were tending to Jesse’s gashed wrist. 

You sent Silk out there! You were the one who asked him to risk his life for others! 

Your hands were on him, getting him to the ground, “I got you, Silk. I got you.” You breathed, ripping off the pieces of his armor. Kix was next to you, scrambling to get the situation under control.

Tup had managed to get a hold of the medical speeder. Krell must’ve finally brought it into the gorge when reinforcements were sent in. Ken and Rin were still on the stretcher, but you didn’t pay them any mind as you threw open crates and bags, scrambling to get supplies. 

Bandages. Bacta. Gauze. Sutures.

Supply levels were low. There wasn’t enough for everyone. But you grabbed everything you could and darted back to Silk.

He was still down, but Kix had stopped trying to treat him. The medic removed his helmet and looked at you, sorrow and despair evident. 

“No!” You dropped what was in your hands and immediately straddled Silk. Your hands were on his chest as you began compressions. The cartilage of his ribs cracked and broke as you began CPR. You were in a frenzy to bring him back, throwing his helmet away to pinch his nose and breathe for him.

Something in you broke. The situation finally hit you and your mind shattered. You sent Silk out to find his brothers. Silk returned injured. Dying. It was your fault. You got Silk killed. 

Dogma was right. You had failed so many of these troopers. They relied on you to keep them alive, and you failed in your duty.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Tears blurred your vision but you weren’t going to stop. Kix said your name, but you ignored him. He grabbed your shoulder, but you shoved him off, “How long!?” you demanded before getting your lips on Silk’s to force air into his lungs. 

“4 minutes,” Kix informed you, “He’s been down for 4 minutes. It’s time to stop.”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“No it isn’t!” you snapped. Kix looked up at someone who approached. Another injured soldier? He could deal with it. You had to save Silk.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

5 minutes now of compressions. 5 minutes of forcing oxygen into Silk’s lungs. 5 minutes of forcing his heart to beat. Yet it couldn’t function on its own. There was too much damage.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Someone grabbed you and you howled as if burned. Your compressions stopped to thrash and fight. You weren’t giving up. Not on Silk. Too many have been lost. You couldn’t handle losing one more. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Whoever was holding you had fallen backwards, getting both of you to the ground. They called your name, but you refused to listen. You clawed at their armored wrist, trying to get their hold off of you.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“I’m not giving up!” Tears were running down your cheeks. You’d finally broken. Under the loss. Under the death and destruction of the soldiers you failed to save. You kicked your legs and tried to get out of the arms that had wrapped around your torso. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. 

Silk.

Silk.

Silk.

“I know.” Their words, Rex’s, finally reached you. He was hugging you from behind so tightly, “I know, Mesh’la. I know.” His helmet was off and he whispered softly into your ear.

Your breath shook as you let out a wretched sob. You’ve lost soldiers before. They’ve died under your care. But never this many. 

Too many. There were too many! 

You wept, leaning into Rex’s chest, “I’m sorry…” you cried out, “I can’t save them. I can’t…I’m sorry Rex…Please…forgive me!” Your begging and pleading devolved into more sobbing. You’ve failed him. You’ve failed the man you loved and all of his brothers.

Rex remained silent, continuing to hold you.

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 26

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2100+

Date posted: 20 Jan 2018

A/N: Y’all can thank @trevorcollumns for this part actually being completed. She’s become a nagging motivation and I love her to pieces for keeping me inspired with this fic. She refuses to let my interest move elsewhere, and I’m really thankful. Cya soon, my bitch. You can nag me in person soon! 

The skull stares at you. It’s black empty sockets screaming with a loneliness that is not only striking, but fearful. Like the creature it once was continues to lament over its last moments alive. Jaw dislocated and limp, but cries so loud they’re deafening.

Ryan is right, the remnants of the animal before you hadn’t fallen to an ordinary predator.

The grooves carved into it’s features wander like footpaths traipsed through familiarity, smooth and deliberate when unwrapping the skin from bone. Intelligent. Not clusters of claw marks in sets of threes and fours, and not the aftermath of clumsy teeth trying to keep a hold - but created with a precision that you just can’t place.

Can’t place, at least, until an outstretched finger touches the bone. All at once the base of your skull is left searing, a prickling pain that glides smoothly up the centre of your head, right over until coming to sting at the bridge of your nose. Along with it comes a heat that circles your neck, the hollow of your throat closing with the pressure of unseen fingers.

“Fuck!” You recoil instantly, shuddering and hoping to pass the discomfort off as a reaction to the cold. The word slips from your lips before you can catch a breath, Ryan placing a cautionary hand against your lower back to stop you from toppling out of the crouch you’re folded into. “You’re right, this isn’t an animal… But why wouldn’t whoever it is take the head?”

“Y/N, come on.” Ryan gives you a concerned look. “Why’re you freaking out? I was kidding about the murder mystery thing. It’s probably just left over from a camper who needed a good meal.”

“In this weather?”

He doesn’t have a response.

Letting the hand he has against your back guide you into sitting, your legs guard the sides of the skull. You can’t help following the grooves; pressing their image against the memories you have of those adorning the window frames of Motbury, and decorating the bodies you’re now too familiar with.

“Why,” you ask again, reaching out to the bone again and pulling it into your lap, “would someone meticulously remove the head of a creature, skin the skull, and not take it with them? Surely a hunter wouldn’t chop off and clean the head before taking the body away. That doesn’t make sense.”

He struggles, uncertain of what answer you might possibly want. Taking the skull from you, Ryan turns it over in his hands, examining the clean separation that had seen it removed from the spine in the dimming evening light. “Well,” he says, “maybe he didn’t need it.”

-

 The feeling of cobblestone pounds against the soles of your feet. Hard and aching in the cold. Bitter with every slap of your shoes as you run. The orange glow of streetlights trace the path you carve through the town, chasing the shadows you leave behind and playing in your hair. Scampering between your legs and leaping across the stone you bound over. Glinting against the black ice that has already managed to trip you twice, ground kissing the skin it’s left bruised across your hip and thigh.

Ryan’s confusion still rings in your ears. His alarmed expression, of which you had left in the snow as you’d rocketed to your feet and started moving, haunts the darkened spaced between houses and shop fronts.

“What, Y/N? What’s wrong - wait, where’re you going? Y/N, slow down. Y/N-”

He’d snatched out, crumpling to his knees as you’d darted away.

Instead of explaining, you’d thrown him an incoherent response and reminder for him to join dinner that night with nothing else on your mind besides racing thoughts and a need to find Detective Dooley. To hurl definitive evidence at his feet and demand that he acknowledge the grooves that match those found clinging to buildings. To force him to address the links exposed by the timeline you and Michael had slaved over. To make him see, once and for all, that the removal of the head and the slaughter of animals oh so long ago has to mean something. It just had to.

 It had to.

 The skull, minor in its existence, brings the three factors they’d been scratching their heads over together with clumsy a bow. Solidifying the concept of a copycat killer so much so that Jeremy will be unable to argue, and parading the fact that that whoever had been killing livestock hadn’t upgraded to children, but had kept a clear line between those he hunts. One for food, and one for fun.

It isn’t much, but it consumes you. Taking over your being and vibrating in your limbs, stretching tight across your icy cheekbones. But it’s more than the relief of a definitive copycat that spurs you on. Ryan’s comment had stirred something inside you. Flipped a switch and brought blinding possibilities you hadn’t yet considered.

 If the killer didn’t take the skulls of animals because he didn’t need them or want them - he must have had a reason for collecting the heads that he does.

 Your rampant thoughts, along with your being, collide into the figure in front of you. So dizzy in your mind that it takes you a moment to register the shock, the man is already grunting and skirting past. Swallowed again by the night. A shake of your head sees the panic dislodge and recognition take its place.

“Jeremy?” you call, waving a hand above your head and stumbling after him. “Hey, wait up. You’re just who I’m looking for.”

He doesn’t. Instead his head tucks deeper into his coat, shoulders hunched. The quickness of his pace is hard to match, but you manage.

"Slow down, J, I need to talk to you," you plead, catching his arm. But he still doesn't stop, shaking free and powering on into the snow. Recoiling, stung, you jam your hands into you pockets. "Are you kidding me? C’mon man, stop messing around. This is important."

“Then why don't you go and tell Ryan?”

The words burn, lashing out and leaving your skin raw.

“Excuse me?” you demand faintly, “what does Ryan have to do with anything?”

"I just figured," he starts, finally facing you with an expression set in stone, "that considering how close you've gotten, he's all you need."

“I'm trying to talk to you about the case, Detective. You know, the one where kids are dying? And you think now's a good time to go digging around in my personal life?”

"Why not?" he asks hollowly, and you take a step back. “Why shouldn't I treat you like everyone else in this town? I’d be covering all the bases like you want me to.”

“Jesus Christ, Jeremy!” you snap, infuriated at the man who cowers from your anger for a brief moment. “What the fuck is your problem? Just because you fancy Ryan doesn’t mean you get to be an ass to me!”

“Fancy Ryan?” He almost laughs, but stops himself, instead settling for bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Stop it.” Your eyes narrow at his defence, in no mood for his denials. A sharp gesture of your hand cuts his confusion, letting it fall noisily to the floor. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You’re seething, body desperate to pace and yet feet remaining rooted to the cold, frozen ground. Through the dark you struggle with his expression, equally hurt by his scowl as he is with your own. “Jon already told me that you’re interested in him. Which is fucking fine, and I get that you’re hurting in this situation. But don’t you dare go around being an absolute asshole to both of us, just because you can’t get what you want. We have a job to do, and I’m your friend.”

He’s shaking his head, eyes wide and mouth pouted open. This time he can’t stop the laugh, harsh and mocking in the night’s biting air. “You’re kidding? You think I don’t like you guys hanging out because I’m in love with Ryan?”

You stop, accepting his simple explanation with a tight nod. You resist the urge to shuffle guiltily, uncomfortable with confronting his feelings with such volatile accusations.

Jeremy’s jaw sets, fists balling by his side while he turns bitter. “Oh, you’ve caught me. I’m interested in him, alright? Really really interested.”

A rattling sigh bounces from your lungs, falling flat in the snow. You knew this would be inevitable, and sucking in a breath and as much confidence as possible, you start the conversation you’d rather not have. “Look, Jeremy, Ryan and I-”

“I’m interested in him because he’s a person of interest, you fucking moron.”

The words stop, clinging to your tongue and scampering back down your throat before you can comprehend his vicious growl. “A person of interest? You mean-”

“I mean that you’ve been trying to date a god damn murder suspect.”

“Oh.” The shock expelled from your lips forms with a gentle pop, and with it his expression softens. Regretfully he gathers his apologies, rubbing them comfortingly into your arm. Tears well, but you don’t let them fall, feeling them thicken in your throat. “Wow J. I- I just… I can’t believe this.”

“I know, Y/N, it was hard for me to accept too, but-”

You jerk away, skin stinging from his touch. Recoiling, a few stumbles steps see the fountain greet the back of your knees, accusations like daggers. “I can’t believe you’d think your closest friend could be a part of this. That he could hurt children. After losing his own, for god sakes. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s like - It’s like you don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, sure, lost his own, wha- you’re not listening, are you? Because you just obviously know him better, huh? All that time you’ve spent together, all those nights stumbling home arm in arm - yeah, I fucking know about that because we’ve got men watching his every fucking move so he doesn’t kill another kid - it must mean that you know him better than me? Bearing in mind, Y/N, you were the one that dated a god damn serial killer and refused to accept it, not me. And it got people killed.”

Your spine straightens, bite so lethal he shrinks away. The sharp breath sears through your lungs, mind reeling from the night that haunts your dreams and forced you to run from all that you love as he jams it into your hands. It’s your turn to ball your fists, clutching your coat close with the enraged whip of wind. It takes all you have not to launch across the space and punch him, to refrain from falling to your knees and screaming like there’s no tomorrow.

When you speak your voice is low, far more threatening than intended, but appreciated all the same. “Yeah, I guess I do know him better.”

Jeremy wants to snap back, but you don’t let him.

“I must do, because I know what type of person he is, Jeremy. And he’s a damn good one. And I also know what obsessing over a case does to people like us. I was too blind to see Charlie for who he was, because I was too busy focusing on someone else. Someone innocent, remember? I chased him to the point where he couldn’t handle the hounds and killed himself. Do you remember that, huh? Remember when we charged into his apartment and found him hanging, then got the call that my sister was dead all in the same hour?”

Jeremy doesn’t speak, as frozen as the world around him. If he could swallow his comment, he would. He’d forgotten the raw hurt, the agony in your eyes whenever you’d talk about your sister - and hadn’t realised it was still as fresh as ever. He can’t look at you anymore, glaring at his fingers as they slowly blotch purple. And you don’t look at him, either. Can’t stand his guilt, can’t stand seeing him the way he was all those years ago, watching your sister’s blood coat his hands after he’d done all he could to save her.

“I won’t let you make the same mistakes I did, Jeremy. I won’t let you drive yourself, or Ryan, into madness, just because you don’t know how to stop and see a bigger picture.” You turn to leave, stopping only to spit your final remark into the street you’re desperate to escape. “Oh, and once you’re done condemning Ryan you might want to talk to him, seeing as he’s just found the evidence we need to link the killer as a copycat to the Widow of the Woods story.”

[treycoffcentral]

Hey guys... I've been ridiculously inactive, like a year or longer, and I am very sorry for that. Life and lack of motivation/inspiration to write has gotten in the way.

So, my solution is that I would like everyone to know that Submissions are open, please feel free to submit anything and everything Trevor Collins Fanfiction related. I also have some requests from forever and a day ago that I will post without response so that if you find inspiration from such requests, you can jump on board.

I was considering giving this blog away but its a secondary blog and in order to give it away I would have to give away the main as well, which I still use on the daily for random-ass shit.

This can now be a community blog for are favourite Trevor Boy.

[5lbsofimagines]

Announcing Your Marriage to Aleks:

It’s well known to the fans that you’re together

And you’re both fairly open with your relationship

Save for a few personal things

Everyone knows that you got engaged

Aleks vlogged the whole ring shopping experience

But you both kept wedding planning fairly under wraps

The wedding itself was great

And a few weeks later a CCTV is posted

“ALEKS AND Y/N GOT MARRIED”

On location your hotel suite

Shot after the recption

Everyone is pretty much wasted

You’re still in your dress

Aleks is in his tux - half undone

Brett and James are in their suits

Aleks has his arm around you the whole time

Everyone is laughing and smiling as they talk about how you two met, got together, got engaged etc.

When the video goes live you’re bombarded with tweets and comments

But it’s all so much love and support, surprisingly

And you really couldn’t be happier

[snapmydisk]

Hi! Can I request were the reader is another content producer for another company on the internet and over years she and Burnie have had a personal dislike of each other for whatever reasons. So when they are on stage or on set together for a con or something everyone expects a fight but they actually find common ground and enjoy each other. (Not romantic btw)

You nearly rolled your eyes when you heard Burnie wouldbe sharing this panel with you. Jeez that guy was annoying.

You got comfy at the table and said “So a lot of peoplehave been asking about my weight loss. So I bought a treadmill, put it in thelounge and spent my evenings playing games while running!”

“I did that too!” Burnie laughed “Although I did have tobe careful because I would sometimes walk off the machine…”

“Same here! The number of times I nearly tripped over thecat as well!” you laughed.

Within minutes it felt like no one else was in the room,instead the conversation flowed naturally, and you enjoyed his company.

As you left the stage, Burnie caught you backstage “Hey, doyou want to grab a coffee? I feel like we got off on the wrong foot when wefirst met and it would be nice to actually get to know you.”

You checked your schedule and agreed to a drink at alocal bar instead, maybe you could actually be friends with this guy eventually.

[trvrcllns]

Just letting you all know that I’m writing a sequel to something that I wrote almost a year ago but I feel like no one is going to read it but I've had this on my mind for months. oh well. 

Original fic

[rt-reader-inserts]

To Protect You

Pairing: Cib x Reader

Word Count: 1,706

Prompt: Angsty Cib imagine? Por favor? (A/N: This was requested around the time ‘akrasia’ was released, so that’s when it takes place. Sorry it’s months late!!)

Warnings: Swearing, minimal violence.

You sigh as your phone continues to buzz, eventually turning your attention away from your laptop so you can check whatever is so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow. After the terrible day you’ve had, especially after all the arguments with Cib, you honestly just want to zone out on Netflix, but you aren’t able to do that while someone continually lights up your phone.

As you check your lockscreen, you’re greeted with several notifications, all from Steven and James.

3 missed calls from Steven S.

2 missed calls from James D.

Steven, 11:02pm: (Y/n), pick up the fucking phone

James, 11:03pm:  There’s an emergency, we need to talk

     Please, you gotta answer

Steven, 11:04pm: This isn’t a bit, you need to call us back right the fuck now

     I can’t say this over text, please look at your goddamn phone

     Don’t let anyone inside your apartment

At that message, you stop reading, your blood running cold as a wave of anxiety hits you, and you quickly swipe the notification to call him back. Hands shaking, you bite your lip, standing to your feet and pacing back and forth as the phone rings, unable to keep from wincing when you hear Steven’s voice.

“(Y/n), thank christ, listen, I— I don’t know how to say this, but… fucking hell…,” his voice breaks slightly, and you hear him sniff before continuing, “Parker, he— Parker’s dead, (y/n), he’s fucking dead and…”

You can hear his voice, still talking, still panicking, but your phone slips from your hand, falling to the hardwood at your feet, and you stand there, frozen. You can’t even begin to process what’s happening, your mind repeating the phrase over and over, but still figuring out nothing. Slowly, you kneel down and pick up the phone, your fingers almost numb as you do.

Steven is still going, and you begin to listen again as he says, “...and Cib, he ran off, we don’t know where the fuck he is, but he’s out of his goddamn mind and we— we don’t know what he’s doing.”

You don’t even bother getting up from the floor, slumping back against the couch as you pull your knees to your chest. “Dead… Parker is— Parker— ” you can’t get yourself to say it, the words caught in your throat.

“Listen, (y/n), keep your door locked, alright? If he’s gonna end up on anyone’s doorstep, it’ll be yours.”

You nod numbly, the thought that he has his own key popping up somewhere in the back of your mind, but it went mostly unnoticed amidst every other thought running through your head. “Steve, what do we do, where do we—”

A pair of feet appear in your line of vision, and you freeze, hesitating before looking up to see the figure looming over you. Cib’s eyes are sunken, tired, and he’s breathing heavily as he asks, “Is that Steven?”

Meanwhile, you hear persistent questioning in your ear, all along the lines of, “what’s going on?” but you can’t bring yourself to answer either voice. Instead, you rise your feet, legs trembling and almost collapsing beneath you.

“Cib… what did you do?” Your voice is shaking as you ask the question, a question you really don’t want an answer to. You see the blood on his hands, the look in his eyes, and you can’t help but wince as he takes a step toward you, unconsciously inching away until you hit a wall.

"Babe, listen," he continues to walk toward you, but you cut him off, your hands held out in front of you as you weakly warn him,

"Don't— don't take another step closer."

But he doesn't listen, moving forward, grabbing your wrists and pulling them down to your sides so he can stand in front of you, look you in the eye as he says, "I did this to protect you. I did this for us,” his breath reeks of alcohol, and you’re leaning as far against the wall as he continues, “for you.” "I never asked for this," your voice breaks as you speak, and you struggle to pull yourself out of his grip; but he's far stronger, his grip becoming almost painful, and your continued attempts to escape weaken. “He was my friend, and he was your friend too, wasn’t he?” There’s no response from Cib, not that you were expecting one. “He didn’t—” you close your eyes for a moment, sniffling as you try to force away the tears, “he didn’t deserve this!” "(Y/n), we can just forget about this, alright? We'll just, we'll keep going, like it never happened." His voice is desperate, and he leans down to your level, one of his bloodied hands moving to cup your cheek as he adds, "Please." He’s crying, tears rolling down his cheek, and your chest feels heavy. The moment feels like it might never end, his gaze piercing, his thumb brushing away the tears that streak down your face. Eventually though, you tear yourself away, ducking around him and running to the door with no clue of where you’re going. You can feel the smear of blood on your skin, hear him calling after you, and you just keep running, refusing to turn around.

That is, until you reach your car, and realize you have nothing on you but the phone in your hand. The sound of Cib’s footsteps only get closer, and you take a shallow breath before turning around, shuddering when you see him.

“(Y/n), please— please, don’t be afraid of me. I’m not gonna hurt you, I would never—”

“You killed him… he was your friend and you killed him; Cib, how could you, how could you kill anyone?” You find yourself shrinking in as he moves nearer, your hands moving to wipe away both the tears and blood that stained your cheeks.

“I couldn’t, I— I didn’t,” he runs a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth as he goes on to say, “all I could think about was you, and how he was always thinking about you. The fucker said he loved you, and I couldn’t— I couldn’t fucking stand it. He was trying to take you away, I couldn’t just let him.” His voice had grown to a shout, but at the sight of your trembling figure, his tone softens, “Friends don’t cross each other like that.”

Before you can say anything, he continues, “I just… I just wanted to teach him a lesson, and then— I looked down, and— and there was so much blood and he wasn’t moving and I, I, I didn’t know what to do…” He falls against you, pulling you close against him, and you can’t bring yourself to struggle against him. Sobbing softly into your hair, his fingers cling to the fabric of your shirt and you find yourself frozen in his arms. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to,” he repeats it like a mantra, his voice barely a whisper.

Against your better judgement, you wrap your arms around him, your hand rubbing his back as he somehow holds you tighter. The blood on his hands stains your pajama shirt as it had your skin, and you can feel your ribcage shrink around your already straining lungs, crushing your pounding heart.

Hands trembling, you try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go, and you can’t find the strength to struggle as he leans almost all his weight against you. “Please don’t leave me,” he mumbles into your hair, his nails slightly digging into your back as he holds you to him, “I can’t lose you.”

“Cib, I—”

“Just let go of her, dude.”

You both hear James’ voice, and while you try to glance over to where he is, Cib just turns away, pulling you with him. His arms are almost crushing you now, and you’re struggling to breathe, trying to push him away as you say, “It hurts, Cib, please, just—”

“No! No, no, no, no, you’re not taking her away from me,” he almost growls, and your panic grows, pulse pounding in your ears as you begin to hit him. “Babe, just calm down, I got you—”

“You’re hurting me, let go!”

“If I let you go, they’ll take you,” he murmurs into your ear, pulling away to look you in the eye. His hands easily grip your wrists, both stopping you from hitting him and holding you in place. “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me.”

Your voice is weak when you respond, holding his gaze as you remind him, “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He freezes at that, looking at you almost in shock, not saying a word, his grip still not loosening in the slightest. However, James makes quick work of that, easily removing Cib’s hands from you and pushing you in Steve’s general direction. You can’t keep from stumbling slightly, your legs shaking as you listen to the chaos behind you, James doing his best to calm, or maybe subdue, Cib.

And then you finally notice Steven’s presence, and how he’s looking at you with sad eyes, and how his arms are open just slightly; and then he’s gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders, telling you something. You can’t process any of his words, but they’re softly spoken, and you lean into your friend’s side as he starts to walk you away from the scene.

“You can stay with me and Alyssa tonight…”

“Don’t fucking do this, man.”

“…we’ll figure this shit out in the morning…”

“Let me go, dude, you can’t— you can’t take her!”

“…hopefully.”

Steve ushers you into the passenger seat, and as he closes the door, you look out the window to see an almost rabid Cib, fighting against James and slowly tiring himself out. Hugging your arms around your torso, you sink into the seat, body still trembling.

“We’re gonna figure this out, alright?” Steve assures you, reversing out of the parking lot as James struggles to push Cib into his own car. You know he’s not sure, though, he’s just trying to make you feel better, calm you down. Somehow, it still helps.

“I know.”